Some Things

Nousia

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 5
Published: 19/08/2004
Last Updated: 19/08/2004
Status: completed

There are some things you just don't speak of, Molly knows, and then there are some things you do speak of. D/G from Molly and company's perspective.

Chapters

1. Some Things

1. Some Things

Title: Some Things

Disclaimer: Oh, honestly, all of us know by now (or should know) that Harry Potter doesn’t belong to me; it belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Summary: There are some things you just don’t speak of, Molly knows, and then are some things you do speak of. D/G from Molly and company’s perspective.

Warning: OOC and general confusion. Overall, what you would expect from me :p A mix of past and present tense, also – so it’s bound not to make sense at times (if at all).

Rating: PG-13

Notes:

This is what you get when you have a BroodingInsomniac!Nitya writing at two o’clock in the frickin’ morning. =P Oh, and “they” refer to the Weasley brothers – including Bill and Charlie. Yes, bad me, bad me.

Much thanks to Crys and Val for being the great people they are and helping me feel better about – well, a lot of things. You rock socks. This goes out to you.

- - -

There are some things you just don’t speak of, Molly knows.

She knows this, and knows it very well – a little too well, she grimaces. To even think of the unspeakable things is a crime – especially when it comes to affairs of the heart.

She had always told her daughter “to listen to your heart,” after all. Molly blames herself for letting Ginny’s heart go astray and therefore leading her to go off with a sworn enemy of the Weasley family. It wasn’t if she could control Ginny’s heart, Molly reasons, and she knows she can’t. She knows it wasn’t her fault, but she might as well put the blame on herself for having her family fall apart – for having everything fall apart all around her.

Although she was sorely, sorely tempted to blame it all on the Malfoy boy. In her eyes, it had been all his fault that her family had fallen apart, that everything had broken down in front on her.

She never knew. She never knew that Ginny would – and had – fallen in love with a Malfoy. She never knew of their clandestine affair. She never knew anything.

Even now, whenever Ginny’s or that – that boy’s – she refused to call him by his name at first – names would pop up in conversation, often accompanied by snide remarks and a few chuckles and smirks, she would brush away the subjects with a simple but firm “They’re fine and the happiest they’ve ever been.” It pains her to not know how they were doing; a mother and a mother in law would be expected to know that. She longs to hear from both of them now, but it is too late. It is always too late.

And after all these years, she sighs inwardly with the thought, who have expected that Ginny would run off with the Malfoys’ son? Just like that, from right underneath their noses? She has to laugh bitterly. No one had ever expected it, and that had the key to unraveling every bit of happiness and closeness the Weasley family once had and shared.

She knows Ginny’s running off with the Malfoy bloke would devastate and destroy the family – but not like this. Never like this. They had never expected it, and now they spent their days in reclusion in their rooms, never coming out – they had consumed themselves with a pitiful silence. Angry random screams happened often now, so often that she didn’t bother blocking them out anymore. It was useless, since she could hear them anyway, with or without her ears covered.

Molly hates what this has done to her family, what she has done to it. Every day seems to stretch on forever, never ending fast enough. Once joyful boisterous dinners have now turned into silent cold ones. An angry silence fills the air.

She can feel their annoyed and hateful looks on her, as well as Arthur’s pleading, sympathetic one. She doesn’t need pity – she doesn’t want pity. The Prewett pride in her condemns that. But she doesn’t want hate and spite, either. It’s even worse to know and acknowledge that she deserves all this, that she deserves every bit of disgust and hatred thrown at her. It hurts to know.

But she doesn’t blame them for it. She’s their scapegoat, and she fully welcomes all the blame and spite she gets. She didn’t see this coming, she hadn’t told them, she didn’t know. Those reasons alone were enough for them, and more than enough for her.

Molly feels helpless. She can’t do a thing to fix this, not even in the slightest. This wasn’t like a bruise she could kiss and make better – this was a bruise that couldn’t be healed, and the pain inside her was much worse knowing that. She has spent many sleepless nights pondering over this, thinking still on what she could have done and other endless what ifs. She couldn’t do anything about it before, now she can’t fix and undo all the mistakes she’s done she wishes she hasn’t done.

