#SO loud. It's always lots of banging. One time I heard my Grammy laughing from that same chair while something huge and with many limbs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jmeddows2 · 5 years

Text

Purple Thunder (Roger Taylor Series) - Part 3

(present/old) Roger Taylor x Reader

Notes: Sorry for grammar mistakes/ weird sentence structures. English is not my first language but anyways, I gave it a go. Enjoy and feel free to submit requests, feedback etc. So there’s loads of dialogue.. sorry for that??

Words: 1822

Part 1 Part 2

Part 3:

“Wtf, dad? “ Lola‘s voice filled Roger‘s apartment in Kensington, as he was sat on his huge black leather couch, watching her pace around. “What‘s wrong, honey?“ “Don‘t 'honey' me Paps. What‘s going on between you and Y/N? I’ve seen pictures!" “Nothing‘s going on. She came down to Surrey to talk music and I gave her a ride home. You’re overreacting, honey!" "I know when you‘re lying, Paps! I can see the way you’re looking at her, you used to look at mum just the same way! Dad, you’re never this affectionate, not even in public. Hell, you don‘t even properly hold Sarina‘s hand. And now this? That‘s disgusting! She could be my sister! She could be your daughter! You‘re 50 years older than her, goddamn!!!“

Lola was now shouting at her dad, letting anger take over. Roger just sat there in silence. Listening carefully to his daughter, knowing that everything is true. Every single word. But why did he feel guilty about it? Nothing‘s happened anyway. That‘s what helped Lola calm down. Nothing‘s happened anyway. That‘s what Roger told himself when he was tossing and turning in his bed late at night, thinking about one thing only.

But something’s happened, deep inside of him.

But it was wrong. So wrong. His heart began to speed up just thinking about the previous day. Reminiscing. Reminiscing how your face lit up when you discovered his drum skins in the studio, or when you had heard his new song. Your sparkling eyes, getting wider and wider during the tour through his house.

You, sitting by the lake with a stern look on your face, scribbling down some lyrics. When your eyes met his, he felt it. There was an exciting feeling, deep inside of him. But he tried to shrug it off - without success.

One look on the clock. 2 am. He couldn‘t get himself to sleep, so he decided to go for a walk. Down by the Thames on a bench was his secret hideaway spot. Roger first discovered it after he got into a heated argument with Tim Staffel, his former Smile band mate.

He found himself in that peaceful spot quite often, even when Queen started to take off, to just get some air. Arguments happened to literally be on the daily Queen agenda during those times. It‘d been a while since he had actually been here, but nothing had changed.

The night was quiet and peaceful as the moon lit up the river Thames. Slight sounds of traffic could be heard from the city. As he got closer to his secret spot, he noticed that the bench was already occupied. Roger was not sure if he should approach the bench anyway, despite not knowing if this person was a serial killer or something like that. (LOL, jk guys be careful though!)

As he got closer and closer this person looked even more familiar to him.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” You flinched when you saw a man approach you, until you recognized his figure.

“Roger?? Ahh, just couldn’t sleep. I could ask you the exact same thing” you answered as he plunged himself next to you on the bench. You sat there in silence for a few minutes, until he decided to speak up again, looking directly into yours eyes:

“Will you now tell me what’s really going on?” he put his arm around your shoulder, wiping away a few of your tears. He felt it again this incredible warmth and completeness.

Yes. You’ve been crying. After a heated argument with Josh, you stormed out of your flat. In situations like these, your past self would have already been drugged down, drunk and fooling around with a hot stranger. But not this time.

“Everything’s alright Roger, seriously” wiping away a few new tears. “Look, I get it if you don’t want to talk. Especially to me, but if I can help you out… You know I’m here for you, love. C’mere, at least take my coat you’re freezing”, with that he handed you his coat and even through protest, he insisted on you to take it. Being all snuggled up into his coat made you feel safe in this cold night. Surrounded by Roger’s warmth. The coat smelled just like him, heavenly.

“Now you‘re freezing, I feel so guilty“ you snuggled closer into his side. ”Love, don‘t worry I‘m more than alright like this“ wrapping his arms tighter around you. His cheeky smile made you laugh.

