Molly had always hated these events and dreaded them for weeks beforehand. She would sit in her bedroom and stare at the calendar, crossing off the days with a leaden heart, praying for an escape. Tonight she had stayed longer at work, hoping to delay the inevitable, but then Barnabas had appeared, a smile on his face, offering to escort her home. It was, she knew, an offer she couldn’t refuse. Her fiancé had been given his orders to ensure her attendance, so, with a sigh, she’d collected her bag and cloak and taken the Floo home.
Listlessly, she stared at herself in the mirror. Unlike her parents, she wasn’t tall, having inherited her grandmother’s build. In fact, when she really studied her features, she struggled to see a resemblance to anyone in her illustrious family. Her hair was light brown, her eyes a limpid blue. She was unremarkable to look at, and didn’t have the personality to carry off such unprepossessing looks. She was diligent. She was loyal. And she loved her family very much, so she hid the frenzied distraction they drove her to, under a frozen smile and a sigh.
Her sister, Lucy, deliciously pretty with red-gold curls framing her elfin face, sparkled at functions like this. Her mother, poised and as elegant as a swan, in a long burgundy dress, smiled politely at the assembled guests as she directed the waitresses around the room with their trays of hors d’oeuvres. And then there was her father, tall and proud, welcoming all those of influence into his home.
All three dealt with these parties effortlessly, but for Molly Weasley, it was hell. Her palms would sweat so much she’d avoid shaking hands. Her mouth would become so dry that she could only croak out her answers, and never think of the right questions to ask. She remembered hearing her mother describe her - with exasperation - as gauche, but Molly hadn’t been upset. She was gauche, and drab, and as colourless as her hair, which her mother insisted she wear piled high on her head.
–You have a short neck, Molly. So you should make an effort to elongate it,†she’d said, and then handed her a string of pearls.
Without demurring, Molly had fastened the pearls around her neck. She knew her mother well enough to know that this was not a mere suggestion but an order.
I am pathetic, she thought. I’m twenty-seven years old, so why can’t I just say no, or plead a headache and stay in my room?
But she knew her duty. Her mother had reminded her of that often enough, and it was better to attend and look ‘gauche’, than make an excuse and remind everyone what a disappointment she was.
With another sigh, she looked back in the mirror. The pearls had belonged to an ancient aunt of her mother’s, and were only dug out for special occasions. Perhaps they had once had some lustre, but now they looked dull against her skin.
–Chin up, duckling,†her father whispered when she walked down the stairs.
The use of her childhood nickname made her start. She smiled warmly at him, but he was looking ahead, his expression fixed. Something flashed and Molly lifted a hand to ward off whatever approached.
–Can we try that again, sir?†asked a rather nondescript young man. –Only your daughter raised her hand and it covered her face.â€
–Not a problem,†Percy replied. –Chin up, Molly, and smile for the camera.â€
–Of course,†she muttered.
–Perhaps a family shot, sir,†the photographer suggested. –Or your two daughters together.â€
–Oh, please not,†Molly muttered under her breath, unwilling to face the obvious comparisons. The young man paused and for an awful moment, Molly thought he must have heard her, but then he went back to his camera.
–I’ve finished this roll of film,†he said, stroking the stubble on his chin. –I need a new one. Give me a minute, please, sir, or I could find you later, save you standing around waiting for me.â€
Percy frowned slightly, and then nodded peremptorily. –Very well. I have guests to greet, as it is.†Then, after a cursory kiss on Molly’s cheek, her father strode off towards the lounge to circulate.
The camera flashed. Molly looked up in surprise to see the photographer smiling at her.
–Why did you do that? You don’t have film, do you?â€
–Thought you needed a breather, or a drink, before I took more pictures, Miss Weasley,†he murmured.
She blushed and tried to stutter her thanks, but before any words had left her lips, a proprietary hand slipped around her waist. –Molly, I am being pestered by all and sundry to tell them the date. You really need to help me out, darling.â€
–It’s the first of May,†the photographer replied.
Molly bit her lip in an attempt to stop a sudden, unexpected giggle escaping from her, but Barnabas looked at him coldly. –I mean our wedding date.â€
–My apologies. I didn’t realise Miss Weasley was engaged. I should have looked at her hand instead of her face,†the photographer replied smoothly.
