...........


Arthur Weasley looked up from his book at the sound of voices. A group of girls were pouring through the portrait hole, giggling and chattering. He watched until he was sure that the only one worth watching for wasn’t among them then went back to reading.

It really was a good book. It was about his favourite subject — Muggles and their funny ways. The chapter he was supposedly reading at the moment was really interesting, it was about Muggle transportation. At the moment Rookhart Waffling, the author, was explaining about the Muggle’s alternative for apparition and brooms, funny things called auto-mo-biles. Arthur’s eyes travelled slowly down the page. The words were having a hard time penetrating his thoughts. Not even the moving illustration of an auto-mo-bile engine could hold his attention.

Where was she? Right now, at this moment? Walking down a deserted corridor, hand in hand with — he didn’t finish that thought. What was the use of being jealous when she didn’t even know he existed?

Arthur sighed and turned the page, though he had little idea what he had just read.

By some chance, or perhaps fate, the majority of seventh year girls in Hogwarts were monotonously same. Blonde hair, brown hair, black hair, tall, thin, giggling, flirtatious, thoughtless.

Not her… Not Molly Prewett.

Molly was short, smaller than most 4th years even now in their 7th year, the top of her head barely reaching his chest. She had shoulder length reddish-brown hair, womanly curves and large brown eyes that were most often kind and welcoming but that he had seen flash with indignation and anger. That was what had first drawn his attention to her.

Finally putting aside his book, Arthur settled into his armchair and stared into the fireplace, allowing his mind to wander back to that day in their third year.

There was a commotion in the hall ahead, and Arthur sped up. He could hear the voice of one of the girls in his year in Gryffindor. Prewett — Molly Prewett. Curious, Arthur ducked under the arm of a seventh year Ravenclaw and found himself at the forefront of a small crowd.

A tall fifth year Slytherin boy was sneering down at two shorter figures, a small redheaded girl that he recognized as the girl in his year, Molly, and an even smaller girl with stringy blonde hair and thick glasses. The little blonde was clutching an armful of books and papers and cowering behind Molly. Her glasses were on an angle and her hair was dishevelled. Arthur didn’t recognize her. She wasn’t a Gryffindor, he was quite sure.

“You pathetic excuse for a human being — what did you think, that it made you so important and frightening — tripping a first year and scattering her things? You idiotic flobberworm!� Molly was shouting. Her kind face had been transformed. She looked like a she-wolf about to bring down a moose. Her wand was out, gripped firmly in her hand, occasionally spitting blood-red sparks out of the end.

Arthur stared at the little blonde girl, trying to remember her sorting from a month before. He was just coming to the conclusion that her name was Jean Elliot and her house was Hufflepuff when the Slytherin boy flicked his wand out of his pocket. Molly shrieked something, a spell he thought, and pointed her wand at the fifth year bully.

There was a bang and the boy was thrown backward a few feet, knocking over two of his fellow Slytherins. Immediately he sat up again, yanking at the front of his robes, his hands scrabbling wildly. Finally, he managed to pull his shirt open, displaying the large greenish boils that were erupting all over his chest.

The crowd, who had turned as one to watch the Slytherin when he’d been blasted backward, turned as one once more to gawk at Molly Prewett. She was just disappearing through a gap in the circle of onlookers, her arm round the little Hufflepuff.

Moments later Professor Dumbledore slid through the crowd and crouched beside the pain stricken fifth year. After a momentary examination he pulled him to his feet. “To the Hospital Wing with you, Mr. Travers,� he said, motioning for the students still crowded around to let him through. Then he turned his light blue eyes on the rest of the crowd. Arthur watched as the students around him suddenly seemed to remember pressing engagements, hurrying away in groups of two or three, already discussing the show down.

Travers’ two friends stepped forward, their voices raised in complaint.

“Prewett attacked him, sir, no reason!�

“That little snot, she was yelling at him because that little Hufflepuff fell over. It’s not his fault the little idiot’s clumsy!�

“She attacked him, professor! Didn’t give him any time to defend himself, just attacked him!�

Arthur could feel the blood rising in his face.

“That’s not what happened!� he said loudly, running forward. “He tripped that first year and Molly was defending her, Professor! And Travers drew his wand first, I saw it! They’re just ashamed that he’s slower than someone two years behind him!�

Professor Dumbledore turned to scrutinize him while the Slytherins glared.

After a moment the Professor seemed satisfied. His eyes twinkled and he seemed to be smiling behind his long white beard. He looked from Arthur to the Slytherins and back again.

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley, however I'm afraid that I shall have to take fifteen points from Gryffindor for Miss Prewett's behaviour. It would not be wise to encourage rule breaking, and magic is not to be used in the halls.� This with a stern look as Arthur opened his mouth to object.

“But I shall also be taking fifteen points from Slytherin for Mr. Travers’ actions.�

The Slytherins, who had been looking smug, suddenly looked affronted. Professor Dumbledore waited for their dissenting voices with one raised eyebrow. The taller of the two opened his mouth as if to speak, waited a moment then closed it again, glowering.

“C’mon,� he grunted, and he and his friend skulked away in the direction of the Hospital Wing.

Professor Dumbledore turned back to Arthur and his beard twitched.

“There is no need to look so glum, Mr. Weasley. The spell Miss Prewett used should keep Mr. Travers occupied long enough that I felt it quite unnecessary for overly strict punishment.�

Arthur couldn’t help grinning back. Professor Dumbledore winked and walked away down the corridor and Arthur set off the opposite direction to his next class, still grinning.

It had taken two years for the immense respect Arthur had gained for Molly on that occasion in the third year to deepen into the feelings he had for her now. He had dared not call it Love then, at the age of fifteen. He knew it could be nothing else now at the age of seventeen.

Arthur had learned much about her the day she had defended the little Hufflepuff. Molly Prewett had a temper. She was brave — she had not shrunk from the defence of the first year even though she had been outnumbered three to one by boys much larger and older then herself. She was powerful and skilled — she had beaten someone with two additional years of magical study. She was protective of those weaker than herself, no matter if they had no more claim on her protection then that — that they were weak. She would not stand injustice or cruelty.

In the years since then he had learned more. He had listened when she spoke and learned that she was smart, had a witty sense of humour and made a point to always speak the truth. He discovered her extreme loyalty — she would do nearly anything for the people she cared about. She was very kind and went out of her way to help others.
She was wonderful.

Arthur was brought abruptly out of his reverie by the sound of the voice of Molly Prewett. She was speaking softly but his ears had long since been tuned to pick out her voice amidst hundreds. Arthur peered furtively around his armchair, looking for the source of the voice.

Molly was standing by the portrait hole, speaking quietly to someone standing just outside it. After a moment she waved goodbye and the Fat Lady’s portrait swung closed. Molly turned and Arthur could see the bemused expression she wore as she walked over to a nearby table, sat down and pulled out her homework.

Jealousy twisted his stomach and Arthur whirled back to look at the fire again, this time with a mixture of anger, hurt and longing on his face.