“You know, I used to come down here every so often when I was younger. Guess my secret spot is not much of a secret anymore.” he laughed. “You remind me a lot of my younger self. Carefree, not really giving hoot about what others think.” He was probably implying your various drug encounters and one night stands. He must have done his homework on you then, reading the daily papers. Roger was also not so innocent in the past, living life the fullest. You’d done your homework on him, considering these terms as well.

“Those were some crazy times. I’m sure you’d have enjoyed it, it was unbelievable, really. You’d not believe my stories if I told them to you, love. You would have been a perfect fit.” “You think so?” The 70’s had always been your favorite time period, whether it was in relation to music or the lifestyle.

“100% sure, love. I would have gone crazy to have such a beautiful girl like you on my arm and we would have done some bonkers shit.” The thought of being with Roger in the 70′s made your heart flutter. “YOU think that I‘m beautiful?“ “Obviously, love. But you most certainly don‘t need me to tell you that.“ his smile fell.

Oh right. Josh. Your boyfriend.

"How about some tea, love? “ You could never get tired of him calling you pet names, even though it made you blush every single time. Agreeing to tea, he led you to his Kensington flat which was again very breathtaking.

Luxurious interior. Marble. Leather. You always dreamed of such a home. Not saying that your flat was packed with a bunch of old stuff. It‘s just different. Well, maybe because he had so much more money and actually could afford a place like this. Who would‘ve thought that winning a Grammy wouldn’t guarantee you unlimited money and stardom?

Sitting on the counter, you watched Roger pour the tea from the kettle into 2 cups. “Sugar? Cream? “ “1 cube of sugar and a splash of cream, please“ “Another thing we have in common then“ he smiled at you with shining blue eyes. “And the other things in common would be? “ you asked curiously. “I don‘t know, love“ he answered “being absolutely smashing musicians, amazingly talented and wandering around Hyde Park at 2.30 in the morning, maybe?“ You now both burst into laughter when suddenly everything turned quiet again, sipping on tea.

“I rushed off. Didn‘t feel like arguing. Got me into some serious shit in the past“ “Huh?" “You asked me what‘s really going on earlier. Josh and me....had an argument. I had to blow off some steam and didn‘t really want to stay with him tonight" “Is it because of the paparazzi pictures? Everyone seems to freak out about them and I don’t even know why. You have a boyfriend, I have a wife. Nothing happened anyway.” Wife. It stung a little. But he was telling the truth.

“Anyway, what‘d you want to do, love? Stay on the bench in the freezing cold in your little outfit?“ Looking down on yourself you were still dressed in ripped jeans and a white bralette. “Yeah. Partly because of the pictures. No, I could get a hotel room. I should go now actually. Don’t want to bother you more than I already have and I’m also verrrryyy tired. Thanks for the tea and company, Roger. You definitely made my night“

As you made your way back to the front Roger hesitated but was quick to speak up again: “Why don’t you just stay here?”

Everything was quiet again. You didn’t know what to say.

“There’s no way I’m going to let you go out there alone at this time in the freezing cold. You could uhh, sleep in one if the guest rooms if you want? So.. uhh.. you don’t have to look around for a hotel…”

“Roger, I don’t want to bother you-“ “Stay.”

You agreed to stay in his flat. Before settling into the room, he handed you a shirt of his to sleep in and wished you good night by hugging you and giving you a peck on the cheek.

His shirt was baggy around you and reached your mid thighs. It smelled like him. Suddenly, inspiration struck you again as you reached for the notebook, that you always kept in your bag.

It was your lyric notebook, as you flipped through the pages, you finally landed on the lyrics you had written down at Roger’s home by the lake in Surrey. -Surrey-

Sitting on the sea Soaking up the sun

A jaw dropper Looks good when he walks Is the subject of their talk He would be hard to chase But good to catch

…. was already written on the page…. and you decided to add some more…

With eyes that make you melt He lends his coat for shelter Plus he's there for you When he shouldn't be

…. before you fell sleep clutching your notebook in your right hand…

A loud bang woke you up. 5 am. “Where is she, where did you keep her? I know she must be here somewhere” A unknown female voice filled the flat, full of anger and betrayal.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sarina.” “Y/N of course! I should’ve known you can’t keep in your pants, Roger. Especially when some young slag opens her legs wide for you to shag. That’s so typical of you.”