–We haven’t had the honour,†Barnabas said, his voice faintly disdainful. –I am Barnabas Summerby, Miss Weasley’s fiancé, and you are...â€
The young photographer held out his hand, but when Barnabas did not extend his own, he let his fall, not at all embarrassed. –Aaron Harper,†he replied. –Mr Weasley hired me to take the photographs for tonight.â€
–Then you can start by taking one of us,†Barnabas ordered. –The happy couple.â€
–Certainly,†Aaron replied. He raised his camera, focused the lens and clicked. Nothing happened. –Ah, the flash has gone. I will replace it and return.â€
As he walked away, Barnabas’ hand tightened around Molly’s waist, and she could sense his impatience. –I should mingle,†she muttered. –It’s expected.â€
–What do I tell people when they ask if we’ve set a date?â€
Molly took a breath before turning back to him. –Barney, not now. I really don’t want to think about wedding arrangements tonight.â€
Reaching out, he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. –How about I tell them September?†he said. –We could make it your mother’s birthday.â€
Merlin, no. She extricated herself from his grip but didn’t move away. –That’s not very fair on yourmother, is it?†Seeing him glower, she tentatively touched his arm. –Let me get this night over with, and then we’ll sit down together and discuss it properly.â€
–I will hold you to that,†he warned.
–I know,†she replied, and stepped away.
A reprieve, she thought and guiltily bit her lip. Barnabas was a good man with a promising career ahead of him in the Improper Use of Magic Department. Proposing after a whirlwind romance of two months, he was impatient only, he told her, because he loved her and couldn’t bear to wait. He was handsome, witty, and - most importantly according to her mother - eminently suitable.
–You could not possibly do any better, Molly.â€
He said he loved her.
And after a lifetime of being overlooked, that made all the difference.
I should set a date, she thought, and pondered again his suggestion that they marry in September. It would please her mother, after all. So why am I reluctant?
–Mollyyyy,†a voice squealed. She turned to see Lucy scooting over to her. –Isn’t tonight just the best!â€
–You look lovely,†Molly said fondly. She meant it. Lucy always looked lovely, and in a dress of bottle green, which brought out the striking colour of her eyes, she looked especially pretty tonight. She was twenty-two, had left Hogwarts with only two NEWTs (in Charms and Herbology) but had found her niche in a high-end florist’s, designing bouquets for rich society weddings and displays for functions such as this. Lucy laughed through life, a bubbling effervescent girl who never failed to light up a room. Beside her, Molly was wallpaper merging in the background.
–Have you seen Gregor?†Lucy asked, her eyes darting around the room. –Only, he said he would fetch me another glass of champagne.â€
–Gregor?â€
–Gregor MacDougal.†Lucy rolled her eyes. –Molly, I told you all about him.â€
–Ah, yes.†She remembered now. Lucy had returned from work in high spirits, earlier in the week, after literally bumping into a man she’d been at Hogwarts with.
–He’s here tonight, then?†Molly asked, moderately surprised because Gregor worked for his uncle in an Apothecary and was hardly influential.
–I invited him,†Lucy replied, an impish grin on her face. –Mum and Dad think he’s the manager, rather than an apprentice, but ... um ...†She lowered her voice. –I know you won’t tell on me.â€
–Of course not.†Molly fixed the smile on her face, and squeezed her sister’s hand. She was the keeper of secrets in her family. The sister and cousin they all confided in.
–Hi,†said a voice from behind them. A nervous looking young man hovered behind them. In his hand, he carried two glasses of champagne. Seeing that Molly didn’t have a drink, he handed her his, then wandered off to help himself to another.
–Isn’t he a darling?â€Lucy whispered, and started to giggle.
–He’s certainly considerate,†Molly replied. She took a sip of her champagne, enjoying the way the bubbles prickled on her tongue.
A flash went off. Molly looked up to see the photographer - Aaron - pointing his camera at them both. Looking at Lucy, she saw her sister still had a smile on her face. She would look poised and pretty, whereas Molly probably had her eyes closed, or her lips pursed.
