Disclaimers: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. This story is purely for entertainment purposes only. I am
making no money from this.
Notes: Ron’s mother shows up for a visit. Draco discovers some surprising news.
Molly Weasley walked hurriedly through the corridors of Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore striding along beside her. He was
trying to talk sense to her, but she wouldn’t listen. She just had to see Ron and she had to see him now. She didn’t care that
he was currently in the middle of a class. The contents of his most recent letter to her had been a surprise and she had to
speak with him about it as soon as possible.
Professor Dumbledore eventually managed to halt her steps and told her that he would go and bring her son and the Malfoy boy
to see her. Molly nodded, turning and entering a nearby empty classroom, which he had escorted her to, waiting impatiently
for the two young men to arrive. It was only a short while before both of them walked into the classroom, looking terrified of
whatever she might have to say to them. Professor Dumbledore silently excused himself and closed the door, leaving the boys
alone with Mrs. Weasley.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Molly swept forward and engulfed Ron in a strong hug. Her baby was getting married . . .
and on top of that he was going to be a father. As surprised as she had been by the news, she couldn’t be anything but happy
for her son. His letter had been so heartfelt, his emotions expressed clearly and well thought out.
She would have liked it if he had waited until after he was done with school to do this . . . but it wasn’t her choice to make.
After raising seven children, she had come to realize that there was no changing their minds sometimes. When they were set
on doing something, they would do it . . . with or without her blessings.
“Uh . . . Mum . . . I can’t breathe.” Ron wheezed.
Molly chuckled and released her son from the hug. “Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?” She asked, brushing her
hands through his hair, a motherly habit she had been unable to ignore. “I would have liked to know we’re about to have an
addition to our family.”
Ron smiled nervously, gently taking her hands away from his hair. “Well, I didn’t know how you’d react, Mum. I . . . well, I
thought you’d be disappointed or angry.” He looked down, appearing to Molly just as she always saw him . . . the same sweet
little boy that had stolen cookies from the cookie jar before dinner.
Molly shook her head. “I can’t say that I’m happy . . . but I am far from angry with you.” She smiled once again, watching
as her son raised his gaze to smile at her. “Merlin knows I’ve wanted you to settle down and find someone nice. Never
thought it would be Draco Malfoy though.” With that said, she turned and took notice that Draco was standing just behind
Ron. Immediately, she noticed how pale the boy was, and chided herself for not noticing sooner. She clucked her tongue,
taking hold of Draco’s arm. “Why don’t you take a seat, young man . . . you look tired.”
Draco nodded, answering with a waver to his tone. “T-Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.” He said politely, doing just as Molly
suggested. He must have been dreadfully nervous to be this weary. She set her hand to his forehead, placing her other hand
against his stomach, watching with amusement as he blushed. “Five months along, are you?”
“Almost that . . . yes.” Draco replied quietly.
“Been taking proper care of yourself, I hope? Been seeing a medical witch regularly?” Molly asked, concerned for the boy.
He looked a bit too pale for her liking . . . but that probably had to do with the Veela influence in his blood.
“Y-Yes . . . in fact, I have an appointment this afternoon.” Draco said, nodding.
“We were going to go after class . . . the one we were in when Professor Dumbledore told us you wanted to see us.” Ron
added. “Would you like to go with us, Mum? I’m sure you’d like to speak with Madam Pomfrey.”
“Right you are, Ron.” Molly nodded. She didn’t want anything to happen to her grandchild, or her soon-to-be son-in-law.
Then it hit her . . . she was going to be a grandmother. Oh, this was so wonderful. She could very well feel herself welling up
with tears, but shook them off, deciding that later would be a better time to gush over the growth in the number of her relatives.
She gently took hold of Draco’s arm, helping him to rise. It was then that she noticed the bracelet that seemed to be set into
the skin of his wrist. “My, that is a beautiful piece of jewelry, Draco.” Molly admired, running a finger along the smooth
metal. It was warm, as if it were a piece of his skin.
Draco’s face flushed and he smiled shyly, ducking his head. “Ron bought it for me . . . it’s what he proposed to me with.”
Molly turned wide eyes to look at her son. “I never knew you had such fine taste, Ron.” Molly smiled, giving her son a hearty
slap on the back.
Ron coughed, his ears turning pink. “Yes . . . well . . .” He stammered, then bit his lip. “Draco got me one as well.” He
raised his hand, pushing up the sleeve of his robe to show the bracelet that he wore, this one with a sapphire instead of a ruby.
It was just as lovely as the other.
“My mother . . . she had been sending me money.” Draco whispered. “I only felt it right that I buy one for him.”
Molly pulled Draco into a hug, not as strong as the one she had given to Ron, but it served its purpose well enough. Draco all
but collapsed against her, hugging her with enthusiasm . . . the boy simply seemed starved for affection. “My, you are a sweet
young man, aren’t you?” She chuckled, then pulled Draco away from herself, giving him a wide smile. “Come on then, let’s
go see how that grandchild of mine is doing.”
With that said, she took hold of either of their arms and strolled out of the room, not waiting for ether young man to reply. She
remembered well enough where the Hospital Wing was . . . after all it hadn’t been that long ago that she had attended.
Draco sat nervously, awaiting Madam Pomfrey’s return. He fixed the buttons of his shirt as he sat there, smiling as Molly
helped him to put his robes back on. “Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.”
“Now, now . . . no need to keep going on with that ‘Mrs.’ nonsense . . . you’re family now, so call me Mum.” Mrs. Weasley
said, running a warm hand along the side of his face. “Ron’s got exceptional taste, he does . . . I always knew he’d find
someone nice to settle down with.”
Draco blushed, dropping his gaze. The woman was . . . simply put . . . a saint. Here her son had gone off and knocked up a
fellow student and she was happy as a clam. He couldn’t get over it. His own father had disowned him, and Mrs. Weasley
was doing the complete opposite . . . accepting everything with open arms. She was a very kind woman . . . Draco was sorry
that he hadn’t met her before. He would have said just that to the plump woman . . . however, Madam Pomfrey chose that
moment to return with word on how Draco and his child were doing.
“So . . . is he okay?” Ron asked, his tone becoming nervous. Ron always fretted with each of these visits, always fearing that
something had gone wrong. He’d never admitted it to Draco, but Draco could see the concern in his eyes, could hear it in his
Madam Pomfrey smiled knowingly, an expression that made Draco suspicious. “As a matter of fact, your children are quite
healthy.” She smiled.
“That’s good.” Ron sighed. However, barely a second later, his breath caught in his throat. “Wait a minute . . . did you say
Madam Pomfrey nodded. “Yes, two to be exact.”
“Twins?” Draco gulped. He was going to have two kids? Oh, this was just great. Not that he wasn’t happy about it . . . but
the thought of going through labor for two children did not appeal to him . . . hell, it hadn’t appealed to him when he had
thought he was only having the one. He raised his hand to his forehead, suddenly feeling quite faint.
“Oh, don’t you worry, Draco . . . it’s not all that difficult.” Molly hushed, running a gentle hand along his back.
Draco half-smiled. “I . . . I guess I have some time to get used to the idea.” He laughed humorlessly.
Two kids . . . twins . . . he was going to give birth to twins.
To Be Continued . . .