Arthur
“Hey Dad, I have that old Telly we borrowed,” Fred said, lugging said television into the dusty old shed Arthur loved to tinker in.
“Hmmm?” Arthur said, not looking up from the old toaster he had taken apart on his work table. “Thanks son, just set it over there with the others.”
“Sure thing.” Fred set in on the shelf and slowly made his way back to where his dad was poking at the different parts.
“Have a seat,” Arthur nodded to the beat up sofa that sat next to the table. “Butterbeer or fire whiskey?”
“What’s that, then?” Fred asked.
“Seeing as you’ve had that Telly for three years, I assume you’ve really come by for a chat. Is it a butterbeer chat or fire whiskey chat?”
“Uh, perhaps some tea?”
“Well, this is serious then, is it?” Arthur sat up straight and pulled a cloth from his pocket and wiped his hands. He was deliberate in his movements as he picked his wand up from the table and pointed it at the kettle and set it to boil. Once the tea had been sorted he pulled his chair to sit in front of his son, giving him his full attention.
“I really don’t even know where to start,” Fred said, sipping his tea and staring at the wall of shelves just behind Arthur’s head.
“How about a story?” Arthur leaned back in his chair comfortably crossing his leg over the other knee and smiled kindly.
“Alright, then.”
“You see, when I was young, I wasn’t very much like you or George, or Ginny for that matter. I’d say Percy has my temperament the most. Your mum, however, she was the firecracker. Now, don’t you tell her I told you any of this, she likes to pretend she never stepped a toe out of line her whole life.
“She was very much like you, though. Always good for a laugh and a bit of mischief. Not a surprise really, when you think of her brothers. She always had to out do them. Anyway, I knew I loved her early on. She was such a bright spot in a very gloomy time. She’s always been very kind too, always knew everyone’s name, helped anyone who needed it. Merlin, I can’t tell you how many hours she would spend hunched over a boring old textbook, just to make sure a kid passed their OWLS.
“It took me a fair few too many years to work up the courage to talk to her, let alone tell her my feelings. I just kept thinking that she was too good for a boring bloke like me.”
“I wouldn't call you boring, Dad,” Fred said earnestly.
“Just like your mum, always kind.”
“I wouldn't say that either.” Fred sat back with a frown playing at his lips.
“Oh, you have a temper, certainly. That's the Prewitt in you. But I seem to recall Minerva telling us about the younger children you would protect when that horrid woman took over Hogwarts your final year of school. I know that it was your idea to make the calming candies after the war and donate heavily to Mungos for anyone dealing with the after effects of the war. I know that you single handedly helped Hermione move house when the boys were in Auror training.”
“That’s not so much kindness as just being a decent bloke, Dad.”
“Hmmm, perhaps. Back to my story then, I knew it in my bones that your mum was too good for me. Never thought she'd see anything but a clumsy shy boy who had an illogical obsession with muggle things.
“It was your uncles who finally cottoned on and took pity on me. They cornered me one afternoon after Transfiguration and told me that if I was ever going to have a chance with Molly I needed to pluck up the courage and just ask her. They said they didn't know if she was interested in me in that way or not but none of us would ever know if I didn't just ask her.”
“And if she had said no?”
“Well then I would have been crushed for a bit, but I would have been able to move on with the knowledge that I had given it my all. Luckily for me she told me I was a complete idiot and it had taken me long enough.
“Sometimes you just have to jump and have faith there is a soft landing on the other side. That's a concept I do believe you have mastered quite remarkably, yeah?”