–Thank you,†Aaron said. He raised his camera when Gregor returned, preparing to take another shot, but Molly stepped to one side and watched as Lucy tilted her head towards Gregor and smiled up at him.
–You don’t like having your picture taken, Miss Weasley?†Aaron murmured.
–Not much,†she admitted. –I never know what to do with my face.â€
He shrugged. –Do nothing,†he replied. Then, with a small smile, he turned away.
–Do nothing,†she muttered under her breath. –Story of my life.â€
She could hear Barnabas over the general hubbub of the party. Looking over her shoulder, she saw he was engaged in conversation with Hebe Bole, his immediate superior at the Ministry. Molly wasn’t sure she liked Hebe. There was something hard about her. Her cut-glass accent could kill a conversation dead; her remarks, although witty, were often unkind. With her blonde hair in a chignon and wearing a silver sheath of a dress, she looked devastatingly sophisticated. She wore no drab, inherited pearls, but a diamond choker, which emphasized the slenderness of her neck. Her whole demeanour screamed money, but then Hebe Bole had married well. Her husband, Donald, may have been old, but he was wealthy and had influence.
Before she could sidle away, Barnabas had beckoned to her. –Hebe agrees with me that September would be an ideal time for the wedding.â€
Molly smiled politely.
–You need good weather, obviously,†Hebe stated, –but September means most of the children are at school, so you wouldn’t have to have them there. You come from such a large family, that ...â€
–Only one is at Hogwarts now,†Molly replied. –The rest have left.â€
–Oh...†Hebe pulled a face. –What a drag. Well, one large family photograph and then you can be done with them all. And you don’t have to invite their partners - only the ones who are married.â€
Molly blinked. –I’m sorry ...â€
–Don’t apologise,†Hebe said, a laugh tinkling in her throat. –One cannot help one’s family after all.â€
–I want my family there,†Molly said. –And their boyfriends -†Barnabas had raised one eyebrow as if daring her to go on. –- or girlfriends,†she finished defiantly.
He looked furious at the reference, then smoothed his face with a smile as he lowered his head to Hebe. –Molly has a soft spot for her cousins, but I doubt Audrey would let that particular pair over the threshold.â€
–Pleased to hear it,†Hebe murmured. Laying her free hand on Molly’s arm, she looked her in the eye, a sly smile playing on her lips. –By all means invite her. She could, perhaps, do the catering, but you would hate another Miss Weasley to grab the headlines on your day, my dear.â€
–Weasley-DeVine,†Molly corrected, ignoring Barnabas’ shake of the head.
–Pardon?â€
–She is Dominique Weasley-DeVine. She took her girlfriend’s surname by deed poll.â€
–How ... ‘quaint’,†Hebe replied, her smile now wintry.
Deciding she’d had enough, Molly stepped back, murmuring something about needing to circulate. She knew Barnabas wasn’t fooled; she’d confided in him her hatred of these occasions, but he did nothing to stop her. In the corner stood the Minister. Noticing her, he grinned, so Molly returned the grin and wandered across to him. It was rare to catch Kingsley Shacklebolt alone, although since he’d announced his intention to retire, she supposed he wasn’t as in demand as he’d once been. Now those in the know jockeyed for position with those they thought might soon have power, hedging their bets amongst the hopefuls.
–I dislike these events,†Kingsley growled as she approached.
–You won’t have to attend many more,†she replied. –Have you fixed on a date for your official retirement?â€
–I have, and there’s a note in your in-tray waiting for you on Monday, Molly,†he said. Then he bent his head towards her, whispering, –September the twenty-seventh, but don’t tell anyone.â€
A wave of relief washed over Molly. If Kingsley was retiring in September and her father became the new Minister of Magic, then there was no way she could get married that month. –I can’t imagine the Ministry without you,†she said sadly. –It won’t be the same.â€
–You will still have your position, Molly. I’m sure your father won’t dismiss you if he succeeds.â€
–I know that, but working for someone else, especially my father, will be hard.â€
–You can always rely on me for a reference,†Kingsley said. –You are, without doubt, the best and most trustworthy secretary I’ve ever had. Although ... perhaps you won’t need a reference, if young Summerby is to be believed.â€
–Um ...†Molly stared at Kingsley. –What do you mean?â€
–He says you’re both keen to start a family,†Kingsley replied. He was watching her with an amused look in his eyes, perhaps gauging how far he could push her. –Is this news to you?â€
Molly took a breath. –You could say that,†she muttered. Looking across the room, she searched for Barnabas. His desperation for a wedding date was one thing, but telling the world they were ready to start a family was another.
