Your Heart's Desire

Your Heart's Desire

Molly Weasley's maternal bosom and heart were swelling with each breath she drew.

"You've always been just like a mother to me," Harry had said as an prelude to the conversation they were currently having, "and I need a bit of motherly advice."

Oh, how sweet of the boy! Though 'boy' probably wasn't the correct designation any longer for the 22 year-old man who was sitting across the table, but as she saw him fumbling nervously with his teaspoon and picking the raisins out of his scone, his eyes downcast, and - above all - a blush creeping up his cheeks, she'd still have mistaken him for the awkward teenager she'd come to love and adopt as her own son.

"What's the matter, Harry? You can talk to me about anything, you know, my darling."

Harry flinched, and Molly immediately regretted her words. "You're such an, er, overwhelming mother," Percy had once said to her, and she'd never had the chance to ask him why anyone would think this bad. Nevertheless, she really tried to reduce affectionate terms to a minimum when talking to her adult sons. Which, of course, included Harry.

"I'm... I'm about to make a... a decision for my future, my life, a very- the most important one, I think."

Molly blinked, confused. "Problems, da- Harry?" Arthur had told her - in the strictest confidence, of course - that Harry wasn't doing particularly well at the Ministry, that he lacked energy; he was carrying out his duties, of course, but hardly ever commited himself into his work.

"Maybe it's been too early, Harry deserves a break from being The Saviour," Charlie had suggested, but Molly couldn't see the point in this. After all, they'd done what was best for the boy. Man. For the man. And Harry had willingly agreed to working for Arthur's department.

"I could talk to Arthur, if you want me to -" From the horrified look in Harry's eyes, this had rather obviously been the wrong suggestion to make. Why would the bo- man discuss business issues with her, after all? She scolded herself for being so insensitive.

Harry regained his composure. "It's more personal... entirely personal... I-I need, want to... h-how how d-do you tell..." He paused, closing his eyes and very obviously summoning up all his courage. His hand cramped around the tea spoon, nearly bending it.

No, Molly, don't, DON'T... she needed all the mental force she could muster to withdraw her hand which was already outstretched, ready to pat Harry's. She set her face into determinedly cheerful lines and chirped: "Come on, tell old Molly!"

Harry seemed to crumble even further, and Molly mentally heaved a sigh. "Harry," she said, switching to a more I'm-the-most-sensible-person-you-will-find tone, "now, talk. What's bothering you?"

"Maybe you're the wrong person to talk to," he whispered, "but I... I didn't want to... Hermione's de-... and Ron - I can't talk to Ron, he would... no, and I don't know who -" He lowered his eyes once more, looking more miserable than ever.

At this point, not even the united powers of all Four Founders could have prevented Molly's hand from wrapping itself around Harry's.

"Spit it out, Harry," she said.

He inhaled deeply, and then, in one rush, so quickly she had difficulties to grasp every word, he babbled: "How do you tell someone that you're in love - have been for.. oh, almost forever, that you don't- can't live without... that. That all you can think of is. Is."

Molly's eyes followed Harry's fingers which had withdrawn from under her palm and were caressing the silver spoon, running up and down its length. Harry's glance, however, flickered towards the wall where-

Oh. My. God. My. God. My. God.

On the wall, right in the centre, Ginny's portrait was hanging.

For a few seconds, the world around Molly Weasley seemed to stand still, her heart skipped a few beats only to resume work with double speed. She'd never talked about this dearest wish of hers, not even to Arthur; not only because she didn't want to push Harry but also out of respect for her love-struck daughter - who was still love-struck, she knew that - though, of course, she'd hoped. And not listened to her sons. Or to the rumours, come to that.

"Oh, Harry..." she finally managed to say, tears of happiness welling in her eyes. "That's wonderful. Being in love is wonderful, the most wonderful thing that could possibly happen to you. To anyone. And you deserve it, Harry, you deserve to be happy!" Her hand had resumed its previous action. Both of them, actually. "All of us wish that you -"

The boy was literally squirming by now, and Molly pulled herself together. Again.

