Because my friends are huge Bellarke shippers, and I love my friends <3
somewhere in season 5...
--
Chest heaving with labored breathing, Clarke's blue eyes scanned the scene around her. There were bodies everywhere. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. This wasn't what she'd wanted. This wasn't what any of them had wanted.
The blood drying on her face was itchy, pulling at the skin in that perfectly irritating way. When she lifted her hand to wipe it away, it was still sticky to the touch. Her stomach churned at the feeling, a soft groan slipping from her lips as she let her gaze drop to the ground. Blood from the bodies around her was pooling at her feet. Her head snapped up as her eyes looked around, her expression frantic. "Madi," she shouted, worried her companion had been lost in all of this."Madi!" This time the name tore from her lips more desperately. Clarke began to move, tripping on lifeless limbs as she hurried to move away from the slaughter.
A familiar sting prickled behind her eyes, and she willed herself not to cry. Not now. She had to be strong, just like always. Steeling herself against her own selfish emotions, she clenched her jaw and kept moving, wading through the bodies. At the edge of the battlefield, her foot caught, tangled in the limbs of one of the fallen. Clarke was afraid to look down. Just as she began to turn her head, someone grabbed her hand.
"Don't." The voice was all too familiar. That rough, confident sound had filled her dreams, her nightmares, for 2,199 days before she'd heard it again. She had thought she'd been dreaming, but it was really him; it was really Bellamy.
Clarke looked up at him as he helped her out of the sea of bodies. For what it was worth, she was glad he was here - she didn't want to do this alone. His face was covered in blood, as she imagined hers was, too. "Have you seen Madi," she asked, not able to keep the worry from creeping into her voice. That same concern was tightening in her chest, gripping at her heart.Until finally...Bellamy nodded, "she's safe." An audible breath of relief poured from Clarke's lips, shaky at best.
"Oh, thank god," she muttered, her whole body finally relaxing. Pulling her eyes back to his face, she looked at him, silence stretching between them. The lump was growing in her throat, and she knew it was only a matter of time before her tears fell whether she wanted them to or not. When Bellamy turned, his eyes meeting hers, she could see the same on his face, the tears behind his eyes he was trying so hard to will away. Heart hammering in her chest, she realized she was still holding his hand, clinging desperately to the warmth that seemed to radiate from him. Blinking, she looked down at their hands, focusing on what was important right then and there.
"Did Octavia-?" As she asked, she looked back at him. Her question was cut off by his response, a shake of the head. Her stomach lurched; she felt sick. Clarke squeezed his hand gently as she pulled him into her, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his blood-matted curls. It took a moment, or maybe two, but soon enough, she could feel his arms wrapping around her waist.
When Bellamy pulled away, Clarke's cheek brushed against his. It was such a soft touch, it was almost enough to make her forget they were standing at the end of the world. Again. Looking at him, Clarke could see that he'd let the tears out. She wiped one away with the pad of her thumb, but she only smeared more blood over his freckles. A small wrinkle formed between her brows as she looked at him, wishing she could make things better. "Bellamy, I-" She didn't know what to say, though, and as she cut herself off, they both leaned in.
It had been ages since she'd kissed anyone like this. This felt right, natural. And yet...
Clarke pulled away, her eyes searching Bellamy's face as she took a small step away from him. A smile tugged the corner of her lips upwards, and she found she couldn't stop it. The smile spread over her face, and she glanced away, feeling suddenly shy about it. When she looked back at him, though, he was smiling, too.
It didn't seem to matter that they were both disgusting - sweaty, covered in blood and dirt and grime - because they had finally found one another. It had taken them over six years, but here they were. The tears started sliding down her cheeks, trailing through the blood and mud. For the first time in a long time, Clarke let herself be selfish, and she hoped Bellamy wouldn't mind: She kissed him again. This time, it was on purpose, this time it was fueled by desire rather than their shared pain. The warmth in her chest, spreading, made her wonder just how long she'd loved him and never realized it.
Showing posts with label romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label romance. Show all posts
Saturday, January 27, 2018
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Writing Doodle 034 - Once Upon A Time
Once upon a time, there lived a princess. She grew up, dreaming of true love, with hope in her heart. One day, she met a prince, and she thought that she must have been in love. He was so confident and wonderful! He took her away, and locked her in a tower.
For a time, the princess was happy in her tower. She felt safe and protected. Oh how the prince must love me, she thought, for he cannot bear to see me come to harm, and so he keeps me locked away safe in this tower! And she was happy.
A year passed, and the prince threatened to leave the princess, throw her from the tower. The princess was terrified, and horribly saddened. She spent more and more time outside the tower, and just as she was getting used to being out in the world alone again, the prince begged her to come back. Thinking it was destiny that had pulled her back to the prince, she agreed, and back to the tower she went, locked away from the world, and safe.
Another year rolled by. The princess, and the tower, were moved to a new kingdom with the prince. It was beautiful there, and the princess began to long for the things outside her tower. Yet the prince kept her there. Thinking the prince knew best, and that he was only trying to protect her, she stayed.
It was the middle of the princess's third year locked in the tower when she got a message that her father had gone missing. The princess's mother was devastated, as was her younger sister. But the princess could do nothing to help her grieving family. The kingdom the prince had moved her to needed her so badly, that were she to leave, even just for a day, the kingdom would crumble, and the princess would be held responsible. She wrote to her mother and sister constantly, reassuring them that they were better off, that the wounds would heal in time. Oh, how she longed to leave the tower.
The princess felt as though she were wilting, locked away. The prince had broken her. He had made her believe that she was nothing with him and the protection his tower provided her. Then one day, the prince brought another princess to the tower. The princess was surprised and hurt. The prince did not hide the second princess, but the princess wondered why she wasn't enough for him. It wasn't until that moment, when he'd made her truly feel worthless, that she realized she was better than this.
She knew she had to escape from the tower.
Leaning from her window, she met a young handsome man. He claimed he was a knight, and he made the princess smile. She had not smiled for quite some time. He was going to help her from the tower, he had promised. She waited for him. Days passed, weeks passed, and soon it had been over a month, and the princess had not heard from her knight. He had abandoned her. She wept for herself then, thinking the worst of herself, yet knowing she did not belong in this tower.
Another month went by. The prince had taken the second princess away, but she had written the princess, claiming to have escaped. The princess took a deep breath and lept from the tower, leaving behind only a note for the prince, telling him she no longer loved him, and wasn't sure she really ever did.
It was a surprise to the princess to find that the leap from the tower was nothing to be afraid of. She landed in a warm pool and swam for some time before leaving the water behind. A smile had come to rest on her lips as she walked freely through the kingdom, making friends. One night, as she was spending time with her new friends, the prince came to her, begging her to speak with him. Being the kind-hearted soul she was, she obliged. The prince tried to convince her she had made a mistake, that in a few months time, she should return to the tower - just to be sure. Seeing no harm in the deal, the princess agreed and sent the weeping prince on his way.
Months passed. The princess was finally beginning to feel good about herself. She had even gone dancing with a man from the village. But, as she promised, she returned to the tower. The prince had paintings of other princesses hanging on the walls. He told her that he was over her. Really, he was just trying to make her jealous. The princess did not fall for the prince's trap, however. The next morning, she left, happier than even the day before.
