who: @mllyweaslyâ
where: the burrow
when: february 29th, 1980. evening
Sticking both hands deep into the warm soapy water, Arthur finds himself simultaneously fishing about for the missing washcloth and trying not to get his own shirt anymore soaked than it currently was. Heâd known it was a mistake to bathe Fred and George together from almost the instant he had plopped both squirming, naked toddlers into the tub, but he wasnât sure he had wanted to risk trying to separate them. From the moment his identical sons had been born, they had remained at one anotherâs sides. If one woke up to feed, the other was mere minutes behind. When George had said his first word, Fred said his a day later. When Fred took his first steps, it was George who toddled soon after him.
As if knowing exactly what their father was thinking, both boys almost immediately began to kick their legs, splashing the warm water over the edge of the tub and all over Arthurâs trousers. How they managed to do such a thing with water that barely covered their round, baby bellies, Arthur didnât know, but he was beyond questioning the capabilities of his children at this point.Â
Giving into the inevitable soaking, Arthur wrestles the cloth from Georgeâs sly grip and immediately attacks the little boyâs face, determined to remove every trace of gravy that had managed to glue itself to his skin. âOi, stay still, Georgie,â Arthur says, voice soft as Fred blows bubbles beside his brother, âHowâd you manage to get it in your eyebrows, hey?â
Behind him, he hears a familiar set of footsteps and without turning around, Arthur smiles, âHow many books is Percy attempting to smuggle into his bed tonight?âÂ
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 -- she had practically felt like the size of a mountain by the time they were born -- 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