A/N: I'm back, team! And wrote the last thousand words of this prologue tonight while inhaling cookies and diet coke and listening to the same song on repeat, which means it is either very good or really incoherent. Hope the latter.

This is the sequel to Left Unsaid. I'm going to take down Wayward Weasley and retool it after I write this story, but this story has to take precedent. A little explanation on this is warranted; I sort of convinced myself it was self-indulgent of me to keep writing Molly. I love Molly Gale, the character that stumbled into my head in 2011 (three years ago, yikes). She is fun to write. Rose Weasley was less fun but an interesting experiment, to which I will come back. But I need to finish Molly (and, kind of, Sera Finnigan), first.

If you have not read Left Unsaid, this is going to be more difficult to read. Not impossible, but difficult. It's also tied into No Chance, but No Chance is not as crucial as those events theoretically occurred about twelve years before this, which means there will be a lot of review of those concepts because the characters will need it, not just us.

A further note; I have really tried with dates, but, for whatever reason, my vast intellect (JK, I can't always follow the plot of commercials) tends to get dates messed up more frequently than, say, names. So. If there's an error, let me know a.s.a.p. Or if there are other errors.

Prologue

November 2022; Sixth Year

As one might imagine, the seventeenth birthday is a big one in the wizarding world. Most people celebrate by going out and getting crashingly drunk. Some have dignified dinners with cocktails, some take a big group over to their house and lose their minds there; age of majority is still widely celebrated, mostly with alcohol.

I had instead opted to celebrate with the Family Services segment of the Ministry of Magic.

Nate, the Weasleys, and Augusta Longbottom and I sat in folding chairs in silence, watching Mr. Potter across the narrow hallway.

"You don't have to do this, Molly." Mr. Weasley, Fred's dad, said finally, his voice low. I let out a breath, and beside me, in my peripheral vision, I saw Nate's fist clench. Nate hated the Weasleys, mostly Fred, though it carried over somewhat to his very similar father. But that wasn't why I was doing this.

"I don't." I agreed quietly, looking down at the papers in front of me. Nate had printed my name in block letters, and then, in the box below, his. Silence fell again. We'd had this half of the conversation ten times since I'd told them, two weeks ago, that I would be filing for sole custody of Nate. It always ended here, their lack of comprehension obvious, but my lacking anything to offer them.

Not this time.

"What did I do wrong?" Augusta asked finally, her voice steely. I blinked, then leaned forward to stare at her. My brother's guardian didn't look at me, instead staring at the wall.

"What?" Nate finally asked after a beat, speaking for both of us, mimicking my position.

"Why do you want sole custody of Nathanial?" She asked, not meeting my eyes. I swallowed as it dawned on me; she thought she had screwed up somehow, lost our trust. No.

"I asked her to take custody because you aren't my family and she is." Nate snapped. I glanced sharply at him, but he was staring at his guardian. "It was really nice of you to take Molly in, and I know she loves you, and I know Cory and the twins love you, but I don't belong to any of you people." Nate shook his head once, his accusing glance flicking from Augusta to the other adults near us. "This wasn't Molly's choice. It was mine."

George Weasley looked confused. "What made you think you didn't belong to us?" He asked in an odd voice.

Nate snorted derisively. "Molly is your son's best friend and your nephew's girlfriend. Cormac is young and so smart and magic. The twins are adorable and a walking advertisement for what's worth saving from domestic abuse." He shook his head. "I'm too old, I've been arrested, and I was the kid who couldn't keep it together. You've been kind to me because of Molly and that's—"

"I am very much attached to you." Mrs. Longbottom said quietly. "Also to the twins and Cormac and Molly, but you are not the exception, Nathanial. I am very attached to you too." Silence fell on us as we all blinked at Mrs. Longbottom. Nate shot me panic eyes—what was he supposed to say to that—but didn't say anything. So I swallowed and then slid forward on my chair, so I could face her.

"Did you just say that you love us?" I asked after a beat. Mrs. Longbottom raised her eyebrows.

"Did you not hear me?" She asked me chidingly.

"You love us?" Nate asked. "All of us?" Nate's voice was so much softer now, and I saw Mr. Weasley suppress a smile in my peripheral vision.