You listened closely; tears started to form in your eyes. A slag. That’s what the papers said. But you had changed. Did you change? You tried so hard to be a better person, to improve. To prove them wrong. You didn’t even do anything wrong. Or did you? After quick consideration, you decided to change into your own clothing again, to sneak out of the window. Thank god there was a fire escape.

The walk home seemed to take ages. It was still early, so no one recognized you walking the streets looking like a mess.

At the same time, Roger could convince his wife, that no one was in the flat with him, still she decided to spend the rest of the night elsewhere. As Roger wanted to check in with you, the room was empty. He totally understood your actions, it saved him a lot of trouble, but still hoped you would have stayed.

As he was about to leave the room, he spotted something in the middle of the bed. It was a little notebook. Your notebook.

taglist:

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fanfic #present day roger #present day roger x reader #Queen #queen + adam lambert #purple thunder

60 notes · View notes

ginniewheezie · 7 years

Text

Christmas at The Burrow

Chapter One

Molly Weasley was overjoyed. Christmas at The Burrow this year was going to be a big deal. It was the first year in some time that the whole family has been able to get together for a holiday. The house was decorated from floor to crooked ceiling, but Fred’s absence was hanging over everything more noticeably than the bunches of mistletoe Luna had sent (with a card promising she inspected them for nargles, of course). Molly allowed herself only a few tears before drying her eyes and returning to the treacle tart. She must finish it before Harry arrived. She’d promised him she’d make it this year.

Molly glanced at the clock in the hall. After all these years, she’d still never seen it’s equal. It had so many hands on it now that it resembled one of Arthur’s silly contraptions he had hidden in the garage. All her children’s hands were either pointed to “home” or “travelling”. All but one.

“Mum?”

Molly started as Fred’s voice carried through the kitchen window. She stood quite still for a moment, head tilted to one side, trying to discern reality from memory.

“Mum?”

George’s voice. Yes, of course. “Being silly….” She muttered as she gave herself a shake, dried her hands, and walked to the back door. George and Angelina were approaching The Burrow, little Freddie in tow.

“Grammy! Grammy, I want to throw the gnomes!” he exclaimed. His big brown eyes had a painfully familiar gleam to them.

“Of course, dear. But why don’t you wait for Victoire? You can do it together.” As the eldest of all the grandkids, Victoire often ended up looking after the clan. She complained frequently and loudly to anyone who would listen but she could be seen having quite a bit of fun with her siblings and cousins.

Freddie scowled. “She won’t help me. She doesn’t like to get dirty and Auntie Flower gets mad if Vickie ruins her pretty dresses. I wanna play with Jamie and Al. Or Dom. She gets her dresses dirty.” Freddie’s lower lip began to tremble. Really, he was too much like his uncle.

“Well,” Molly replied “Why don’t we wait for them inside, then?” She bent down beside her grandson. “I happen to know your grandfather is hiding some droobles in his coat pocket!” she whispered. Molly smiled as she watched him run inside, his bright auburn curls bouncing.

She turned back to her son. “You look pale,” he remarked. “You thought I was Fred again, didn’t you?”

“Nonsense,” chided Molly. “How could I? You, with your silly brown hair.” She stroked George’s head softly.

“Mom,” he began quietly, catching her hand in his. “Really, mom. How are y-“

Molly pulled away suddenly and turned toward Angelina.

“Ang!” she cried. “You my dear, you look lovely! Oh, you must give me that baby right this second!”

Angelina threw her head back and laughed, braids swinging, as she handed over Roxanne. “Okay, okay. But if you wake her up, we’re all in a spot of trouble. She’s getting over a cold. Are we late? I told George we must get a move on but he and Freddie were working on something in the basement and you know, I don’t think I even want to know what they’re up to this time. Foul smell coming up, there was!” She mimed gagging and laughed.

Molly smiled. So George and little Freddie were up to no good. Oh, of course it wasn’t the same. No, not at all. But, if her eldest grandson was anything like his father and uncle, well, that would be just fine with her. She turned her attention back to Angelina.

