Title: Then Make No Sound
Recipient's LJ name: polka_dots1331
Word Count: 947
Authors notes: I hope this isn't too... Ugh. I tried to do it as the obvious inner monologue of... Well... It should be kind of obvious. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and all that jazz. <3
Then Make No Sound
Molly Prewett has opinions on a lot of things, opinions that, normally, she would air. In spite of this, she finds herself strangely inarticulate when said opinions concern Arthur Weasley. However annoying, angering, unjust or upsetting his behaviour is, Molly Prewett cannot, for the life of her, voice her opinion on it. Well, not aloud. Inside, though, she is raging with thoughts.
For one, she dislikes the way he fiddles with the cuffs of his shirts when nervous. Molly feels it is truly inconsiderate of him to fidget like that when she finds it so frustrating. “Weasley, this is the second overdue essay in a month.” And there he goes, nervously tugging at the end of his sleeve. Molly grits her teeth, fidgets herself, with her quill, doodles a picture of a collapsible cauldron, looks up and he is still tugging at his cuffs. If only he would stop, she thinks, she could concentrate on her work a little more… Take better notes, achieve higher marks in tests, in short; succeed in life. Molly is so intensely focussed on ignoring Weasley’s aggravating yanking of his sleeves that she forgets to make a note of the homework assignment and faces a detention from McGonagall when she has nothing to give in the next lesson.
Molly does not like how Arthur Weasley ties his shoe laces in the most frustrating of places, either. It always seems as though he has paused to do them up just to block her way down a corridor, to make it difficult for her to get through a door or to force her to swerve suddenly in the middle of the Great Hall. Most of the time Molly’s dealing mechanism is to stand there, face reddening, and sigh loudly at regular intervals. Sadly, it doesn’t work this time. She has been stood there for a good four minutes, her sighing increasing in volume while she waits for him to finish a clearly very complicated knot, before she says anything… Or tries to say something… “Looks like a complex knot, Weasley.” He looks up, gives a broad, albeit mildly bashful, grin and abandons his shoe lace. “I could be a muggle sailor, I tie such good knots.” He stands up, gangly and awkward in his tallness besides her plump prettiness. Molly smiles, despite herself, and looks down at her shoes. Not because she’s shy, mind you, but because they’re discussing shoe laces, of course. She feels the blush creeping up the back of her neck and into her cheeks before he comments on it. “Your cheeks match your hair.” He smiles in his out-of-place, adolescent boy-way one more time before setting off down the corridor. Looking back down at her feet, Molly sees one of her laces has come undone.
Arthur’s manner of eating perplexes her, as well. He insists on sharing his food with whoever sits besides him, which translates as him and Molly sharing a plate every meal. He spoon feeds her at times, when there are none of their friends there to make retching noises and awkward jokes. She doesn’t quite understand where this new intimacy of friendship came from and it is quite difficult to wrap her mind around. For the time being, though, she doesn’t protest, particularly not when Arthur is teasing her with a bit of chocolate pudding, a big smile on his face and a piece of his hair flopping in his soft eyes.
The way he first asks her out makes Molly feel differently from how she’s ever felt before. Her insides squirm around and her face feels like it is literally on fire but she knows it is nothing in comparison to how he feels. Arthur is refusing to look at her and talking in run-on sentences, making Molly laugh nervously before he manages to finish asking her. The audience of Gryffindors in the Common Room don’t help the situation and, not for the first time, she wishes they just wouldn’t stare so obviously. This all no longer matters, though, when he catches her hand and, shyly swinging it back and forth with his own, smiles awkwardly at her and looks her straight in the eye.
Molly likes the way in which Arthur kisses her. He does it as though she is something delicate which he cannot afford to loose but is going to in only a moment. His hands always end up entangled in the hair at the nape of her neck and he finishes each kiss by resting his forehead against hers. Where she would have been frustrated at his reddened ears at the end of each kiss in the past, she now giggles.
Even though Molly finds Arthur’s tugging at his cuffs endearing, his childish attempts to stop her to talk, his silly way of sharing his food and his embarrassed looks endearing now, she still can’t convince herself that the way he wraps his Christmas gifts is appealing. As a Seventh Year, he ought to be able to pack a present without covering the parcel entirely in spellotape. She is so frustrated and sticky by the time she has ripped away the packaging that it takes her several moments to register what she sees. With the realisation of what it means, the ring clears away all her current annoyances with him. They can return when Arthur gets them lost on the way to the French church he wanted them to marry in and then forgets they need a witness, even if they are eloping.
Finally, Molly Prewett finds her voice to vocalise her opinion about Arthur Weasley.