–May I?†Aaron’s voice interrupted her exasperation and she found herself staring down the lens of his camera again.
–Are you stalking me?†she grumbled.
–Not at all,†he replied. –But the Minister is important, and it’s rare to have a photograph of him looking relaxed.â€
Raising his glass, Kingsley edged closer to Molly, whispering out of the corner of his mouth. –Say the word ‘porridge’.â€
–Porridge?†she replied in astonishment. Just then, Aaron took the photograph and sidled away.
–One of the first things I leant when I had to attend these dos, is that if they take a photograph whilst you’re actually talking, you end up looking like a pontificating fool with a triple chin,†Kingsley explained.
–And saying ‘porridge’ doesn’t do that?†Molly asked.
–Apparently not. You look as if you’re saying something important. It is, of course, fortunate that the photographs have no sound, or else I’d have been forced out years ago.â€
Molly laughed. –Porridge, porridge, porridge!†she repeated. –If Dad does become the Minister, then I shall remember that.â€
–Percy is the front-runner,†Kingsley replied. –I don’t think it’s a case of ‘if’ Molly.†He paused and took another sip of his drink. –He will be good. Your father has integrity and courage.â€
–So have you,†she said, and her eyes filled with tears unable to bear the thought of not working with this man for much longer.
–I stayed far longer than I intended,†Kingsley mused. –But I’m seventy-five and would like the chance to enjoy the rest of my life.â€
–Doing what?†she sniffed.
–Good question. And one I shall spend my remaining days in office contemplating. Perhaps I’ll find another path in life, or maybe I’ll while away my days feeding the ducks.â€
–My mother wouldn’t approve,†Molly said. –She’s been trying to remove them from our pond and resettle them in the village, but they keep waddling back. She says the quacking disturbs her sleep.â€
–Wouldn’t it be simpler to fill in your pond?â€
Molly shook her head. –She likes the swans.â€
Across the room, she could see the photographer picking his way through the throng, stopping to take his pictures, polite, assured and smiling at all his subjects.
–The Harper boy,†Kingsley mused, following the direction of her gaze. –He is an excellent photographer, I’ve been told. And quite a bold choice for your father.â€
–Why?â€
–He’s Adrian Harper’s son; the only one not to follow his father into the family gemstone business.â€
Molly frowned. –So why does that make him a bold choice? The Harpers aren’t suspected of anything these days, are they?â€
Kingsley smiled wryly. –He has a touch of the rebel about him. I would have thought your father would go for someone more in tune with the Establishment. Although, your father was a rebel, too, in his way.†He drained his glass and pulled out his pocket watch. –I should go. There are only so many functions I can face at this time of year, and it is the big one tomorrow.â€
–Thirty years,†she agreed. Molly accepted his kiss with a smile, understanding that although it was still early, the Minister would need to make his rounds to say goodbye. –I must find Barnabas before he decides to tell everyone how many children we’re planning on having.â€
–Take care, Molly,†Kingsley replied, raising his hand in fond salute.
She waved back and watched him return to the party’s throng, shouldering the responsibility of office with aplomb. Then, with a sigh, she resumed scanning the room for Barnabas. But the only person she could see was her mother talking to Donald Bole. She looked away, desperate not to be noticed, because Hebe’s husband was free with his hands around young women, and sidestepped her way to the French windows.
It was cool outside, the early evening air refreshing after the stuffiness inside. With barely a back glance, Molly wandered away from the party, meandering off the cobbled path and slipped off her shoes. The grass was cool underfoot, soothing her after the high heels that had started to pinch. In amusement, she watched a pair of ducks making their way back to the duck pond, shepherding five ducklings towards their home, evidently feeling the village pond was a nice place to visit, but not to live.
