Seventh Son

A Harry Potter Fan-Fiction

By N-Sarrova

It didn't happen immediately. In fact it was surprisingly gradual. The first she saw him he looked small and scared. Her first impression had written him off as muggle-born, because the world he was so desperately seeking entrance to was obviously strange and foreign to him. Yet his shy politeness had left a peculiar impression on her as he disappeared beyond the barrier.

Minutes later, when the train was about to leave she felt an odd desire to see him again. Not because of his name, which she'd just learned from her rambunctious twins, but because famous or not, it was still his first day of school...she wanted to wish him luck.

After that day, he was put from her mind, until three months later. She received a letter from her youngest at Hogwarts saying that a certain black-haired young boy didn't expect anything for Christmas, nothing at all...well she couldn't have that now, could she?

The following summer he came to stay. It was remarkable how seamlessly he fitted into their not-so-little household. Helping with chores, playing Quidditch, getting lost, causing her much more stress then was probably necessary; all so natural.

It wasn't until just before his thirteenth birthday it became official, at least in her mind. When her husband came home from working saying that a deranged lunatic was coming after him, the only thought in her head was: not my son. She was slightly taken aback by this thinking, but much too preoccupied with fighting the instinct to Apparatedirectly to those wretched muggles and bring him straight back home where she could at least keep her eye on him. No one ever said maternal instincts were rational.

Over the years she watched him grow, watched him become a strong, caring, compassionate man. He faced evil (that she wished in vain she could have shielded him from) and conquered. From the ashes of pain and despair he saved them all and gave them a chance to rebuild.

So it came as no surprise when, years and years later, Molly Weasley sighed contentedly as she watched her only girl float down the aisle on her father's arm, positively glowing, heading towards that same little boy she had met all those years ago at King's Cross Station on September 1st. After all, this changed nothing, he had all ways been as good as her son...this just made it official.