Arthur knew that he loved Molly now. He had come to terms with his love for her over the summer and walked onto Platform Nine ¾ on September 1st with every hope in the world that he would be dating Molly Prewett before September was over. He had boarded the train and gone in search of her, but it had been too late. When he found her she had been nestled in the arms of John Wentworth, Captain and Seeker of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

With an inscrutable face he had sat with them in their compartment, watching miserably as she laughed at his jokes, stared happily into his eyes and blushed whenever he looked back into hers.

That was three months ago now.

She was still dating John Wentworth.

…

Oh, the joys of young love.

...............


“Arthur? Arthur!�

Arthur jumped and turned to look at his best friend, Dirk Creswell, whose hand was flapping in front of his face.

“What?�

Dirk shrugged.

“I was just making sure you were still alive. You’ve been staring at that fire for hours, mate.�

Arthur grimaced. He had been lost in delusional fantasies about a certain redheaded girl and hadn’t noticed the time slipping by.

Pretending to stretch, Arthur raised his arms over his head and twisted around, surreptitiously letting his eyes skim over the other remaining occupants of the Gryffindor common room. In a corner, a couple of enterprising third years were huddled over homework, despite the Christmas break that loomed on the horizon. On a sagging couch nearby, a sixth year girl with long curly blonde hair was curled up, reading a book. And, still sitting at the table at which he had seen her earlier, was Molly Prewett, asleep, her head cushioned on a thick book and her face peaceful.

Finishing his stretch, Arthur turned back to his friend. Dirk’s face was amused, his eyes glinting mischievously. Ignoring that look, Arthur sat up and began extricating himself from the deep seat of the armchair he had inhabited for the last few hours. When he finally managed to stand, he let out a deep sigh and rubbed his eyes.

“I’m going to bed. Potions tomorrow, you know.�

Dirk rolled his eyes as Arthur bent over and began gathering his books.

“I don’t think Old Sluggy would care if you fell asleep in his class. Well… Maybe if you were in the middle of brewing something that needed ingredients added at specific times—“

“He might not care if you fell asleep,� Arthur said a little jerkily as he stuffed Muggle Man: A Wizard’s Guide to Understanding His Neighbours by Rookhart Waffling into his bag. “But I don’t think he’d be so lenient with me… or any other non-member of his precious little ‘Slug Club’.�

Arthur’s neck, just visible over his collar, had gone pink. Dirk sighed.

“Sorry, Art. I forgot.�

“Forgot that I’m not talented enough for ‘Old Sluggy’s’ taste?� Or anyone else’s, he added mentally, thinking of Molly.

“No. Sorry that I forgot your inferiority complex,� Dirk snapped.

Arthur stood up, his bag under one arm and a look of genuine confusion on his face.

“My what?�

Dirk ran his hand over his eyes and mumbled, “I also seemed to have forgotten you were not raised by Muggles.�

Shaking his head he turned back to his friend.

“Never mind. Let’s get to bed. I could use some sleep too.�
He had already taken two steps toward the stairs leading to the boy’s dormitories when Arthur said, “Dirk, wait a moment, will you?�

Dirk turned to see Arthur picking up a misshapen pillow from a nearby couch. Perplexed, Dirk walked back to his friend’s side and watched as he plumped and squashed the pillow into a more comfortable shape. When Arthur started walking toward the portrait hole, pillow in hand, Dirk, seriously concerned for his sanity, hissed, “What are you doing?�

Arthur turned and put a finger to his lips for a moment before continuing across the Common Room. When Arthur stopped beside the sleeping form of Molly Prewett, Dirk sniggered. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall and watched as Arthur carefully put a hand under Molly’s head, raised it, and with the other arm, pulled out the book she had been resting on and replaced it with the newly plumped pillow. Then, just as carefully, he lowered her head until she was resting on the squashy, plaid-covered cushion.

Arthur looked down at Molly’s face for a moment, his heart pounding. Hesitantly, he stretched out a thin, freckled hand, and tucked a strand of the red-brown hair that haunted his dreams behind her ear. Then, remembering the friend who was, no doubt, watching, and probably laughing at him, Arthur turned away, his face burning.

He managed to cross the room and run up the staircase without looking at his best friend. As they climbed into their four-poster beds a few minutes later, however, Arthur could see Dirk’s dark outline. He was shaking with silent laughter.

His cheeks flaring red again, Arthur settled back into the mattress and tried not to think about the teasing he would endure the next day.

…

Molly Prewett blinked sleepily and sat up, yawning.
Peering at her watch, she was startled to discover that it was twenty minutes past one in the morning. It had been almost ten the last time she had checked. Looking around, Molly saw that she and one other girl, Patricia Stubbs from the year below Molly, were the only ones left in the Common Room. Stretching, Molly took a moment to wonder how she could possibly have slept for over three hours sitting at a table.

It only took a short search for the book she had been reading to find out why. It was no longer sitting open in front of her, but had been pushed to one side and replaced by a small pillow. Feeling suddenly very charitable, Molly picked up the pillow and walked over to the couch where Patricia was apparently just finishing a book, a warm smile on her face.

“Thank you for the pillow, Patty! It was really too kind of you.�

Patricia looked up, startled.

“Pillow?� She blinked at the squashy, plaid-covered thing in Molly’s hand without recognition.

“I didn’t give you any pillow.�

Molly’s smile faded. Her eyebrows came together in a puzzled expression.

“Then who did?�

Patty had gone back to her novel.

“Mmm, some boy, I think. Yeah. Arthur Weasley’s his name, right? Tall, with bright red hair?�

Molly’s eyebrows went up.

“Arthur? Are you sure?�

Patricia gave Molly an aggrieved look and moaned, “Oh, c’mon, Molly, can’t you see I’m on the last chapter? Yeah, it was Weasley. There’s only one guy in Gryffindor with hair that red. Now, if you please, I’d like to finish my book!�

Molly glared at the handsome wizard and swooning witch cover illustration that now blocked the 6th year’s face from view.

Muttering under her breath about the unreliability of sixteen year olds, (and seemingly forgetting that only a year before she had been among their number) Molly walked back to her table, scooped up her books and shoved them in her bag. Then, after shooting Patricia Stubbs and her five-knut romance one last angry look, Molly retreated up the stairs to her dormitory.

…

The next morning, Arthur and Dirk were once again discussing Arthur’s hopeless love life over breakfast.

“Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?�

“You already know that she’s seeing someone.�

“And you think she wouldn’t leave Went— him,� he corrected himself at Arthur’s look, “for you?�

“Yeah… and I wouldn’t want her to anyway.�

“What? Why not?�

“If he makes her happy…�

Dirk groaned.

“You’re such an idiot, Arthur. Of course she would prefer you!�

Arthur sighed and took a big bite of toast. Dirk gulped down some orange juice and rolled his eyes. Then, with a grin, he sat up straight. His dark eyes were suddenly dancing.

“Arthur… I could tell her for you. We have prefect duty together tonight – we’ll be helping Pringle with the decorations and whatnot – and I could—“

“No!� Arthur shouted. He looked positively panicked.