“No, dear, you’re not late at all. You’re the first to arrive! Not counting Charlie, of course. He came in from Romania yesterday. Been tinkering on something in the garage with Arthur. You know Bill and Fleur, of course are rather known for being a bit behind what with three children.. I do expect Ginny and Harry to be a just a tad late. Harry mentioned as how he’d like to pop in and visit Teddy for a bit. Sweet boy, that one. He’s got a lot of his father in him. Well, you know what I mean. Let’s see, Percy and Audrey will be right on time, naturally, and I expect Hermione will see to it that Ron will be along soon. Anyway, shouldn’t be long now before everyone is here. Let’s get you settled in the living room. Presents under the tree, mind you! Oh, and Happy Christmas!”

Molly gently placed Roxanne in one of the many playpens that had been set up just off the living room and hurried back into the kitchen just in time to take the pies out of the oven. Moments later, Angelina joined her, apron on, wand in hand.

“How can I help?”

Molly opened her mouth to reply but at that moment, heard voices that could only belong to her youngest son and his wife.

“….and then come to find out we don’t even HAVE it..” Hermione was saying.

“I’m TELLING you I put it RIGHT on the…..oh.” a look of sudden comprehension came across Ron’s face. “I’ll be right back. Here, take Hugo,” he said. He kissed her on the cheek and disapparated. Hermione shook her head, smiling. She shifted the sleeping child to her other arm, took Rose by the hand and glanced down at the pile of parcels in dismay. Then, noticing Molly and Angelina, waved to them happily.

“Sorry about that,” she glanced around and lowered her voice before explaining, “It seems we left without little Jamie’s gift.”

“Well you’ve got quite a bit to be going on with here,” said Molly. “Let us help you. We can put those under the tree and get Rosie and Hugo settled inside. Roxanne should be awake soon, I would think. The boys are in the garage and Freddie is along tormenting the garden gnomes, I imagine. I told- Percy!”

They had just entered the Burrow through the back door to find Percy and Audrey, daughters in hand, coming in through the front door followed by Bill and Fleur, children in hand. The result was instant chaos. Percy, who had outstretched his arms in order to hug his mother, caught sight of Fleur and in a sudden fit of gentility made an attempt to shake her hand, accidentally giving his older brother quite a nice right hook in the process. Bill, caught completely off guard, stumbled backward onto his daughter’s foot, sending her into hysterics.

“Mummmmy!” wailed Victoire, hopping up and down.

Fleur attempted to quell Victoire’s tantrum while simultaneously holding Louis and checking the condition of her husband’s jawbone. Meanwhile, Dominique, screwed up her face and covered her ears at the noise her sister was making. Little Molly caught sight of her cousin’s face and immediately burst into giggles with Lucy following suit, which naturally set Freddie off as well. Hermoine, who has just deposited Hugo in one of the playpens, made a mad dash for him, nearly colliding with Angelina in the process who’d had the same idea. They made it halfway across the living room before Roxanne’s earsplitting screams joined the cacophony. Arthur, Charlie and George had heard the commotion and come running, which only made the hallway even more crowded. Molly held up her hands.

‘WEASLEYS!” she shouted. “ENOUGH!”

Everyone quieted. Even Roxanne’s screeches subsided to sniffles. When Molly Weasley wanted silence, she got it.

BANG

“That’ll be the back door,” observed Molly.

“That’ll be Ron,” said Hermione. She rolled her eyes with a smile. “He never does do anything quietly.”

Ron entered the family room just then to find everyone turned toward him, expectantly.

“Missed me, did you? Look who I found in the garden.” He gestured with the parcel he had in his hand and stepped to the side. Behind him stood Harry and Ginny along with James, Albus, Lily, and a surprise guest: a tall and lanky, blue haired boy.

Chapter Two

The sun was setting and a light mist was gently rolling in over the sleepy town of Ottery St. Catchpole. Inside the Burrow, Molly sat quietly at the end of a very long table, watching her family finish the remains of their Christmas feast and laughing occasionally as they shared tales and memories of the past few years. Suddenly, a particularly loud burst of raucous laughter erupted from the opposite end of the table. Ron Harry, and George were all shaking with laughter. Arthur’s face was bright red, his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing, while Charlie had obviously succumbed to a fit of silent giggles. Meanwhile, a great big “Ho!” escaped from Percy.