The man from the village brought her a rose, asked her with a hand-written note to be his. The princess, feeling nothing for his kind man, turned him down. She had decided she wasn't ready to belong to someone again. But she didn't see the harm in sharing a dinner here and there with a man who fancied her.
That was when she met the knighted prince. She had dinner with him just once, but everything felt different. It was just so wonderful, and she felt like she could have spent all night just talking about nothing, if he had only stayed. None of the others gave her the same feeling. In fact, they were all rather dull in comparison.
The princess followed the knighted prince as he smiled down at her from atop his horse. He was everything she had ever dreamed of. They began seeing one another in secret. It was nearly three months before they announced their engagement to the kingdom, but in those three months, the princess had fallen quite deeply in love with the knighted prince. She imagined what their wedding would be like, and hoped it would come quickly.
The princess was happy with the knighted prince. He was kind to her, and so supportive. She began to feel like she was valuable, and was able to be happy. Really, truly happy. It didn't matter if he were by her side at all times, as long as he loved her, she knew she would be the happiest princess in the world. Her confidence was building, and she even went out and did things she never thought she'd be able to. She had even gotten a position in a small kingdom supporting the ruler, and all this while her knighted prince was away for three long months.
It felt like it had been forever when he returned. The princess was so glad to see him, and she asked him to stay the night with her. They talked quite a bit, and the princess asked if he would be returning to the land of snow - where he had been for those three months - at the end of the next harvest. The knighted prince explained that he hoped he would be asked to return, and permanently, but he did not want the princess to follow him. The princess felt her heart shatter. The confidence she had been building up, the happiness she'd learned to cultivate in herself withered. She couldn't understand why he would not want her to go with him, but he refused to talk more on it.
Months more passed, and the princess could only feel herself growing sadder and sadder. She missed the person she had been when she'd met her knighted prince - so warm, kind, and optimistic! But she didn't know how to fix herself. The knighted prince spent less and less time with her, and she began to wonder if he loved her at all.
Finally, the harvest came to an end. The knighted prince had been called to a hearing in the land of snow, and the princess knew he was going to leave her behind. She sobbed, and he held her. Finally, she turned to him, asking him why? Why didn't he want her to go with him? That was when he'd made it very clear that he did not love her. He never had.
The princess felt her heart shatter then. Of all the terrible luck she could have had, she had never expected this. She wondered why he had spent so long courting her if he did not love her. He claimed it was hope - hope that he would love her as deeply as she loved him. And yet, he did not. The princess felt her optimism draining away, and wondered if she were unlovable. If her knighted prince could not love her, then who could?
A month passed, and the knighted prince spent a lot of time with the princess. She knew it was meant as a parting, but then the knighted prince heard from the land of snow that they had found someone better suited to the position. He was devastated, and the princess did all she could to console him despite how miserable she felt herself.
The days dragged into weeks then, and still the knighted prince did not break off his ties with the princess. It was beginning to be very painful for her, watching him from afar, watching him avoid spending time with her. All she really wanted was one last touch, one last kiss, one last tender moment, but he would not oblige her.
Finally, she asked him to dinner, and it was there that she told him he did not need to worry about her any longer; that she was leaving. She said she hoped he'd be happier this way, and perhaps they could still be friends.
With a broken and heavy heart, the princess returned to her home, alone. There, she sat for days, crying and screaming, wishing for nothing but the knighted prince's love, and knowing it would never be hers.
For a time, the princess was happy in her tower. She felt safe and protected. Oh how the prince must love me, she thought, for he cannot bear to see me come to harm, and so he keeps me locked away safe in this tower! And she was happy.
A year passed, and the prince threatened to leave the princess, throw her from the tower. The princess was terrified, and horribly saddened. She spent more and more time outside the tower, and just as she was getting used to being out in the world alone again, the prince begged her to come back. Thinking it was destiny that had pulled her back to the prince, she agreed, and back to the tower she went, locked away from the world, and safe.
Another year rolled by. The princess, and the tower, were moved to a new kingdom with the prince. It was beautiful there, and the princess began to long for the things outside her tower. Yet the prince kept her there. Thinking the prince knew best, and that he was only trying to protect her, she stayed.
It was the middle of the princess's third year locked in the tower when she got a message that her father had gone missing. The princess's mother was devastated, as was her younger sister. But the princess could do nothing to help her grieving family. The kingdom the prince had moved her to needed her so badly, that were she to leave, even just for a day, the kingdom would crumble, and the princess would be held responsible. She wrote to her mother and sister constantly, reassuring them that they were better off, that the wounds would heal in time. Oh, how she longed to leave the tower.
The princess felt as though she were wilting, locked away. The prince had broken her. He had made her believe that she was nothing with him and the protection his tower provided her. Then one day, the prince brought another princess to the tower. The princess was surprised and hurt. The prince did not hide the second princess, but the princess wondered why she wasn't enough for him. It wasn't until that moment, when he'd made her truly feel worthless, that she realized she was better than this.
She knew she had to escape from the tower.
Leaning from her window, she met a young handsome man. He claimed he was a knight, and he made the princess smile. She had not smiled for quite some time. He was going to help her from the tower, he had promised. She waited for him. Days passed, weeks passed, and soon it had been over a month, and the princess had not heard from her knight. He had abandoned her. She wept for herself then, thinking the worst of herself, yet knowing she did not belong in this tower.
Another month went by. The prince had taken the second princess away, but she had written the princess, claiming to have escaped. The princess took a deep breath and lept from the tower, leaving behind only a note for the prince, telling him she no longer loved him, and wasn't sure she really ever did.
It was a surprise to the princess to find that the leap from the tower was nothing to be afraid of. She landed in a warm pool and swam for some time before leaving the water behind. A smile had come to rest on her lips as she walked freely through the kingdom, making friends. One night, as she was spending time with her new friends, the prince came to her, begging her to speak with him. Being the kind-hearted soul she was, she obliged. The prince tried to convince her she had made a mistake, that in a few months time, she should return to the tower - just to be sure. Seeing no harm in the deal, the princess agreed and sent the weeping prince on his way.
Months passed. The princess was finally beginning to feel good about herself. She had even gone dancing with a man from the village. But, as she promised, she returned to the tower. The prince had paintings of other princesses hanging on the walls. He told her that he was over her. Really, he was just trying to make her jealous. The princess did not fall for the prince's trap, however. The next morning, she left, happier than even the day before.
The man from the village brought her a rose, asked her with a hand-written note to be his. The princess, feeling nothing for his kind man, turned him down. She had decided she wasn't ready to belong to someone again. But she didn't see the harm in sharing a dinner here and there with a man who fancied her.
That was when she met the knighted prince. She had dinner with him just once, but everything felt different. It was just so wonderful, and she felt like she could have spent all night just talking about nothing, if he had only stayed. None of the others gave her the same feeling. In fact, they were all rather dull in comparison.
The princess followed the knighted prince as he smiled down at her from atop his horse. He was everything she had ever dreamed of. They began seeing one another in secret. It was nearly three months before they announced their engagement to the kingdom, but in those three months, the princess had fallen quite deeply in love with the knighted prince. She imagined what their wedding would be like, and hoped it would come quickly.