“Well, if you won’t do it—?�

“I will, Dirk! I will. If she decides she doesn’t want… him then I’ll go right up—“

“Hello, Arthur.�

Both boys started and whirled around. Molly Prewett was smiling down at them from her diminutive height, her cheeks dimpling adorably and a look in her eyes that made Arthur worry that she knew exactly what they had been talking about.

“Er, hello, Molly.� Arthur hoped his galloping pulse wasn’t obvious.

“I was talking to Patty Stubbs last night.�

Arthur wasn’t sure what she meant for a moment. Confused, he tried to place the name. Then he remembered. Patricia Stubbs – she was the 6th year who had been reading on the couch last night! Suddenly the pulse he had worried might give him away for its rapidity seemed to have stopped altogether. What had she told Molly? Composing his face into what he hoped was a calm expression he asked, “Yes?�

“She said you gave me that pillow.�

Arthur’s heart restarted.

“Oh.�

“Yes. So I thought I’d come by and tell you, I thought that was very nice. Thank you.�

Arthur’s cheeks reddened.

“Well, er, you’re welcome… Molly.�

Molly paused as if waiting for him to say something more, but Arthur’s mind was blank. Finally, she turned to go.

“See you around, Arthur.�

“Er, Molly, wait!�

Molly turned back, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes?�

“Er…� Arthur cast about for something to say that would keep her there, with him.

“Molly, er, would you like some, er, breakfast? Yeah, would you like to eat with us, Molly?�

Molly blushed.

“Oh, thank you, Arthur. But I said I’d meet Johnny – you know, John Wentworth? I said I’d meet him for a walk.�

Arthur once again had to work to keep his exterior serene.

“Oh, right, yeah. Have a nice walk. See you later, Molly.�

He turned back to his breakfast, his appetite severely diminished. Molly, looking flustered, hesitated, grabbed a piece of toast and fled the hall, late for her date.

Dirk, who had watched the exchange with an uncommonly serious expression, turned to his friend.

“I’m sorry, mate, but this is getting pathetic. I don’t care what you say; I’m going to tell her tonight!�

Arthur’s eyes flashed behind his glasses.

“No, you will not.�

Dirk looked surprised at the sudden anger in his usually mild-mannered best friend’s face.

“Alright, I won’t then.� He paused. “But I don’t see any harm in telling her how much better you are than that idiot she’s dating.� His face split in a mischievous grin and he leapt away from Arthur before the angry redhead’s fist could connect with his side.

“See you later, Art!� he shouted as he raced away.

.........

“Hello, Molly.�

Molly Prewett looked up from the tinsel she was wrapping around the banister at the foot of the stairs and smiled.

“Hi, Dirk. What took you so long?�

Dirk shrugged. “I guess I lost track of the time.�

“Well, you really ought to—“

Apollyon Pringle, a red-faced man with a severe case of palsy, looked up, glowering, and cleared his throat loudly. Molly looked around, surprised at the interruption.

“Yes, Mr. Pringle?�

The aged caretaker took a breath, coughed loudly, and then said in a slow, deep, scratchy voice, “You are here to work, Miss Prewett, not to socialize.�

Molly’s eyebrows lowered. She looked perplexed.

“But, sir, I was only—“

“Do you want detention for disrespecting me, Miss Prewett?� Pringle rumbled. His bushy eyebrows were lowered to match hers, his beady eyes squinting near-sightedly in her direction.

Molly opened her mouth to protest that she meant no disrespect, but seeing Pringle’s expression, she closed it again and turned to glare at the tinsel in her hands. Dirk, silent and expressionless, took a new length of tinsel from the surly caretaker and began wrapping it around another banister.

Much of the evening passed in silence. Only when they had finished wrapping banisters in tinsel, putting up mistletoe (they were both very careful to avoid standing under the little green sprigs as they attached them to the ceiling), and hanging brightly coloured lanterns full of fairies, did Pringle dismiss them to patrol the corridors and they dared to speak again.

“So, how was your walk?� Dirk asked, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, an impish smile on his face.

Molly blushed.

“Oh, it was… good. Thank you.� She cleared her throat as they entered the Great Hall. “Eh hem, er, what are you doing over the holidays, Dirk?�

“I’m going home for the break,� said Dirk. “I can’t wait to be done with school and out in the real world. There’s a position in the Goblin Liaison Office that Professor Slughorn found for me that I’d like to take. It’s not an especially high position,� he added as Molly looked around in surprise, “but once I’m in, I can work my way up. What are you doing for the break?�

Molly smiled and looked around at the cheerily lit hall. A group of chattering first years staggered through the doors amidst a flurry of snowflakes and began pulling off their sopping wet gloves and scarves, their faces bright red with the cold. Nearby, a suit of armour started singing a carol.

“I’m staying here for Christmas. I’ve never spent the holiday here before, and, well, it’s the last year. I’ll never have the chance to spend it here again. I’ve loved the time I’ve been here. I’m not anxious to leave.�

Dirk grinned.

“You sound like Arthur. He’s staying, too.�

“That’s nice.�

Dirk grunted.

“Yeah, Arthur’s a good man, much better than me, anyway. I was surprised out of my mind in the fifth year when I was made a prefect. I thought, for sure, that he would get the badge. I’m too much of a troublemaker.�

Dirk grinned at Molly, who grimaced exaggeratedly. She had experienced the embarrassment of having her fellow prefect in detention when she had duty often enough over the last few years.

“But, really,� Dirk continued, “He’s so dedicated. You know how he wants to get into the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office? He only needed a passing OWL in Muggle Studies for it, but he is trying for a NEWT. He always gets his homework in on time, gets good grades…�

Dirk shook his head in amazement.

“I mean, I try, but Arthur… he tries harder.�

Molly was silent for a moment, then she shook her head and smiled. “He’s lucky to have a friend like you.�

Dirk shook his head. “Nah, you’ve got that backwards. I am lucky to have him as a friend. We’ve been through a lot of tight spots together, him and me. But he keeps me in line most of the time. I probably would have been expelled years ago if not for good, old, Arthur.�

They were silent for a while as they climbed a steep set of stairs that had been hidden behind a tapestry. When they emerged from the stairwell, Dirk motioned that they should stop and catch their breaths for a moment. Molly leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. Dirk sat on a plinth at the feet of a large, confused looking statue.

After a moment, Dirk looked up.

“So, what are your plans for after Hogwarts?�

Molly turned a deep red and then laughed at her own reaction. She walked over to a window and looked out at the falling snow as she answered.

“You’re going to think I’m silly, but I’d like to settle down. Find a man who’ll love me forever, marry him and… raise a family.�

There was a small, stifled giggle. Molly whirled around, looking up and down the corridor, her brown eyes angry and suspicious. A moment later, a sedate looking female ghost drifted through the wall, saw the glare on Molly’s face, raised an eyebrow then floated away with her chin in the air.

Molly, after shooting a glare at the ghost’s back, turned back to see Dirk’s reaction to her words. His face was surprisingly cool.

“So...eh hem. You want to settle down. Does that mean you and Wentworth are, er… I mean, has he asked you…?�

Molly’s blush deepened to a deep scarlet.

