The Six Pregnancies of Molly Weasley

Molly had wanted to be a mother for as long as she could remember.

She'd force her brothers to play house with her, make ragdolls out of blankets she found around the house, and dreamed of the day she would have her own babies. When she started dating Arthur at Hogwarts, she knew that he would be the one. Not only did she love him with all her heart, couldn't imagine marrying anyone else, she imagined him as a wonderful father.

She always dreamed about three little girls and three boys (maybe one more, if she was lucky). Six kids seemed like the perfect amount, especially for her. Sure, she and Arthur weren't rich, but she would provide the very best she could for them all. And Arthur was passionate, a hard worker. He would do well—she had faith in him.

Two days after they graduated, Arthur took Molly on a walk through a park near his house, got down on one knee, and asked her to marry him. Of course, she said yes right away, and excitedly began to plan a wedding. It wasn't anything big or fancy—they didn't have the money for that—but it was hers, and perfect in every way. She was with the man she loved, and this was the beginning of the rest of her life.

It didn't take long for Molly to want children. She was working as a clerk at some boring desk job, and that was never what she wanted. She needed to be a mother, so much so that the cravings for a child ate away at her at night.

But then six months passed, and she still wasn't pregnant. For a while, Molly was frightened—scared that something was wrong with her, that she wasn't able to give Arthur a child (she knew it couldn't be him—he came from such a bountiful family, with so many children in every generation). For a while, she simply resorted to praying and begging, but when she was a year into her marriage and nothing happened, she resolved that she needed to face what this was. She made an appointment with St. Mungo's, and Arthur came with her, trying to soothe her worries, saying that nothing was wrong, and even if it was, he wouldn't care. He loved her, and nothing would ever change that.

Molly was preparing herself for the worst, but when the doctor came in with a large grin her heart skipped a beat with joy. He told her she was pregnant, about a month along, and the baby was happy and healthy so far. She melted into Arthur's arms, excited and relieved. Her hands trembled around her stomach—which was suddenly the most important thing in the world to her—as she pressed a kissed to his cheek.

The pregnancy wasn't all that bad—there was some morning sickness, mild cravings, and her feet were quite swollen, but Arthur took care of her when he could, and she's lucky enough to be a witch, and that meant she could lie down and let her wand do most of the cleaning and cooking for her.

Almost exactly a month after her twenty-first birthday, Molly goes into labor. It's not long, but it's the most pain she's felt in all of her life. She tries to bite down the scream down, but eventually she just pushes as hard as she can, squeezes Arthur's hand with all her might, and doesn't care about anything else.

When her first child is born, Molly has tears of joy streaming down her face and she's absolutely exhausted. They shout that he is a boy, and heart leaps, because she sort of hoped it would be. She had two older brothers who loved her more than anything, protected her against everything, and she knows that her younger children will have the same.

They name him William Arthur and decide to call him Bill, because she's always loved that name. And she loves him with all her heart.

Bill isn't even eighteen months old when Molly begins to feel very unusual. She's always nauseas and her stomach is curling constantly, and despite how odd it is, all of this is, somehow, inherently familiar. One morning, she drops Bill off at a friend's house and makes her way to St. Mungo's nervously. They hadn't planned on having another child so soon, but a part of her… well, she sort of wanted this, now that it was nearly in her grasp. And maybe that was wrong of her, because they didn't have much money and Arthur didn't get paid nearly as much as he deserved.

But when the Healer entered the room, a smile lighting his pool, a grin so broad her mouth sort of hurt spread across her face, and she let out a loud, boisterous laugh. She was giddy as she left, and when she and Bill arrived him she couldn't stop cooing to him that soon he would be a big brother, that he would have a little brother (because she was very sure that he would be a boy, for some odd reason).

When Arthur heard, he was shocked for a few moments, and worry began to gnaw at Molly's insides… but then he laughed and surged forward to throw his arms around her. After he hugged her good and well, he moved to scoop Bill into his arms and throw him up in the air, excitedly exclaiming that he was to be a big brother.

This pregnancy, god bless, was even easier than her last one was. She had barely any morning sickness, although the nausea was quite the same (if not worse). She still had to take care of Bill—he still woke up in the night, still cried and crawled around and did naughty little things. But he also kept her energy up, so she felt more inspired to care for him.

It was in mid-December that Molly went into labor, and with that she wasn't so lucky—it was a grueling sixteen hours, in which nothing seemed to be moving along and her pain seemed never ending. She was miserable and even resorted to anger in her words toward Arthur (something she would regret and apologize for later).

Eventually, though, their second little baby boy came along. Both of them were ecstatic, and not just because they could use Bill's old clothes. Molly wanted to name him Charles, and Arthur obliged on the condition that his middle name be Hugo, which was a name he'd always liked.

And then she had two beautiful sons, and her dream of being a mother to multiple children was fulfilled.