"I believe I said that I love you in addition to your siblings." Mrs. Longbottom confirmed. "Not just all of you as a unit. I love you, Nathanial, and Molly, and Cormac and Callum and Elena." Nate stared at her. Then he turned and sat back in his chair, looking down at his hands. He looked like a little boy, years younger. After almost a minute, he glanced up at me. The moment I met his gaze, I let out a breath, looking up at my boyfriend's father.

"Alright, team, we're not doing this today." I said shortly to him. "Can I floo back from the Auror department? And can someone take Nate home?"

"I'm not a child—" Nate muttered resentfully as Mr. Potter nodded to my first question.

"You have to go back to school today, okay?" I said to him, turning back to him. "And tell Tessa I say hi. And if you want a gift from Hogsmeade hit me up but I'm sure you can get into Diagon Alley if you ask Mrs. Longbottom." I paused. "And tell the twins I love them." I stood up, looking expectantly at the group. "Mr. Potter, care to walk back upstairs with me?"

My boyfriend's father blinked at me. "What just happened?" He asked.

"Nate wanted to be in my custody. Now he doesn't." I said shortly. "Let's go. If I run I can make Al's quidditch game."

Mr. Potter shook his head, pushing himself up, and I turned, walking away from him. I heard him mutter something about crazy children as he caught up with me, his shoes scuffing the floor loudly. I barely heard him, though, because I was too busy pushing down a smile as my ears rung.

Mrs. Longbottom loved us.

June 2023

"How is James graduating?" Fred murmured to me as we stood several steps back from the Potter family; they were taking pictures together on the lawn of their yard, at James's graduation party. Sera was beaming at them from behind a camera, her black robe open to show off her golden dress. Golden girl wears golden dress. Sera was too much.

"I don't know." I said, taking a sip of the champagne that I'd grabbed within three steps of arriving. I shook my head, looking up at Fred. "Scarier even is that, next year, this is going to be us."

Fred wheeled around to glare at me. "No. I refuse." He said shortly. "I love Hogwarts. I don't want to be a grown up." I snorted in laughter.

"Too late, dude. I almost had custody of another human being like eight months ago." I rolled my eyes.

"That's different." Fred said dismissively; I glanced at him, my eyebrows raised. "Nate is—not a child." I shrugged one shoulder, turning back to the Potter family.

Albus looked good today; those skinny Potter boys wore suits well, even if Albus probably weighed less than even his brother. It was made him such a good seeker, all stick skinny with wiry muscles. "I can't believe Albus is already talking to recruiters." I murmured.

"He's what?" Fred demanded, and I glanced sharply at him, wondering if this was news to him. Shock quickly gave way to indignation, bringing his eyebrows together. "Albus didn't tell me that!" I pursed my lips. I had assumed Albus had told everyone; it was exciting, after all. Munich's team had even offered him a lot of money to drop out and just begin as soon as possible, but Albus hadn't wanted to.

In fairness, I wasn't sure what that number was; Albus had gotten weird when I asked him, and I hadn't wanted to push on it. We were both weird about money, albeit for different reasons. He had a lot of it, and not so much for the Gales, though the Weasleys and Mrs. Longbottom were now terrifying insistent that I was their child, too, and thusly just as entitled to financial assistance as their children.

"Oops." I murmured, taking another sip of champagne.

"Albus!" Fred called across the grass, cupping one hand around his mouth; Al glanced up at him alertly, even as I choked on my champagne, realizing that if Albus hadn't told Fred, he definitely hadn't told his parents.

"Fred—" I garbled out, grabbing for his arm.

But Fred was already beaming at his cousin; he'd figured out the exact same thing I had, only faster. And he had no qualms about getting his cousin in trouble. Dammit, Fred. "You didn't tell me you were already talking to teams!"

The Potters froze in spot, all of them looking at us instead of the camera. Even perfect Sera had stopped, her mouth slightly open as she stared at us.

"Woah, Albus." Lily said after a beat.

"Yes, Albus, woah." Mrs. Potter said acidly, looking down at her son. Albus met her gaze for a half-second before looking at me accusingly.

"I didn't know it was a secret!" I called out, stepping forward. "You should have told me that you weren't telling your parents—"

"You told Molly but not us?" James demanded irritably, and Albus shot him a warning look.