“Oh, no, I—� she stuttered, “No, no, we — we’re not… We’re just — just going out, as of now.�

Dirk grinned. “That’s good. Wouldn’t want to see you married off to a Ravenclaw!� He laughed at the frown these words inspired.

They continued their patrol in uncomfortable silence. For over an hour they walked the corridors of Hogwarts. Occasionally, they attempted conversation but were unable to sustain it for more than a few words. They were on the floor below the entrance to Gryffindor tower, nearly finished making their rounds, when they encountered the first sign of trouble.

Raised voices echoed down the corridor. Molly looked at Dirk, who raised his eyebrows. Prefect’s badges gleaming in the dim torchlight, they marched down the hallway and around the corner.

A little way down this new corridor, Andromeda Black, a willowy Slytherin fourth year, with long, dark hair, was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. She would have appeared entirely at ease if not for the fire dancing in her eyes and the haughty expression on her face. Standing across from her, and mirroring her arrogance and her anger, was her older sister, Bellatrix Black, a sixth year, also in Slytherin. Bellatrix looked rather more aggravated than her sister. She was pacing and waving her arms, her equally long and dark hair unusually frizzy. It was her voice that was producing the majority of the echoes.

“I saw you with him myself, ‘Dromeda, don’t lie! You know I can tell when you’re lying!�

“I never denied that I'm friends with him, Bella." Andromeda sounded as calm as she appeared, but there was a steely undertone to her voice.

“But even that is too much! He is a Mudblood, ‘Dromeda! You were born to be among your own kind, among those of a higher class then him! If you are seen with him it is as if you were seen with a Muggle!� Bellatrix spat the word as if it left a highly unpleasant taste in her mouth.

Molly glanced around at her fellow prefect, suddenly remembering that he was a Muggleborn. Dirk’s face was paler than usual, his mouth set in a hard line.

“Bella, Bella, please, let’s all calm down. ‘Meda, if you’ll just promise that you’ll not be friends with the Mudblood… We really shouldn’t argue," broke in a softer voice, and Molly noticed for the first time that the youngest Black sister, Narcissa, a Slytherin first year, was also part of the argument. She was much smaller than either of her sisters with long, white-blonde hair that was a startling contrast with their deep-black manes. She was at Bellatrix’s side, trotting after her as she paced, like a puppy looking for attention.

“Be quiet, ‘Cissy,� Bellatrix hissed at the same time that Andromeda, ignoring her younger sister’s comment, said in a slightly louder voice than she had used before, “It is none of your business who I am friends with, Bella. I choose who I spend my time with, not you! And I choose Ted.�

Bellatrix looked like she was preparing a scathing reply when Dirk interrupted.

“Is there a problem here, Black?� he asked, addressing Bellatrix.

All three sisters turned flashing eyes on the two Gryffindor prefects.

“This is a family matter, and no concern of yours, Cresswell!� snarled Bellatrix, using the same disgusted tone as she said his name as she had when she had spoken of Muggles.

“Whether it is or not, I suggest you take your sisters back to your common room and finish your discussion there. Fourth years and younger are not allowed out after eight.� Bellatrix glared.

“They are here with my permission. You seem to have forgotten,“ Bellatrix straightened and turned slightly so that the small golden badge on the front of her robes caught the light, “I am a prefect, too.�

Molly decided to intervene.

“Your position doesn’t change anything, Bellatrix. They are still not allowed out after hours. So why don’t you take your ‘family matter’ back to your house and let us get on with our job?�

Bellatrix opened her mouth, paused, then, sneering, asked, “Oh, yes, because you’d know all about family matters, wouldn’t you, Prewett?�

Molly, who had been expecting more yelling, was caught off guard.

“What?�

Dirk, who was paying more attention to the wand-arm of each sister, now, than he was to the conversation, caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he saw a certain redheaded boy with several books under his arm. Arthur's face was concerned as he walked cautiously down the corridor.

Bellatrix folded her arms, her face smug.

“You would know all about families, wouldn’t you, Prewett? It’s what you want to do after school, isn’t it? ‘Find a man who’ll love me, and raise a family,’� she repeated in a sing-song voice. “Isn’t that right?�

Molly’s face went red than white. Her eyes darted sideways to where Dirk was quietly greeting a worried Arthur Weasley. Dirk, hearing the last few words of Bellatrix’s taunt turned sharply to stare at her.

“How did you—?� Molly began.

“How did I hear? You must be blind as well as fat, Prewett. Rodolphus and I were standing behind that statue of Boris the Bewildered. We heard your romantic little dream. Too bad no one will ever ‘love you forever,’ let alone marry you, unless he’s twice as fat and ugly as you are! That boyfriend of yours must need glasses!�

Arthur’s face went bright red. Dirk had to grab his arm to keep him from yanking out his wand and hexing the smirking sixth year. Molly, however, ignoring the slights upon her personal appearance, replied blithely, “At least my father doesn’t need to pay him to ask me out, unlike…some people.� She smiled sweetly at Bellatrix.

Bellatrix looked like she had been slugged in the stomach. Her eyes were bulging and her mouth opened and closed, soundlessly. Andromeda grinned and winked at Molly from behind her sister’s back. Narcissa, however, put her little hands on her hips and screwed up her eleven year old face into a glare.

Molly crossed her arms. Standing as tall as she could, she said in a stern voice, “Now, I think I’ll be taking five points from Slytherin, for you two being out after hours, and another five for creating a disturbance. It’ll be five more if you are not out of my sight in less than a minute. Now, get going.�

Andromeda rolled her eyes, waved, and walked away. Narcissa glared a moment longer, then took her older sister by the arm.

“Come on, Bella.�

Bellatrix, having just recovered from the low blow she had been dealt, shook off her sister and turned to glare at Molly again. Her wand-hand twitched over her pocket, but both Dirk and Arthur cleared their throats, standing on either side of Molly like sentinels. Bellatrix’s wide black eyes flickered from Dirk, who was broadly built, and almost a head taller than her, to Arthur, who had a murderous scowl on his face, and was a full head taller than Dirk. Finally, they settled on Molly, whose lightly freckled face was unruffled.

“You just wait, Prewett. I swear, someday, you’re going to pay.�

Then she turned, stiffly, and stomped away, her chin in the air. Narcissa paused to stick out her tongue at the offending Gryffindors then followed her sister, her chin similarly raised.

Molly waited until the Slytherin sisters had turned the corner then let out a sigh. Turning, she seemed surprised to find the two young men standing over her, still glaring down the empty corridor.

“Come on, boys. Let’s get off to Gryffindor tower. I don’t know about you two,� she stifled a yawn, “but I am tired. Dealing with a disagreeable Black does drain one.�

And, humming quietly, Molly led the way down the corridor.

.........

The Saturday a week before the break, the students of Hogwarts awoke to discover the grounds covered in a blanket of sparkling snow. Arthur, sleepily glancing out his dorm window, took one look at the knee-high powder and let out an excited yell. Dirk, the only boy in the dorm not yet out of bed, jerked awake.

“I didn’t do it,� he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Arthur shook his head, grinning.

