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I'm not ready for this, Molly thought to herself as she walked through Diagon Alley. I'm only nineteen, and we just got engaged a few months ago.
She had always planned on waiting. Her family was very traditional, and she didn't begrudge that at all - she liked tradition, she liked all the old-world values that her friends scorned. She didn't blame her friends either; the world was changing and things were different now, relationships were different now. But that wasn't Molly. And Arthur had understood, which was all that mattered.
But then they'd gotten engaged in October, and they'd talked about it and decided that engaged was close enough to married. Not that they were going to rush or make a big deal out of it or anything. Molly didn't want there to be a lot of pressure on having a special night or anything like that, she just… She wanted it to be natural. And it was - everything was great, but now…
Molly had always known she wanted kids. She had always wanted to be a wife and a mother, and not just because it was traditional, but because she genuinely couldn't imagine anything better. What could be more rewarding than creating a new life? Than teaching that person to be good, kind, and thoughtful? But not right now… She thought she and Arthur would have some time together first. They had talked about traveling, about seeing the world for a while after they got married.
Molly ran a hand through her curls, sighing heavily. She was supposed to be picking things out for their house, and here she was focusing on her problems. No, not problems. I don't ever want to think of it as a problem. She touched her stomach subconsciously, the fabric of her dress soft against her skin. She was scared though, terrified really. She just wasn't ready.
Madam Siskin's Baby Boutique caught Molly's eye, an array of blue and pink paraphernalia displayed in the window. She hesitated by the door, before pushing it open, and a soft bell tinkled in the air above her.
"Can I help you, my dear?" an old woman crooned as she shuffled out from a back room somewhere. She had a kind look to her, like the sweetest grandma to walk the planet.
Molly shook her head, eyes wide as she took in all the items lining the walls and the small racks of clothing. It was all so tiny.
"If you need anything, just let me know," the older woman chuckled with a knowing smile.
Molly nodded and slowly began to browse the shelves, drawn to the assortment of toys that waddled and shook and cooed. She reached out and ran her fingers over a little stuffed giraffe, marvelling at the softness.
"It's not just a toy," the storekeeper said, appearing over Molly's shoulder. "It's a protector. It watches the little one and it will alert you if the baby spikes a fever or stops breathing, or anything else that needs attention. Handy little helper, he is."
"Thank you," Molly croaked, her heart squeezing painfully at the thought of her baby not breathing. She pulled the toy down from the shelf and held it close to her chest, reaching into her little bag for a few sickles.
"You're going to be a wonderful mother," the woman offered, accepting the coins from Molly. "Your son is very lucky."
"My…?" Molly stammered. "How…?"
The old woman simply smiled mysteriously, shuffling away to the back room once more.
Molly clutched the little giraffe close as she strode from the store and Apparated home. She could shop for furniture another day.
o . o . o
Molly backed out of the nursery as quietly as possible, trying very hard not to wake the baby. It had been an exhausting few days for their little family, with a newborn and all the extended family they could reasonably see wanting to celebrate the holiday with them. But they were finally back home, just the three of them, and Bill was fast asleep in his crib, tiny fist wrapped tightly around his toy giraffe's leg.
She shut the door to the nursery behind her and sighed as she padded across the hall to her room. Arthur was already in bed, but he looked up from his briefing and smiled at her as she slipped into bed with him. Sometimes she wasn't sure she would ever get used to curling up next to him, and the word husband still felt strange on her tongue, but it was weird in the most wonderful way. Arthur made her heart somersault every time he wrapped his arms around her, and she hoped that would never change. It didn't take either of them long to fall asleep, arms and legs intertwined, soft snores floating into the air.
Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Molly sat upright, her heart pounding. Something was amiss. She looked at the clock and saw that it had been six hours since she had gone to sleep…far too long. She reached over and nudged Arthur gently, and he woke up as quickly as she had.
"Wha's wrong?" he mumbled, rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes and trying to suppress a yawn.
"I don't know, but something woke me," she whispered, swinging her feet out of bed and placing them on the cold wood floor. "Bill's been asleep for a long time."
Arthur looked at her, taking in the forehead creased with worry, and pushed himself out of bed. He took her hand and squeezed it, trying to offer some sense of reassurance, and then they both hurried as quietly as possible into the nursery.
Bill was still sleeping, but his cheeks had taken on a pink hue. When Molly reached out to run her fingers over his velvet skin, she could feel fire burning beneath it.
"He's got a fever!" she groaned, trying to keep her voice low. "Arthur, what do we do?"
Cool washcloth and a bit of elderflower mixed in milk, a voice said in Molly's ear, and she jumped in surprise. Beside her, Arthur looked equally shocked, looking around for the voice's source. Let him sleep, but when he wakes, a little bit of elderflower.
Molly looked at her son and the little giraffe in his arms, and she understood what the woman in the store had meant. It was the giraffe that had woken her, alerting her to what was wrong, and now it was telling her what to do. With a surge of appreciation, Molly rushed to the bathroom and ran a small washcloth under the tap. She hurried back to the nursery, handing the cloth to Arthur as he stood over their son. As he moved the cloth gently over Bill's forehead, Molly bit her lip, unsure of what to do and feeling utterly helpless. After a few moments, Bill's little feet began to kick, a sign that he was beginning to wake up.
"Stay with him," Molly whispered to Arthur, "I'll go and get a bottle."
She walked down to the kitchen, and pulled a small baby bottle from the cupboard. With a flick of her wand, Molly siphoned enough milk to fill most of the bottle, leaving a bit of room for some crushed elderflower. The windowsill housed her collection of herbs and spices, and she searched through the plants until she found the blooms she was looking for. Carefully, she heated up the blend until it was the right temperature, before affixing the lid and returning to the nursery. Arthur was sitting in their rocking chair and holding Bill, who was wriggling and whimpering quietly.
"Shhh, sweet boy," Molly crooned as she knelt next to them, running her hand over her baby's head and smiling when his eyes found her. "This will help."
She offered Arthur the bottle, and he held it for their son, who drank happily. Before he was even halfway finished, the color in his cheeks began to subside, and the heat under his skin evaporated. Molly sighed in relief, and leaned against Arthur's legs.
"I think he's alright now if you want to try to get some more sleep," Arthur suggested, softly running his fingers through his wife's curls.
"That's alright, I think I'll stay with him a bit longer, but you should sleep," Molly answered. As much as she loved having her husband's help at night, he was supposed to go back to work the next day - his leave was officially ending now that the holidays had passed, and she knew he needed sleep.
Arthur nodded and stood, allowing Molly to take his spot, and then handed Bill off to her. He pressed a kiss to the top of each of their heads before leaving, sleepily shuffling back to bed. Molly looked at the little boy squirming in her arms, her little boy. She was getting better at this whole mum thing.