“I say, Dad!” he exclaimed. “That’s very amusing. A might improper, yet amusing, nevertheless.”

Anything that elicited such an amused response from her third child most definitely piqued Molly’s curiosity.

“Arthur, dear, what on Earth is so amusing down there?” she inquired.

Her husband’s ears immediately bypassed red and turned a deep shade of purple.

“Oh. Erm, nothing, Molls. Erm, holiday joke. Noth- nothing really..” he mumbled. Ron snorted into his mead. Hermione elbowed him, which caused Harry to snicker, which caused Ginny to elbow Harry.

Really. Molly thought. I’m not entirely what else I was expecting with this lot. She smiled, despite herself. She watched as Harry leaned close to the blue-haired boy beside him and whispered something in his ear. Teddy grinned and nodded. He squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. Everyone turned toward him. Slowly but surely, Teddy’s nose began to take on a distinctly pig-like shape.

Ginny and Hermione both laughed gleefully and everyone applauded.

“I’m learning how to do more than my hair and eyes and stuff now,” he explained shyly. “Uncle Harry said my mum used to do her nose for Aunt Ginny and Hermione.”

“She did,” agreed Ginny, nodding. “Most every dinner we had with her. Made me laugh every time. In fact, there was a time or two Hermione and I got in trouble for being too rowdy at the table, and I blame it entirely on your mother!” she recalled, glancing at Molly.

“Yeah, I remember that,” Ron chimed in. “Mum kind of lost it on you a few times. Back at Sirius’.”

He stopped, glancing at Harry. Although many years had passed and many lives were lost, Molly knew that Harry would always carry the guilt of Sirius’ death.

“It’s okay, mate,” said Harry with a smile. “And I do remember those dinners.”

“You’re doing very well, Teddy.” Hermione declared. “The pig was always my favorite one,” she added with a wink. The rest of the table murmured their agreement. Teddy beamed.

“That was really funny,” giggled Victoire from across the table. She tossed her long, blonde hair over her shoulder and leaned forward slightly. “Can you do it again?”

Teddy blushed, but obliged. Victoire squealed with glee and clapped her delicate hands. Victoire’s delight only made Teddy blush a deeper shade of pink. Molly did a double take. Yes, the roots of his hair were also turning a dark shade of magenta. She supposed she’d better do something to shift the focus off the poor boy before his whole head sprouted tulips or something.

“Let’s make a toast, shall we?” Molly proposed, standing up and raising her glass of pumpkin juice. The rest of the adults followed suit. “To family,” toasted Molly. “In all shapes and sizes, ages and colors, here or there, in the present or in memory. To love.”

“To love!” was echoed around the table. Hermione raised her wand and golden droplets of light rained down upon them all. She caught Harry’s eye from across the table.

“To the ones that love us….” She began.

“But never really leave us.” Harry finished.

It wasn’t until everyone settled back into their chairs and quieted back down that Albus’ absence was noticed.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Ginny asked Harry.

“He was right next to me when Teddy was doing his nose,” replied Harry. Ginny stood up.

“I’ll go look for him,” she announced. “He can’t have gone too far.”

“It’s okay, Ginny,” Harry put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll go look.”

“Are you mad?” asked Ron, getting to his feet. “We’ll all have a look.”

“Alright!” said Molly, holding up her hands for the second time that evening. “Arthur, Bill, Charlie, you take the garage and the shed. Percy, take the garden (no, Freddie, you may NOT play with the gnomes right now), Ron- the attic please. See if the ghoul has seen him. Hermione- first floor. George, Angelina and I will help Harry with the bedrooms. Fleur and Audrey can attend to the children. Ginny- if I’m not mistaken, you know all the hidden closets and crawl spaces in this house?” Ginny turned a little pink but nodded. And with a curt nod and a very determined look on her face, Molly Weasley marched up the very crooked staircase to search for her grandson.

Molly was slightly worried, though she tried not to show it as they combed the Burrow. This wasn’t the first time little Al had wandered off on his own. He was a rather unusual child, in Molly’s opinion. Quiet. At times, withdrawn. Very bright, but quiet. She often wondered how on Earth two such outgoing people as her daughter and Harry Potter managed to have such a mild tempered child. Jamie was certainly outgoing. Reminiscent of his namesake, that one. Much like little Freddie is. Lily is starting out of her shell now, as well. But little Al. Little Al, with his guarded, silver-grey eyes. Little Al, who Molly wanted to hug the lonely out of.