Five ... Molly frowned. There should be six, she thought and looked around the lawn trying to sight the last of the ducklings.
–Oh, there you are,†she crooned as she spotted it waddling through the grass, his head swivelling from side to side as he tried to find his parents. Molly crouched down and cupping her hands underneath him, picked up the small duckling. –You poor, sweet little thing. Shall we go and find your mummy?â€
With the bird cheeping in her hands, and her shoes dangling from her fingers, she took off across the lawn and towards the pond.
–This is dangerous. If someone sees us ...â€
Molly stopped walking. The voice ahead appeared to be coming from the summerhouse. It sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place the whisper.
–No one will see us, and I thought you liked me being reckless...â€
–Oh, I do ... I do ...†The talking stopped and all Molly could hear were the sounds of kisses and gasps, and a frenzied groan.
–You like that, don’t you?†the first voice said, and now Molly could hear it was a woman. She looked down at the duckling, squirming in her hands. She had to get to the pond, and this was the only way.
–Merlin, you fucking tease. Don’t stop now.â€
–What happened to ladies first?â€
–You’ll get yours, Hebe,†the man groaned. –You know that, just ... ah, that’s it, just -â€
–Barnabas, you really are eager, aren’t you?â€
–Barnabas!†In horror, Molly couldn’t stop the word tumbling from her lips. Desperate to retreat, to run back to the house, she tried to turn, but instead remained rooted to the spot. She could feel her heart thumping and her whole body began to shake. Only her hands, still cupped around the baby bird, stayed motionless.
–What was that?†Hebe’s voice cut through the air.
–Nothing!†exclaimed Barnabas.
–No, there’s someone there. I heard them.â€
She would be seen if she stayed where she was. But she’d be seen if she dashed back to the house. Looking down at the duckling, now trembling in her hands, Molly took a step forwards, and then another.
–Molly! What are you doing here?â€
She took in the scene. Barnabas pulling down his robes; Hebe staring at her brazenly, her hair not the slightest bit ruffled and a smirk on her face.
–Returning a duckling to its parents,†Molly replied, amazed her voice could sound so calm. –Plus, I live here. I am allowed out in the garden.â€
–This isn’t-†Barnaby started to say.
–Isn’t what I think?†she murmured. She smiled at him. –What is it I’m thinking, Barney?â€
–Hebe and I had something to discuss ... work related, and it’s such bad form to bring office problems to functions such as these ...â€
–Improper, indeed,†Molly replied, her voice soft as she contemplated her fiancé and his lover.
–Well,†Hebe drawled, stepping away from Barnabas and smoothing down her dress. –I really should be getting back to the party before Donald starts to fret. This can wait until Monday, Barnabas. You should be spending time with your fiancée. Discuss the wedding, perhaps.â€
Barnabas gulped. He stared at Molly, who carried on smiling giving him no hint that she’d seen what was really going on. –Whatever date Molly wishes,†he replied endearingly.
The silence was interrupted by a loud quack, causing them all to jump. Molly looked down to see the mother duck at her feet. Slowly she lowered the duckling to the ground and watched as they toddled off towards the pond. Her hands still warm from its soft body, she carefully removed the sapphire ring she’d always thought ugly from her finger. –How about never?â€
–Molly, what are you saying?†protested Barnabas. He stretched out his hand and grabbed her wrist, twisting her towards him. –Of course we’re getting married. We’ve told everyone.â€
–You can untell them. I’m not marrying someone who is incapable of remaining faithful before we marry,†Molly replied. His hand tightened on her wrist but she didn’t try to extricate herself. Feeling curiously calm, as if this were happening to someone else, she looked instead at Hebe. –Does your husband know?â€
–Not the details,†Hebe replied, unperturbed. Lighting a cigarette, she inhaled deeply before continuing. –He wanted an heir. I gave him one. Straddling him once every few weeks is enough to stop him complaining, and his money more than compensates for the inconvenience.â€
–You make it sounds like a business transaction.â€
Hebe shrugged. –It is, and it works better than most love matches in my opinion.†She exhaled, the smoke floating around her in a haze. –You should try it, Molly, I doubt you’ll find anyone else willing to take a dowdy girl like you on - despite your family name.â€
She had a sudden urge to hex her. A fury from deep inside was rising as she listened to Hebe’s derisive words. –I’d like you to leave,†she said, her voice now shaking. –And you, Barnabas.â€
–No. We can talk about this,†Barnabas insisted. He glanced at Hebe, who shrugged and started walking back to the house.
