After the war, The Burrow was abnormally quiet.

Everyone was in mourning. It wasn’t just Fred they missed, but in the days and weeks immediately following the Battle of Hogwarts, the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione were finally able to fully mourn the loss of all those who’d died in the months and years since Voldemort’s full return: Sirius, Dumbledore, Dobby, Remus, Tonks, and the countless students who died on 1 May. The Wizarding world was piecing itself together, but for those who called The Burrow home, reconstruction would have to wait until after they were done grieving.

The Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione didn’t hole themselves in The Burrow during all this; everyone – especially Harry, Ron, and Hermione – had been involved too deeply and for too long to be completely absent from the rebuilding.

Professor McGonagall stopped by often in the days immediately following the Battle. Often she wanted to talk to Harry about all the passages in and out of the castle that few but he knew of and how to find and clear them during the rebuilding. She also wanted to speak to Hermione about the books taken from Dumbledore’s office about Horcruxes. And when she wasn’t there on the pretence of business, she took time to share fond memories with Arthur and Molly.

Hagrid, with Grawp in tow, came over to help the family rebuild what parts of The Burrow that Death Eaters had destroyed after the family fled at Easter. Hagrid had missed Harry and the others and spent his first few visits crying into a table-cloth sized handkerchief in sheer relief that Harry had survived the encounter in the Forbidden Forest. Grawp delighted in seeing Hermione causing Ron to constantly hover whenever Grawp came near.

Kingsley, regardless of his new role as Minister, frequently found reasons to visit the former stalwarts of the Order. Like Professor McGonagall, most of his visits were on the pretence of updating everyone on how the Wizarding world was already changing. However, he spent most of his time either in quiet conversation with Harry or Arthur about how to best move the Wizarding world forward, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was in the kitchen, helping Molly as much as she would allow him.

And then there was Andromeda Tonks. With Harry only eighteen, both he and Andromeda felt that she was better capable of caring for her grandson, but she continuously brought Teddy to The Burrow to see his godfather.

Molly was a gracious host to all, but it was Andromeda’s visits she least liked. Molly loved children and adored having Teddy over; it was Andromeda herself who always made Molly’s mood darker.

Molly knew that of all the war’s survivors, few suffered as much as Andromeda Tonks had. She’d lost her childhood family before the first war for marrying a Muggle-born man she’d fallen in love with. That love, and the child it produced, buoyed Andromeda through the ravages of the first war. And now her husband, their daughter, and their son-in-law had all died, leaving behind a helpless infant. Andromeda was mourning the loss of not one lifetime but two. Molly wasn’t sure how Andromeda managed to get up in the morning. She knew that if she were in the other woman’s shoes, even with Teddy around, she’d die of a broken heart.

Molly’s main issue though was how Andromeda acted. She was visibly shaken in the days after the Battle of Hogwarts, but then she seemed to quickly -- too quickly in Molly’s opinion -- accept that she was alone. Andromeda had always been strong-willed, but her unwillingness to talk about her losses, to admit that she was sad to be independent after so many years of being a wife and mother, drove Molly mad. Surely she spent nights crying herself to sleep. She must have issues with how quiet her house was. The hole in her heart must be at least as big as Molly’s. But one would never know it by how she behaved.

Molly was a different story. There wasn’t a second that passed, even when she was helping others with their grief, that Molly wasn’t starkly aware of her own grief. She’d been living under a dark cloud since the Ministry’d fallen. She’d feared for the safety of her family, and rightly so. She lost a child in the war. She had to bury her little boy. If it weren’t for Arthur and her other children, including Harry and Hermione, she knew she’d die of a broken heart. Molly would cook and have to consciously remember that there was one less mouth at the table. Molly would clean and have to stop herself from yelling about Fred’s mess. Molly would look at the clock and her eyes would be immediately drawn to the hand pointing to “Lost�.

So she couldn’t understand why Andromeda was behaving so calmly. Andromeda would visit, bring Teddy to play with Harry and the others, make pleasant small talk, and then leave as though her world hadn’t just fallen in around her. And each time she came, Molly looked for signs of her grief. And each time she left, Molly was a little more deflated at how well Andromeda seemed to have adjusted to the way the world was now.

Molly wore her heart on her sleeve, and she felt as though the world could see it still bleeding. She couldn’t understand how Andromeda could bury her husband and child and move on so smoothly. Fred was in the Weasley family plot, but part of Molly’s mind, and a large piece of Molly’s heart, were always with him. She knew that those closest to her could tell the difference in her behaviour, but she didn’t know what to do.

And when she contrasted her reaction with how easily it seemed Andromeda had moved on, Molly would always be just a little more crushed, a little more defeated, because what if she could never move on?