They’re disgusted at her, she knows. She didn’t stop it, and now all the consequences of that are making her suffer. Maybe they’re glad to see her suffer, she thinks, distantly hearing the sounds of tormented screams upstairs. Her youngest son has had the hardest time out of all of them. Ginny had been his comfort and playmate and “kid sister” nearly all his life. He and Ginny were close, and had always been. Until now.

Soon, she knows, his friends, a bright eyed, messy-haired boy and a bossy, bushy-haired bookworm will help him calm down and listen to his venting. Any minute now, she thinks, and sure enough, the awful screams slowly dissipate, leaving nothing but silence. Dreadful silence.

It wasn’t as if she could stop it, she dwells now and sighs. Her daughter was – and probably still is, she thinks with a sharp pang – stubborn unlike anyone she had ever seen and met. And the “listen to your heart” advice, which had been purely some motherly advice she wanted to hand down to her daughter, was now a weapon that was used against her. Just by four words of advice, four words that changed her life forever. Four words that made everything that was right in her life go wrong – horribly, horribly wrong.

They thought she had spurred Ginny to run off with the Malfoy bloke, and that was why Ginny had taken her advice to heart and ran off. A single piece of advice was all that it took to convince them that this was her fault – entirely her fault. And there was no one else to blame, except her.

They blame her for driving Ginny’s determination even further to be with the one she truly loved – and loves still, Molly thinks fondly. How she knew could only be explained as a motherly instinct. She knew her daughter, and Ginny wasn’t a playgirl at all – this was the real thing for her, and Ginny had seized the opportunity and used it to her advantage. Anything or anyone that could make Ginny the happiest she had ever been, Molly was fine with that now.

Her husband’s her only support these days. She sighs deeply, feeling that fact cut into her, breaking her. She feels his hand on her shoulder and she clasps it, thankful that one person in her life believes her and doesn’t despise her. In this time when her entire family – except Arthur – had turned its back on her, when they had, before, been always loyal, Molly feels hateful at everything and of everything.

The things that used to make her spin for joy now make her writhe in shame. The little delights in life aren’t delightful anymore. She knows that fact won’t change, unless they came around and slowly with time began to accept it, began to accept that Ginny was gone and that it was no use moping over it incessantly.

She’s not sure of anything now. Molly hates being unsure. She doesn’t know whether to forgive everyone or not for shunning and being cold to her. She doesn’t know whether to even hope that they will forgive her. It would be a blind hopeless wish to have her family on speaking terms with her again, and forgive her for all the things she’s done. She’s human, after all. Even the most ideal and “perfect” of mothers can – and will – make mistakes, Molly realizes. But this doesn’t make her feel any better at all. It only makes her feel worse, sprouting all kinds of thoughts in her head, resurfacing old doubts and insecurities on whether she was – and is, she reminds herself firmly – a good mother to them, that she loves and feeds them well enough, that she cares for them.

All of these things she knows the true and real answers to, not the false and insecure ones. Arthur reminds her every day and night of that, too. He doesn’t reassure her – he makes her believe what he says. Which she won’t curse at him for, since he was being his usual Arthur self – honest, simple, and loving. She smiles fondly at him.

Now she wonders whether it’s too late to give Ginny and her beloved hers and Arthur’s blessings, or if it’s too late to accept and welcome Draco Malfoy to the family. She realized now how silly and narrow-minded she had been before. She can only hope that somehow, somewhere, Ginny and Draco will forgive her. If not, she would gladly repent for all her mistakes.

Molly has always been a righteous woman, putting her children’s best interests at heart; doing everything for their own good, to help them in the long run. Would all that come to nothing? She wonders. And now, her idea of righteousness is accepting everyone for who and what they were – and not what they appeared to be or solely because of their name. Just accept them. The words leave a bittersweet taste in her mouth. A small smile graces her face now. Wherever they were, she hoped Draco and Ginny would know that they had finally been accepted into what they had wanted to belong to for so long. They were finally a part of the Weasley family – Draco included. She smiles quietly.

There are some things you just don’t speak of, Molly knows, and then there are some things you do speak of.

That she knows now.