The light shining in from the window was no longer welcoming, but an irritant to her eyes from where she was sitting at the kitchen table with her husband and Dumbledore. Cups of untouched tea sitting in front of them, no one said anything at first. It was too hard to find words when, yet again, Molly's world had been rocked to its core. Another friend was gone and the only hope Molly had now was that this would the last one. Just like Lily, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was also dead. When this story was passed to the press (if Dumbledore hadn't already, anyway), magical Britain and beyond would be rejoicing at the return of peace and safety.

But Molly? She, for what felt like the thousandth time, would be mourning the deaths of those dear to her.

Finally, Arthur, after a long, drawn out sigh, asked "All of them? James, Lily and Harry?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Harry survived," he replied.

Gasping with surprise, Molly reached for her husband's hand. She tried to say something to express her disbelief at this, but found herself incapable of anything but happy squeaking and tears. Running his thumb in soothing circles on the back of her hand, Arthur spoke for her once again. "How? I thought you said You-Know-Who used the killing curses on them."

"That's the strange part, Lily seems to have evoked some sort of protective magic in the process of trying to save Harry from Voldemort."

Flinching at the despicable name, Molly inquired, "Where is he then? I thought you said Peter was dead, Sirius on his way to Azkaban and Remus… He's out of country? So, where does that leave Harry? Is he at Hogwarts?"

Nodding along to her listing off of their locations, Dumbledore paused at her guess to Harry's location and shook his head. Waiting for him to give the baby's real location, Molly's frayed nerves could hardly take it. She might have even started crying in earnest or screaming if it weren't for the fact her dear, dear, Arthur kissed the back of her hand. Looking to him, she was calmed by the way his eyes mirrored her own pains. He hadn't been close to Lily, but he knew her death hurt her deeply, nearly as much as the deaths of the twins had.

"Harry was left with his aunt last night, he'll be–"

"What!" Molly gasped, cutting off Dumbledore entirely. "His aunt? You mean you left poor, little Harry with Petunia?"

Blinking, the old man started, "Yes, well, she is family and there's the matter of wards–"

"She hated Lily! Merlin's name, Albus! It's like putting the boy in a viper's pit!"

"Come now, surely Petunia wouldn't be so spiteful to a little boy…" Dumbledore said in the most soothing, placating tone that he could.

"You obviously know nothing," Molly declared in a low, dangerous tone. "You know nothing about that woman, about that family besides the fact they are related to Lily." Pushing herself up from her chair with shaking, rage-filled arms she hissed at Dumbledore, "Giving him to family might keep him safer, but he will grow up despised for nothing more than being a wizard. In the end, that's really not safe is it? Who knows how that will unhinge the boy and what kind of menace he could grow up to be because of it!"

Frowning, the old man took off his glasses and began to clean them as he eyed the irate woman carefully. "He'll grow up safe, with family, and away from the public eye, surely you see that it's the best option we have?"

"There are hundreds who'd take him in! And at least half of those would do it out of the good of their hearts! Another half would have known his parents to some degree and out of those, there ought to be at least one suitable family who would have the resources, know-how and temperaments to be good surrogate parents to a little boy!" Molly countered loudly and viciously.

"And who are they, Molly?" the man questioned in deceptively light tone that did not match the grim expression of his face.

Molly found herself at a loss. Going through all the parents and not-parents alike that she knew in her head, she could not think of a single one that matched the criteria she'd listed. Tears beginning to sting her eyes at the thought of losing the argument and having to leave that poor little boy with a loathsome woman like Petunia, Molly began to tremble.

Picking up on her inability to name anyone, Dumbledore began, "See now, you can't think of anyone better ei–"

"Us."

Dumbledore and Molly looked to the only other person in the room. Expression accomplished and serene, Arthur smiled. He knew very well that his wife and Headmaster were waiting for him to explain.

"I saw the letter, Molly. Lily said she wouldn't trust anyone more with her baby. If you're who she thought was best, don't you think we should listen to her? After all, a mother does know best," he finished with a smirk that bordered on being just a bit too smug for the likes of a Weasley.

Opening and closing her mouth, Molly didn't know what to say in response. What could she say? Arthur was not just agreeing to adopting a child, but a child like Harry. A boy who's name would be known across the world, a boy who would bring trouble to their small family just by them being the ones to raise him. They were going to be under public scrutiny for the rest of their lives if they took Harry in, but he was willing. He was willing to give up their cozy life for one full of flash and fame and danger. All just to give a child a proper home.

"Arthur," Molly whispered. "Are you sure?"

Grinning, the man's ears flushed ever so slightly under the scrutiny from her and Dumbledore. "I'm sure," he answered.

