Molly Weasley hummed along to Celestina Warbeck’s latest hit as she whipped up a nice breakfast for herself and her husband, Arthur Weasley. It was a Saturday tradition.
Arthur sat at the table sipping his tea and reading the Daily Prophet absentmindedly. His mind, that is to say, was absent from the paper’s stories. Instead it lingered in a mixture of memory and fantasy, a delightful medley of just-happened-yesterdays and could-happen-tomorrows.
His affair with Lucius Malfoy continued to heat up, never reaching its plateau like his marriage had years ago. In time, the flame would burn out with Lucius as well, he reasoned. It certainly seemed far off though. He gave Arthur something Molly could not, or perhaps would not, which was a sense of true power. While it was Lucius who had initiated the entire thing through an overly elaborate seduction and Lucius who now coordinated all their rendezvous, it was Arthur who was in control. Arthur who Lucius needed so desperately that he went through lengths to run into him, to talk to him, to be with him.
Arthur did very little of the work in running their affair, and really it was for the best. Underhanded and sneaky activities certainly fell more into Lucius’ purview of strengths than into Arthur’s. Lucius excelled at not getting caught, skilled in both destroying evidence and covering up tracks. While this proved infuriating from a Ministry worker’s perspective, Arthur relished it regarding their current scenario. He trusted Lucius to protect their secret, all he had to do was never bring up the Malfoys and risk getting caught in a weak lie by Molly.
He glanced at her now, finishing his tea in a gulp. The morning sunlight reflected a soft glow from her skin and danced off her hair, which bounced along to the music. Arthur felt a stirring in his loins. His thoughts were so consumed with Lucius—his purposeful touch, his piercing pale blue eyes, his perfectly chiseled jaw that made kissing him a true addiction—that Arthur was uncertain who or what precisely caused the stirring. All he knew was that he wanted to have sex, and he wanted to have it now. He and Lucius had a strict No Weekends policy, so there would be no reprieve for days if he waited for him.
He stood, placing his now empty tea mug on the counter beside where Molly stood cooking.
“Kettle’s still hot.” She said through her humming.
Arthur turned up the small radio’s volume and Molly threw him a smile. He held out a hand to her, palm up.
“May I have this dance?” he asked, eyes bright with levity.
“Mr. Weasley, why yes you may.” Molly laughed, setting down the spatula and taking his hand.
He gave her a playful spin and they both chuckled as she finished her rotation against his chest. He swayed them to the beat, getting lost in her warm eyes for a moment before he leaned down to kiss her. They kissed for the length of an entire chorus refrain, swaying along to the music as they did.
“You know what I’ve just realized?” Arthur said, giving her another spin and catching her halfway so her back was against his chest.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“This autumn is the first time we haven’t had a kid at home since 1970.” He mused.
“I suppose you’re right.” Molly said.
Arthur swept aside her long, bushy hair to expose the left side of her neck to the kitchen air and placed his hands lightly on her shoulders.
“Think about it,” He whispered in Molly’s left ear.
“Bill’s in Egypt.” He planted a kiss just below her ear and she released a gentle breath.
“Charlie’s in Romania.” His lips met the delicate skin of her neck.
“The rest,” he kissed the tender spot where her neck curved out to form her shoulder, its muscle taut from her daily labors and their lumpy pillows. He slid the thin cotton of her house dress’ collar away from her skin and Molly let out a soft whimper.
“Are all five,” he whispered against her flesh, drawing goose pimples to the surface before kissing it. His fingers worked the buttons in the front of her loose-fitting dress.
“Finally at Hogwarts.” He finished, further shedding the sleeves of her garment off her shoulders.
“Mr. Weasley!” Molly said with mock protest.
“Call me Arthur.” He said directly into her ear with a low growl. He slid his hand into her half-open dress and gripped one of her full breasts as he bit her earlobe.
“Arthur!” Molly gasped.
Arthur kneaded her nipple between his fingers. The size of it, the distinct womanliness of it, such a contrast to Lucius’ nipple, gave him a startling arousal, as though he had never touched woman before. And it had been awhile, to be certain. He slipped off the top of her dress, so the sleeves pulled down over her shoulders fully baring her breasts then spun her around to face him. Her eyes were dark with lust, her lips naturally parted with longing.
Her sleeves pinned down her arms, so she could not reach out to him until he bent down to take one of her nipples into his mouth. Her hands went to the back of his head and neck when he did, caressing him as she moaned out in pleasure. His tongue swirled around her now very hard, thick nipple and he flicked it until he longed for the feel of it against the inside his lips again. That was the sensation that produced the next quality noise from Molly, so he repeated it on her other breast.
“Arthur, oh, Arthur!” she uttered, her voice lost to some place they’d last existed as teenagers. Before the war, before their rushed marriage, before the children were even an idea.