–Please don’t tell me you were discussing work. I’m not stupid,†Molly hissed.
–I know you’re not,†Barnabas implored. –Molly, listen. It was a one off. A mistake. I’ve never done this before. It’s just ... look....†He took a breath and she could see his eyes flickering as he thought out his story. –I respect your views, Molly. I know you want to wait-â€
–You said you wanted to wait,†she interrupted.
–Yes, yes.†His hand waved away her objection. –I’m a man. I have needs. And I was weak. But once we’re married...â€
–No,†she muttered.
–Your mother adores me,†he whispered, moving closer to her, –and we could have such a good life together.â€
He gathered her to him, one hand on her back, the other gripping her waist, and tilted his head down to hers, searching for her lips. For a brief moment, she wanted to give in, wanted to believe he was sincere, and her lips parted. But as he pressed himself up close, she could feel his cock hard against her - aroused by Hebe and not her.
–No,†she repeated, trying to sound firm as she wrenched herself away. –I don’t love you.â€
His eyes widened and a look of anger flashed on his face. –Because of one mistake! I’ve told you, she means nothing. You are the-â€
–No, because you’re a prat,†Molly retorted. –An insufferable, arrogant prick and I want you to leave - NOW!â€
He grabbed her other arm, pulling her close then slamming her against the summerhouse wall. As he lowered his mouth to crush hers, she could smell the sour Firewhisky on his breath and tried to wrench away. But Barnabas was too strong. –I’m not going anywhere,†he warned. –I've invested too much of my time on you, and you will see sense.â€
One of his hands wrenched at her shoulder strap; she heard it rip and tried to scream, but his other hand clamped around her mouth. His body was hard against her, and she could feel him pulling up her dress. With increasing urgency, she sank her teeth into his hand. He swore loudly but withdrew his hand, raising it as if to slap her.
–Barnabas,†she pleaded. –I don’t want this.â€
–Of course not, you frigid bitch. You ‘want to wait’,†he said viciously. He lowered his hand to her chin, jerking it upwards. –Why do you think I turned to that whore? And as you interrupted us, you can bloody well take over.â€
–We can talk,†she sobbed, her voice rising and falling in terror. Without her wand, she felt powerless against him. And in this state, there was no way he’d see sense. Perhaps she should just give in. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if she went limp. Maybe it would all be fine. His hand snaked up her leg, biting into her thigh, until his fingers found her pants.
–NO!†she screamed. –Barnabas. STOP!â€
–Come on, Molly,†he said, panting. –You’ll enjoy this.â€
–Please, please, don’t do this. Please, Barney, we can talk this through...â€
–Stop struggling.â€
With a surge of adrenalin coursing through her, Molly raised her knee sharply and connected with his groin. She watched in satisfaction as he tumbled backwards. But the reprieve was short. Despite his pain, Barnabas pulled out his wand. She shrieked, wondering which way to run, but then she heard a yell and a streak of red light racing towards them. Barnabas’ wand flew out of his hand spinning towards an emerging figure.
–Miss Weasley said ‘no’,†muttered a man. He strode forwards, his wand still trained on Barnabas, who was writhing on the ground. –Leave before I call her father. I’m sure he’ll know how to deal with you.â€
She recognised the voice, and as he stepped closer, she saw him clearly in the moonlight. Aaron Harper, his eyes still on Barnabas addressed his next question to her. –Or would you like me to call your father anyway, Miss Weasley?â€
She licked her lips, tasting blood, but shook her head. –I just want him to go.â€
–I need my wand and cloak,†Barnabas said.
–I’m sure the Weasleys will send the cloak on,†Aaron said coldly. He prodded Barnabas with his foot until he was standing then gave him back his wand. –Go now, you bastard, or I won’t be responsible for my actions.â€
–Thank you,†Molly muttered as she watched Barnabas Apparate away.
