MollyWobbles

Eckeltricity (xviii)

Molly plays a song.

A/N: 

Playlist:
1. "Hoppipolla" by Vitamin String Quartet (**In fic song).

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Part III: "Eckeltricity" (xviii)

Gideon

December 1, 1967

"Again," Molly said, clipped and waspish.

Gideon lowered his fiddle from its perch. "Come on, Molls," he said. "It's nearly midnight."

"One more try," she said.

Gideon looked at Fabian, who shook his head slightly.

They were in the disappearing room—holding a rehearsal for the Minister's Ball. A rather important gig they'd booked.

Molly was trying to make sure everything was perfect.

Only she was trying to add a final number to the setlist and insisting on improvising it with them until it was written. Not unthinkable—they'd done it plenty of times before. But she couldn't get past the opening bars.

Gideon's mind was too foggy to offer any suggestions. He was best at picking up what the other two laid down and following from there. His fiddle was awfully quiet, too.

No help, that one.

Not the slightest hint of direction.

Like Molly was destined to sort the song herself.

The door creaked, and Gideon jumped.

No one—not anyone—had ever happened upon them here during rehearsal. Not unless they'd planned it.

Arthur Weasley shut the door behind himself, then turned to peer at them. He had a robe wrapped around him, and slippers. His hair looked half-standing on end like he'd taken a Baubillious to the face or something.

Molly stilled.

Gideon glanced at Fabian, who seemed unsurprised but also had yet to say anything.

"Sorry," Arthur said, voice thick and groggy. "Painting told me that Molly hadn't come back from rounds with Prim." He cleared his throat. "Thought I'd check some of the usual places to make sure nothing was wrong."

He lowered his lit wand. "I can go."

"No," Fabian said. "You can stay. We're nearly through, and Molly shouldn't walk back alone."

Gideon choked on his sputter.

What was that git up to?

Arthur hesitated, then nodded and slipped down to sit against the wall. He closed his eyes and leaned back. "Just wake me when you're finished."

Gideon turned to Molly.

She hesitated, glancing at her fiddle, then Arthur's slouched frame by the door.

Odd, how this room sort of arranged itself like the glass one at the old house when they needed it for fiddle practice. The walls weren't clear, but the windows seemed larger, and the dimensions were similar.

"One more try, I suppose," Molly whispered.

This time, when she put her bow to the strings, she was looking at Arty.

Gideon narrowed his eyes at her, then raised his fiddle.

Dear Godric, if she'd kept them up this late pining over a boy, he'd never let her hear the end of it. Even if it was Weasley.

Molly launched into the opening notes—soft and light and high. Echoing. One—two—three—one—two—three—

Then her fingers shifted.

Oh?

A new set of notes came through.

His fiddle buzzed in his hands. Gideon lifted his bow.

Fabian had his eyes closed. Chin ducked. He'd swapped to his cello at her opening, and now hunched over it. Terrible posture, really. Dad would be rolling in the crypt.

Fabe drew a long note out.

The same one that Gideon had picked.

Alright—alright—

Excitement jumped in his ribs.

Now they were really cooking.

Molly pulled a breath in, turning.

The melody almost floated together.

Molly paced the length of the room, eyes shut.

Her playing got louder. Bolder.

And then she was smiling and taking giddy, short breaths as the pieces of song drifted from her, one after another. Turning again and again on the tips of her toes, spinning in slow circles.

There was a maturity to the song that drew Gideon's breath away. Like—it was grounded in the difficulty, but it was so, so heartbreakingly hopeful.

In a way it had no right to be.

They found their way through it in one go.

Then Molly lowered her bow.

Her smile was a little wobbly.

"Merlin," Fabian said. He leaned over his cello. "Where you been hiding that?"

She shrugged.

"It's a good piece," Gideon said carefully. "Suitable for the event."

She nodded.

"You have a name for it?" Fabian asked.

Molly shook her head.

Fabian began to pack their things away. "Well, you'd better think of one before they print the programs."

Arthur hunched over his bent knees, head buried in his arms. Asleep.