J.K. Rowling owns all things Harry Potter

Scents of grass and honeysuckle wafted through the dark garden, mixing with the sticky-sweet smell of finished ice cream bowls and dying candles. Mrs. Weasley sat back, content, watching Bill explain his adventures to Ginny. The rest of the conversations around them had lulled to sleepy murmuring, and Mrs. Weasley thought it couldn't have been a more perfect evening. But - she realized with a start, it was one that had to end early, if everything was to run smoothly in the morning.

"Look at the time," she said, checking her watch. Everyone's face turned her way. "You should really be in bed, the lot of you - you'll be up at the crack of dawn for the Cup!"

Taking charge, she roused everyone from the table and sent them to the house. There weren't any complaints for once, though there was still the inevitable argument that broke out when Percy found out about his Norwegian fertilizer sample actually being from Fred and George.

"Did you want help with the dishes, Mum?" Ginny offered, having stayed back.

Mrs. Weasley smiled.

"Oh, that's alright, love," she said. "You run along to bed. You'll need your energy to keep that lot in check tomorrow!"

She grinned and ran off, and then it was just her and Arthur there to button everything up for the night.

"I think that went rather well, don't you?" she said.

"It was absolutely lovely, dear."

His face was rosy with wine. Smiling to herself, she began scooping up the silverware, and Arthur (after a soft grunt) got up to help her.

"Now you've got everything packed?" she said.

"I should…" he said. "Perkins's tent, cooking ware, matches…"

"Clothes?"

A grin appeared on his face.

"Do I ever. Got a spare set as well. Perhaps I'll show them off before we turn in for the night?"

"You and your Muggle things," she laughed, and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "How about your work?"

"It's been a rush of a week, let me tell you," he said, disenchanting candles. "But I think I'm in a good spot. I've made it as easy on Perkins as I can… I think he should be able to handle the rest."

"And what about you, then? Think you'll be able to handle that crowd?"

She nodded toward the house. The windows on the upper floors had lit up and everyone was milling about in their rooms. Even from out in the garden, she could hear the loud conversations through the walls and old windows.

Mrs. Weasley looked at her husband, and saw him watching the scene with a loving smile on his face. This was really all thanks to him, she knew. He worked so hard at the Ministry, and put up with so much without ever letting it get to him. Everyday he came home exhausted, but he was forever cheerful, and would brighten right back up as soon as he saw her or anyone else in their family.

"I guess we'll see," said Arthur. "But I think I'll be able to take care of them."

Cozying in beside him, she drew his attention and gave him a kiss. A naughty thought crossed her mind.

"Perhaps you can take care of me too," she said, "before you leave on holiday."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Oh-ho!" he said. "Well, Mrs. Weasley, I'll see what I can do."

"Good," she grinned.

They gathered up the candles and other table settings and started toward the house.

"What would you say if I wore my Muggle outfit?" said Arthur.

She gaped at him, and they laughed.

"As long as it's you, I don't mind what you wear," she said.

They came in through the dutch door and found the house quieting down. Mrs. Weasley flashed her wand at the sink to get the dishes going, and Arthur gave her a kiss on the cheek as he stowed the supplies in their drawers. The living room was quiet. The clock in the kitchen ticked, then struck the hour and starting playing a soft tune.

Arthur came up to her and took her hands, catching her by surprise. He moved her in a small circle. His breath warmed the air between them. She giggled at his silliness, but copied his movements and let herself draw in close to him.

"You're really quite drunk," she muttered softly.

"Am I?" he said, as if he wasn't at all. It made her heart swell.

They swayed there in the kitchen, passing between soft light and shadow, to a tune they'd heard a thousand times. They then went up the stairs to their bedroom, where they embraced and kissed. Arthur undressed, and she cast a muffling charm on the door and walls. Then he undressed her, surprising her by having put on a stubby Muggle tie, which made her laugh. They got into bed, and eventually made their way into tender love making, until they were both buzzing in afterglow and shaking with stifled laughter.

He tapped her on nose with a finger.

"There's my Molly-wobbles," he said.

She squeezed her eyes shut to ward off his sweetness.

"Oh, you!"

Of course, in her haste, Mrs. Weasley had forgotten to muffle the ceiling. And somewhere above this was a pipe, or a beam, that wound all the way up through the house and had transmitted their sounds far better than any tin can and string could. And on the other side of this lay Harry Potter, who was now, suffice it to say, quite awake.