The princess was happy with the knighted prince. He was kind to her, and so supportive. She began to feel like she was valuable, and was able to be happy. Really, truly happy. It didn't matter if he were by her side at all times, as long as he loved her, she knew she would be the happiest princess in the world. Her confidence was building, and she even went out and did things she never thought she'd be able to. She had even gotten a position in a small kingdom supporting the ruler, and all this while her knighted prince was away for three long months.
It felt like it had been forever when he returned. The princess was so glad to see him, and she asked him to stay the night with her. They talked quite a bit, and the princess asked if he would be returning to the land of snow - where he had been for those three months - at the end of the next harvest. The knighted prince explained that he hoped he would be asked to return, and permanently, but he did not want the princess to follow him. The princess felt her heart shatter. The confidence she had been building up, the happiness she'd learned to cultivate in herself withered. She couldn't understand why he would not want her to go with him, but he refused to talk more on it.
Months more passed, and the princess could only feel herself growing sadder and sadder. She missed the person she had been when she'd met her knighted prince - so warm, kind, and optimistic! But she didn't know how to fix herself. The knighted prince spent less and less time with her, and she began to wonder if he loved her at all.
Finally, the harvest came to an end. The knighted prince had been called to a hearing in the land of snow, and the princess knew he was going to leave her behind. She sobbed, and he held her. Finally, she turned to him, asking him why? Why didn't he want her to go with him? That was when he'd made it very clear that he did not love her. He never had.
The princess felt her heart shatter then. Of all the terrible luck she could have had, she had never expected this. She wondered why he had spent so long courting her if he did not love her. He claimed it was hope - hope that he would love her as deeply as she loved him. And yet, he did not. The princess felt her optimism draining away, and wondered if she were unlovable. If her knighted prince could not love her, then who could?
A month passed, and the knighted prince spent a lot of time with the princess. She knew it was meant as a parting, but then the knighted prince heard from the land of snow that they had found someone better suited to the position. He was devastated, and the princess did all she could to console him despite how miserable she felt herself.
The days dragged into weeks then, and still the knighted prince did not break off his ties with the princess. It was beginning to be very painful for her, watching him from afar, watching him avoid spending time with her. All she really wanted was one last touch, one last kiss, one last tender moment, but he would not oblige her.
Finally, she asked him to dinner, and it was there that she told him he did not need to worry about her any longer; that she was leaving. She said she hoped he'd be happier this way, and perhaps they could still be friends.
With a broken and heavy heart, the princess returned to her home, alone. There, she sat for days, crying and screaming, wishing for nothing but the knighted prince's love, and knowing it would never be hers.
Friday, July 01, 2016
Writing Doodle 033 - Sacrifice
Imagine you're in love. Imagine you've loved that person almost the entire time you've been together. Imagine it's been a couple years, maybe even almost two and a half. Imagine the person you love explaining to you that they don't love you - that they've never loved you. Imagine asking why they've stayed with you for so long if they don't feel the same way about you as you do about them, and imagine they say they had hope that they might just wake up and feel that way one day. Imagine that you believe that wanting to love someone is really the first step towards being in love with them. Imagine you cry. A lot. Imagine the person you love is going to get a job far away and move. Imagine they don't want you to go with them. Imagine how hurt you feel when you remember the one time, over a year ago, when you asked and they said, "well, you'll have to come with me!" and you were so happy that things felt like they were working out the way you'd always imagined. Imagine that you'd decided years ago you wouldn't leave your job and move for anyone unless you were sure they were "the one." Imagine having decided you'd move for this person you love. Imagine realizing you never loved anyone before, not like this. This is different. Imagine being on the brink of depression, and that person being the only bright spot in your life, keeping you from teetering over the edge and losing yourself completely. Imagine they don't get that job. Imagine them devastated, and you feel like it's somehow your fault because you wanted to stay with them so badly. Imagine they still want to break up because they still don't love you. Imagine that they don't know how to do it, so they keep putting it off, avoiding you more and more. Imagine wanting to spend one more night in their arms, but they won't stay at your place anymore. Imagine sobbing harder than you ever have before in your entire life, your whole body in pain, and you don't know how to deal with it. Imagining feeling so alone that you almost believe no one else has ever felt this much pain and heartbreak before in the history of the universe, even though you know that can't possibly be right. Imagine deciding you'll be the one to end things because you can't take being avoided by your love any longer. Imagine you go to dinner as a couple one more time. Imagine it's basically perfect. Imagine you stop at the store before parting ways. Imagine you get in the car, and as you're driving back, you do it. You end the relationship. Imagine wanting someone else's happiness so badly that you sacrifice the only happiness you have. Imaging wanting to stay friends, but hoping you never have to see the person you love with someone else, even if you do just want them to be happy. Imagine never regretting a single moment they spent with you, but wanting to forget every second of it. Imagine being alone the night after you've broken up, and no one's around. You're completely alone. Imagine crying harder still, so hard that you're actually screaming. Imagine you're so unhappy that you've lost the will and the desire to do anything. But at least the person you love is happy now, at least you could do that one last thing for them. Imagine hoping that they appreciate your sacrifice, and that they don't realize just how much it ruined you.
Sunday, May 01, 2016
Writing Doodle 032 - Broken Heart
May 25, 2158
Dearest Diary,
Relationships are funny things. Two people (or more, I suppose, but for me, just two) come together and sort of agree to be more than friends. Like, yea sure, I'll always be there for you... or somesuch.
Or not.
I loved him deeply, ferociously... with a passion he probably would have preferred to see me drive my career with instead. But I loved him. After three months with him, I had fallen - hard, fast, however you want to describe it - and I kept loving him through everything.
But depression and anxiety have a funny way of making you see the worst in everything. I still love him, but all I think about is how he doesn't love me, that I'm just a chore to him, that he'd rather hang out with his friends than with me. I cry a lot. I don't want to, but I'm not sure how to stop.
I know I'd be alright without him, sure, but I don't want to be without him. He means so much to me now. I'm so terrified of losing him. But, you see... in my mind, he's already ended the relationship, and already shattered my heart into a million pieces, and it'll never be the same. Maybe it's worse because he's still here, still with me.
I am so, so happy whenever I get to spend time with him; I am so, so miserable when he leaves me behind. And I know it's all in my head, but...how do I get out of my own head? I don't know how to do this on my own. I don't know how to fix my broken heart - the heart that hasn't even been broken yet.
Love Always - yes, even when my heart is broken,
Dearest Diary,
Relationships are funny things. Two people (or more, I suppose, but for me, just two) come together and sort of agree to be more than friends. Like, yea sure, I'll always be there for you... or somesuch.
Or not.
I loved him deeply, ferociously... with a passion he probably would have preferred to see me drive my career with instead. But I loved him. After three months with him, I had fallen - hard, fast, however you want to describe it - and I kept loving him through everything.
But depression and anxiety have a funny way of making you see the worst in everything. I still love him, but all I think about is how he doesn't love me, that I'm just a chore to him, that he'd rather hang out with his friends than with me. I cry a lot. I don't want to, but I'm not sure how to stop.
