* How's Your Favorite Muggle? * (pepper__impps) wrote,
* How's Your Favorite Muggle? *
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Lamentations

Chapter One: A Stranger to No One
Rating: It aint Disney, but there it is. Death.
Summary: While visiting his grave, Molly Weasley reflects on Arthur.

She knelt quietly in the snow, feeling the bitter cold bite into her knees as she sank down. Her hand gently grazed the granite slab, her fingertips catching in the rough grooves gouged in the stone.

Loving Father and Husband
Admirer of All Things Muggle
A Stranger to No One




*******


She knelt quietly in the snow, feeling the bitter cold bite into her knees as she sank down. Her hand gently grazed the granite slab, her fingertips catching in the rough grooves gouged in the stone.


Loving Father and Husband
Admirer of All Things Muggle
A Stranger to No One



A soft chuckle escaped her. Although she'd been initially fretful when Fred and George asked if they could write their father's epitaph, she'd never been prouder of them to see the care and thought that had gone into the grim task.

"Oh, Arthur," she murmured, pulling back on her heels. "Would you have changed anything, knowing how it would all end?"

Her mind drifted lazily to the days O.W.L.S. and N.E.W.T.S., thinking on the gangly third year Gryffindor with incorrigible redhair who decided to add more than the prescribed amount of mallowsweet to his cauldron -- and nearly blew himself and his partner to high heaven. She remembered how he maintained a perfectly sheepish smile through the Potion Master's rant and his partner bemoaning the near-loss of fingers. How he'd been teased with the nickname "Boom-Boom" by a pack of howling Slytherins. How she'd felt both exasperation -- and pity -- towards him.

From then on, she noticed him everywhere. Had he always been around this much, his boisterous laughter proceeding him down the corridors and through the Great Hall? Surely, she could not always have been deaf to his spirited re-enactments at breakfast of the week's gruesome Quidditch smash-ups? Had it never once struck her odd the hours he spent in the library pouring over glossy Muggle catalogs of light bulbs and jumper cables?

She deemed her new-found puzzlement over the eccentric easy-going wizard a distraction and pledged to ignore him steadfastly, particularly when she began feeling his eyes creep shyly towards her. And bugger all if he hadn't craftily plotted her schedule and then literally ran into her at various junctures throughout the day! One particularly magnificent collision resulted in their parchment being switched. In History, she frowned deeply at the brief jerky quill strokes and the doodles of flying Muggle cars and carpets and beds until...

Until she suddenly laughed out loud. Snorted, actually. She crouched down slightly in her chair under the eyes of her bewildered classmates, though not in the usual embarrassment she'd feel in displaying unladylike behavior, but in the warm glow of her secret discovery:

Bumbling, stumbling Arthur Weasley was actually quite clever.

She quietly solicited Clive Stebbins, one of Arthur's Hufflepuff friends, to arrange private meeting for the two of them in one of the greehouses.

It was the beginning of the end of the witch formerly known as Molly Prewett.

She slowly rose to sharp tingles in her legs, gazing back on the those clandestine moonlight strolls, his quiet declarations and fiery kisses. She laughed softly, recalling one occassion in particular in which they were caught by the Hogwarts caretaker. Arthur always proudly bore the scars of his punishment and showed them to those who asked -- and to plenty who hadn't.

She suddenly shivered violently, feeling the moisture seep in through her slippers. She pressed the damp paper to the mound of earth buried in snow and offered a little prayer before she disappeared at the sound of a loud crack!

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