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A Mother's Love
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
8
Views:
50,355
Reviews:
31
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
8
Views:
50,355
Reviews:
31
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
A Mother's Love
Harry was used to waking up in the middle of the night, but usually the pain was in his head, not his stomach. He hadn’t had much to eat for dinner that night; he and Ron had gotten into an intense game of Exploding Snap and by the time they got to the table, the twins had finished off most of the food. The seventeen-year-old twins still had voracious appetites.
He struggled between desire for sleep and desire for food for several minutes before giving in. Sighing, he tossed back the covers and rolled out of bed, staggering sleepily toward the door.
He stumbled down the stairs in the dark. As he reached the foot of the staircase, he saw the flicker of candlelight under the kitchen door. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was two o’clock in the morning. “Who could be up this late?” he wondered, knowing that the Weasleys were always careful to extinguish every flame before bed.
Pushing the door open slightly, Harry peered around it into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was slumped at the battered wooden table facing away from the door. Her shoulders were shaking.
“Mrs. Weasley?” he said gently. She jumped and turned toward him, wiping tears off her cheeks. “Are you ok?” he said, moving closer.
“Just fine, Harry dear,” she said with false cheer, “a bit tired is all. Did you need something? How about a bit of something to eat? A sandwich?” Pulling her wand out of her pocket, she waved it absent-mindedly. Cold cuts flew out of the icebox, landing in the sink instead of on the countertop, and the breadknife began hacking away at a dishtowel. Mrs. Weasley didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were unfocused and Harry could tell that she wasn’t really seeing him.
He slid onto the bench beside her. “Mrs. Weasley, I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying.”
Her eyes focused on his face and filled with tears once more. “I’m sorry, Harry,” she said, her voice strained, “you shouldn’t have to see me like this.”
Harry didn’t say anything, but picked up her hand from where it lay on the rough wood of the table. He stroked her palm with his thumb, noticing with surprise that she had surprisingly soft hands for a woman who worked as hard as she did. She murmered with pleasure and he felt her relax next to him.
"You can trust me," he whispered, squeezing her hand.
"Arthur and I had a fight," she said hesitantly, "it was stupid really. Just a little tiff about the long hours he's been working. I've been seeing him less and less the past few months. When he's here he seems to do nothing but eat and go to bed."
"That must be tough for you," Harry said sympathetically.
"I'd gotten used to having him around in the evenings, you know?" she continued, "It's hard to manage all these kids and the household without him around to help out."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.
“Oh, no,” she protested, “you are a guest, you don't have to do a thing!”
“Molly,” he said firmly. Her eyes opened wide; he had never called her by her first name before. “You have got to learn to accept help when you need it.”
To his shock and dismay, she burst into tears and threw herself on his neck. “Oh, Harry,” she sobbed, “you've always been such a kind boy, and after all you've been through!” She dissolved into tears again.
Harry said nothing for some time, outside of the occasional “Shh,” and “Everything's ok.” He patted her back awkwardly as she leaned into him, her arms around his neck and her face buried in his shoulder. As her tears slowed and then stopped, he relaxed enough to lean his cheek against the top of her head. Her strawberry curls smelled of coconut shampoo and he smiled slightly, breathing in the comforting scent.
Mrs. Weasley's hand moved from her lap and covered his where it rested on his knee. To his shock, he felt her lips on his neck. Her fingers slid up his arm, making the skin tingle. His breath caught as her lips moved to his cheek. “Mrs. Weasley, I - “
She pulled back suddenly as he spoke. Her face was flushed. She stared at him for a moment with a faraway look in her eyes, before covering her mouth and flushing deeply. “Oh Harry, I'm so sorry!” she cried, horrorstruck, “I had no right to – I shouldn't have – oh no!” She rushed from the room before he could say a word and hurried up the stairs.
Harry stared after her in shock. When it became apparent that she wouldn't be returning, he made himself a sandwich and sat eating it distractedly, trying – and failing – to reduce the bulge in his pants with thoughts of Ron's great-aunt Tessie.