I know I'd be alright without him, sure, but I don't want to be without him. He means so much to me now. I'm so terrified of losing him. But, you see... in my mind, he's already ended the relationship, and already shattered my heart into a million pieces, and it'll never be the same. Maybe it's worse because he's still here, still with me.
I am so, so happy whenever I get to spend time with him; I am so, so miserable when he leaves me behind. And I know it's all in my head, but...how do I get out of my own head? I don't know how to do this on my own. I don't know how to fix my broken heart - the heart that hasn't even been broken yet.
Love Always - yes, even when my heart is broken,
Jo Mosser
Monday, April 11, 2016
Character Development - Arthur Weasley
AU - age 29 - first wizarding war
-------------------
Being the middle child is not exactly easy. Everyone seems to think it is, but it's really not. You have to live up to the expectations set by your older siblings while still being a good example for the younger ones. It's really all about balance - finding the line and walking straight along it. Of course you'll probably wobble a bit now and again, but it's something you'll learn to live with. You'll never be the best, but at least you won't be the worst, either. You'll always be right in the middle. Average. It's just who you are.
That was Arthur Weasley's life. It was the life he was born into as the second son of a second son of a second son. All middle children who swore to break the chain of average middle children - should they have that many. They did. None had succeeded, however, in making their middle son feel anything other than, well, average. Of course, little Arthur had no idea that his father might have made such a vow, and in fact, would probably never find out.
For the first four years of his life, Arthur was in his elder brother's shadow, following in his footsteps with a goofy smile on his adorable face. His parents loved them both very much. But just two? It was far from enough children for this Weasley family. Septimus and Cedrella, who had been burnt off the Black family tree for marrying a Weasley, had intended to have at least five children. When Arthur was four, his younger brother was born, but due to some strange complications with the pregnancy, there would be no more Weasley children- or any children for that matter- born of Cedrella. Despite the rather depressing news, Septimus and Cedrella welcomed their third child into their family and their home, glad to have the three they had.
While Septimus and Cedrella loved each of their children, they never seemed to realize what it felt like for Arthur growing up. He had to be more like his big brother, who was showing strong signs of magic at the age of seven; he had to set a good example for his younger brother, always being the one to take the baby's hand and lead him forward. Now, it really wasn't so bad. Arthur had a very loving family, after all. He just tended to get a little bit overshadowed. His elder brother got the praise for doing everything the first time - it was therefore less impressive when Arthur managed it. His younger brother was, well, the baby, which meant he got a lot of extra attention as babies tended to receive. Which left Arthur right in the middle of it all.
Arthur could remember the day his elder brother got his Hogwarts letter nearly perfectly. It had been raining and very grey. Not one of the boys were allowed to go outside. Might catch cold their mother had said. Which meant they only had the option to play indoors for the day. Arthur had been watching the window when the owl came with the letter. He had been almost as excited has his elder brother had been, a wide grin on his face. There had been so much excitement throughout the household that day. The first son of the current generation of Weasleys was about to go off to Hogwarts! There was a trip to London, ice cream, and they even bought an owl! It was so much excitement Arthur was nearly falling asleep on the way home.
It was September first. Arthur was holding the hand of his younger brother on the platform as they waved the eldest off to his first year at Hogwarts. Arthur patted his crying baby brother on the back, promising they'd see the eldest again and not to worry; before long, they'd both be at Hogwarts, too.
Christmas finally came. Arthur's eldest brother came home with stories upon stories upon stories to tell to his two younger brothers who sat, enrapt by his words. He pulled something out of his bag and handed it to the youngest. It was a small wrapped box. He did the same for Arthur. Upon opening the box, wrapping paper strewn about, Arthur found a most curious item. His brother told him it was a "rubber duck" and he had gotten it from his muggle-born friend. Arthur was more than a little fascinated with the item. In fact, one might even have said he'd grown obsessed with it. It was there, in that moment, that Arthur knew he wanted to study muggles, to somehow work between the magical & Muggle worlds. He wasn't sure how he was going to do it yet, but he knew he would get there one day. It was his dream.
Two years passed and all that happened was Arthur's love for all things Muggle growing deeper and deeper. Well, and he got his Hogwarts letter, of course. Now, with his elder brother's hand-me-downs and a wand of his own, Arthur waved goodbye to his family as he stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express. It was even more incredible than he could have imagined. It would be four more years before his youngest brother would get to experience this, but Arthur was still looking forward to that day.
Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Arthur could hardly contain his excitement. His elder brother was no where to be seen, but that wasn't much of a surprise, really, considering the difference in years. The boats, though! Arthur loved the boats. He could recall a commotion coming from one of the other boats, but other than that, it had been perfect, like a dream. The way the lights played on the surface of the pristine lake. It was something Arthur would never forget - a story he would be sure to tell his younger brother, and, eventually, his own children. Arthur wondered how anything could be as amazing and perfect as that boat ride, and honestly, never expect anything to match the wonder he'd felt on the lake that night.
The Sorting Hat had barely touched Arthur's ginger hair before it had shouted out GRYFFINDOR! With a wide grin on his face, Arthur joined the Gryffindor house table - his elder brother was there, cheering the loudest. A few more first years were sorted before Arthur heard the name of the woman he subconsciously decided he was going to marry: Molly Prewett. His jaw dropped, his heart fluttered. He didn't really know it yet - because he was only eleven years old - but he was really in love. She was just so perfect, more so than the boat ride across the lake, and now, now he knew for sure, nothing else would ever be as beautiful.
Arthur tried several times throughout his first year at Hogwarts to talk to Molly, but she never seemed to notice him. Perhaps he was just too quiet, or maybe it was that he was just too...average. But it didn't matter. There were still years ahead of them in which he would be able to finally find the perfect way to talk to her.
Year two, and nothing to show for it. Well, aside from having a bit of a spat with a few other purebloods. The Weasley family were known to be blood traitors. Arthur, as it turns out, felt very strongly about this. He stood up for a couple of his (mostly) new muggle-born friends, and it sure got a bit messy. Luckily, almost no one was around to see it all. Arthur knew that, from that day onwards, he would never give a second thought to blood purity. Sure, he'd been told to treat all wizards equally by his parents, but he had never encountered such venom and bitterness all because of blood, and he knew that the purebloods were wrong. It was a belief that would come to shape much of his later life.
Third year arrived with much excitement from Arthur. This was the year. It had finally come! It was the first year he would be able to take the Muggle Studies class, and he could hardly wait. It was strange, though, because despite his excitement, it still seemed as though he blended into the background, hardly noticed by anyone - save when they needed someone to pick on or cheat off of. He was, after all, still a middle child. Yes, of course he had friends, but he was never special. He didn't seem to stand out in his classes, despite being rather clever, and he certainly didn't stand out in the looks department considering his tall, lanky, gangly appearance. But it really didn't bother him. He was happy with his life, and he knew, eventually, that he would talk to Molly Prewett, and, somehow, win her heart.