He wanted her more than he ever had before. He balled the fabric of her skirt into his fist, lifting it and tracing his other hand up the inside of her thigh. Her secretions were dripping out already and he released a moan against her breast as he felt them on her soft thigh.
“Unmf,” she half-grunted, half-groaned into the air.
Arthur’s fingers made their way inside of her. Two to start with, soon a third to follow.
“Arthur!” she uttered, almost a squeal.
He continued to finger her, moving his mouth up her chest in wet kisses until he reached her mouth. They kissed in a sloppy heaviness. Her mouth was large and soft and giving, so unlike Lucius’. It felt like she might swallow him whole if he continued like this. He pulled away to look her in the eye.
“I’m going to fuck you on the table.” He said plainly, his breathing hard and filled with base desires.
“The bacon though,” she managed. “It will burn.”
Arthur curled his fingers against the front of her vagina and she whimpered wantonly.
“Let it burn.” He said.
“Yes, okay, okay I will.” She nodded and hurried to find his mouth again with her own.
He walked them backwards to the kitchen table, pulling his fingers from her wet vagina so he could use both hands to clear the plates out of the way. She helped, placing the silverware on top of the stack of plates and saucers Arthur had put on one of the chairs.
He lifted her up onto the table, not a particularly easy task but the adrenaline of pulsing testosterone powered him through it.
Molly started to further undo her dress, but he put his hand on hers to stop her and said, “No, I want you like this.”
He undid his trousers and yanked off his shirt, discarding it to the kitchen floor.
“This reminds me of that time we fucked in the Hogwarts boathouse.” Molly said, amusement in her voice.
“Oh yeah? A bit warmer now, though.” Arthur grinned mischievously.
He remembered that time well enough. It was right before she left to visit her brothers for Christmas in 1967. A mere two weeks before he and Lucius had their first kiss on the covered bridge while everyone was away for break. He slid his trousers off, stepping out of them and kicking them aside so he was naked before his wife.
“You are just as stunning as ever.” Molly murmured in a tone that could only come from raw emotional honesty.
Arthur scanned her bared bosom shamelessly and gave her a little smirk, “And you, Mollywobbles, have only become more attractive.”
“You should not flatter me, Arthur.” She said through a pursed lip grin.
“Oh no? What shall I do to you, then?” he said, lifting her skirt folds up so her ready lower body was on fully display to him.
“Make me scream so loud the Ministry comes to investigate.” She said, a challenging edge in her sultry command.
Arthur pushed himself deep into her willing body and Molly let out a loud gasp and moan. He thrust further inside until he was fully in, his throbbing head flush with her cervix. Then something shifted inside him. He exhaled deeply, trying to focus on her face, her tits, her anything—but all he could think of was Lucius and how much better it felt to be inside of him. He closed his eyes, attempting to imagine it was him, and slid out of her and back in again, forming a methodic rhythm that he couldn’t enjoy and barely felt.
“Arthur?” Molly said.
His ears burned with guilt, but he opened his eyes and met hers.
“Fuck me harder.” She said once he was looking at her.
The crass language and severe eye contact was helping. He felt his erection thickening again.
“You want me harder?” he asked in a growling command.
“Yes, I want you so hard.” She said.
He thrust into her powerfully and asked, “Like that?”
She nodded and he thrust into her again, his dick becoming fully hard now.
“Is that what you want?” he demanded of her.
“More, give me more, Arthur. Don’t hold back.” She said.
“Lie flat on your back, you filthy little strumpet.” He commanded, pulling out the hilarious word Lucius liked to mutter about Muggle women who wore too much makeup.
With only a light giggle, she obeyed. Arthur spread her legs further apart, wrapping them around him as he began to thrust into her with a hearty abandon. Molly’s breasts jiggled violently as he pounded her. He wanted to touch them, grip them in his hand as he made them wobble so much. He went all the way into her and leaned over to take one into his grasp.
“Arthur!” she moaned.
He started to fuck her again mercilessly.
“Oh, fuck,” he cried as the sensation of her wobbling tit in his hand got him even hornier.
They didn’t hear the door open.
“What’s burn—ARRRGGGHHHHHH! OH, MERLIN NO!” Charlie screamed.
“AAAAHHHH!!! CHARLIE! MERLIN’S BEARD!” Arthur exclaimed, jumping halfway onto the table in surprise at his son’s presence.
“OH MORGANA! NO!” Molly cried in horrified shame.
There was a snapping noise as the wood gave out under the weight of both Molly and Arthur. Charlie, who had been covering his eyes and inching towards the stove, gawked as the crash happened to make sure his parents were okay.
Luckily his father’s freckled backside covered his mother’s naked bits from his angle, and neither seemed hurt, though the kitchen table had split entirely in half. He looked away again, marching towards the stove carrying a strange bulge wrapped in a bright green dragonhide jacket.
