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Contrary to popular belief, Molly was aware that the war was over, and for the most part her children were safe. She knew that the majority of death eaters had been locked up, and her children were all adults and knew how to handle themselves. They all fought in a battle for Godric's sake.
In the month since the battle, she hadn’t been able to get through the night without checking up on her children at least once. It got harder when Bill and Fleur went back to their cottage, and then Charlie went back to Romania, and again when Hermione left to find her parents.
The loss of her child had made it harder for her to let go of her other children. After Bill and Charlie left, she nearly tied Hermione up to keep her home when she announced her trip to Australia.
But she had been learning to let them go. She said nothing when George completely threw himself into the joke shop. Said nothing when Percy went back to ministry work. And kept her mouth shut when Ron and Harry went back to Hogwarts to help with the rebuild.
Harry had tried to enroll in auror training nearly days after the battle. No matter what anyone said, they couldn't get him to change his mind. But one night, Ron dragged him up to bed early and when they came down in the morning, Harry said he was unenrolling. Whatever Ron had said to him must have changed his mind.
She woke one night, a gasp at her lips, the sight of Fred’s body still flashing behind her eyes. The sight was enough to get her pushing the covers off and pulling her slippers on. Arthur, who had always been a heavy sleeper, didn’t stir and kept on snoring.
Her first stop was the tw— George’s room. Since they had been old enough to cause mischief, when they first learned to walk, really, their room was closest to her and Arthur's.
Like the majority of her children, George snored just like his father. It was the only sound coming through the thin walls. She almost missed the explosions and other loud and sudden noises that used to be heard from their room.
The door luckily did not squeak as it opened. The floorboards, however, groaned under her steps. She could fix it with magic, but it was an old house and wouldn’t take for long. The sight that meets her eyes as she enters is enough for her to cry.
George was lying on Fred’s old bed. The beds were identical, except the bed George was on had a faint ‘F’ carved into the headboard. The covers were strewn onto the floor and forgotten inventions laid around the room.
Her heart suddenly clenched and a small tear slipped from her eye. She quickly brought a hand up to wipe the tear away. She continued into the room.
She picked up a bottle off of the bed. On closer inspection, she saw that it said, ‘Weather in a Bottle’. She was tempted to open to find what it did, but knowing George, it would have made a mess. Other products were still on the bed, so she picked them up as well and placed the products on his desk.
Even though he would be mortified if he caught her doing this, she picked the blanket up and tucked him in. She reached a hand down to comb his hair away and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
The small act had her thinking of a simpler time. A time when all her children were home, happy, and most importantly, alive. But the times weren’t so simple anymore, it was replaced by the hardships of war.
A war that left her with one less child. So, instead of tucking in her two troublemakers, she could only tuck in the one. She left after that, knowing that if she stayed longer it would only make it harder.
She continued the familiar pattern that followed her when she couldn't sleep. The stairs to the second floor creaked loudly beneath her feet. She had long since put up silencing charms on the stairs. Everyone wasn’t getting much sleep as it was, even without the sounds of someone trudging downstairs, seeking comfort after a nightmare.
While Percy was her only child to not take after Arthur’s snoring, Oliver happened to. The door squeaked as she opened it. With her other children, she wouldn’t need to worry about disturbing their slumber, but Percy took after her light sleeping.
But as the door opened and lightly bumped into the wall, Percy didn't wake, he didn't even stir. She wondered if he would even if she stomped her foot on the floor. The guest bed set up for Oliver was empty, and he could be found on Percy’s bed.
Percy was not in a bed, not even the spare one. He was slumped over in his desk chair, face first into a pile of papers. Glasses pushed up to his hairline. She suppressed a laugh, because Percy was drooling onto his papers.
Obviously she couldn’t have moved him on her own. She would have broken a hip in the process. And using magic on him to get him into bed wasn’t an option either, at least anymore. She had learned the hard way that using magic on her sleeping children, even a hovering charm, was not a good idea.
A couple days after the battle ended, Harry had fallen asleep on the couch in dirty clothes. She used a cleaning spell on him and before she could blink, his wand was on her neck and a counter spell on his lips. Ron, thankfully, had been able to calm him down.
So, she did what she could without magic. The idea of waking him was less than ideal, considering how little sleep he was getting. But she would rather wake him up than have him in neck pain the next morning.
She gently reached a hand out and shook his shoulder. Percy slowly sat up, rubbing at his eyes. “Mum? What’s ‘appening?”
“You fell asleep at your desk, dear.”
He blinked heavily at the paperwork in front of him, wiping the drool from his chin. “Oh.”
When she went to help him up, he resisted. “C’mon, it’s time for bed,” she said, in a way that reminded her of when he was younger.
“No,” he shook his head, “I’m not tired, and I’ve got to finish my work.” His argument would have been convincing if he had not yawned immediately after.
“It’ll still be here when you wake up,” she assured him.
“That’s what Oliver said.” The fondness in his voice was thinly concealed and it made Molly wonder, but that was pushed from her mind as Percy finally got up.
She started to lead him to the spare bed, but they barely made it a foot before Percy flopped face down on his bed next to Oliver. “Percy!” she scolded. “I don’t think Oliver will want to sha—” The words died in her throat as Oliver suddenly wrapped an arm around her son's torso as he worked his way under the blankets.
“At least take your glasses off,” she sighs.
Percy took his glasses off and blindly searched for the nightstand. She took them from his hand before they ended up on the floor, and placed them on the table.
“Thanks, mum.”
“Goodnight, dear.”
“Night, mum,” he said as he pressed his face into his pillow.
She turned off the desk lamp and left the room. The door squeaked again as she closed it, but it was quieter than before. Unlike when she left George’s room, she left with a smile on her face. She was glad that Percy had a close friend.