Muggle Studies was not quite what Arthur had imagined it would be, but it was amazing nonetheless. He learned a lot more than he might have expected, but that comes with growing up in a pureblooded family, he supposed. In fact, he was fairly certain no one he'd ever known in his entire family had ever really had contact with a real Muggle. Muggle-borns, sure, but not a Muggle. He wondered if he'd ever get the opportunity to meet a Muggle in real life - he had so many questions already! He dug deeper than probably any previous student in the Muggle Studies class, forsaking some of his other classes in order to do so, even. Muggle Studies had captured Arthur's mind. It was all he could think about, and he knew that he would, one way or another, work with Muggles and their interesting culture - whether it be directly or indirectly.
At the start of his fourth year at Hogwarts, Arthur's youngest brother joined Gryffindor. Arthur cheered the loudest - even louder than their eldest brother. It was incredible to be able to be there to answer whatever questions his little brother had. Granted, a majority of them seemed to be asked in secret - the youngest didn't want to look uncool in front of his new classmates. Arthur had simply chuckled to himself before turning back to the Muggle book he was reading - it was about electricity! - and staring over the top of the pages at Molly Prewett, laughing with her friends.
Arthur tried talking to Molly again. He didn't do any better at the age of fourteen than he had at the age of eleven. He knew now, though, that when his heart raced as he thought of her, that it might be love. Then again, maybe it wasn't. One Hogsmeade weekend, Arthur was asked to visit Madam Puddifoot's with a rather awkward Ravenclaw. She was a nice enough girl, and of course Arthur had said yes, but he knew, even from that one little date, that she wasn't the one for him. It only made him yearn for Molly all the more.
It was time for Arthur to study for his O.W.L.s. Boy, was he nervous. He knew he wanted to get into something relating to Muggles, but he had never really taken the time to figure out what sort of field that could be. Wizard-Muggle relations? But that sounded so...stiff. Would he be able to be the same person if that were his career path? This required some serious thinking. And perhaps some serious studying. As long as he got high enough marks in Muggle Studies, and most of the other classes he might need a N.E.W.T. level class for, well... he'd be alright.
Arthur went on a few more dates with the rather awkward Ravenclaw. She was nice, but Arthur felt wrong about it all. He knew he had to put an end to it before she started thinking things were getting serious and got hurt more than she already would be. He made sure to end it gently, away from crowds and the like. But, of course, she was still hurt, still claimed she'd never be able to forgive him.
With sixth year starting, Arthur realized he was running out of time. He needed to get Molly to notice him, to fall for him as completely as he'd already done for her. But the question was how. He still had several classes on his plate, too: charms, potions, transfiguration, defense against the dark arts, and muggle studies, having just squeaked by on most of them. And yet, somehow, his classes seemed so dull now that time was running out on his Molly problem.
It was the middle of the year when Arthur finally got his chance. There was a party. Molly was there. And thank Marlin for liquid courage, eh? He remembered inhaling deeply, thinking about how he really needed to just...talk to her...and then his memory went blank. Well, until the two of them were in the hallway. Molly was wobbling rather ferociously. She even fell and scraped her knee. Arthur was sorry he hadn't been able to catch her in time. He didn't laugh - that would have been rude - he simply helped her up. The next thing he knew, she had kissed him - was kissing him. And it was everything he had hoped it would be. His heart skipped a beat, it felt like he had wings. He knew that if she were by his side, he could do anything. And as much as he loved that kiss, the taste of her lips, he pulled back shyly, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped her walk a bit more steadily. Who knows if she'd really wanted to kiss him or if it had just been the alcohol. Whatever the case, he wouldn't take advantage of her. They walked the grounds for hours that night, just talking. He told her all about his love of Muggles, his family...everything; and he wanted to know every little thing about her, drinking in her every word as though he were dying of thirst. It was four in the morning when they returned to the Gryffindor common room, and Arthur was sure he'd never had a better day at Hogwarts than this one.
The next day was in competition with Arthur's night out with Molly for a long time. The only reason was because Molly was no longer ignoring him. He had done it! The way she waved to him, the smile on her lips... It distracted him for the entire day. It was no use doing his homework - he'd only end up scribbling her name all over the parchment. The next chance he got, he asked if she would go to Hogsmeade with him - to Madam Puddifoot's. He was over the moon when she agreed. If anyone were to ask Arthur, it had been a perfect date. Arthur figured Molly had liked it - and him - well enough since she kept talking to him after the fact. And she didn't seem to mind the nickname he'd come up with for her after the night of the party, either: Mollywobbles.
By the time they were leaving Hogwarts, the threat of war was coming. It loomed like a dark cloud on the horizon. Who knew what could happen tomorrow? The future was being tossed about like a ship in a storm, always uncertain. Arthur had turned to Molly one afternoon when they were having a quiet lunch together during the Christmas holiday, when she had said "Let's elope, Arthur." Despite the surprise, Arthur was more than overjoyed that she would want to marry him. He agreed, and soon after leaving Hogwarts, they ran away together. Of course Arthur wrote to his family later, explaining everything. They weren't upset, really. Rather, they seemed rather excited to meet Molly, and Arthur couldn't wait to introduce her.
Arthur was only twenty years old when his first son was born. William, they named him - Bill for short. He was a beautiful baby boy, and Arthur couldn't have been more proud. He had a good feeling that everything was going to go very well for the family he and Molly were growing. He was working at the Ministry, a junior assistant in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. It was everything he could have dreamed of in a job! And he'd been hired just after he and Molly had eloped. It was perfect timing, too. The signing bonus was enough for them to buy an adorable little home with - The Burrow, they called it - and when little Bill was born, they began adding on to the house - as they would do for years to come with each new child as they needed more and more space.
Charlie was rather unexpected. Not that Arthur minded, of course, as he was looking forward to having a family - a real, and large, family with the love of his life. But two children, and so close together, made things difficult. Arthur found himself spending entirely too much time working in an attempt to make sure ends would meet - that his wife and two wonderful sons - would have all they could ever dream of. Arthur knew Molly needed him, but he also knew he had to provide for her, and he was torn. He never let Molly see the anguish he felt at being away from her so much; instead he always greeted her with love and warmth whenever he made it home.
The next four years were rough, but they evened out. Things were alright in the Weasley household. Arthur was making enough money to support his wife and two sons, himself, and own a home. Things were looking up. Aside from the looming cloud of war rolling in faster and faster. Arthur worried about his family. Would they be safe? He knew his own family had been labeled blood traitors long ago, and with the purists seeming to come out, Arthur was terrified that his family would be in danger. He would spend hours at work, worrying about it all, trying to see a way to protect them while still taking a stand against the purists and their backwards views. With all that weighing him down, the birth of Percy was a welcome distraction. Percy was just as perfect as his two older brothers, but it meant another mouth to feed. Arthur worried that he and Molly had made a mistake bringing another child into the world - this world in particular, one where someone would be thought of as less simply because of who their parents were. Still, Arthur believed his son to be a bright spot in a darkening world, and he was glad he and Molly had made the decision they did.
