Puddifoot's.
Arthur had taken Meaghan McCormack to Puddifoot's.
A/N:
1. "Arcade" by Duncan Laurence
[CW: Small bit of alluded-to body image insecurity]
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Part III: "Eckeltricity" (xvii)
Molly
November 18, 1967
Puddifoot's.
Arthur had taken Meaghan McCormack to Puddifoot's.
It was hardly the worst sorrow of her life, but Merlin, it smarted.
Like a strike, right to the face.
Pretty, delicate Meaghan McCormack.
Meaghan McCormack with her matching, tweed orange dress and jacket sets. Meaghan with the polished shoes. Meaghan with her hair not a strand out of place.
Did it have to be Meaghan?
It was an injustice too far.
Molly seethed as she drew her violin free. The trees creaked and groaned.
She put the bow to the strings.
The fiddle gave a little jolt in her hands. Likely taken aback by the state of her mind. The bow crashed over.
Molly started with a song that sounded like war and went nowhere beautiful.
Still, people clustered around the empty case. A few tossed a Sickle or a couple of Knuts in.
She'd not meant to draw a crowd, but she'd take it. Then, she could at least buy herself a Butterbeer without feeling guilty about the cost.
Down High Street, the door to Madam Puddifoot's blew open, and Arthur emerged. He held it wide for Meaghan, who ducked under his arm on their way out.
Molly's teeth ground together, and she swiveled to face the opposite direction.
She played until the fire ran dry, then the hurt, then all that was left at the end of it was exhaustion and a set of wind-whipped hands.
That's when she opened her eyes.
By then, the crowd had dissipated.
A single figure watched her, seated on a bench across the street. Arthur had his forearms propped on his knees, and his head low as he looked at her.
He'd heard it all.
She couldn't think otherwise, from the look on his face. Tense and pained like that.
Perhaps Fabian had been right. Maybe she'd—
No. That was her selfishness talking. Not her rationality.
Molly swallowed, then wheeled around to clear her fiddle case of coins and stray flakes of snow.
He didn't approach.
She packed the violin away.
Her arms were shaking, like a deep cold had bitten through them, into her center.
Without the fire, there was nothing there to stave it off.
The case snapped shut, and she lifted it.
The castle would be a bit of a jaunt. Best to move quickly.
Arthur rose.
His eyes didn't waiver from her as he crossed the lane, unfastening that green, bulky cloak.
He didn't say a word as he draped it over her shoulders, then walked past her, to the gates.
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MollyWobbles
FanfictionMolly Prewett and Arthur Weasley did not fall in love easily. This is the story of how it happened. The story of how and why Gideon and Fabian Prewett lived and died. The story of the Burrow, and the Weasley clock, and the happiest moments in our he...