Bill was five and Charlie was three when Molly got pregnant again. This time, it was fully intentional. Her boys weren't toddlers anymore, and she missed having little babies in the house. She liked being kept busy, having everything to do, and children were a blessing in every conceivable way.

Of course, things weren't getting easier for Arthur at work—in fact, they were getting worse. His pay was still miserable, and with prices getting higher and You-Know-Who's terror rising, everyone was quite worried about the future.

That didn't mean Molly would stop having kids—not anything would make her do that. She loved the ones she had so much, she could barely stand the thought of not sharing more of her affection, bringing another little redhead in the world to cuddle and adore (despite how much trouble they might get in).

She was sure that this one was a girl. Despite the Weasley tendency to not have females, her having two boys couldn't be a coincidence—it would be similar to her own family, except she was sure she'd have more than just three. So, Molly happily bought a few girly things, trying to budget her money as well as she could.

Just to be sure, though, she got the gender checked later in her pregnancy. To her shock, this baby was actually a boy. She wasn't sad or disappointed, just surprised. Eventually, she shrugged and packed away all the girl baby clothes—she wouldn't be done having children after three, she was sure of it (probably not after four or five either).

When Percy Ignatius Weasley came into the world, Molly was more than happy to have him join his brothers. Her four men, she liked to say. And that's what they were—hers.

Her fourth pregnancy was different; she knew that even before she went to St. Mungo's to confirm it (because she already sort of knew). Just the way she carried—her stomach seemed lower, almost. And she took that to mean that her next baby was a girl…

Of course, yet again, she was wrong.

She was wrong, because they were having twins. Two babies at once! Two boys, at that! Percy was barely a year a half, and her others were getting older. There would be more clothes, more food, more everything, and they had less money than ever. For the first time in all her pregnancies, she was worried about having more children.

Don't get her wrong—she was happy and excited… but scared. Scared for what would happen to their family, to her babies. You-Know-Who was getting stronger, and she was terrified that he was winning and she was bringing more kids into that world. Still, she hid her worries and pasted on a smile, because in her heart she was very excited to have twins. It'd been a secret dream of hers, and she knew just what their middle names would be…

Frederick Gideon Weasley and George Fabian Weasley were born on April Fool's Day, after a wearisome, painful twenty-one hour delivery.

And, really, that should've been a hint enough for what trouble they'd get into in the future.

She gave birth to her sixth son, Ronald Bilius Weasley, when the twins were two, Percy was three (and a half, as he so insisted), Charlie was seven, and Bill was nine… meaning she had her hands more than full.

He was a surprise, to say the least. And when she found, she didn't think he was a girl, didn't bother to entertain the idea, really. She just knew from the moment she was sure she was pregnant that this sixth one would be a boy. She'd always aimed for six kids, always wanted and hoped for a girl, but she was… she was happy with six boys—blessed. She loved them all, and they were all she really needed.

Her pregnancy with him was more difficult than all her others, though; it was a more painful labor, a difficult birth. He was a sickly little thing, and she worried about his health as she carried him. She employed her older sons to help around the house and tried to keep her mind off the war.

Thankfully, that seemed to help, and her last baby boy was delivered without any lasting problems.

Her sixth pregnancy would be her last.

As soon as Molly found out she was pregnant again, she was absolutely certain of it. Whatever the gender this one would be, it was her last child. Of course, he or she was a surprise, as most of her children seemed to be. The war was still scary, still in full force. Ron was barely one year old, Bill would soon be going to Hogwarts, and they were still fully poor. She made do, and her children were never hungry (Arthur made sure of that).

Throughout the first half of her pregnancy, she was slightly hopeful. She tried to quell it, but there was a little voice niggling at the back of her mind, and this pregnancy was different. Not twin-different, either (they'd checked for that, too, and thank goodness she didn't have another pair on the way. She wasn't sure she could stay sane if that was the same case).

But when the Healer told her it was a girl—that she was going to have her first little daughter—Molly wasn't quite sure what to do. She had wanted one for so very long, and now she was finally going to get her…

It was hard to comprehend.

Ginevra Molly Weasley. That was the name of her little girl. She had planned since she was pregnant with Percy. Ginny, for short, of course—she thought the name so very pretty. And Arthur insisted on the middle name being Molly, which she didn't protest one bit. Bill's middle name was Arthur, after all.

Her pregnancy with Ginny was simple compared to Ron's, and her boys volunteered to help out as much as they could. At night, when Arthur would have to work late, she'd gather all six of her boys into her arms and cuddle them, resting one hand against her pregnant belly and feeling the heartbeat of her little girl.

And in that moment… it was easy to forget about You-Know-Who. As long as Molly had her children… she'd be okay. She'd be okay.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

This was written for the FanFiction School of Imagination and Creativity, PDHPE Assessment 3. The challenge was to type the entire fic in 90 minutes, including editing, so I apologize for spelling/grammar errors! I will fully edit the piece once the comp is finished! :3

Please, drop a review with your thoughts! I would be very thankful! ^_^