“I doubt even Dumbledore could do that! Look at all that snow, Dirk!� He turned to look mischievously at his friend. “You know what this means, don’t you?�

Dirk groaned and heaved himself out of bed.

“That it’s cold outside?�

Arthur shook his head, waiting for Dirk’s stupor to clear.

Dirk ran a hand through his hair and looked sleepily around at the other boys in the dormitory. Thomas Turner was smirking, having just comprehended Arthur’s statement. Jacob Montgomery was already pulling a pair of gloves and a scarf out of his trunk. Only Solomon Clearwater looked unexcited, though he seemed to understand Arthur’s meaning.

Finally, a sly smile crept over Dirk’s face.

“Snowball fight?�

Arthur grinned.

“Exactly.�

…

Molly was surprised when Arthur Weasley, Dirk Creswell and two other seventh year boys nearly bowled her over as she entered the common room, all of them wearing coats, hats, gloves, scarves, and nearly-identical expressions of glee. Only Arthur slowed his forward momentum enough to explain, breathlessly, “Snowball fight. You want to come?�

Molly, surprised, stuttered, “I… Yes, I’d love to! But you know, I really… Well, I’m not dressed for it—“

“We’ll be down by Hagrid’s hut. Bring a few friends.� He grinned. “You’ll need them.� And with that, he ran after his own friends.

Molly stared after him for a moment, then, turning to look at the common room at large, she saw her best friend, Dorcas Meadowes, looking back at her, alongside another pair of faces that looked remarkably similar to Molly’s own.

“You think we can take them?�

Gideon and Fabian smiled and Fabian cracked his knuckles. Dorcas raised an eyebrow and pretended to contemplate the issue.

“Well, let’s see. The most powerful witch in the year — oh, that’s you, of course — with the second most powerful witch in the year — myself, obviously — and the ‘Unstoppable Prewett Duo.’ Against Weasley, Creswell, Turner and Montgomery? Mmm, I don’t know, that does sound like pretty even odds…�

She snorted.

“Of course we can take them, Molly!� Then, smiling, she added, “And we can beat ‘em, too.�

…

Dirk laughed when his snowball landed squarely in a preoccupied Arthur Weasley’s face. Arthur fell onto his backside, sputtering, and Dirk turned to see what had distracted his friend. His wasn’t too surprised when he saw a small group of people making their way towards them through the snow — snowball fights were open to anyone. But that short female figure at the front of the group looked very familiar… Dirk’s eyebrows shot up his forehead.

“You invited Molly?�

Dirk turned to look at Arthur just in time to avoid being hit by his return snowball. Arthur looked delighted.

“Yeah, I did. And she came! Hey, go easy on—“

He was interrupted by a snowball to the stomach from Thomas.

“Oh, you’re asking for a beating now, Turner!�

“Well, then, give it to me, Weasley!�

Laughing, they started chucking snowballs at each other as fast as they could make them. After a moment Dirk took Arthur’s side and Jacob took Thomas’s, and the air was filled with hard-packed snow. Dirk didn’t even notice that Molly’s group had joined the fight until suddenly he was being pounded with so many snowballs he couldn’t see straight.

“Oi! Thomas! Jacob! We’re under attack! Help!�

The barrage let up somewhat, and Dirk could see Arthur next to him, laughing.

“Still want me to go easy on her, Art?�

Arthur’s grin was somewhat maniacal.

“What do you think?�

Dirk laughed.

“I’ll take that for a ‘no’.�

…

“Admit it, Arthur Weasley, I did better than you thought I would!�

“Certainly, I’ll admit it. I never expected that I would be the one who would end up needing my friends. You did very well. You might even have won, if…�

“…If that tree root hadn’t tripped me, yes. I still say you somehow managed to call it up out of the ground when you knew you were going to lose.�

“Why would I do that?�

Arthur was genuinely shocked. They were sitting in an unusually full Hospital Wing (due to a seasonal cold that had been flying about from student to student), Molly’s sprained ankle propped up on a pillow while they waited for Madam Dawson to attend to her. The idea of deliberately causing Molly pain sickened him. Arthur remembered the panic that had filled him when she had fallen, inexplicably, face first, into the snow.

Of course, he had been unable to see the root that, hidden in the deep snow, her foot had caught on, and had rushed to her side. When they had discovered that she couldn’t put any weight on her ankle, Arthur had offered to carry her to the castle, but after carrying Molly a few stumbling steps through the deep snow, he had been relieved to hear the deep voice of the huge new assistant gamekeeper, Hagrid, asking if he could help. Hagrid had lifted Molly as easily as a doll, and brushed through the snow, which came hardly to his shins, as though it weren’t even there. Arthur, following in Hagrid’s massive footsteps, had told his friends to go on without them, and hurried after him. Even now, Hagrid was standing nearby, looking anxious and much too large to be indoors.

Arthur had just opened his mouth to ask again what she had meant by her disturbing question, when Poppy Pomfrey, a Hufflepuff in their year and Madam Dawson’s aide, appeared by Molly’s bedside.

“Hello, Molly, Arthur. Madam Dawson’s a bit busy right now, as you can see, so she asked me to take care of you.� She eyed Molly’s ankle for a moment then pulled out her wand. “Corpius totus,� she murmured, waving her wand over Molly’s foot. Molly let out a sharp gasp then smiled.

“That was amazing, Poppy! Thank you!�

“My pleasure,� Poppy said, her eyes twinkling.

Molly hopped off her bed and turned to Hagrid.

“Thank you, very much, for carrying me in, Mr. Hagrid.�

Hagrid smiled and the corners of his eyes crinkled. He rubbed a hand over the dark brown whiskers that covered his chin, and said, “I’m jus’ glad you’re alright, tha’s all. I was glad ter do it. But please, don’ call me ‘Mister,’ Miss Prewett. Call me Hagrid. Everybody does.�

Molly smiled.

“I’ll call you Hagrid, if you call me Molly. Do we have a deal?�

Hagrid chuckled.

“Whatever you like, Molly.�

Another couple of students with bright red noses walked into the Hospital Wing and Poppy sighed.

“Molly, Arthur,� she paused to crane her neck and look up at Hagrid, “Hagrid. I need to ask you three to leave now...�

“Oh, I’m sorry Poppy,� Molly said, hurriedly, snatching up her gloves and coat. “We’ll get out of your way. C’mon, let’s go, Arthur.� And, putting one hand on his arm, she led him out of the Hospital Wing, Hagrid following a few paces behind.

Arthur was very aware of her small, warm hand resting just above his elbow, and his heart flopped about in his chest like a fish on dry ground.

When they had walked a few paces, Molly’s eyes flickered sideways to Arthur’s face and she smiled.

“You know, Arthur—“ she began, but was interrupted by a yell from down the corridor.

“Molly? Molly!�

Molly jumped and her hand flew from Arthur’s arm. She turned to look at the speaker with a somewhat flustered smile.

“Hello, Johnny.�

John Wentworth was striding down the corridor. His face was ruddy from being out in the cold; he was dressed in his quidditch robes and held a broomstick in one hand.

