Bedtime, Molly had begun to realise, was something one only came to enjoy as they got older. For Molly, there was scarcely anything better than climbing into bed at the end of the day, curling up next to her husband, and going to sleep. For her boys, bedtime was as good as the end of the world, each one panicking at the thought of the day drawing to a close, attempting to get as much done in the half hour between their parents telling them to brush their teeth and tucking them into bed, apparently oblivious to the fact that the sun would rise tomorrow and they would have more than ample time to finish their game of knights and dragons then.
She had managed to get her older sons into their bedroom after bath time with relatively little hassle, though Bill and Charlie still buzzed with energy and Percyâs mind turned with plots to stay up with his books for as long as possible without being caught. Sheâd assured them that they didnât need to go to sleep just yet, but that they did need to start calming down, which they had reluctantly agreed to. Hopefully, by the time the twins were ready for bed they would all be tired enough to sleep. She could always hope.
Making her way back down the hall to the bathroom where Arthur currently struggled with the aforementioned troublemakers was becoming a more and more laborious task with each passing day. She was due to give birth any day now, and though this pregnancy had not been nearly as taxing as the one with the twins â she had practically felt like the size of a mountain by the time they were born â she still found herself wishing it would be over sooner rather than later. Of course, the Curse meant that some anxiety still lingered over the impending birth, though she had been assured countless times that she shouldnât be affected, and, as disgusting as that sentiment was, it did bring some comfort.Â
She lingers in the doorway of the bathroom for a minute or two, observing her husband wrestle with the twins with an amused smile on her lips. Her husband is already soaked with water, which delivers no surprise. The twins seemed to love bath time, not for the actual bathing itself, but for the amount of chaos they found themselves able to cause with just a few inches of water and some creativity. Maybe she did want this pregnancy to drag on for a little longer, for as long as she couldnât kneel down to the level of the bathtub, Arthur remained responsible for this task, and her clothes stayed clean and dry.Â
âHe claims just the one,â Molly answers, shifting her weight between her swollen feet. âBut I could feel at least three more tucked under his covers. For such a bright kid heâs an awful liar.â
The distinct lack of noise echoing through the house gave Arthur the smallest hint of hope that perhaps the rest of the night would be easy. Bill and Charlie, while older, were still prone to moments of rambunctious energy, and it was not uncommon to hear the pair yelling and hollering as they thumped around the house, despite their parentsâ warnings to settle down. Percy, while a lot quieter, seemed to be far sneakier and while he wouldnât run about causing a fuss, he was the most likely to stay up far, far later than his bedtime, leading to a remarkably grouchy breakfast.Â
And the twins, he thinks with a glance at the identical boys in question, were their own form of complicated. They had known that twins would be slightly harder. After all, they would have two infants and then toddlers at the same time, but nothing had quite prepared them for just how mischievious the two were: if the saturation of his pants right now gave anything away.Â
Arthur was thankful for a lot of things in his life, but right now he was exceptionally glad his wife was only carrying one child this time around. He knew what people said about them: that they had more children than sense, more children than money, that they were stupid to have so many children in the middle of a war. But no part of Arthur was willing to give up the life that they had made: quite literally in six cases.
Both he and Molly had always wanted a big family, and that was what they were trying to get.
Continuing to wrestle with both George and the wash cloth, Arthur tries his hardest not to frown and pout; determined for neither boy to sense any form of weakness, lest they riot. Getting the pair ready for and into bed had always been a struggle, but now seemed even more so now that Molly was so close to her due date. Lugging both boys around at the same time easily exhausted her, and Arthur was trying his absolute best to make sure that that didnât happen.
By virtue of their âblood statusâ, it could be assumed that their sixth child would be born safely, but Arthur couldnât help the small stabs of fear that perhaps âblood traitorsâ would be equally as targetted. As much as he hoped for this baby to arrive soon, Arthur couldnât help but wish that time would slow down; that something would allow him to make certain that Molly would be safe.
Moving his ministrations toward Fredâs face, Arthur carefully pours a small jug of water over both boys heads, smiling at the sound of their chirping laughter as Molly enters the room behind him. He had long since learnt that speed was of the essence when it came to Fred and George, and so within moments, Arthur had lathered up both their hair, determined to rid their scalps of the dayâs dirt. âWe can only hope that he never gets better. It might make the moody teenage years a little easier,â Arthur says, rinsing the soap suds away as the little boys begin to splash again.
âDid Bill and Charlie settle down okay?â he asks, shooting her a soft glance.
âHow are you coping?â