There was a heavy silence in the Burrow. No movement could be found inside the house besides the sound of the Weasley's clock chiming. The children's spoons all read home. All but one. Fred Weasley's spoon pointed towards 'Whereabouts Unkown', his face smiling ever so stupidly at anyone who were to examine the clock. The clock rang seven times before it turned off, returning the silence to the lopsided house. Normally, a charm was previously cast on household objects so that they did chores. For example, the dishes were washing and drying themselves, the clothes were being mended, the floor was being swept, and the table was being cleared or made. Today, however, the broom stood lonely against the kitchen wall, the chairs were askew and plates from a midnight snack were still resting upon the table. Something in the Burrow was wrong.

Upstairs, Molly Weasley was slowly making her way downstairs. Her steps were slow and heavy, making stocato rhythmed thumps on each stair. When she reached the bottom step, she paused. Her once bright chocolate eyes dulled down to resemble old wood, a layer of grey covered the top and time and tragedy seemed to outweigh a once happy life. Dark circles and bags were now accompanying her eyes and a frown was the most recent recognizable expression upon her usually grinning and glowing face. Reluctantly, Mrs. Weasley slugged her way towards the kitchen, keeping her eyes to the ground as she passed the clock. It seemed to only remind her of..

With a loud sniff, the plump redheaded woman stopped in front of the long table in the kitchen that stretched from one end of the room to the other. Slowly, and with a shaking hand, she lifted her wand out of a large pocket in her tacky skirt. She waved it once and the kitchen came alive; the seats straightened themselves out and the dishes levitated and sat themselves in the sink. Once the plates were in, the faucet sprang on and they began to wash and rinse themselves. The stove became alive and the flames burned low. Once the kitchen became alive, Mrs. Weasley's robotic movements came afterwards. She started with breakfast so that those in the household could have something ready for them to eat. She didn't make much, however, only enough for one plate each.

Several steps were heard on the steps, as well as several soft, hushed voices. Mrs. Weasley turned to the voices once the steps stopped at the bottom the stairs. There stood Ron and Bill, both looking drained and as tired as the aged woman in front of them. Bill cleared his throat and his eyes went to the floor; Ron gave an apathetic smile to his mother before going to her and kissing her tenderly on the cheek. It was accompanied soon after by a mumbled "Morning, mum". Bill gave his own smile and wished Mollly a good morning himself. The two sat at the long table beside one another and exchanged awkward glances from time to time.

"How did, er," Ron started, watching his mother's lack of movement, "Mum, how'd you sleep?" Mrs. Weasley's hands began shaking more noticeably as she turned to speak to her son. She opened her mouth several times before wiping her brow.

"Mum," Bill interjected, leaning forward slightly in his chair, "You like tired. Would you like for me to make breakfast for everyone? I wouldn't mind."

"Oh, no, no, dear," Mrs. Weasley shook her head, "I couldnt' possibly allow you to do such a thing. I insist that you sit and let me make you breakfast." She gave a smile similar to one Ronald had given her before she turned her back to them and began scrambling the eggs. There were more sounds of steps from the hall. These were a bit faster and no voices seemed to accompany the footsteps. Again, Molly turned around to see her only daughter Ginny and her son Percy. The two, unlike the other three that were already downstairs, were still in their pajamas, a bit out of character for Percy, but no one seemed to question anything. They took their own seats at the table in silence and exchanged good mornings and empty smiles to their brothers.

"Percy, your eggs are always with the yolk, is that right?" The round redhead mother asked, glancing over her shoulder for a moment to address her son. He nodded once and pushed his chair closer to the table. Mrs. Weasley's labor at the stove continued robotically. She never said anything unless she was asking a question about someone's preference on how they would like their food, and nothing beyond that. Her mind seemed elsewhere and she was distant from the others, and yet none wanted to question her. Not that they had to.

"Molly," Said woman jumped at the sound of her husband's voice. She turned around to see him smiling supportingly at her. She returned with another blank smile, allowing him permission to sit in his seat at the end of the table. Now, there seemed to be only only one more person in the household missing (Charlie had been away for business in Romania once again). Slowly, Mrs. Weasley began to set everyone's plates. They all received a biscuit, a strip of bacon, eggs, and a sausage. There was one plate filled in front of an empty seat and beside that was an empty seat with no chair and no plate. It was a hollow reminder, a ghost of where a Weasley belonged.

"Thanks, mum," The Weasley children said softly before beginning to eat. The sound of clanging forks echoed in the kitchen, as well as several loud swallows and soft burps.

"Thank you, dear," Arthur Weasley said to his eggs. There was something heavy on his mind and it weighed in on the new frown lines developing on his face. Molly nodded with a small genuine smile before she sat down herself, although she had no plate for herself to eat. In the midst of the soft noises shared between the family, footsteps were distinct in the hall. These seemed heavier than Molly's, however. Each was a loud clunk, weighing, not only a sleep deprivated body, but also a broken soul. The steps seemed to drag on forever until they came to a heavy stop at the bottom of the steps. All of the Weasleys turned to see George Weasley staring back solemnly at his family. His face was pale and even his brilliant red hair seemed dull. His shoulders were dropped and the deepest frown was worn on his freckled face.

"Morning George," Percy said, something crossing his eyes. George only nodded before sitting himself beside the empty seat. There was a thickness in the air. Mrs. Weasley's hand went to her lips and a small squeak eminated from them; Arthur dropped his eyes to his food and Ginny and Ron only glanced at each other; Percy sighed heavily and removed his glasses to pinch his nose; Bill only made a small choking sound in his cup of water.

"Morning everyone," George nearly sighed out. The others drew out their own salutation before the final Weasley to come down the stairs began eating.

"George," Percy started. Ron sent a glare at his brother and Mrs. Weasley placed her hand on her son's shoulder. Percy looked up at her, questioning his mother who merely shook her head before taking a seat beside her husband. Arhtur took Molly's hand tenderly and tightly in his won, catching and holding a reassuring and loving gaze with his wife.

"George, I-" Percy began again.

"Percy, dear," Molly choked out. She took a breath and frowned. How was she to word it? What were she even to say?

"It's okay, mum," George intervened, "I - I know where this is going. Go on, Perce, can't have breakfast without you giving a monolauge on your thoughts." He put down his fork and wiped his hands over his plate before crossing his fingers and leaning forward against the table, a look challenging his brother as if what he said was to be the most insightful thing that were to ever fall out of his brother's mouth.

"George, please don't be so immature," Percy pleaded, "I only wanted to-"

"Tell me how you're sorry about Fred?" George guessed. Mrs. Weasley took in a sharp breath and an incoherent word fell from her lips. Several at the table glanced at her, but cast their eyes downward soon after they did so.

"I'm only saying that-"

"Don't." The silence grew heavier and Percy could only raise his chin and flare his nostrils as asubstitute for what he wished he could say. George glanced around at his family before lifting his plate and shoveling the rest of the food on his plate into his mouth. "Mm. Thanks, mum. It was good." He dropped his dish harshly on the table, sending a thin crack to form in the middle of the plate, turning it into two seperate pieces. With heavy footing, George stormed his way up the stairs.

Molly sat in her seat with Arthur's hand in her's. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

There's a second part that solely focuses on Molly Weasley. Stay tuned for that. Please, please review! I feel like I'm not getting the right character's personalities or getting the emotions right. So, if you guys can give me some pointers or make me aware of something missing in a charcter, that would be greatly appreciated.

-ryuzaki4