"Awful lot of emphasis on my girlfriend's name there, mate." Albus noted darkly, stepping away from his family to turn to face them; the picture-perfect family of a minute ago was disintegrating in front of our eyes. "And I'm only talking to them, Mum, it's just—"

"They're not supposed to recruit under-17s." Ginny said darkly. "Was it Tutshill? It sounds like something Cho would pull—"

"I'm not under 17!" Albus retorted, shooting his mother a bewildered look. "And Tutshill didn't ask."

"I didn't realize you were thinking about being a professional seeker, son." Mr. Potter said, concern shading his voice.

"I am literally speaking words at these people, the same way I am talking to you." Albus snapped. "I'm not making a career decision this second, at James's graduation party, nor have I any of the seconds before this because it's been insane the last few weeks." He ran his hand through his hair. "This is exactly why I didn't tell you. I knew you'd get crazy." He turned to me plaintively. "I knew."

"You're speaking words at them?" James demanded of his little brother, his eyebrows raised. Albus waved an exasperated hand at him.

"If Tutshill didn't ask, who did?" Mr. Potter asked curiously. Albus spun to meet his gaze, a new kind of frantic energy entering his body. He managed to hold still, though, and silence fell after his father's question. For a moment, I thought he wasn't going to answer, but then my boyfriend ran a hand over his eyes.

"Kites, Quafflepunchers, Finches, Mules, and the Cannons." He listed shortly. "Mules offered me 100,000 galleons bonus to start immediately."

This time there really was silence.

100,000 galleons. Holy shit. That was not a small amount of money. That was nearly 500,000 pounds. And that was his bonus.

"What the fuck." Fred said finally, no inflection at all in his voice. "You're not that good."

"Thanks." Albus said sarcastically, shooting Fred an irritated look; James snickered, and Albus took a long enough pause to look heavenward for help. I sighed, stepping forward to grab his hand, and he squeeze it lightly, glancing down at me for a second before he looked back to his father. "And I know, I'm not that good. I think it's a name thing—Harry Potter's son on the team is a lot of publicity."

"You are really good though." I said quietly, looking from him back to Fred challengingly. Fred made a face at me. "You would have been recruited without the name. Just maybe less money."

"Definitely less money." James murmured, but when I turned to glare at him, he was frowning at Albus almost absent-mindedly. He was no longer involved in this conversation. Ugh, James.

"Why didn't you take it?" Lily asked curiously.

"He did it for Molly." James guessed. I flushed, glancing from Al to his parents, to James, who was looking at me like I knew it. He raised an eyebrow at me, and I glared more fiercely at him. He raised his eyebrows. "She's at school next year, even if Al isn't." He continued after a beat, his voice a little softer; his tone startled me. "He's staying for her."

Albus said nothing, and Mr. Potter blew out a breath. Silence tucked in around us as the graduation party went on, just a few feet from us, on all sides. I caught Mrs. Longbottom's gaze; the old woman was standing at the drinks table, a glass of scotch in the hand opposite her handbag. She was observing our whole interaction with interest. "Okay." Mrs. Potter finally said quietly; my gaze snapped back to her. She looked at me for a long moment, before looking to her husband. "I believe Sera and Molly belong in the family photo, then, don't they?"

"If you say so, my dear." Mr. Potter said mildly. Albus's arm, under my fingers, relaxed considerably, as Sera handed off the camera to Fred.

"Wait, so it takes Molly to get the girls in the picture, even though Sera and I are practically—" James demanded, outraged, as he turned to his mother, his arm dropping from around her shoulders.

"Molly?" Albus repeated angrily. "Molly is my—"

"Oh, Lord." I interrupted tiredly. "We will never bury this bone. Can we just take this photo now?" Albus sighed dramatically. "C'mon." I ordered, grabbing his hand pulling him with me back to his parents as James allowed his mother's arm to slide back around him. We fell into formation easily, even with Sera's and my new addition.

That was the first family photo I had been in since I was eleven.

December 2023; Seventh Year

"Happy Christmas!" I said cheerily to my siblings' guardian; Mrs. Longbottom allowed me to kiss her cheek, raising her Sherry to me.

"And to you, my dear." She said to me, smiling slightly; this was the most enthusiasm I'd received from her since hearing that she was "quite fond" of me. As she turned her gaze to Albus, however, her smile dropped and eyes turned icy. "Mr. Potter." She said levelly. "I should like to have a moment's conversation with you." She had never liked Albus since he was a little kid—a few pranks too many, I suspected—but it had reached a new level since I had informed her that he and I would be living together after school ended.