Looking Dumbledore then, Molly leaned in close when she spotted the hesitancy in his eyes. "Please, Albus? I have the letter if you need to see it. I know you know that we will be more suitable parents than Petunia and her husband, so, again, please? You know Harry will be far better off here than elsewhere."

Sighing, Dumbledore looked between the wife and husband before placing his glasses back on his face. "If you do take in Harry, you cannot change your mind, I want you to understand."

"We won't," Molly declared, reaching for her husband to cling to. "We've been waiting for a child all our lives and it seems that Harry was destined to be it."

"Yes, yes, it may seem that way…" Dumbledore agreed in a distant tone as he stood up. "I suppose, if you plan to take in the dear boy, I should go retrieve him."

Molly, smiling widely, stood up along with the old man and lead him to the hearth. "Yes, please do, Albus. Also, keep in mind, if you fail to bring him here, I'm not against going to the Daily Prophet with the story."

Eyebrows shooting up high, the old man's eyes began to twinkle. "Why, that's very cunning of you, Molly," he chuckled.

"You learn to be, especially when you care for as many different children as I do," she replied back with a smirk.

Waving goodbye, the old man promised, "I'll have him here by tonight or I'll write you a letter to know something has come up."

"Thank you, Albus. You don't know how much this means to us–what it would mean to Lily," Molly said as she watched him take a handful of Floo powder.

Nodding sagely, the old man concluded, "I will see you again soon, goodbye." And with a cry of his destination, Molly and Arthur were left alone once more in their home.

"Aunt Molly?" A little voice piped up from the top of the stairs.

Twirling around, the woman looked to the freckle-faced child standing at the top of the stairs. "Wilber!" she cried, having forgotten in the time since Dumbledore came that her nephew was sleeping upstairs.

"Aunt Molly, Uncle Arthur, who was that?" Wilber inquired as he thumped down the steps and into his aunt's waiting arms for a morning hug.

Ruffling the child's auburn hair, Arthur grinned proudly. "Dumbledore. It seems you'll be getting a little cousin to practice being a big brother on."

Blue eyes going very large, the boy's mouth dropped open. "Are you for real? I'm getting a baby cousin!" he exclaimed, bouncing with sudden exuberance. "When can I meet him? Is he going to be here soon? Oh! Oh! Can I help decorate his room?"

Laughing at the boy's joy, Molly leaned over to share a kiss with her husband. "I told you I'd give you a child someday," she murmured happily into his ear.

"That you did, that you did," Arthur agreed as he reached over to push back her hair and place a more tender kiss to her temple. "I will never doubt you again, my love."

Smiling broadly back, Molly hefted her young nephew up on her hip and proclaimed, "And now, it's time for smiley pancakes!"

"Yay! Smiley pancakes!"

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Seated in a white rocking chair with Harry in her arms, Molly took a moment to take in the room around her. At Wilber's behest, they'd painted the walls emerald green and charmed a moving train to decorate the walls. Everything else was just transfigured boxes and the like, but Arthur was certain tomorrow he could pop out to buy a real cot and changing table to put in the room along with a few more toys that weren't so careworn from a dozen little hands.

Looking once again to the dozing infant in her arms, Molly gently ran her thumb along side the healing wound on Harry's forehead. Everyone in the whole world was going to recognize him by it. Sighing, Molly wondered if they should invest in a small stockpile of hats to cover Harry's forehead for outings.

People might recognize them still, but if Harry wore a hat when they went for strolls or to market, maybe, if he was ever so lucky. Which, really, was all Molly knew she could hope for. Harry was going to have to learn to deal with the fame and the younger he did, the better, she felt.

"Are you two doing okay?" Arthur asked softly as he walked into the room.

Smiling at her husband as he began to massage her shoulders, Molly strained her neck to kiss his jawline. "Just lovely," she answered. "Harry was babbling for his daddy a little bit ago, but it was easy enough to distract him with a picture book."

Arthur winced in sympathy for their new son. "I guess he won't be calling me Daddy anytime soon," he said.

"No… I don't think he'll be calling you Dadddy or I, Mummy, for quite some time," Molly agreed thoughtfully as she shifted Harry's snoozing body a little higher in her arms. "Do we want him to call us Mummy and Daddy, anyway? Those titles rightfully belong to Lily and James, don't you think?"

Arthur gave a small nod. "You're probably right, but what's he to call us, then? Aunt Molly and Uncle Arthur? Not that I object to those names, but he's effectively our son, now, Molly."

"Hm… You can be Papa and I'll be, oh, how about Ma? It sounds a little silly, but Mama sounds a bit too similar to Mumma for my tastes."