“Ginny!” George’s voice. Molly hastened down the hall. George was standing in the doorway of his old bedroom. The one he’d shared with his twin for almost 17 years of his life. There, in the middle of the small, dark room sat Al, cross-legged and calm as could be. Ginny and Harry soon appeared behind Molly.

“Al!” There you are.” Sighed Ginny with relief. What are you doing up here?”

Albus gave himself a little shake and looked up at his mother. “Just talking to Fred,” he answered.”

“I’m right here, silly” came Freddie’s little voice as her peered around his father’s leg to look at his cousin.

“Freddie has been downstairs with us, Al.” Harry told him.

“Albus gave his father an exasperated look. “Not that Fred.” He explained. “The one that looks like Uncle George. But with both ears.”

Chapter Three

Molly was quite sure she hadn’t heard correctly. Then again, a quick glance around the room confirmed that everyone was as astounded as she was.

“Whatever do you mean, darling?” asked Ginny. “You know that your Uncle Fred isn’t with us anymore. He…he isn’t around, Al.”

Albus glanced at Molly and then George before answering. “He comes to talk to me sometimes,” He said to his left shoe. “Not all the time. And he doesn’t stay long because he doesn’t want Grammy or Uncle George to see him. He doesn’t want them to be sad. I’m sorry, mum. Please don’t be mad.”

A single tear rolled down George’s cheek. Molly knew her son may not be able to hold it together much longer. This was definitely something to be discussed. But not now.

“Well!” she said. “I don’t know about you lot, but I think it’s high time we got started on opening some of those presents! To the living room, everyone!”

Once everyone got settled around the tree, the summoning of the gifts began. Cries of “Accio!” echoed throughout the room as presents of all shapes and sizes zoomed here and there, to the delight of both children and adults. Molly had spent nearly the entire year knitting her famous Weasley sweaters for all the grandkids. Scarves for her children, of course. They weren’t getting off without handmade gifts. She watched happily as the children tore into their packages eagerly.

“Swell!” shouted Freddie, holding up an Ever-Bashing Boomerang from Ron and Hermione. He high fived his uncle and then glanced at his mother. “I know,” he said, “Not in the house.”

Dominique tore open a parcel from Charlie to reveal red dragonhide boots. “Those are Chinese Fireball, those are.” Said Charlie, pointing.

“Wow!” exclaimed Dominique, sliding one onto her stockinged foot. “They’re great! Um, Uncle Charlie, they don’t….they don’t kill the dragons to make these boots, do they?”

Charlie smiled. “No, Dom they don’t. The use scales that the dragon doesn’t use anymore. Ones it has already shed.”

“Oh, Mummy! Look!” cried Victoire. She was pulling the last of the wrapping off of a porcelain doll that had been made entirely in her image. Molly caught her breath. The doll was so detailed, down to the little cluster of freckles Vickie had below her left eye.

“Victoire, honey, who is that from?” Molly asked her. She picked up the wrappings that Victoire had tossed aside. There was no name other than Victoire’s. She peered closer. There, stuck to the tape, was a strand of very blue hair. Molly glanced in the corner. Teddy appeared to be very interested in his blueberry crumble, yet his cheeks were unmistakably pink

“Merlin’s beard! What a gift!” Arthur had just opened a strange looking contraption that could only be something made by muggles. “I’ve seen these. A whats-it-called. A toadster!”

“It’s a toaster, Mr. Weasley. For bread” Explained Hermione.

“Yes, yes. Precisely.” Said Arthur, examining his new toy. Molly couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Well, at least he would have something to keep him busy when things were slow at the Ministry. Arthur seemed to get bored so easily now that he had switched to part-time.

“Ho! I say!”

Molly smiled. It sure was nice to hear Percy’s laugh so often these days. She looked up. Percy, Audrey, Ron, and Hermoine were all laughing quite heartily while both Little Molly and Rose were clutching something in their hands and looking confused.