"And we shall get some drinks." Professor Longbottom said grandly, coming over to me. He was in a nice suit, and he put a hand on my upper back to separate me from my boyfriend. I resisted the urge to go back to Al; surely Mrs. Longbottom would not maim him in front of all of these people.

Although, who knew? She did dislike him, after all.

"Why are you kidnapping me?" I demanded of my head of house, shooting him a disgruntled frown.

"Because," Professor Longbottom said to me in a pleasant tone, guiding me to where a suit of armor in the corner was offering flutes of champagne, "my lovely grandmother said she would like to have a private conversation with Albus, and I," Longbottom took one glass and quickly downed the entire thing, "being of sound mind," He put down the first glass and delicately picked up a second, "thought it would be in everyone's best interest to acquiesce."

"She's not that scary." I muttered, also taking a glass and ignoring my professor's apparently-impending alcoholism. I turned slightly, glancing back at where my siblings' guardian had pulled my boyfriend to the side, her voice low as she spoke to my wide-eyed boyfriend. "Albus is not going to fare well in this." I said after a beat, sighing. "When he gets nervous, he makes jokes."

"Gran does not like jokes." Longbottom agreed, then knocked back this glass of champagne as well. I raised my eyebrows.

"What are you doing?" I asked him slowly. Longbottom shot me a wild look.

"I've been offered the post of Head of School." He murmured to me, turning back to the suit of armor and putting down his empty glass. "Padma is going to Salem at the end of the year, she's marrying a American, and the post is mine if I want it."

"That's great!" I said after a beat, and Longbottom grabbed another glass. The armor's helmet's visor flopped up and down once, and Longbottom squinted at it suspiciously, before turning his back on it dismissively.

"Quite pleased, yes, but Gran is going to kill me." He whispered hysterically. I stared up at him. "Gran is not going to be pleased. She has wanted me to quit and come be Earl of the Longbottom Estate for years." He glanced at me frantically. "It's a miracle I am even employable!"

"Okay, wow." I said after a beat. "Are you a proper Earl, with the—"

"We were raised by the same taxidermied-animal-wearing old woman and I intend on getting drunk enough to sleep here by the end of the evening." Professor Longbottom told me, still frenzied. "I think we can jump to first names until the New Year." He downed this third glass, as well. "And yes, I am, I think? I don't know, I have blocked out most of the knowledge of the Longbottoms that was heaved upon me at the Summer Estate."

"Okay, you are acting like you are a thirteen-year-old at his first alcoholic party so I will tell you exactly what I told Nate when I ran into him there." I said shortly to my head-of-house. "Mum and Dad will kill you if they see you, you look like an idiot, no one will carry you home if you pass out, and if you continue, you shall probably sick up approximately one hundred times." I paused. "If you replace Mum and Dad with Mrs. Longbottom, it will be about correct."

Longbottom blinked at me. "You wouldn't have carried home your brother?"

"Of course, I would have." I said dismissively, turning to look at Albus again and taking a single sip of my drink. Mrs. Longbottom nodded to him and Albus stepped away, hurrying across the large hall to me. "But you can't tell him that or else that's no disincentive." Albus finally reached us, and his face was white. "I'm on first name bases with our head of house, now, Al." I said with a sardonic smile. "Oh, and Longbottom is going to be the next head of school. Also he might be a muggle earl." Albus blinked at me. "In truth, I was left with more questions than answers from our chat." I paused, and the black-haired boy in front of me remained silent. Hmm. That was uncharacteristic. "Albus?" I asked after a longer moment. He did not speak. "Is everything okay?"

"Mrs. Longbottom has bought us a house in London." He said flatly. "In Knightsbridge. It has a lot of bedrooms. And probably cost actual millions of galleons." I stared at him.

"What?" I asked after a beat.

"I thought you said she disapproved of us living together." Albus whispered, stepping forward. I blinked up at him.

"She did!" I protested, indignant at the accusation. "She does. She's been—you've seen how she's been towards you since I told her!"

"She does disapprove." Longbottom agreed tonelessly beside us. I turned to look at him; he had a new glass, but hadn't yet downed this one, which was promising. "She probably intends for it to be a kind of wedding gift. Like, I'll buy you a house, please make an honourable woman out of my ward, that sort of thing." He took a hearty sip of his champagne, but didn't down this one, which I considered to be progress.