–Shall I escort you back to the house? Or I could find your mother for you.â€
She started to shake. –Looking like this. No, she won’t be at all amused.â€
–The man attacked you,†Aaron said gently. –It’s not your fault.â€
–I know that, but he’s gone and my parents won’t be happy if I make a scene.†She looked up at him. –I think I’ll stay out here for a while.â€
–Would you like me to stay with you?â€
He was looking at her kindly, a warm expression on his face, but she shook her head. It was bad enough that Aaron Harper had had to rescue her; it was unfair to subject him to her boring company as well.
–You’re working, aren’t you?â€
–Not now,†he replied. –Your father’s guests are just starting to reach that point of insobriety that means they photograph badly. No one wants to be reminded of that. I don’t think you should be alone, Miss Weasley. Shall I fetch your sister instead?â€
–Barnabas won’t return,†she said. –He’ll have Apparated home and be trying to work out how to save face. And my sister is having fun. Really, Mr Harper, I’m fine by myself. I don’t want to delay you now you’ve finished for the night.â€
–It’s Aaron. And I might have finished taking pictures in there, but I’d love the chance to capture your garden at night. Would you show me around?â€
Despite knowing he was only being kind, she agreed and proceeded to lead him across the lawn, and towards the pond. It was a slow journey, Aaron stopping every few steps to take a photograph. He didn’t talk, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, and slowly she began to relax.
Surreptitiously, as he took another photograph, she studied him. He was lean, but not too tall and with mid-brown hair just touching the collar of his shirt. The stubble she’d noticed earlier wasn’t the result of not shaving that morning but rather a week’s growth. He had the sort of look her cousin Hugo tried desperately to achieve before his mum nagged at him to shave. She smiled, and in that moment, he spoke.
–Do I amuse you?†he asked, sounding a little put out.
–Not you,†she said. –I was thinking about my cousin.â€
–Which one?†He smiled slightly. –I was at Hogwarts with a few of them, although being in Slytherin, I didn’t know them well.â€
–Hugo,†she replied. –I think he’d love a beard like yours but his mum and dad keep teasing him about ‘bumfluff’.â€
–Tell him I’ve got one and he’ll shave it off straight away,†Aaron muttered. He flashed her a rueful grin. –I was in Hugo’s year. We liked the same girl for a while.â€
Oh sweet Merlin, he’s only twenty, she thought, then shook herself. What did his age matter? It wasn’t as if anything would happen. –I’m sure he’s forgiven you, now.â€
Aaron pulled a face. –I doubt much has changed.â€
She began walking again, stopping only to slip her shoes back on as they approached a gravelled patch of ground. Sweeping back the fronds of a willow tree, she halted and let Aaron go first.
He caught his breath. –This place is beautiful, so serene.â€
–I like it,†she agreed, and looked around her seeing anew the place she always ran to when she needed peace. Unlike the garden, carefully sculpted and designed by her mother, the pond was wild. Rough, untrammelled reeds fringed the edges, providing shelter for the ducks as well as the pair of nesting swans that lived there. It was large and deep enough to swim in - not that Molly had ever attempted it, but she remembered a few summer’s ago when Albus, James and Louis had built a raft and sailed it across the pond as they attempted to find fish. All three had fallen in (or been pushed in James’ case) and when the raft had sunk, they’d swum back to shore.
–It’s very different, and ... unexpected, I suppose,†he said, and lifting his camera, started to take some pictures, fiddling with the lens to get the best shot.
–What do you mean by that?â€
–Unlike the house and garden,†he qualified. –They’re beautiful, too, in their way, but picture-book perfect. This is more natural and alive.†He took a deep breath and let out a contented sigh.
–And natural is good, is it?†she asked, curious because Aaron made his living from photographing society events.
–When I’m faced with painted swans and peacocks, it is everything,†he murmured.
–We have a pair of swans here,†she said. –My mother thinks they’re graceful.â€
–They’re beautiful birds,†he replied. –But underneath, they paddle the water the same way that ducks do.â€
Unbidden the image of Hebe Bole snapped into her mind. Hebe with a diamond choker around her neck. Hebe, tall, elegant, sheathed in silver and disparaging remarks. Hebe, her dress hitched around waist and her hand on Barnabas’s cock. Barnabas’ lust turning to fury, his intent obvious. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, her breath coming out in rasps as she remembered his sour breath on her skin.
