Molly Weasley pulled the dusty album from the tall shelf in the living room and sat down on the couch.
Has it really been 30 years? she marveled.
She carefully flipped open the pages, brushing the dust away. From the portraits inside, her younger self waved back at her.
She brushed a hand over the young women dressed all in white. Her hair had been brighter then, not darkened by age, with the gray yet to appear. Her face had been smoother, the laugh lines and the wrinkles still in her future. She’d been thinner, too. Her hips hadn’t been widened by 7 children, and her belly was still smooth under the dress, without stretch marks.
She didn’t regret the toll that time had taken on her body. It was the way of life. But sometimes, like now, she wished she could see herself as beautiful as she had been in the portrait.
She turned the page, and there she was with Arthur. Oh, her Arthur, so bookishly handsome, with his hair neatly parted, and his horn-rimmed spectacles. He still had all his hair then, and it wasn’t going gray either. He still had a lean tone to him from playing Quidditch regularly, and his shoulders were as broad as ever. Her cooking hadn’t expanded his waistline yet, and he looked devastatingly handsome in his formal dress robes.
For that matter, he still did.
She sighed and continued flipping through the album. She hesitated only a little over the picture with her brothers Gideon and Fabian. They had posed on either side of her, grinning like idiots. The dull ache of their loss flared briefly, before Molly turned the page. She smiled to herself as she browsed through the rest of the photos from her wedding. It was almost time for Arthur to come home from the Ministry. She was so very proud of him. He’d finally gotten the recognition he deserved. First when he’d been appointed Head of Magical Law Enforcement when Amelia Bones had taken over International Cooperation, and then when he’d been elected Minister after the Diggory fiasco. So very much had changed.
Molly put the album back on the shelf and went to the mantel. New photographs waved at her. She ran her dust cloth over the new picture of Fred and Angelina and their twins, and the picture of George and Alicia with their newborn Sara. There were pictures of Bill with his longtime girlfriend Fleur. Molly despaired of the two of them ever tying the knot. They seemed content with the way things were. Ron and Hermione on their wedding day, looking so happy. She sniffed a little as she lifted a picture of Charlie with a dragon, and shook her head over the picture of Percy and Penelope on their wedding day. The war had cost them so very much. Loosing Charlie and Percy had been heart rending. But Arthur had helped her through, supporting her every step of the way.
He really was her knight in shinning armor.
Molly wiped a tear from her eye and hurried up the stairs to the loo. Arthur would be home any minute, and it really wouldn’t do for him to find her sniffing. Not today, of all days.
A quick wash of her face and a comb through her hair, and she felt worlds better. She bustled about the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on Arthur’s favorite meal, steak and potatoes. There was a click, and Molly turned to see Arthur’s hand spinning on the clock, and then a loud pop as her husband appeared in her kitchen. His face brightened considerable upon sighting her.
“I’m home, love,” he said, stepping over and wrapping his arms around her waist. Arthur inhaled deeply from the mix of delightful smells that simply were Molly. “I missed you.”
She gave a little snort and shook her head, continuing to give her attention, at least temporarily, to the stove. “You’ve only been at work,” she pointed out.
“Yes, but you were all I could think about all day.”
She finally turned in his arms to face him. “Flatterer.” But she softened the comment with a smile, and kissed him warmly on the lips.
“Only for you my love,” he smiled, and for once, the smile went all the way to his eyes, bringing out the delightful twinkle that had been one of the things she’d fallen in love with. Lately, that smile had been very much absent, as Arthur had struggled with the aftermath of the war. “Happy anniversary, darling,” he whispered.
She smiled at him. “Happy anniversary, Arthur.” She sighed and sank her head onto his broad shoulder for a moment. Finally she stood up again. “Now let me go before I burn your dinner,” she protested.
“It can burn to charcoal for all I care,” he said, his voice dropping a couple of octaves and his arms tightening around her waist.
She smirked at him, “Yes, well, that may be all well and good, Arthur Weasley, but I’m not about to let a dinner I worked so very hard to prepare for you go to waste.” Reluctantly, Arthur let her go and took his customary seat at the head of the kitchen table. “How was work today, dear?” she asked him.
“It was the same. Still trying to get things back to normal. Found out what our son has been up to, in a briefing from Kingsley.”
“Did you see Ron?”
“No, he and Harry were in the field and couldn’t make the meeting.”
Molly clucked by the stove. “Anything else?”
“A couple of bureaucrats from Spain and France, the usual introductions, etcetera. Nothing exciting. As I told you, I spent most of the day wishing I could just get the day over with and come home to you.”
Molly smiled at her husband, and he smiled back over the top of the Evening Prophet.
“How was your day?” he asked.
“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” she said. “Nothing too terribly exciting. It was just an ordinary day. I did some cleaning here and there. I dusted off the old photo albums.”
“Oh?” He looked up. “Find anything good?” His eyes were twinkling.
“Maybe,” she said, grinning at him. She set the food down on the table. “I made your favorite.”
Arthur put aside the paper and dug in eagerly. After a moment, she frowned at his enthusiasm. “Arthur Weasley, what did you have for lunch today?”
Arthur’s snapped his head up, and he dropped his eyes – an immediate sign of guilt. “Well…”
“Arthur,” she said, warningly. “What have I told you about eating?”
“There was a meeting, and it ran long, and then the fellow from Spain was coming in and…. Well, I never got there,” he finally admitted.
She shook her head. “Well, eat up then,” she told him. “There’s plenty for a second helping.”
-- -- -- --
After dinner, Arthur helped her with the dishes as they chatted about their plans for the remainder of the week, which one of them had heard from any of their children last, and what Arthur had heard from Remus about who would fill the Defense post at Hogwarts that year. In short, they talked about everything and nothing all at the same time.
It felt good.
After 30 years of marriage, knowing they still could find things to talk about was comforting, even sweet, in its own, everyday way. More than her husband, and the father of her children, Arthur was still her best friend.
That night, as they readied for bed, Molly came out of the loo to find Arthur staring at the wedding picture they kept on the dresser in their bedroom.
“30 years,” Arthur whispered, shaking his head. “It seems like only yesterday.”
“And sometimes it seems like forever,” Molly replied. “I love you Arthur,” she whispered into his ear, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“I love you too, Molly.”
-- -- -- --
Later, as she snuggled into her husband’s strong arms, Molly sighed contentedly. She knew that there were some women who would have wanted candlelight dinners, or expensive gifts on their thirtieth wedding anniversary. After all that had happened in their lives, the most romantic thing Molly could have ever wanted was just something normal. Yes, it had been plain, simple, ordinary, and everyday, but to her it put the most expensive restaurant to shame.
“Good night, Molly,” Arthur murmured, half-way to sleep already.
“Good night, Arthur, happy anniversary.”
“Happy anniversary, Molly.”