“Now, see this Mother!” said Percy, still chortling. “We bought the same thing for Rosie that they bought for our Molly. Gift parchments to Flourish and Blotts! How about that? Books are the gift that keep on giving, you know!” He laughed again and shook his head.

As Percy walked away, Molly became aware of a slight sniffling sound behind her. She turned to find Jamie, face alight, holding a miniature broomstick while both Harry and Ginny were wiping their eyes with tissues that Hermione was handing them. Ron was watching Harry with an apologetic look on his face.

“What in the world is going on?” Molly asked, concerned. Harry mutely handed her a card. When she opened it, a picture fell out, along with a very old and crumpled letter.

Harry and Ginny,

Hoping this holiday season finds you well. A few months ago, we came across Hermione’s old beaded bag in the attic. The last of the enchantments were starting to wear off and we were able to retrieve some of the things that we thought we had lost. It is our pleasure to return to you your mother’s letter. We’d also like to present James with his first broomstick, in memory of Sirius, since he could not be with us to do so himself. Love be with you always,

Hermione and Ron

By the time Molly was finished reading the card and Lily’s letter, she had quite the case of sniffles herself. She handed the papers back to Harry, who then passed them around the now-curious rest of the room. Jamie, who was becoming impatient, threw one leg over his new broomstick. When no adult stopped him, he kicked off. This of course, resulted in immediate bedlam. Lily was the first to be knocked over. Freddie was instantly on Jamie’s tail, begging to have a turn at “knocking down the sister”. Louis claimed that it was to be his turn, as he was older than both of them. Meanwhile Hugo sat, clapping his hands and laughing while it was Lucy’s turn to start crying because Freddie had just stepped on one of her pretty new dollies. Molly was about to hold up her hands for the third time that night, when her husband stepped in.

“WEASLEYS! POTTERS! LISTEN UP!” he shouted. “It is Christmas and I will not have this nonsense in this house. Now. I do believe it is my lovely wife’s turn to open some presents. Charlie, if you would be so kind as to fetch mine, I think she should open that one first. Thank you, son.”

Charlie stood up and disappeared outside. A moment later, he returned with an old paper sack. Molly eyed it wearily. She glanced at Arthur, who nodded. Molly reached inside and pulled out an old, rusted metal radio.

“But…..” she began. “But, what are you on about, Arthur? This hasn’t worked since….since before the war. It got smashed up a bit when the Death Eaters, I mean.. “she broke off, glancing at the little ones. She tried again. “I don’t understand.” She said. Arthur merely stared at her. She was starting to wonder if he was going mad. Spending too much time in the garage with his muggle artifacts. Wait a second. Spending too much time in the garage. Could it be? She turned the dial on the radio to the “on” position. Suddenly, the Burrow was filled with crystalline voice of Celestina Warbeck. Fleur wrinkled her nose. Molly put her hand over her heart.

“Oh, Arthur.” She whispered as she hugged him tightly. “You funny man.”

After all the presents had been opened and Celestina had finished her final song with a particularly high note, it was time to start saying good-byes. Some of the younger children had fallen asleep in various places around the house. It had taken Ron nearly ten whole minutes to locate Hugo, who had managed to somehow fall asleep, curled up in the cat’s bed, underneath the staircase. Little Molly, on the other hand, had found an old book of her father’s and flat out refused to leave. It took quite a bit of coaxing and a promise that the book would be in exactly the same place the next time she came. The mothers rounded up the rest of the children while the fathers collected the mountains of gifts. Several trips were made before the floor of the Burrow could be seen again. Care packages were wrapped and sent with dessert. A kiss was blown to each of her children. Soon, only Arthur and Molly stood in the garden, waving a last farewell.

“You don’t have to cry, you know.” Said Arthur, wiping a tear from Molly’s face. “You’ll see them here and there in a few days or so.” He kissed her on the forehead and went inside.

Molly turned to follow him but before she closed the door she blew one last kiss. She smiled as she watched Fred catch it in the cool night breeze.

#xmas at the burrow #my fic #my imagine #hp fic #molly weasley #the weasleys #the burrow #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #bill weasley #fleur delacour #next gen #hp next gen #percy weasley #george weasley #angelina johnson #ginny weasley #teddy lupin

163 notes · View notes