A Mother's Love

Author's Note: I promised there would be more! I hope you will all forgive the long delay before this second chapter. My laptop got a nasty virus and is still unavailable. I'm very pleased with the way this story is going and I think it's going to be a good one. Please review - every good writer needs feedback! Any requests, comments, anything, just let me know and I'll do my best to make all my readers happy.

I hope you all enjoy Chapter Two!

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Breakfast the next morning was an awkward affair. Both Harry and Molly avoided looking at one another, while simultaneously attempting to hide the fact that they were avoiding looking at one another. Harry all but inhaled his food and made an excuse to leave immediately after. Ron and Hermione followed not long after.

“Let’s go into the village,” he suggested, “I’ve got some Muggle money and we can go to the cinema.” Ron and Hermione agreed and they hiked the few miles to Ottery St. Catchpole. A new science fiction film called Independence Day playing and the trio spent the rest of the afternoon wandering the town and discussing the special effects. Ron especially was in aghast at the idea that no magic was involved in the production.

“They can’t possibly make a film like that without magic,” he insisted, “there must be a wizard or two on their crew.”

Harry was glad that he had such an interesting topic to keep his mind occupied, but it was still a struggle to keep his mind off the events of the previous night. He found himself staring off into space, thinking of Molly’s lips on his neck, imagining them drifting lower…then he would jerk himself out of his reverie and force himself to make some adamant condemnation of whatever opinion Ron had just expressed, distracting himself with a fervent argument.

As the afternoon waned, however, he was faced with the return to The Burrow. He knew that he would be expected to eat dinner with the family. I will have to face her sometime, and I am strong enough to act like nothing’s wrong, he resolved.

He did, in fact, behave as if nothing was wrong during the meal. He forced himself to talk, laugh, and even look at Mrs. Weasley normally, though it was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. He did escape up to the room he shared with Ron right after the meal, intending to read until bedtime.

Try as he might, he could not concentrate on the book he had grabbed at random out of a pile on Hermione’s side table. Eventually, he gave up and collapsed miserably onto his bed, letting his mind drift. He finally gave himself free reign to imagine what might have happened – Molly’s lips drifting lower, her hands touching his body, his hands touching her shoulders, her arms, her breasts. With these thoughts running through his mind, the tension of the day melted away and he slid into sleep.

* * * * *

The room was dark when Harry woke and Ron was snoring in the other bed. Harry wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but as he moved, he realized that he had to go to the bathroom. Hauling himself out of bed, he plodded toward the bathroom, not noticing until he opened the door that the light was on.

The shower was running, almost drowning out the gentle humming of a familiar lullaby. Harry stared in shock at the shadow moving behind the thin purple curtain – it was Mrs. Weasley.

He leaned against the door frame and watched her, all thoughts of his full bladder forgotten. Her shape was clearly visible against the translucence of the shower curtain. Without the shapeless homemade dress and oversized apron covering her, her body was surprisingly shapely. His cock began to stiffen as his eyes followed her hands, running over those amazing curves as she rinsed under the spray, continuing to hum.

“Sleep gently my darling, sleep soundly my boy, for thou art my treasure, my rapture and joy,” she sang softly. The words brought an eerie sense of déjà vu to Harry. They were very familiar, though he could not remember ever having heard it before. Perhaps his mother had sung it to him when he was a baby.

In his reverie, he did not notice that the water had stopped until the curtain flew aside and there she was before him, nude and glistening, water droplets beading on her skin. His eyes flew over her body, lingering over her large breasts and the red bush between her thighs. She made no attempt to cover herself. Her face was impassive as he stared, drinking in her beauty.

She seemed to realize what was happening when he stepped towards her. He did not know himself what he intended to do – touch her, kiss her, hand her a towel – but the movement was enough to remind her that she was standing naked in front of her 16-year-old son’s best friend. She snatched a towel from the rack on the wall and clutched it to her breasts.

“You should go,” she said in a strained voice.

Harry nodded mutely and tore his eyes away from her body, shuffling away and looking out the window at the moonlit moor. He heard her moving behind him, then the door to her bedroom open and shut. Without looking to confirm that she had gone into her room, he moved down the stairs and outside.

He relieved himself in the downstairs bathroom, though he had to wait for his erection to subside before he could do so. He tried to distract himself by wandering randomly around the garden, but the garden was overrun by gnomes. After the third time he was bitten on the ankle by one of the little buggers, he headed back in.

Harry lay on the couch in the living room, staring blankly at the ceiling. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s bedroom was above him. He pictured her getting ready for bed. Did she sleep in the nude? He was willing to bet she didn’t, but preferred to pretend that she did.

He released his cock from his jeans and stroked it, remembering her body, pink and wet from the shower. He pictured that body pressed against his, touching her, hearing her moan as he kissed her.

He surrendered to his imagination, his pumping fist moving faster and faster as, in his mind, it was his dick doing the pumping. Gods, she was so sexy – nothing like the thin, willowy girls whose bodies Harry had previously glimpsed ghosting through swimsuits or displayed in tight shorts and tank tops in the summer. Her ample curves, her strong arms, her full breasts, this is what a real woman’s body was like!

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, moving his hips into his hand, wishing that she was with him at that moment. “Molly, Molly!” he cried softly as he came. The climax was unsatisfying. He had never before had any problem with masturbation, but this time it was not enough. He wanted her, not simply a release.

After a few minutes, he forced himself to get off the couch and go back upstairs, glancing at the grandfather clock on the landing – 4am. He was very careful opening the door to his and Ron’s room, but Ron’s snoring didn’t falter. He flopped back onto the bed, but sleep eluded him. It near drove him mad trying to keep her from his mind. He gave up after a while and allowed his mind to wander, dreaming of kisses and caresses that had never happened. Giving his mind this luxury was oddly soothing and finally, as dawn began to appear outside his window, he slept.