Two years passed. It was 1977, and the world was dark and full of terrors. Arthur and Molly had been talking about having another child - she really wanted a daughter, and who was he to deny her? Arthur had been in bed beside a sleeping Molly, trying to figure out their budget for the next baby, when the owl came. His parents had been murdered. They weren't sure who had done it, but Arthur had his suspicions considering the rising tensions between the purists and, well, everyone else. Arthur had never felt so infuriated in his entire life. First, they - whoever they really were - were creating a world in which Arthur was terrified for the futures of his children; second, they murdered his parents. It was too much. Arthur knew he had to do something. Arthur kissed his sleeping wife's forehead, wrote her a note explaining what had happened, and met his brothers at his parent's house to deal with the aftermath.
It wasn't long after his parents' deaths when Arthur was contacted by Albus Dumbledore. The elderly wizard explained calmly about a group he was building to fight against The Death Eaters. The group was called the Order of the Phoenix, and Albus was asking if Arthur would join the battle. Arthur said he needed some time to think about it. He didn't mention it to Molly at all. Now was not the time.
Molly and Arthur had decided on another child - might as well fill the world with good, if they could. Much to their surprise, one child turned out to be two: twins! Arthur had nearly fainted at the news. This would require a whole new budget - and a decent amount of overtime. At least Arthur had just been promoted from junior assistant to assistant - that would give them a little bit of extra money for sure, but it would still be rough. It was a miracle, to say the very least, that Arthur was actually home the very moment that Molly went into labor with the twins - and early, at that! It was a long labor. So long that Arthur found himself leaving in the middle to finish up some work and returning before it was over. But when it was, Arthur could hardly hold back the joy he felt at being a father once - or rather twice - again.
After the twins were born, Albus approached Arthur again. He thought about his family and how worried he was that his children might grow up in a world where hating muggle-borns was considered right. He agreed to join the Order, even shook Dumbledore's hand. That night, when he came home, he explained it all to Molly. Of course, it had resulted in a fight. The biggest one they ever had. Arthur was firm in his belief that joining the fight was the only way to ensure that their children were raised in a safe, happy, non-discriminatory home. Molly begged him to reconsider, but he would not budge on this decision. Any other time, he would have willingly given into his wife's wishes, but this time...this time was different.
With the fight behind them, and Arthur on an incredibly rare holiday from work, he looked at his beautiful wife. He wanted to give her everything, and he knew how badly she wanted a daughter, and it made him want a daughter just as much. Arthur dreamed of the day a little Weasley girl would be born into the world - she would be the first for generations! - and the look on Molly's face at holding a daughter? Arthur would have given almost anything to see that look. He managed to convince Molly that the...fifth time would be the charm, really.
With Molly pregnant once again, Arthur is doing all he can at work to pull ends together, to provide for the family he's always wanted, that he has now. On top of all of that, he goes out, night after night, fighting with the Order against the Death Eaters, hoping for a better tomorrow. And Arthur knows, that somewhere out there, it's possible that his father is smiling, knowing that he finally raised a middle child who was more than just average. Arthur Weasley knew he was more than just a middle child: he was the hope for the future of his children.
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for a site called Infinite Arms
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Being the middle child is not exactly easy. Everyone seems to think it is, but it's really not. You have to live up to the expectations set by your older siblings while still being a good example for the younger ones. It's really all about balance - finding the line and walking straight along it. Of course you'll probably wobble a bit now and again, but it's something you'll learn to live with. You'll never be the best, but at least you won't be the worst, either. You'll always be right in the middle. Average. It's just who you are.
That was Arthur Weasley's life. It was the life he was born into as the second son of a second son of a second son. All middle children who swore to break the chain of average middle children - should they have that many. They did. None had succeeded, however, in making their middle son feel anything other than, well, average. Of course, little Arthur had no idea that his father might have made such a vow, and in fact, would probably never find out.
For the first four years of his life, Arthur was in his elder brother's shadow, following in his footsteps with a goofy smile on his adorable face. His parents loved them both very much. But just two? It was far from enough children for this Weasley family. Septimus and Cedrella, who had been burnt off the Black family tree for marrying a Weasley, had intended to have at least five children. When Arthur was four, his younger brother was born, but due to some strange complications with the pregnancy, there would be no more Weasley children- or any children for that matter- born of Cedrella. Despite the rather depressing news, Septimus and Cedrella welcomed their third child into their family and their home, glad to have the three they had.
While Septimus and Cedrella loved each of their children, they never seemed to realize what it felt like for Arthur growing up. He had to be more like his big brother, who was showing strong signs of magic at the age of seven; he had to set a good example for his younger brother, always being the one to take the baby's hand and lead him forward. Now, it really wasn't so bad. Arthur had a very loving family, after all. He just tended to get a little bit overshadowed. His elder brother got the praise for doing everything the first time - it was therefore less impressive when Arthur managed it. His younger brother was, well, the baby, which meant he got a lot of extra attention as babies tended to receive. Which left Arthur right in the middle of it all.
Arthur could remember the day his elder brother got his Hogwarts letter nearly perfectly. It had been raining and very grey. Not one of the boys were allowed to go outside. Might catch cold their mother had said. Which meant they only had the option to play indoors for the day. Arthur had been watching the window when the owl came with the letter. He had been almost as excited has his elder brother had been, a wide grin on his face. There had been so much excitement throughout the household that day. The first son of the current generation of Weasleys was about to go off to Hogwarts! There was a trip to London, ice cream, and they even bought an owl! It was so much excitement Arthur was nearly falling asleep on the way home.
It was September first. Arthur was holding the hand of his younger brother on the platform as they waved the eldest off to his first year at Hogwarts. Arthur patted his crying baby brother on the back, promising they'd see the eldest again and not to worry; before long, they'd both be at Hogwarts, too.
Christmas finally came. Arthur's eldest brother came home with stories upon stories upon stories to tell to his two younger brothers who sat, enrapt by his words. He pulled something out of his bag and handed it to the youngest. It was a small wrapped box. He did the same for Arthur. Upon opening the box, wrapping paper strewn about, Arthur found a most curious item. His brother told him it was a "rubber duck" and he had gotten it from his muggle-born friend. Arthur was more than a little fascinated with the item. In fact, one might even have said he'd grown obsessed with it. It was there, in that moment, that Arthur knew he wanted to study muggles, to somehow work between the magical & Muggle worlds. He wasn't sure how he was going to do it yet, but he knew he would get there one day. It was his dream.
Two years passed and all that happened was Arthur's love for all things Muggle growing deeper and deeper. Well, and he got his Hogwarts letter, of course. Now, with his elder brother's hand-me-downs and a wand of his own, Arthur waved goodbye to his family as he stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express. It was even more incredible than he could have imagined. It would be four more years before his youngest brother would get to experience this, but Arthur was still looking forward to that day.
Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Arthur could hardly contain his excitement. His elder brother was no where to be seen, but that wasn't much of a surprise, really, considering the difference in years. The boats, though! Arthur loved the boats. He could recall a commotion coming from one of the other boats, but other than that, it had been perfect, like a dream. The way the lights played on the surface of the pristine lake. It was something Arthur would never forget - a story he would be sure to tell his younger brother, and, eventually, his own children. Arthur wondered how anything could be as amazing and perfect as that boat ride, and honestly, never expect anything to match the wonder he'd felt on the lake that night.