Arthur, his stomach sinking, merely nodded and grunted, “Wentworth.�

Wentworth nodded in return. “Weasley.�

Turning to Molly, he said, “Well, you look alright.�

Arthur bristled at his brusque comment. Molly’s eyes flashed, but she took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Yes. Thanks to Arthur and Mr. Hag— I mean, Hagrid. They carried me up here after I sprained my ankle.�

Arthur was surprised that Molly gave him credit — he had carried her for hardly a few steps.

“How did you find out I was—�

“Injured? Carlotta Hurst told me when I got in from practice. She seemed to think…� Wentworth paused to eye Arthur, his gaze hard. “Well. She had a bit to say. I came as soon as I could escape her.�

Arthur forced his face to remain neutral, though his insides were writhing. Why would Molly ever date a git like him? he wondered, angrily. From behind him, he heard Hagrid gruffly excuse himself, and said goodbye without removing his eyes from Wentworth, who was obviously trying to stare him down.

Molly seemed completely oblivious to the stare-down taking place. She thanked Hagrid profusely once again, said her goodbyes, and then proceeded to walk down the corridor. Arthur and Wentworth started after her, their eyes still locked on one another, daring each other to blink or look away. Molly was prattling about snow and snowball fights, but Arthur was having a difficult time paying attention with a hostile pair of eyes boring into him.

After a few more seconds of aimless chatter on Molly’s behalf and fierce glaring on behalf of the boys on either side of her, Wentworth, in a possessive move, slipped his arm around Molly’s waist and raised a challenging eyebrow. Arthur glared for a moment longer, then, sighing in defeat, he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away.

“I — I’ve got to be going, Molly. I’ll see you around.�

“Oh, yes. I do hope I haven’t made you late for anything?� Molly asked anxiously, coming to a standstill in the middle of the corridor. When Arthur answered in the negative, she continued, looking rather relieved, “That’s good. Thank you, again, for helping me to the Hospital Wing, Arthur. And for inviting me to be part of your snowball fight. It was so very fun! I’ll see you later, I suppose. Goodbye, Arthur.�

And, feeling as if his stomach was in the vicinity of his toes, Arthur turned away and retreated along a different corridor.

...

From the moment he woke up on Christmas morning, Arthur was in a great mood. He awoke to a silent dorm – all his dorm mates had gone home for the holidays – bright, wintry sunlight streaming through the windows, and the prospect of a Wentworth-free holiday. With her boyfriend away at home, Molly would be free game.

After ripping through the pile of presents at the foot of his bed (mostly sweets and books on Muggles), he took his time as he dressed and readied himself for the day. He was unusually meticulous in his grooming that morning, combing each flaming red hair into place, and actually taking the time, for once, to make sure his robes weren’t lopsided.

He was nearly ready to declare his appearance satisfactory when he noticed his glasses. They almost entirely blocked his eyes – the one feature he possessed that he thought noteworthy. He hesitated, wondering if Molly would think him as foolish as he felt himself to be, then took off his glasses and tucked them in his pocket.

Squinting, he walked slowly toward the door, hands outstretched.

Ten minutes later he emerged into the common room with a sore backside and his glasses back on. He had dismally overestimated his ability to see without aid. Nevertheless, it had taken quite a nasty tumble down a full flight of stairs to make him concede defeat and return his glasses to their perch on his nose. Berating himself for his vain attempt to look more appealing, Arthur limped to his favorite armchair in front of the fire, intent on sinking into it and abandoning his mission for some other time. But when he got to his armchair, it was only to find someone else sitting in it – a short, curvaceous, redheaded someone else.

Molly Prewett blinked up at him with a pair of enormous brown eyes and smiled.

Arthur’s stomach jumped. Unable to think of anything to say, he smiled back.

“Happy Christmas, Arthur!� Molly said brightly, standing up.

Arthur gulped. “Ha-happy Christmas, Molly.� His brain seemed to have stopped working. She was there. He had been planning on finding her. Now wasn’t there something he needed to do?

Suddenly, it clicked. Happy Christmas… Christmas… Presents… Christmas presents. His gift for Molly!

With hands that seemed suddenly much too large and clumsy, Arthur fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the box that he had wrapped in coloured paper and string over a week before.

“I got you something, Molly. Er, here.� He shoved it eagerly into her hands.

Molly’s smile grew and her dimples made an appearance.

“Thank you! That’s so kind of you!� She turned her attention to the box. With a few deft movements from her tiny hands, the paper and string fell to the floor. Molly lifted her eyes to Arthur’s once more, then opened the box and brought out the contents. A tiny snow globe emerged from the box, fake snow whirling. There was a wintry scene inside: a tiny snow-laden cottage with blazing windows and surrounded by trees covered in more fake snow. Molly stared at the globe, entranced.

“What is it?� she breathed, as if the little globe might shatter if exposed to sounds any louder than a whisper.

“A snow globe, Molly. They sell them all over in Muggle towns during Christmas. And look, that’s not all it does, see?� He turned it over and showed her the tiny wind up key that stuck out of the bottom. He gave it a few quick turns, then flipped it right side up again.

A soft, sweet song chimed from the globe as the fake snow inside fell in lazy circles.

Arthur watched Molly’s rapturous face, feeling a curious burning sensation in his middle. When the song ended, Molly looked up, her cheeks a little more pink than usual.

“Oh, thank you, Arthur, it’s wonderful!� She paused and bit her lip. Arthur’s stomach dropped. She didn’t have anything for him. He didn’t know why he felt so disappointed. She was dating someone else, after all. And she hardly knew him anyway. Why should she get him anything? Trying to keep his smile from faltering, he said, “Well, happy Christmas, Molly. I should probably get going to breakfast—�

“No! Wait— wait, just one moment, Arthur. I’ll be right back! I’ll go put this in my room and be back in a minute. I’ve got— I’ve got something for you, too.� Molly smiled and her face flared red. Arthur watched her go, hopeful butterflies dancing in his midriff.

When Molly returned to the common room a few minutes later, Arthur couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. In her arms she held a dark blue sweater. Molly’s face flushed and she held it up for him to examine.

It was about his size with a large, clumsily knitted A in yellow on the chest. It was obvious that she had made it herself. Arthur felt his spirits soaring. She must care about him! She wouldn’t have taken all the time and effort to make this for him if she didn’t! Then she spoke.

“I felt, er, so very grateful… You know, after you gave me the pillow a few weeks ago, and then you helped me up to the Hospital Wing and… Well, I just had to do something for you to— to express my… thanks. So, er, here you go.� She handed it over.

Arthur rubbed a thumb over the thick wool, thinking, his spirits flying a shade lower. So, it was only a thank you gift. She didn’t really care about him. She cared about something he had done. Well… that was still better than nothing. Arthur took off his jacket and pulled on the sweater. When he had it on he looked down at himself, examining it. The right sleeve was longer than the left, and the knitting was tighter in some places than in others, but it was warm, and it was from Molly. He didn’t care how it made him look.

Arthur looked up at Molly, grinning. Molly’s expression was, Arthur thought, almost anxious as she waited for his verdict.

