*That isn't what she means and they both know it, but Arthur says it firmly anyway. As for himself...he considers taking a piece of toast just for Molly's sake, but he doesn't have the stomach for it.
Making himself move, he squeezes her shoulder as he stands, and then vanishes upstairs to try and do in five minutes what normally takes at least half an hour. Getting six boys, all between one and ten and two of them trouble multiplied, dressed and down to the fireplace is no small feat, but Arthur manages it. Bill's first, and he helps - the child is a saint, Arthur thinks sometimes, the way he is with his little brothers - keeping the twins bundled shoulder to shoulder in a sleepy blanketed huddle as he frog-marches them downstairs. Charlie's fine - seems to sense something's wrong, like Bill - and Percy's too obedient to be much of a problem. All in all it goes more smoothly than Arthur would've hoped, though he hates the look Bill gives him as he reappears at the bottom of the stairs, Ron in his arms. The boy's standing there near Molly with one hand on George's tousled head, clearly aware that some fundamental shift in the family's whole axis has happened, and his eyes ask what his words only hedge at.*
Dad - ?
*He wants to lie. Arthur rarely lies to his sons, but he wants more than anything to tell Bill it's going to be fine, that Mum's just a bit tired and it's all going to be alright. But the words fail in his throat, and he shifts Ron into one arm as he goes to scoop a handful of Floo powder from the jar on the mantle.*
You're just going to Auntie Muriel's for the day, Bill. *His voice is an undertone; this isn't for the other boys, who are mostly too sleepy to listen anyway.* I'll explain everything later. Take care of your brothers - I'll come get you this afternoon. Alright?
*Bill nods, too solemn for a ten-year-old, and Arthur's heart aches at the gravity in the boy's face. With a last regretful look at him, he tosses the powder into the fire and firmly tells it where to take them, and sees them all in safely, Ron held securely in Bill's arms. It's only then that he can look back to his wife, at the twisted bits of metal under her hand. He debates just running with her charade, but the idea of letting her just lock everything out....*
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Date: 2011-10-27 05:32 pm (UTC)*That isn't what she means and they both know it, but Arthur says it firmly anyway. As for himself...he considers taking a piece of toast just for Molly's sake, but he doesn't have the stomach for it.
Making himself move, he squeezes her shoulder as he stands, and then vanishes upstairs to try and do in five minutes what normally takes at least half an hour. Getting six boys, all between one and ten and two of them trouble multiplied, dressed and down to the fireplace is no small feat, but Arthur manages it. Bill's first, and he helps - the child is a saint, Arthur thinks sometimes, the way he is with his little brothers - keeping the twins bundled shoulder to shoulder in a sleepy blanketed huddle as he frog-marches them downstairs. Charlie's fine - seems to sense something's wrong, like Bill - and Percy's too obedient to be much of a problem. All in all it goes more smoothly than Arthur would've hoped, though he hates the look Bill gives him as he reappears at the bottom of the stairs, Ron in his arms. The boy's standing there near Molly with one hand on George's tousled head, clearly aware that some fundamental shift in the family's whole axis has happened, and his eyes ask what his words only hedge at.*
Dad - ?
*He wants to lie. Arthur rarely lies to his sons, but he wants more than anything to tell Bill it's going to be fine, that Mum's just a bit tired and it's all going to be alright. But the words fail in his throat, and he shifts Ron into one arm as he goes to scoop a handful of Floo powder from the jar on the mantle.*
You're just going to Auntie Muriel's for the day, Bill. *His voice is an undertone; this isn't for the other boys, who are mostly too sleepy to listen anyway.* I'll explain everything later. Take care of your brothers - I'll come get you this afternoon. Alright?
*Bill nods, too solemn for a ten-year-old, and Arthur's heart aches at the gravity in the boy's face. With a last regretful look at him, he tosses the powder into the fire and firmly tells it where to take them, and sees them all in safely, Ron held securely in Bill's arms. It's only then that he can look back to his wife, at the twisted bits of metal under her hand. He debates just running with her charade, but the idea of letting her just lock everything out....*
...No one from the Ministry's come about it yet?