I, on the other hand, was not making progress. Outrage and embarrassment were welling under my breastbone, swelling until it made my heartbeat speed, my lungs ache. Mrs. Longbottom thought we couldn't provide for ourselves, or thought that she had to bribe Albus into a relationship with me.

Albus seemed to notice that I was about to lose my shit, because he turned to our head of house. "Uncle Neville, is there any chance we could have a moment alone?" Albus asked after a beat, his voice pleasant; Longbottom raised his eyebrows.

"I can leave, but you two really should step into the back garden if you want to be properly alone." Longbottom muttered, turning away. "The walls have ears."

Albus tilted his head towards the French doors that lead from the foyer to the back steps and the garden, and I led the way out the doors, Al following me into the frigid night air. He had barely closed the door behind me before I spun on my heel. "She is outrageous." I said after a beat. "We haven't even graduated. I can't believe her. This is so—I'm embarrassed!" I cut myself off, shaking my head as I looked away determinedly. "Like you require a house—like we need that pressure, of a house with the encouragement to marry when your grandmother has already mentioned that she was engaged to your grandfather at eighteen like 100 times—"

"Love." Albus said carefully, and I glanced at him. He looked sort of slouched over, his shoulders pulled forward. His cloak hung awkwardly on his skinny, embarrassed shoulders. "I think she gave it to us because she thinks I'm not going to be able to provide for you."

I took a breath, my own embarrassment sliding out of me. "What?" I asked softly.

Albus blew out a breath, letting it cloud in front of him, before he leaned his head back to look at the sky. "She said that if I was going to insist on being an athlete, she would make sure you were taken care of." He wouldn't lower his gaze.

"Albus." I kept my voice very soft, taking a step towards him. I got so few opportunities to do this for Albus. I had to do this one right. I took a deep breath. "She had no right to say that."

"I mean." Albus laughed quietly, looking down at me and shrugging uncomfortably, too fast. "She's not wrong."

"She is." I disagreed quietly. "First off, you don't need to provide for me. I intend to get a job. Like an adult." I paused. "And, aside from that, people already offered you a ton of money to play. An actual ton."

"Because of Dad." Albus countered shortly. "Once it becomes clear that I'm not the second coming of Roderick Plumpton, they'll pay me the same amount they pay starter players which is not that much, and that might not even be enough to pay for maintenance on this goddamned house—" He reached up to run a hand through his hair.

"I don't want this house. You don't want this house." I said to him softly. "Let's give it back."

Albus's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "She definitely spent like 4 million galleons on that." He protested.

I shrugged as if this meant nothing; in reality, I knew there might be repercussions for turning down this property. But that didn't matter. Albus couldn't feel like shit about where we lived. That wasn't fair. "She didn't ask us. I don't care." Albus shifted from one foot to the other, and I felt my heart pang. Little boy Albus.

"I just hate that she thinks that it's necessary." He murmured.

"Then let's prove her wrong." I proposed easily, taking another step toward him, slipping my arms around his chest; after a second, he reached out, locking his fingers at the small of my back. "We'll give back the house. She'll give it to Nate when he reaches muggle majority, or to Neville." I looked up at him. "She has no idea what she's talking about. Ignore her. We'll be better off without this."

Albus nodded, and I ducked my head against his robe; he immediately pressed his face into my hair, inhaling deeply. "I wanna take care of you." He murmured.

"What made you think I didn't intend to become a gainfully-employed member of society?" I demanded of Albus, leaning my head back, though there was an amused smile on my face.

"You haven't mentioned anything." Albus admitted. "I knew you wanted a job. I just sort of assumed I'd give you some space to figure out what it was you wanted to do—" He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"I am employable." I protested. "I'm head of Dueling Club. I have better marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts than you." I raised an eyebrow. "I could probably sit the Protective Services Exam. Maybe I'll become an auror. Who knows?"

"Ugh, not an auror." Albus murmured, his eyes darkening with concern. "Get a desk job, won't you? Something in bubble wrap." I laughed but said nothing, and he ducked forward, kissing my forehead. "Don't seek out danger, Molls. It seems to find you easily enough." I grinned petulantly up at him, unable to even feign irritation at his worry.

It wasn't until four years later that I realized I should have listened.