“Thanks, Molly,� Arthur said, then in response to the unspoken question, “It’s great.�

Molly smiled, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes – they still appeared troubled. Probably wondering whether Wentworth will approve of her giving me a gift, Arthur thought, bitterly. Unable to meet her gaze, Arthur looked down at his hands.

“Yeah…Thanks. I, er, I’d best be going to breakfast now…�

He was turning away when Molly said, “Oh, wait, I’ll join you, if you don’t mind.� Arthur’s head snapped up just in time to see Molly disappearing once more up the stairs to the girl’s dormitories. When she returned, she was wearing a jacket and scarf.

“Shall we?� she asked, brightly. Arthur nodded and followed Molly through the portrait hole, nonplussed.

***

Arthur could hardly believe the day’s events. It seemed strange that one of the best days of his life had begun with a tumble down the stairs. After accompanying him to breakfast, Molly had not scurried away as usual, but had returned to the common room with him, laughing and talking. They had spent hours playing wizard chess (Arthur had tried not to beat her too badly), then they had gone to lunch together. After lunch they had had another snowball fight. Arthur, feeling bad about winning the chess game, had eventually sat down in the snow and allowed Molly to pelt him with as much snow as she could throw. They had returned to the common room laughing and sopping wet.

With coats, scarves, socks and shoes drying by the fire, they had roasted marshmallows and discussed the mysteries of the universe, like whether cats were smarter than dogs. Arthur was a staunch believer that dogs were the more intelligent species, while Molly would not relinquish her view that cats were smarter. The playful argument had ended with Arthur snatching up Molly’s scarf and, pretending it was a tail and he was a cat, running about the common room, mewing. Molly, pretending to be angry, chased Arthur for a several minutes before collapsing on one of the worn couches, laughing so hard she could hardly breathe. Arthur, also laughing, sat down beside her and leaned back into the cushions, eyes closed, feeling content.

He heard students leaving the common room, then Dorcas Meadowes’ voice.

“Molly, we’re going to dinner. Are you coming?�

Arthur sank lower into the couch, waiting for her answer, waiting for her to go with her friend.

“Oh, I’ll be along in a few minutes, Dorcas. I don’t think my shoes are quite dry yet.�

Relief mingled with curiosity flooded Arthur. Why was she staying? Surely her shoes were dry by now. Was she staying for him? His stomach flipped over at the thought.

Opening his eyes, Arthur discovered that he and Molly were alone in the common room now. Molly’s eyes, large and brown and innocent, were focused on his face. Arthur blinked, surprised. Molly blushed and looked away. Arthur’s heart thumped in his chest. She was so close. So close…

Molly turned to look at him again and her eyes widened. Arthur leaned in–

And Molly jumped to her feet. Her face was bright red and she was avoiding his eyes. “We ought to get off to dinner, Arthur.�

Arthur shook himself. She was seeing someone! What had he been doing? “Molly, I– “

Molly was pulling on her socks. She still wasn’t meeting his eyes. “Yes, Arthur?�

Arthur gulped. “I’m sorry I– Molly…�

“Never mind.� Molly stuffed her sock-clad feet into her shoes. When she looked up there was a stiff smile on her lips. “Let’s go.� She turned and marched toward the portrait hole.

Arthur leapt to his feet and, without waiting to put on his socks, he pushed his feet into his boots and scrambled after her.

“Wait– Molly, I didn’t mean–!�

Molly whirled around, eyes flashing.

“Didn’t mean to try to kiss me? You don’t kiss someone on accident, Arthur Weasley! What do you think I am? What about Johnny? You thought I’d just– you think I’m some kind of…� Her voice rose to a shriek. “Some kind of scarlet woman?�

Arthur blanched.

“No, no, Molly, I just – I couldn’t, I didn’t… I like you, Molly! I like you! I didn’t mean to— I’m sorry!�

Molly glared at him for a moment then turned away. Just before she reached the portrait hole she paused. Arthur thought he heard her sigh. Then she was gone.

...

“So, are you ever going to tell me what happened over the break, or are you just going to keep acting like this?�

Arthur frowned but kept his eyes on the corridor in front of him.

“Acting like what?�

Dirk rolled his eyes. “Moping.�

Arthur cast a stern eye at his friend. “I have not been moping.�

Dirk snorted. “Then what do you call what you’ve been doing?�

Arthur ignored that and jogged down the front steps, following the crowds of well-bundled students heading for the Quidditch Pitch. Dirk sprinted after him.

“Alright, you don’t want to talk and you’re not moping.�

Arthur nodded. Dirk slapped his cold hands together to warm them and continued, “Ok then. We’re just going to go to the game now, and watch Ravenclaw wallop Slytherin, and we won’t talk about – anything. Well, nothing serious. We’ll just talk Quidditch.�

Arthur stopped walking mid-step. Dirk, oblivious, kept going.

“Hey, Art, I’ll bet you a sickle that MacMillan drops the Quaffle before the—“

“Ravenclaw is playing today?�

Dirk looked around, surprised to see Arthur jogging to catch up with him.

“Yeah, Arthur, Ravenclaw’s playing. What of it?�

Arthur’s face darkened. “Wentworth is playing today.�

Dirk sucked in a breath. “Oh, yeah…�

Arthur shoved his hands in his pockets and continued walking, a faraway look in his eyes. Dirk hurried after him. As they neared the Quidditch stadium an impish smile crossed Arthur’s face. Surprised, Dirk asked him what he was smiling about.

Arthur laughed and replied, “I never thought I’d say it, but… I just really hope Slytherin wins.�

***

The stands were packed despite the bitter cold wind that swept across the grounds, reddening faces and stiffening fingers. A burst of sound rose from the stands as the Ravenclaw team was announced, and then again as the blue-clad team walked onto the field. The Ravenclaws, all in blue and bronze, screamed and waved banners emblazoned with ravens that actually appeared to fly, whilst the other three houses tried their best to drown them out with a mixture of cheers and booing.

Then the Slytherin team was announced and, as one, the Slytherins cheered, raised their wands and shot green streamers into the air that writhed and coiled like snakes. The Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws roared with surprise and then let loose a torrent of booing as the Slytherin team walked onto the field.

Arthur stared morosely at the field as the referee marched out into the midst of the players and gave them a few opening remarks. Her voice was lost to the crowd through the wind.

Arthur had decided to come to the Quidditch game in an attempt to distract himself, to cheer himself up. He had always loved watching the game, though he had never been much good at it himself – he was far too clumsy on a broom to be of much use in any of the positions. But now, as the ref motioned for the captains of each team to shake hands, Arthur couldn’t help thinking that the more emotionally sound choice would have been to have stayed back in the castle.

Tall, thin and dark-haired, Wentworth strutted forward to meet the opposing Captain. There was a brief, bone-crushing meeting of their hands, and then Wentworth walked back to his team, his pace brisk, his manner jaunty. Arthur glared at the back of the cocky Ravenclaw’s head. How was it that a git like that had ended up with everything? He was Captain and Seeker of his team. He was a ‘dream boat’ according to the giggly Hufflepuff girls that sat together in the back of Potions every week. He came from an old wizarding family – an old rich wizarding family. And, most importantly, Wentworth had Molly’s devoted attention, perhaps even her love. The git.