–Hey, hey, what’s all this?†Aaron murmured, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder.
–Oh gods. It’s Barnabas,†she sobbed. –If you hadn’t been there -â€
–You’d have kneed him in the groin again, or belted him with your fist,†Aaron soothed.
–He had his wand. I had nothing.â€
–You had your voice. I heard you, and others would have done,†he assured her. And then he wrapped his arms around her, cradling her into his chest and rocking her much as her grandmother used to do when she was a weeping child. –He’s gone and I think you’re right, he won’t come back tonight.â€
–I’m sorry,†she whispered, and tried to extricate herself from his arms, but although he loosened his hold, he showed no signs of wanting to let her go.
–What are you sorry for?â€
She sniffed and shivered against him. –For involving you in all this.â€
–Makes a change being involved,†he said. –I’m usually detached on this side of the camera. I watch and take photos - that’s all.†His arms tightened around her, and for a brief moment, she thought she could feel his lips on her brow. But the touch was light and she might easily have imagined it. –It’s getting cold. Shall I take you back now?â€
Molly shook her head. –I can’t face them all, but please don’t feel you have to stay with me.â€
In the half-light, she couldn’t see his expression except that he was chewing his lip. –I should get back and develop these films, but ... um ... if you’d like to come back to my flat -â€
–Uh ... what did you say?â€
–You can take my wand,†he said hurriedly. –I won’t try anything. Just if you don’t want to go back in there.†He took a breath. –I’d feel happier if you weren’t out here alone, Miss Weasley.â€
Drawn by the intensity of his words, she raised her eyes and stared into his. It was dark, but in the starlight, she saw warmth and concern flickering in his expression. –You really don’t have to bother,†she muttered, giving him another chance to back away.
–I know I don’t have to,†he replied. –But I want to.â€
This time she didn’t imagine the pressure on her brow. This time, his lips made definite contact, and then his finger stroked her cheek as he tilted her chin upwards and touched her mouth with his, the contact light but constant. She parted her lips, and for a moment allowed her mind to empty of everything except this kiss. But as they continued, and his thumb traced her neck, following a trail to her bare shoulder and the torn strap of her dress, he faltered. The hesitation shook her to her senses.
–I can’t do this,†she whispered and pushed him on the chest. Briefly, Aaron held on to her, but then he let his hands fall. Taking several steps backwards, Molly turned away. –I think I will go back to the party. I can mend this strap quick enough when I find my wand.â€
–Yes, of course,†he said politely. –Would you like me to walk you back?â€
–I’ll be fine. You should stay here and take some pictures. When the moon is higher in the sky, it casts the most beautiful light on the water.â€
She’d reached the willow when she heard him call her name. Smiling sadly, she twisted her head towards him and saw the flash as he took one last picture.
–I’m sorry,†he murmured. Then with a sudden spin, he Disapparated.
She stared at the space where he’d been, her eyes still seeing the colours of the flash dancing before her. He’d been so kind to her, she realised. Not just saving her from Barnabas, but the whole evening he’d looked out for her, realising instinctively that she wasn’t comfortable in front of the camera. She touched her fingers to her lips and across to her neck and shoulder. Then she wandered back to the pond and stared at the surface of the water, its polished surface barely ripping in the spring breeze. Despite telling Aaron she would return to the party, she resolved to stay here a while longer and delay the inevitable distress she would cause her mother when she told her about the broken engagement.
And as she sat, she mused on her own distress - or rather the lack of it. She should be heartbroken, but with startling clarity, she realised all she felt was relief. She’d been dazzled by Barnabas, caught up in the whirlwind of her first romance, but she hadn’t loved him, not the way Victoire loved Teddy, or Dominique loved Mags, or even the way she saw Lucy gaze adoringly at Gregor.
It had been comforting to have someone in her life. A blanket shielding her from the indifference of others and the expectations of her mother. But blankets could suffocate as surely as a Lethifold, and Molly had spent too many years struggling to breathe.