Molly Prewett never had much luck with boys. It was fine in the beginning. They offered to help her with her Charms homework, walk her to class and said things like, “Don’t be silly, I like your freckles!”
But when some of her more delicate qualities emerged into the budding relationship, such as her tendency to snort when laughing or her unshakable habit of mothering everyone around her, they were a little less eager to help, and did not seem to like her freckles half as much as they had said they had.
Molly’s brothers reassuringly told her that she needed a real man, and they knew this from experience, being one hundred percent ‘real men’ themselves, to handle an extraordinary gal such as herself. A confident, strong man that would take care of her. She appreciated the effort, but by that point she had learned to accept that all boys her age were as hopeless as a Hippogriff with its head cut off.
That is, until she started seeing Arthur Weasley. He was a type of boy that she had never encountered, or even heard of, before.
When she was with Arthur, she did not have to worry about her quirky tendencies, because he had a dozen of them himself. On their first date he had shown her his collection of Muggle plugs.
Just a week into the summer holidays after their sixth year of school, she received a letter from him, telling her that he had a surprise date planned. He would be at her house at six and she should wear Muggle clothing if she could.
Molly had learned long ago about his fascination with Muggles, and didn’t question that what Arthur had in mind would be interesting. Whether it would be interesting for her as well was a different matter entirely.
Deep in the recesses of her wardrobe she unearthed an old sundress and a pair of sandals. They would have to do.
As the clock struck six a loud noise that sounded something like a horn being blown, sounded throughout the house. Molly dropped her hairbrush in surprise. It sounded like it was coming from the street outside her house.
Molly stuck her head out the open window. “What in Merlin’s name-” she began, but stopped when she saw what was at the end of the walkway.
Arthur Weasley was clearly visible, sitting in the driver’s seat of a large, red automobile. He saw her staring and waved.
A car? Molly hung out the window for a moment, utterly speechless. Where on earth did he get a car?
She ran down the stairs, calling to her parents that she would be back shortly, before they could see Arthur and forbid her to go.
Molly paused with her hand on the doorknob. Didn’t you need to learn to drive those things? They had to be much more complicated than a broomstick. Did she trust Arthur enough to drive it?
Moments later she was buckling herself into the passenger seat.
“Evening, Molly,” Arthur greeted, grinning from ear to ear.
“Arthur Weasley,” she said sternly. “Where did you get this?”
He gripped the steering wheel. “Borrowed it off a friend for the night.”
She looked at him, seeming so in charge in the driver’s seat. “Well, can you drive it?”
He laughed as he pressed his foot down on a pedal. “Of course I can drive it! You’ve nothing to worry about.”
Molly sat back in her seat, reassured by his words.
And with some sputtering and only a few strange noises, they were off.
--
The world was a blur of flashing lights and sound.
Molly strolled through the enclosure, hand in hand with Arthur while trying to pick the candy floss out of her hair.
She had never been to anything like this before in her entire life. Big, mechanical objects (something called a ‘ferret wheel’) had whorled them through the air. She has screamed until her voice was hoarse and had later spilt mustard all down her front.
A stand nearby caught her eye. A large, stuffed bear hung from the roof.
“Oh, Arthur!” she said enviously. “Look at that!”
Arthur turned to her, smiling. “Do you like it?”
Molly nodded. “It looks so soft!”
“Alright then,” he said, striding purposely towards the stall.
“Arthur, wait!” she called after him. “I didn’t mean I wanted it!” She was unsure of how much it cost to play the game.
The man running the stall handed Arthur a large hammer. “Win something nice for your lady?”
Arthur pushed his glasses up his freckly nose. “Yes, sir!”
“Arthur, you really don’t have to-” she tried.
“I’ll try for the big bear,” he told the man, handing over some coins. “Only the best for my lady.”
“Hit it as hard as you can to ring the bell,” the man instructed.
There was a tall pole with a bell on top of it. Arthur hit the bottom on the pole with the hammer. A marker shot halfway up the pole.
Molly laid a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. It’s probably rigged anyway.”
He looked at her, still smiling. “I’m getting you that bear, Molly.” He pushed some more money into the vender’s hand.
After several more attempts, the marker had not made it past halfway.
“Last try,” Arthur said grimly, handing over the last of his Muggle money.
He brought the hammer down and the marker sailed straight towards the top, making the bell sound.
“Well, we have a winner!” the vender called out, handing the large bear to Arthur.
Molly happily took the prize from him, trying to discreetly pocket her wand. “Oh, it’s wonderful!” she told him with a smile.
Arthur gave her a suspicious look and smiled knowingly. “I guess I never really realized how amazingly strong I am.”
She laughed and took his hand. “Oh, I’ve always known.” A loud and obvious snorting sound issued from her nose as she laughed. A scarlet blush rose from under her collar.
Arthur smiled. “Did anyone ever tell you how sweet your laugh is?”
Molly Prewett had finally found herself a real man.