"Wonderful, Papa and Ma we will be," Arthur agreed with a kiss to the top of her head.

Staring at Harry's small face with her husband, Molly was made to find all the bits that she could of his parents in his features. Harry, like most babies, did not look overly much like either parent at this point. However, if Molly stared hard enough, she knew she could find bits of James and Lily in his countenance yet. She already knew that Harry's hair was James's and she suspected his face would take on his father's shape as well. Yet Harry's eyes were already completely Lily's. The shape, the color, the eyebrows that laid above them.

Oh Lily…

Wiping at her eyes, Molly held back a soft sob. "A-Arthur," she sniffled.

"Sh, shh.," he soothed, wrapping his arms strongly around her shoulders as he began to rock the chair she and Harry sat in. "Don't cry, my love. Not in front of our son like this."

Molly shook and gulped in air. "I know," she mumbled. "Harry's already been through enough, to see his Ma cry on top of that… Oh, but, Arthur! Lily should be the one holding him, James should be the one watching her and Harry... I feel like we're masquerading as a family that we're never going to be!"

"No, Molly. We will be that family. You know why? Because that's what Harry needs. He needs a Ma and Papa to love him and if we start doubting ourselves because we aren't his first parents, then he's never going to have that, you see?" Arthur asserted as he kneaded his fingers into her shoulders.

Molly didn't quite see, but she thought she understood. If she doubted her capabilities and her role, Harry would too. That was the last thing she wanted for Lily's–her–son. She wanted him to know he could trust her implicitly, she wanted Harry to know her love for him was endless and infinite. That no matter what happened, what he said or did, she would love him.

That she had always wanted him and nothing was ever going to change that.

Stirring in her arms, Harry's sooty lashes lifted halfway and his bright, sleep-hazed green eyes looked up to her searchingly. "Mumma?" he asked.

Petting the baby's hair, Molly held back the urge to cry and kissed his forehead. "No, love, you have just Ma and Papa now."

"Ma? Pah-pa?" Harry repeated uncertainly.

Nodding, the woman pointed at herself. "I'm Ma," she explained, "and this here, he's Papa," she finished, pointing up at Arthur's smiling face.

"Mumma?" he asked after a moment.

Sharing a look with Arthur, Molly remembered back to all the other children she'd watched over the years. When little ones had asked after their parents, she would find something to distract them...

"Harry, dear, how about a song?"

The baby frowned, but after a long moment, agreed with a bob of his head before shoving his hand in his mouth.

Smiling, Molly cuddled him close. Taking a breath, she began to sing:

Hushabye,

don't you cry,

I love you,

do do doo...

Hushabye,

babymine

I love you,

do do doo...

A lullaby

Just for you

my little one

do do doo...

Hushabye

don't you cry

I love you

do do doo...

Hushabye

forever mine

I love you

(I love you...)

By the time she reached the last line of her lullaby, Harry was once again somewhere off in dreamland. Standing up from the rocking chair, she went to lay Harry down in his crib and kissed his little cheeks and then his nose and finally, his lips.

"Goodnight, my son," she whispered.

Arthur's hand coming to enclose around her own, Arthur murmured, "Sleep tight, my boy."

Turning her eyes on her husband, Molly carefully lead him out of the room and to their own bedroom. Sitting him down on the end of the bed next to her, she squeezed his hand. "We finally have a son of our own," she said.

"Yes, we do," Arthur replied with a grin. "I'll teach him how a muggle motor boats works, why Chudley Cannons are the best Quidditch team ever. What, Molly, do you plan to teach our son?"

For a moment, she did not know how to answer, but when she met her husband's eyes, ready to admit defeat, Molly found she had known the answer all along. "I'll teach Harry how to never give up, why bravery is the most important trait to have and what love can do."

Leaning in for a kiss, the man muttered, "There's my girl."

"I love you," Molly said when they pulled apart.

Fingers slipping beneath her blouse, Arthur nodded, "I love you too, Molly."

Motioning for the lights to go out, Molly sank heavily into the arms of her husband and thought that all their talking would be lost in favor of more intimate communication, when, Arthur asked, "Are you happy, my love? I know you are mourning, but do you think you can finally be happy with our life? We have everything we always wanted. We have each other, a home in the country, good friends and family, and, now, a child of our own. We have everything we dreamed of."

"Yes, I'm happy and I think I always will be now," Molly answered after a quiet laugh. Her path to her dream had been full of twists and bumpy roads, but she finally was what she'd always wanted to be: a Mother.

And in the end, nothing else mattered.

A/N: Molly's journey to motherhood has come to its end and she will now raise Harry as her own. Now the only thing left is an epilogue.