The Sorting Hat had barely touched Arthur's ginger hair before it had shouted out GRYFFINDOR! With a wide grin on his face, Arthur joined the Gryffindor house table - his elder brother was there, cheering the loudest. A few more first years were sorted before Arthur heard the name of the woman he subconsciously decided he was going to marry: Molly Prewett. His jaw dropped, his heart fluttered. He didn't really know it yet - because he was only eleven years old - but he was really in love. She was just so perfect, more so than the boat ride across the lake, and now, now he knew for sure, nothing else would ever be as beautiful.
Arthur tried several times throughout his first year at Hogwarts to talk to Molly, but she never seemed to notice him. Perhaps he was just too quiet, or maybe it was that he was just too...average. But it didn't matter. There were still years ahead of them in which he would be able to finally find the perfect way to talk to her.
Year two, and nothing to show for it. Well, aside from having a bit of a spat with a few other purebloods. The Weasley family were known to be blood traitors. Arthur, as it turns out, felt very strongly about this. He stood up for a couple of his (mostly) new muggle-born friends, and it sure got a bit messy. Luckily, almost no one was around to see it all. Arthur knew that, from that day onwards, he would never give a second thought to blood purity. Sure, he'd been told to treat all wizards equally by his parents, but he had never encountered such venom and bitterness all because of blood, and he knew that the purebloods were wrong. It was a belief that would come to shape much of his later life.
Third year arrived with much excitement from Arthur. This was the year. It had finally come! It was the first year he would be able to take the Muggle Studies class, and he could hardly wait. It was strange, though, because despite his excitement, it still seemed as though he blended into the background, hardly noticed by anyone - save when they needed someone to pick on or cheat off of. He was, after all, still a middle child. Yes, of course he had friends, but he was never special. He didn't seem to stand out in his classes, despite being rather clever, and he certainly didn't stand out in the looks department considering his tall, lanky, gangly appearance. But it really didn't bother him. He was happy with his life, and he knew, eventually, that he would talk to Molly Prewett, and, somehow, win her heart.
Muggle Studies was not quite what Arthur had imagined it would be, but it was amazing nonetheless. He learned a lot more than he might have expected, but that comes with growing up in a pureblooded family, he supposed. In fact, he was fairly certain no one he'd ever known in his entire family had ever really had contact with a real Muggle. Muggle-borns, sure, but not a Muggle. He wondered if he'd ever get the opportunity to meet a Muggle in real life - he had so many questions already! He dug deeper than probably any previous student in the Muggle Studies class, forsaking some of his other classes in order to do so, even. Muggle Studies had captured Arthur's mind. It was all he could think about, and he knew that he would, one way or another, work with Muggles and their interesting culture - whether it be directly or indirectly.
At the start of his fourth year at Hogwarts, Arthur's youngest brother joined Gryffindor. Arthur cheered the loudest - even louder than their eldest brother. It was incredible to be able to be there to answer whatever questions his little brother had. Granted, a majority of them seemed to be asked in secret - the youngest didn't want to look uncool in front of his new classmates. Arthur had simply chuckled to himself before turning back to the Muggle book he was reading - it was about electricity! - and staring over the top of the pages at Molly Prewett, laughing with her friends.
Arthur tried talking to Molly again. He didn't do any better at the age of fourteen than he had at the age of eleven. He knew now, though, that when his heart raced as he thought of her, that it might be love. Then again, maybe it wasn't. One Hogsmeade weekend, Arthur was asked to visit Madam Puddifoot's with a rather awkward Ravenclaw. She was a nice enough girl, and of course Arthur had said yes, but he knew, even from that one little date, that she wasn't the one for him. It only made him yearn for Molly all the more.
It was time for Arthur to study for his O.W.L.s. Boy, was he nervous. He knew he wanted to get into something relating to Muggles, but he had never really taken the time to figure out what sort of field that could be. Wizard-Muggle relations? But that sounded so...stiff. Would he be able to be the same person if that were his career path? This required some serious thinking. And perhaps some serious studying. As long as he got high enough marks in Muggle Studies, and most of the other classes he might need a N.E.W.T. level class for, well... he'd be alright.
Arthur went on a few more dates with the rather awkward Ravenclaw. She was nice, but Arthur felt wrong about it all. He knew he had to put an end to it before she started thinking things were getting serious and got hurt more than she already would be. He made sure to end it gently, away from crowds and the like. But, of course, she was still hurt, still claimed she'd never be able to forgive him.
With sixth year starting, Arthur realized he was running out of time. He needed to get Molly to notice him, to fall for him as completely as he'd already done for her. But the question was how. He still had several classes on his plate, too: charms, potions, transfiguration, defense against the dark arts, and muggle studies, having just squeaked by on most of them. And yet, somehow, his classes seemed so dull now that time was running out on his Molly problem.
It was the middle of the year when Arthur finally got his chance. There was a party. Molly was there. And thank Marlin for liquid courage, eh? He remembered inhaling deeply, thinking about how he really needed to just...talk to her...and then his memory went blank. Well, until the two of them were in the hallway. Molly was wobbling rather ferociously. She even fell and scraped her knee. Arthur was sorry he hadn't been able to catch her in time. He didn't laugh - that would have been rude - he simply helped her up. The next thing he knew, she had kissed him - was kissing him. And it was everything he had hoped it would be. His heart skipped a beat, it felt like he had wings. He knew that if she were by his side, he could do anything. And as much as he loved that kiss, the taste of her lips, he pulled back shyly, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and helped her walk a bit more steadily. Who knows if she'd really wanted to kiss him or if it had just been the alcohol. Whatever the case, he wouldn't take advantage of her. They walked the grounds for hours that night, just talking. He told her all about his love of Muggles, his family...everything; and he wanted to know every little thing about her, drinking in her every word as though he were dying of thirst. It was four in the morning when they returned to the Gryffindor common room, and Arthur was sure he'd never had a better day at Hogwarts than this one.
The next day was in competition with Arthur's night out with Molly for a long time. The only reason was because Molly was no longer ignoring him. He had done it! The way she waved to him, the smile on her lips... It distracted him for the entire day. It was no use doing his homework - he'd only end up scribbling her name all over the parchment. The next chance he got, he asked if she would go to Hogsmeade with him - to Madam Puddifoot's. He was over the moon when she agreed. If anyone were to ask Arthur, it had been a perfect date. Arthur figured Molly had liked it - and him - well enough since she kept talking to him after the fact. And she didn't seem to mind the nickname he'd come up with for her after the night of the party, either: Mollywobbles.
By the time they were leaving Hogwarts, the threat of war was coming. It loomed like a dark cloud on the horizon. Who knew what could happen tomorrow? The future was being tossed about like a ship in a storm, always uncertain. Arthur had turned to Molly one afternoon when they were having a quiet lunch together during the Christmas holiday, when she had said "Let's elope, Arthur." Despite the surprise, Arthur was more than overjoyed that she would want to marry him. He agreed, and soon after leaving Hogwarts, they ran away together. Of course Arthur wrote to his family later, explaining everything. They weren't upset, really. Rather, they seemed rather excited to meet Molly, and Arthur couldn't wait to introduce her.