“So sorry, but I had nowhere else to go and well, it’s a bit of an emergency.” He called out.
By the time he reached the stove, his parents had stood up and checked themselves over for injury, finding none. Molly pulled her dress back onto her shoulders, buttoning it fully to cover her breasts and Arthur pulled his trousers back on.
“What exactly are you doing here?” Arthur asked his son, his shirt in hand.
“We got intel of an illegal breeder in the Gower, and it turns out he had two Common Welsh Green eggs.” Charlie explained, his eyes steadily fixed on the stove and the bulge in his jacket.
“And?” Arthur asked, pulling on his shirt.
“Well, this one has begun to hatch.” Charlie said, pulling a dragon egg from the green jacket and setting it carefully onto the sizzling skillet of now burnt bacon. Once it was settled he looked over at his father, “This was the closest safe place I knew to go.”
“Quite right.” Arthur said with a meaningful nod. “And sorry for the um, well, sorry.”
“Let’ just…” Charlie glanced back at his now fully dressed mother. “How about we just never speak about that ever again?”
“Brilliant idea.” Molly nodded.
“Yes, I quite agree.” Arthur said.
They breathed out a collective sigh of relief. Then the distinct noise of an eggshell being cracked filled the kitchen. All eyes stared at it. Molly and Arthur had never seen a dragon hatch before.
A tiny, viridescent wing shoved out of the hole in the shell, a miniature black talon scraping the side of the egg in desperation. Soon the other wing broke open another hole. The dragon wrapped its wings over the eggshell’s sides and a long ripping crunch followed as the top of the egg slowly cracked apart from the upwards pressure of the dragon’s head.
“There he is.” Charlie said very softly, his voice full of controlled excitement.
The dragon blinked a few times, then let out an attempt at a roar, which was more of an adorable screech. He climbed fully out the shell, revealing a verdant green body, and wobbled onto the burning hot skillet. He gave a few sniffs into the air and a second later, all the blackened bacon was gone, eaten by the baby Welsh Green.
“Oh look at him! Such a precious little one, isn’t he?” Molly cooed, reaching a finger towards the baby dragon.
“Mum, stop! Do not touch the dragon.” Charlie commanded with enough authority that she pulled her hand back. “Any human contact may cause it to be rejected by an adoptive mum. Proper rescue protocol is to wrap him up in raw dragonhide, but my jacket will have to do as it’s the best I’ve got at the moment.”
“That’s a dragonhide jacket? Is it a Welsh Green?” Arthur asked.
“Ethically sourced of course. But I’m glad it’s a Welsh Green one. Should help him with the transition.” Charlie explained then handed his dad the second, unhatched egg, “Hold this a moment, please.”
Arthur took the egg gently into both his hands. Its shell was hard as stone but comfortably warm. He and Molly exchanged a glance that could only be described as immense parental pride. Their son was teaching them something they didn’t already know.
Charlie formed his jacket’s into a shallow bowl and held it against the open stove where the baby dragon still stumbled about in the skillet. The range was still lit underneath.
“Don’t burn down the house now!” Molly exclaimed in a loud hush.
“Dragonhide is fireproof, mum.” Charlie said simply, moving the material in a manner meant to entice the dragon. It appeared to be working as the baby dragon’s tiny feet started in his direction. “That’s it, come on little one.”
Once the dragon was fully on the jacket, Charlie’s demeanor switched to urgency, “Dad, put the egg in the middle of the jacket now. Careful not to touch the dragon.”
Arthur obeyed, quickly and deftly placing the egg at the center with his hand on the side farthest from the Welsh Green.
“Gotcha!” Charlie exhaled with triumph as he formed the jacket into a sort of satchel, binding the top with his hand before pulling his wand to create a magical seal.
He smiled in relief and looked up from the satchel to his parents.
“Well done, son.” Arthur said.
“Thank you for your help.” Charlie nodded.
“Would you like some breakfast? We can sit down to—” Molly stopped mid-thought as she turned to motion at the table and found it was severed in half. Unusable.
“I know a mending spell for wood, though it isn’t always reliable.” Charlie offered.
“Nonsense, we’ve needed a new table for years.” Arthur said. “We’ll buy one today.”
Charlie frowned a moment then something seemed to click into place, “Oh right! Mum told me about the backpay you got from the Ministry. Accounting error, wasn’t it?”
“Right, that’s right.” Arthur nodded.
This lie he’d invented months ago to explain the thousand galleons Lucius gave him no longer could be considered such. It now was a version of the truth. The only people who knew any differently were himself and Lucius, and that was hardly the largest secret they were keeping now.