**Author's Note**
I know it's been ages since I posted this chapter. What with finals, moving, overtime, and my laptop dying on me, I have been forced to put aside my writing for a while. I promise this story will not die! As soon as I am able, I will continue.
He struggled between desire for sleep and desire for food for several minutes before giving in. Sighing, he tossed back the covers and rolled out of bed, staggering sleepily toward the door.
He stumbled down the stairs in the dark. As he reached the foot of the staircase, he saw the flicker of candlelight under the kitchen door. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was two o’clock in the morning. “Who could be up this late?” he wondered, knowing that the Weasleys were always careful to extinguish every flame before bed.
Pushing the door open slightly, Harry peered around it into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was slumped at the battered wooden table facing away from the door. Her shoulders were shaking.
“Mrs. Weasley?” he said gently. She jumped and turned toward him, wiping tears off her cheeks. “Are you ok?” he said, moving closer.
“Just fine, Harry dear,” she said with false cheer, “a bit tired is all. Did you need something? How about a bit of something to eat? A sandwich?” Pulling her wand out of her pocket, she waved it absent-mindedly. Cold cuts flew out of the icebox, landing in the sink instead of on the countertop, and the breadknife began hacking away at a dishtowel. Mrs. Weasley didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were unfocused and Harry could tell that she wasn’t really seeing him.
He slid onto the bench beside her. “Mrs. Weasley, I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying.”
Her eyes focused on his face and filled with tears once more. “I’m sorry, Harry,” she said, her voice strained, “you shouldn’t have to see me like this.”
Harry didn’t say anything, but picked up her hand from where it lay on the rough wood of the table. He stroked her palm with his thumb, noticing with surprise that she had surprisingly soft hands for a woman who worked as hard as she did. She murmered with pleasure and he felt her relax next to him.
"You can trust me," he whispered, squeezing her hand.
"Arthur and I had a fight," she said hesitantly, "it was stupid really. Just a little tiff about the long hours he's been working. I've been seeing him less and less the past few months. When he's here he seems to do nothing but eat and go to bed."
"That must be tough for you," Harry said sympathetically.
"I'd gotten used to having him around in the evenings, you know?" she continued, "It's hard to manage all these kids and the household without him around to help out."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.
“Oh, no,” she protested, “you are a guest, you don't have to do a thing!”
“Molly,” he said firmly. Her eyes opened wide; he had never called her by her first name before. “You have got to learn to accept help when you need it.”
To his shock and dismay, she burst into tears and threw herself on his neck. “Oh, Harry,” she sobbed, “you've always been such a kind boy, and after all you've been through!” She dissolved into tears again.
Harry said nothing for some time, outside of the occasional “Shh,” and “Everything's ok.” He patted her back awkwardly as she leaned into him, her arms around his neck and her face buried in his shoulder. As her tears slowed and then stopped, he relaxed enough to lean his cheek against the top of her head. Her strawberry curls smelled of coconut shampoo and he smiled slightly, breathing in the comforting scent.
Mrs. Weasley's hand moved from her lap and covered his where it rested on his knee. To his shock, he felt her lips on his neck. Her fingers slid up his arm, making the skin tingle. His breath caught as her lips moved to his cheek. “Mrs. Weasley, I - “
She pulled back suddenly as he spoke. Her face was flushed. She stared at him for a moment with a faraway look in her eyes, before covering her mouth and flushing deeply. “Oh Harry, I'm so sorry!” she cried, horrorstruck, “I had no right to – I shouldn't have – oh no!” She rushed from the room before he could say a word and hurried up the stairs.
Harry stared after her in shock. When it became apparent that she wouldn't be returning, he made himself a sandwich and sat eating it distractedly, trying – and failing – to reduce the bulge in his pants with thoughts of Ron's great-aunt Tessie.
**Author's Note**
I know it's been ages since I posted this chapter. What with finals, moving, overtime, and my laptop dying on me, I have been forced to put aside my writing for a while. I promise this story will not die! As soon as I am able, I will continue.