Arthur was only twenty years old when his first son was born. William, they named him - Bill for short. He was a beautiful baby boy, and Arthur couldn't have been more proud. He had a good feeling that everything was going to go very well for the family he and Molly were growing. He was working at the Ministry, a junior assistant in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. It was everything he could have dreamed of in a job! And he'd been hired just after he and Molly had eloped. It was perfect timing, too. The signing bonus was enough for them to buy an adorable little home with - The Burrow, they called it - and when little Bill was born, they began adding on to the house - as they would do for years to come with each new child as they needed more and more space.
Charlie was rather unexpected. Not that Arthur minded, of course, as he was looking forward to having a family - a real, and large, family with the love of his life. But two children, and so close together, made things difficult. Arthur found himself spending entirely too much time working in an attempt to make sure ends would meet - that his wife and two wonderful sons - would have all they could ever dream of. Arthur knew Molly needed him, but he also knew he had to provide for her, and he was torn. He never let Molly see the anguish he felt at being away from her so much; instead he always greeted her with love and warmth whenever he made it home.
The next four years were rough, but they evened out. Things were alright in the Weasley household. Arthur was making enough money to support his wife and two sons, himself, and own a home. Things were looking up. Aside from the looming cloud of war rolling in faster and faster. Arthur worried about his family. Would they be safe? He knew his own family had been labeled blood traitors long ago, and with the purists seeming to come out, Arthur was terrified that his family would be in danger. He would spend hours at work, worrying about it all, trying to see a way to protect them while still taking a stand against the purists and their backwards views. With all that weighing him down, the birth of Percy was a welcome distraction. Percy was just as perfect as his two older brothers, but it meant another mouth to feed. Arthur worried that he and Molly had made a mistake bringing another child into the world - this world in particular, one where someone would be thought of as less simply because of who their parents were. Still, Arthur believed his son to be a bright spot in a darkening world, and he was glad he and Molly had made the decision they did.
Two years passed. It was 1977, and the world was dark and full of terrors. Arthur and Molly had been talking about having another child - she really wanted a daughter, and who was he to deny her? Arthur had been in bed beside a sleeping Molly, trying to figure out their budget for the next baby, when the owl came. His parents had been murdered. They weren't sure who had done it, but Arthur had his suspicions considering the rising tensions between the purists and, well, everyone else. Arthur had never felt so infuriated in his entire life. First, they - whoever they really were - were creating a world in which Arthur was terrified for the futures of his children; second, they murdered his parents. It was too much. Arthur knew he had to do something. Arthur kissed his sleeping wife's forehead, wrote her a note explaining what had happened, and met his brothers at his parent's house to deal with the aftermath.
It wasn't long after his parents' deaths when Arthur was contacted by Albus Dumbledore. The elderly wizard explained calmly about a group he was building to fight against The Death Eaters. The group was called the Order of the Phoenix, and Albus was asking if Arthur would join the battle. Arthur said he needed some time to think about it. He didn't mention it to Molly at all. Now was not the time.
Molly and Arthur had decided on another child - might as well fill the world with good, if they could. Much to their surprise, one child turned out to be two: twins! Arthur had nearly fainted at the news. This would require a whole new budget - and a decent amount of overtime. At least Arthur had just been promoted from junior assistant to assistant - that would give them a little bit of extra money for sure, but it would still be rough. It was a miracle, to say the very least, that Arthur was actually home the very moment that Molly went into labor with the twins - and early, at that! It was a long labor. So long that Arthur found himself leaving in the middle to finish up some work and returning before it was over. But when it was, Arthur could hardly hold back the joy he felt at being a father once - or rather twice - again.
After the twins were born, Albus approached Arthur again. He thought about his family and how worried he was that his children might grow up in a world where hating muggle-borns was considered right. He agreed to join the Order, even shook Dumbledore's hand. That night, when he came home, he explained it all to Molly. Of course, it had resulted in a fight. The biggest one they ever had. Arthur was firm in his belief that joining the fight was the only way to ensure that their children were raised in a safe, happy, non-discriminatory home. Molly begged him to reconsider, but he would not budge on this decision. Any other time, he would have willingly given into his wife's wishes, but this time...this time was different.
With the fight behind them, and Arthur on an incredibly rare holiday from work, he looked at his beautiful wife. He wanted to give her everything, and he knew how badly she wanted a daughter, and it made him want a daughter just as much. Arthur dreamed of the day a little Weasley girl would be born into the world - she would be the first for generations! - and the look on Molly's face at holding a daughter? Arthur would have given almost anything to see that look. He managed to convince Molly that the...fifth time would be the charm, really.
With Molly pregnant once again, Arthur is doing all he can at work to pull ends together, to provide for the family he's always wanted, that he has now. On top of all of that, he goes out, night after night, fighting with the Order against the Death Eaters, hoping for a better tomorrow. And Arthur knows, that somewhere out there, it's possible that his father is smiling, knowing that he finally raised a middle child who was more than just average. Arthur Weasley knew he was more than just a middle child: he was the hope for the future of his children.
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for a site called Infinite Arms
Saturday, January 16, 2016
Writing Doodle 031 - Hopeless Romantic
As I sit here, watching my rom-coms and reading my racy romance novels, I realize something: I will never have this. All of my relationships, one after one, have been horrible failures. I will never be the person who has someone to love them. I'll love, like I always do, with my whole heart and soul, and every single time, I will be torn apart when it's over. But I will never have the happiness I desperately want.
At best, I'll have one of those tragic romances. I'll find the perfect woman, and she will love me with her whole heart and soul, but just when we both realize our love, and profess it, she'll die. I'll be left, a broken man, alone in this world until Death comes for me.
At best, I'll have one of those tragic romances. I'll find the perfect woman, and she will love me with her whole heart and soul, but just when we both realize our love, and profess it, she'll die. I'll be left, a broken man, alone in this world until Death comes for me.
Friday, April 10, 2015
Writing Doodle 025 - Selenophile
He loved her.
To those that knew, it was obvious, but to those that didn't, well, they simply didn't see the signs. Really, though, he loved her with his whole heart, with every piece of himself. Everything he did, he did for her.
And yet, they hardly saw one another. It was as though their lives were on complete opposite schedules. Still, he did what he could.
When he looked at her, she was radiant. Always glowing silver and fair, but never obscene in her beauty. She was perfect.
What he didn't realize, though, was that she would only glow beautifully when he could see her. He was the reason she shone. It was his light that caused hers. Perhaps he would never realize it. He was far too much in love to be reasonable, to see the reality.
She was the moon, and he the sun, and still he loved her like no one had ever loved before.
To those that knew, it was obvious, but to those that didn't, well, they simply didn't see the signs. Really, though, he loved her with his whole heart, with every piece of himself. Everything he did, he did for her.
And yet, they hardly saw one another. It was as though their lives were on complete opposite schedules. Still, he did what he could.
When he looked at her, she was radiant. Always glowing silver and fair, but never obscene in her beauty. She was perfect.
What he didn't realize, though, was that she would only glow beautifully when he could see her. He was the reason she shone. It was his light that caused hers. Perhaps he would never realize it. He was far too much in love to be reasonable, to see the reality.
She was the moon, and he the sun, and still he loved her like no one had ever loved before.
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