Molly Weasley sighed as the owl swooped through the window with the Daily Prophet. She had considered so many times just to stop her subscription, there was very rarely any good news in it, even though the war was over now.
Still, even after all the horrors she had seen and heard, Molly Weasley couldn’t prevent a gasp from escaping her lips as she saw the front page. Beneath the headline there was a picture of Lucius Malfoy, screaming, from behind bars. As she skimmed through the article, words and phrases jumped out at her, such as vengeful Death Eater attack and bittersweet ending as one of the last of the Death Eaters is finally put behind bars. She swept away the tears briskly, she thought that after everything that had happened, she would have had none left to shed.
She had certainly never thought she would see the day when she was upset to see a Malfoy behind bars, but in a way, he must have been as sad as she herself. It had not only been their side that had lost people, of course. To win the battle, they had to have killed and harmed people and even if they were Death Eaters, they were people. One of those people had been Draco Malfoy. His father had escaped, until his capture that very morning. It seemed he had been too ridden with grief to try and move on with his life, all he wanted was his “revenge”, no matter how many more people he hurt, including himself. He had been found at the scene of the crime, and whether he was laughing or crying no-one could distinguish.
Molly could all too vividly remember days when she had been able to do nothing but cry, haunted by images of the ones she loved, lying there, helpless, lifeless. It had been her boggart all over again, only this time, no amount of ‘Riddikulus’, laughter or denial could rid it from her sight, her mind.
The days that followed the last battle had been the worst. Having to come to terms with everything, to realise that it wasn’t just a terrible nightmare, and no amount of pinching was going to wake her up.
The actual battle had been nothing like she had imagined. There were great flashes of light, some red, some green, some indescribable, shooting off in all directions. Screams and yells came from all directions, whether they were of pain, victory or horror, she didn‘t know. There was little way of telling who had been hit or hurt, who was standing next to you, or who was underneath the ominous black hoods that the killers wore. Nor did she think that she really wanted to know most of those things, it would have only made things harder.
She looked at the family clock, which held the names off all immediate family members and their whereabouts. Although there had been alterations after the final battle, unconsciously Molly couldn’t help but check it, just in case. Now it pointed to her youngest son, Ron, who was on ‘Travel‘. She watched anxiously until it reached ‘Home’.
“Mum!” he called out as he strolled through the kitchen door. Mrs. Weasley hurriedly shuffled the newspaper on the table behind her. Ron never seemed to want to talk about the war, or the people involved in it. If it was ever brought up in conversation, or a newspaper article, he would always grow very still and silent, eventually retreating up to his room. Not that she or anyone else could blame him. He had been in the midst of it all, ever since he was eleven, having to fight against giant chess pieces for the Philosophers Stone, right up until six months ago, in the final battle. Only then, it was no longer a game.
He had lost his best friend, his father, two of his brothers, some of his teachers, many of his friends and countless others. And he had had to watch it all, knowing there was nothing he could do about it.
Molly Weasley looked up at her son’s smiling face. Was it so bad for her to want to see it, to cherish every moment it was on his face, as she could no longer do so for so many other people she loved and cared for?
“You’re back late, dear,” she settled for saying.
“Yeah, I know,” Ron replied, still with the smile firmly on his face. “I was at Diagon Alley. I bought something!” Molly saw how excited her son was, so leaned in to get a closer look at his purchase.
“What is - " she broke off as Ron produced a small, black velvet case from his jacket pocket. Her hands flew to her mouth, stopping the sound that would escape from it, as he opened it and she saw the diamond ring resting inside.
Ron and Hermione had finally gotten together and had started to build up a new life for themselves after the war. Hermione was everything to Ron, although Mrs. Weasley (along with the rest of the world!) had a sneaking suspicion that this had always been the case. Quite often when Ron came home smiling, it was something to do with Hermione; whether they’d been out together, or he’d managed to compliment her, or they’d made up after another fight. It seemed that nothing could stop them bickering occasionally, and quite honestly, no one would have it any other way - it was far too unnerving when they were nice and polite to each other.
But even so, the last thing Molly had expected to encounter right then was an engagement ring. Tears prickled into her eyes as she took another look at the ring, and listened to Ron’s (slightly unnecessary) explanation.
“I’m going to propose to Hermione!” he exclaimed, looking down at his mother happily. “It was yesterday, we were having such a good time and I just thought, well, I love her, why not marry her! Then today, I went out and I saw this ring and it just looked so beautiful, and I thought, the only thing that could be more beautiful is seeing it on Hermione’s finger! So, I bought it!”
Mrs. Weasley felt so choked up, she couldn’t have said anything if she’d wanted to, so to compensate she pulled her son into a tight embrace, then merely watched as her son ascended up the stairs to bed. She watched until he’d disappeared fully before getting herself ready to go to bed. Finally, she folded the newspaper behind her in half, so Lucius Malfoy was face down on the table, and all that could be seen was the headline;
Hermione Granger, murdered.