It had been nearly two weeks since Christmas. He and Molly had hardly spoken to each other in that time. As the two teams kicked off and flew into the sky, Arthur relived that day in his head once again. A sad sort of pleasure filled him as he remembered the teasing and the laughing, the snowball fight and the chess, but finally, he came, wincing, to the badly timed attempt at a kiss. And again, just as they had every day in the last two weeks, her words ran through his mind.

You don’t kiss someone on accident, Arthur Weasley! What about Johnny?

What about ‘Johnny’? he asked angrily of the Molly he had pictured in his head. What about him? He’s an idiot! He’s rude, and self-centred, and he doesn’t appreciate you! Why would you ever go out with him, Molly? He doesn’t deserve you!

The Molly in his mind gave him a disgusted look. “And you do, Arthur?� she asked, pointedly.

Arthur paused his imaginary conversation to consider the question, his stomach sinking. Did he deserve Molly? Did he, Arthur Weasley, the clumsy, Muggle-obsessed youngest son of a poor family, deserve beautiful, fierce, powerful, good Molly? He had never thought of it that way before. It had always been Did Molly like him? and Would Molly ever notice him? He had never wondered whether he was good enough for wonderful, beautiful Molly to notice him. Arthur grimaced at his own self-centredness. And he had fancied himself to be in love with Molly? What kind of love was that?

He remembered what his brother, Bilius, had called it when he’d tried to tell him about his feelings for Molly over the summer. Infatuation. The idea that his brother might have been right stung.

But, wasn’t he thinking about her welfare now? Didn’t that count? Didn’t that prove, somehow, that this really was more than just an infatuation, an obsession?

Arthur groaned and dropped his head in his hands. No. Even if it was real love, he could still never be good enough for Molly. He wasn’t brave enough. He wasn’t smart enough. He wasn’t particularly powerful. He wasn’t exactly handsome.

He had just come to the conclusion that he wasn’t any more deserving of Molly than Wentworth was when another devastating thought hit him: what could he possibly give her after Hogwarts?

Because if he really did love her, if this was real, if she was his one and only, than he could never be content just spending a few months by her side in the easily broken bonds of boyfriend and girlfriend. If this was true love, than he knew he could never settle for now or for a little while. He wouldn’t accept less than forever. He wouldn’t take less than – the thought seemed crazy – he wouldn’t take less than marriage.

And if they were married… if they were married… Arthur’s mind was whirling – he was only seventeen! People didn’t get married at seventeen anymore! – but… if they were married… he would need to provide food and clothing and a place to live, and – and besides that, Molly was so wonderful, so beautiful, she deserved fine jewellry and nice clothes and… How would he come up with the money to pay for all of those things? He’d need a good job to bring home that many galleons each month. And what career was he going into? Muggle relations. One of the lowest paying departments at the ministry. I could change careers! he thought defiantly. His heart sank at the idea of abandoning his dream job, but he gritted his teeth resolutely. For Molly, I could do it!

He sat, staring unseeingly out at the Quidditch pitch, gathering determination. After a moment a Ravenclaw chaser made a goal and around him the Gryffindors yelled and clapped, but Arthur frowned down at his hands, oblivious.

No… That wouldn’t work. He couldn’t adjust his career path now. He was half-way through his last year at Hogwarts. It was a little too late for changing his mind now. He didn’t know enough about any other subject for any other job to want him.

Then another thought hit him. If they were married… they might have kids.

The thought was strange and new, and Arthur was surprised by how appealing it sounded. As the youngest, he had never experienced having children younger than himself around, but he had always thought a younger sibling would have been nice. But being a parent was different than being an older brother. If they had children, that would mean a lot more responsibilities, a lot more bills. Their children would need clothing, and school supplies, and a bigger house to live in, and diapers, and – and thousands of other things. And he would have to provide the money to buy it all.

There was a shriek from the row behind him, and Arthur looked up, startled, just in time to dive sideways as a broom-less player crashed into the stands, right where Arthur had just been sitting. There was a low hissing sound as the Bludger that had hit the player zoomed off to find a new target. Arthur hurried over to the fallen player.

“Are you alright? Hey! Are you al—“

Arthur stuttered to a halt as he managed to pull the player out of the wreckage. It was Wentworth. And he was, apparently, unconscious.

Blood flooded Arthur’s face as jealousy drained his mind of reasonable thought. Wentworth’s eyelids flickered. Here he was, the very person that Arthur had been thinking of so resentfully and so recently. Unconscious. Practically dumped in his lap. Immediately, vengeful thoughts of various spells that would make sure that Wentworth didn’t sit down for a week sprang to mind. No... too obvious. But – he put his hand in his pocket, slipped his fingers around his wand – a simple Confundus Charm could prevent Wentworth from winning the game…

“Oh, no! Johnny? Johnny!�

Molly Prewett came scrambling toward them over the mess of broken seats.

Arthur slid hastily away from Wentworth’s prone figure, both disappointed and relieved to have the temptation to curse Wentworth removed. Molly dropped to her knees beside her barely stirring boyfriend.

“Johnny?� she whispered, brushing a lock of that red-brown hair out of her face. Wentworth blinked stupidly and looked around.

“What happened?� he groaned, sitting up.

“A Bludger hit you,� Molly explained, a comforting arm around his shoulder. Wentworth grunted in reply. Looking around, he noticed Arthur standing nearby. His dark eyes flashed ominously. He threw off Molly’s helping hand and climbed to his feet. Giving Arthur one last dirty look, he seized his broomstick, which had landed nearby, mounted it and soared back into the game.

Molly stood there, hands on hips, looking after him for a moment. Then, turning, she caught sight of Arthur. It seemed that she had not noticed his presence before. Blushing, she gave him what he thought was a very strange look – half-guilty, half… what? Arthur still hadn’t figured it out when she turned away, her face bright red, and slowly walked away to her seat a few rows back.

Arthur waved his wand over his smashed seat. The splintered pieces flew back together, and he sat down again to watch the rest of the game. But, try though he might, he failed to enjoy it. Not even when Wentworth, whose game was suffering greatly from his fall, went spiraling drunkenly toward the Snitch and then turned the wrong direction at the last second, allowing Slytherin an easy win, did he feel any satisfaction. His thoughts were too dismal and confused.

As he and Dirk left the pitch, Dirk animatedly analyzing the game and its effect on Gryffindor’s chance for the cup, Arthur kept his eyes on his shoes, trying not to think anymore.

That strategy didn’t work long, however. They hadn’t gone very far before the sound of an argument somewhere off to their right caught Arthur’s attention. The voices were difficult to make out in the hubbub as students pushed past, hurrying to get back to the castle and out of the wind and snow, but Arthur was sure that at least one of the arguing voices belonged to Molly Prewett.

“Hey, Dirk?�

Dirk paused his blow-by-blow breakdown of the game. “Yeah?�

“I forgot my umbrella. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?�

Dirk looked confused. Arthur hoped he didn’t remember that he had not brought an umbrella. Finally, Dirk shrugged.

“Alright. See you later, Art.