“I couldn’t sit for breakfast anyway. The sooner we can get this little guy united with a mother, the better chance he’s got at survival. Plus, his sibling’s gonna hatch within a day, I reckon.” Charlie explained.
“Well it was lovely to see you, dear.” Molly said and pulled him into a bear hug. He patted her back with his free hand, or as free as a hand with a wand grasped in its fingers can be considered.
After she released him, Arthur gave him a quick hug, and then Charlie was out the door. Dragon-filled satchel in hand, he mounted his Ministry-issued broomstick and was off, high into the morning sky.
Molly waved until he was out of sight and then looked at Arthur, her face full of maternal accomplishment. He kissed her lightly and said, “Let’s go for a nice breakfast at the Leaky Cauldron and then see what we can find for a table in Diagon Alley.”
She nodded at the idea, heading towards the stairs as she said, “I’ll get changed.”
Arthur and Molly had been wandering around Diagon Alley for almost an hour just enjoying people watching and the new window displays in for fall before finally shuffling into R&H’s Fine Furniture & Woodwork shop. A small wizard greeted them, asking if there was a particular need they had in mind today and they were soon surrounded by various dining tables. None of them stood out as the one.
“Arthur Weasley is that you?” Narcissa Malfoy’s voice rang out through the shop almost giving Arthur a heart attack.
“Oh great.” Molly muttered under her breath. “And we were having such a nice day.”
“Now Molly, let’s keep our wits about us.” Arthur cautioned, the message directed mostly at himself. Two wives in the same place did not give him a warm and fuzzy feeling, not to mention he hadn’t interacted with Narcissa since starting an affair with her husband the better part of two months ago.
“Ah yes, I forgot you’re friends with the Malfoys now.” Molly rolled her eyes.
“I wouldn’t exactly say friends.” Arthur said.
He suddenly realized the dual meaning in his words and stifled a little laugh as Narcissa approached. She toyed with her diamond and emerald studded brooch, a scrutinizing expression on her symmetrical face.
“The Weasleys out shopping for something besides school supplies? I can hardly account for such an odd juxtaposition. Unless…” she said.
Arthur quickly noticed her jasmine perfume, the signature scent that had alarmed Lucius so greatly the first occasion they had snuck away to spend an entire night together. He’d taken them to his townhouse in London only to immediately relocate them elsewhere after smelling jasmine and realizing Narcissa was waiting to catch him red-handed.
“Unless what?” Molly snipped, taking the bait.
Narcissa continued to look only at Arthur however, and he kept her gaze without reaction. She could not bully him. Not here. Not ever. He had her husband in his pocket. Lucius was too calculated to not have informed Arthur that Narcissa had uncovered their affair, therefore he knew she could not have and was simply trying to get a rise out of him. For what though, he could only imagine she was about to boast about it.
“Unless you had gotten a bonus from the Ministry for conducting an illegal raid of Malfoy property.” Narcissa said, her eyes fixed on Arthur.
“I highly doubt the Ministry would authorize an illegal raid of your Manor.” Molly said. “Unless you harbor dark artefacts?”
“Oh, but it was not in our Manor.” Narcissa smiled serenely at Molly before glaring back at Arthur.
“Hm,” Arthur frowned as if genuinely concerned. “I am woefully unaware of any raids lately—legal or not. In fact, I had no idea your husband even owned other properties.”
Narcissa steeled, clearly knowing he was lying but unable to determine to what end. Arthur flashed her a grin, the one that made Lucius roll his eyes and blush. He certainly was enjoying this particular game more than he’d ever guessed he would.
“You claim I was raiding your house, though, why don’t you prove it?” Arthur added in a saccharine tone.
Molly let out a noise of approval at his comment.
“Our House Elf found a red hair, suspiciously similar to the remaining few on your head, when he was cleaning his master's study at our London estate.” Narcissa said with a sense of victory.
Arthur bit back a laugh. He definitely had not been in Lucius' study at any estate. The only office they'd been in together was his own in the basement of the Ministry. It wasn't surprising though that Lucius' clothing might contain his stray hairs. He'd have to tell him to clean up better next time. Right now though, he wanted to push every button he could with Narcissa.
"Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed?" Arthur asked lazily, the way Lucius tended to speak to strangers. He hoped she’d notice the similarity.
Narcissa scrunched her face angrily, eyes burning with nine lines of unspoken accusations before she uttered, "What committed? Impudent strumpet!"
Now Arthur couldn't help but laugh. It rolled out in waves causing Narcissa to storm off towards the shop exit.
"Excuse me, but did you just call my husband a strumpet?" Molly called after her mockingly.
"Leave it, Molly. Just leave it." Arthur managed through his tears of laughter. "What a day."
“Oh, I hate those Malfoys.” Molly said.
“I know.” Arthur said, breathing to calm his laughter. “Come on, my little strumpet, let’s pick out a table.”