"So, I get it that you haven't talked about your true feelings to -" DO NOT look at Ginny's portrait now, Molly, it will embarrass him to no end to know that you know, "to this person?"

A nod, subsequently followed by another deep sigh. Oh, the poor boy, so visibly in trouble - wasn't it cute that the Hero of the Wizarding World would be so self-conscious when it came to matters of the heart?

"Oh, Harry." Her maternal instincts were now fully kicking in, and in her mind the boy was already half-drowned in an all-encompassing embrace, tightly pulled to her motherly heart. To embrace both of them, the happy couple, to see this come true - and what would Arthur say? He loved Harry like a son, too, and would love him as a son-in-law, of course, and Harry was no-one who would merely sleep around, for sure his intentions were of the purest kind, no need to worry. Besides, they were suffering from an unfortunate lack of grandchildren, since neither Charlie nor the twins nor Ron had been willing to fulfil their family duties until now, and Bill was far away...

She forced her fantasy back into line. "Declare your love, dear," she said, determined. "I know it's a huge step to take - God, I remember Arthur stammering and blushing and repeating the words over and over again, and he confessed to me later how afraid he was, but don't worry, G-" Ops, take care, Molly! She blinked, and continued to stroke Harry's wrists.

"I'm so scared," he whispered, and the anguish in his voice almost broke Molly's heart, "what if- if I'm rejected? I just couldn't live..."

"Harry, darling, darling!" Grabbing his wrists, she pulled his hands towards her, and her eyes locked with his, almost as if trying to persuade, to hypnotise him. She was not going to mess this up.

"Don't be afraid! There's no reason for doubt! Who wouldn't love you, dear," she whispered, squeezing his hands reassuringly, "I'm sure, no, I know you won't be rejected... and," she added cheekily in an attempt to brighten him up, "besides, you're not just anybody, who wouldn't want to-"

Seeing him flinch, she stopped mid-sentence. Uh-oh, wrong path. "You're a lovable person, dear," she continued, somewhat lame, "and whoever doesn't appreciate..." No, still not the best way to go.

Yet, despite doubt was still lingering in his eyes, Harry now smiled for the first time - though why slightly wistfully, she wondered. He pressed his lips together, then barely audibly whispered: "But how- when- I don't know..."

"There's never the one perfect moment - just say it and -" Oh no, that had been far too practical a suggestion if she read the disappointed look on Harry's face correctly. "Of course, creating a romantic atmosphere is always helpful," she added, pensive. An extended walk along the lake, a candlelight dinner... oh, Ginny would just melt...

"Make it a surprise - a simple invitation to dinner, perhaps..."

Harry's eyes began to light up. "Ye-es?"

"...and then, what you have to do is create a unique atmosphere, a special mood - it's the mood that's important - let the surrounding talk for you..." Molly could already see the room - dimmed light, soft music, and the table... "You should order a meal, or - you do cook, don't you?"

Harry nodded, staring at - what? The honey jar?

"Oh, great, that certainly has a more personal touch - you know, taking the trouble yourself - and -"

She smiled affectionately when she saw the thoughtful expression on Harry's face. The boy was warming up to the idea! How sweet - he nibbled at his index finger, almost sucking at the tip of it, and his eyes were sparkling. Hers too, by the way. And getting moist. Thus - on with the programme.

"And make use of candles. Yes, candles are just perfect, dear. You'll have to-"

"Wax?"

"-what?" Molly frowned, temporarily thrown off track. Yet, her throat was tightening with emotion as she realised that Harry's gaze was fixed on the ribbons she'd bought to decorate the kitchen's curtains with. Shiny ribbons, hanging over the armrest of her chair, a waterfall in red silk, just like Ginny's hair... no wonder Harry's tongue kept darting across his lower lip, and his breathing...

"Harry?" Was the boy still listening? But anyway - Ginny loved candlelight.

"Candles. I know you might think this to be cliché - but it works, believe me. And flowers, of course; you know, accompanying such a declaration with a bunch of red roses-"

"Oh no, no flowers," Harry muttered, still lost in thoughts. "Draco's suffering from hay fever."