The next door down the hallway was Bill's old room. But then it was empty. She ignored the worry in her heart as she passed it. She continued down the hallway and up the next set of stairs. She ignored Charlie’s room as she passed it and stopped outside of Ginny’s.
The sound of loud snoring that rivaled Arthur's hit her ears. The door groaned loudly as it opened, but Ginny didn’t even stir.
Similar to George, Ginny’s sheets were on the floor. The two of them always grew hot in their sleep. She would have put them back on, but she knew Ginny would end up kicking them right back to the floor within five minutes. Instead, she folded them and put them on the nightstand.
Molly brushed Ginny’s sweaty hair away from her sticky forehead. She must have forgotten to shower after quidditch, again. Ginny groaned and moved away from Molly’s touch.
“She doesn’t like it when you touch her in her sleep,” a soft voice said from behind her.
Molly nearly jumped out of her skin as she whipped around. “Luna! Don’t scare me like that, dear.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Weasley,” Luna looked down at Ginny, “I think it reminds her of being possessed.”
Molly swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. “Why are you up? Surely you’re tired?”
Luna nodded. “I am, but there were too many wrackspurts. You have a couple floating around you, were you having trouble sleeping as well?”
“I was just going around to check up on you lot. Would you like to go to bed, dear?”
Luna shook her head. “I’m fine. I was going to go to the kitchen and make some tea.”
“Oh, I could make it for you.”
“That’s fine, Mrs. Weasley. I find it quite calming making it myself.”
Molly nodded. “Alright then.”
She went to kiss Ginny’s forehead, but thought better of it. Luna left the room and she followed, softly closing the door behind her.
“Goodnight, Mrs. Weasley.”
“Goodnight, dear.”
The two went in opposite directions. Luna, headed down the stairs towards the kitchen. Molly, going up the last set of stairs that led to Ron’s attic bedroom.
This time, she didn’t wait outside the door; she had heard the snoring halfway up the stairs. As the door squeaked open, she saw that, like Percy and Oliver, they were sharing a bed. Unlike Percy and Oliver, however, Harry and Ron were facing each other, their heads and hands nearly touching.
When they had gotten home earlier, she had assumed that they showered before going to bed, or at the very least changed. But now she knew that they had collapsed into bed, seemingly out of exhaustion. Dust and rubble still clung to their clothes.
The closeness of the two boys didn’t surprise her too much. Ron had always been more physically affectionate than others.
Ron had once been a deep sleeper, but war changes people, so when she stepped through the doorway and a floorboard creaked, Ron woke up.
She silently watched as her youngest son slowly pushed himself into a sitting position and tiredly rubbed at his eyes. It took him a moment for his eyes to focus on her. “Mum?” His voice was rough, from lack of water or from just waking up, she did not know.
“I was checking up on you boys,” she said in a hushed whisper, “Would you like something to drink?” She took another step into the room.
For a moment, Ron’s eyes flickered over to Harry, who was miraculously still asleep. The concern in his eyes made her smile, she was glad to know that he had someone to care for and someone who cared for him.
Then the moment was over and Ron was looking back at her. “Water would be good. Don’t think Harry needs anything.”
She smiled softly at him. “Of course, dear. You two should change into clean clothes while I get it.”
Usually, she would have grabbed a cup from Ron’s room and filled it up with her wand. But Harry reacted badly to magic being used around him when he was unaware, even when it wasn’t being used on him.
She stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her. During the first war, she would always have her wand on her. It took a couple of years to break the habit. But then Voldemort came back and she started carrying it around again.
It took her just under two minutes to summon the glasses and fill them. She usually banned such things with breakables, but her body couldn’t take going back up the stairs.
Through the door, Ron’s voice came through. “Harry? Could you lift your legs for me?” She found it a bit odd that Ron was dressing Harry, rather than having him do it himself, but her thoughts quickly came to a halt. “Thanks, love.”
Oh.
Oh.
Then, it all made sense. The bed sharing, Ron’s ability to calm Harry down so easily, and the constant physical closeness.
Suddenly, she felt very guilty for overhearing their private moment. Before she could hear more she quickly knocked on the door, and without waiting for an answer, came in.
Their dirty clothes were now sitting in a pile at the foot of the bed. The two were under the covers, Ron was sitting up and Harry was tucked right into his side, hand wrapped around Ron's waist.
Molly slowly crossed the room and placed one of the glasses on the night table. She handed the other one to Ron, who drank nearly the whole thing. She sat on the bed, right by Ron’s knees.
Ron placed his cup on the table, and she watched his eyes flicker between her and Harry. “Mum?" He sounded scared, hesitant. In an instant she knew he only sounded that way on Harry's behalf— Harry who grew up with the horrible Dursleys— Ron knew that she accepted all her children no matter what.
Harry began to stir at Ron’s voice. Before she could react, Ron ran a hand through Harry’s dark, wild hair. “It’s alright,” Ron whispered, so quiet she had to strain to hear him.
The reassurance had Harry sighing contently and he dug his head deeper into Ron’s chest. She resisted the urge to coo, but resisted, knowing Ron would never get over the embarrassment of it.
She waited a moment to make sure Harry was still sleeping. “I’m glad you two have each other. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” And it was true, she had seen the way Harry looked at her son. The way his face would light up when Ron walked into the room. She just hadn't connected it.
“Thanks, mum,” Ron murmured as he laid down and closed his eyes.
“Of course, dear,” she said as she placed her hands on the sides of his head, and for the last time that night, kissed her child's forehead.
“Mum,” he whined, eyes still closed.
“Goodnight, dears.”
“Night, mum.”
The floor didn’t creak as she crossed it, and the door didn’t squeak as it closed. She tiredly trudged down the stairs to her bedroom. She went to be easy, knowing that her children were healing and all would be well.