Molded Joy

4 - Consoling Hearts

It was a beautiful funeral, Molly thought, as she listened to the McKinnon's pastor come to a close on his eulogy about not forgetting the brave fighters and victims of these dark times. When the small band hired for the funeral began their somber, farewell tune, she got up like the rest of the many mourners and followed her husband and brothers to join the line headed toward the caskets.

While waiting, she stared at the coffins the McKinnons' laid in. They were a rainbow of hues, a stately mahogany for Edith and Jack McKinnon's coffins, a warm, yellow oak for their daughter, Marlene, and daughter-in-law, Bethany, and for the children a soft ash that was just a shade off from white. It was rather fitting, Molly thought, that the youngest ones caskets should be such a color. White was so often connected with things like purity and innocence, and those children, sweet little Todd, kind Tamara and lively baby Eddie were just that: innocent.

The last of the funerals attendees were finally getting to their feet, with it, the crying that had been muffled before by a loved one's shoulders was now loud and clear. The anguish in the sobs made Molly's own eyes well with tears. It was trying times like these that made Molly wonder about her part in the war, Arthur's, and her brothers'. Seeing Order members fall right and left made her all the more scared for her brothers, made her wonder when she'd be the one who had to plan a funeral. The thought scared her so much she could never dwell on it for more than a few minutes at a time.

She was certain, though, if her brothers did die before this war was over, she would make sure she fulfilled their wish to have charmed water-squirting flowers pinned to their dress-robes. That way, all those that went to pay their respects to the twins would get a blast of water to the face and be reminded one last time of what kind of men her brothers truly were: spirited, friendly souls.

Incapable of thinking of Fabian and Gideon's possible funeral any longer, Molly moved on to the next most common question she had for herself while attending the funerals of Order members: her role within the Order. Couldn't she be of more use to them by being one of the brave witches who went out and fought? Who protected families, like the McKinnons, from being blindsided by attacks from vengeful, bloodthirsty Death Eaters in the middle of the night?

Molly then remembered the time she asked Arthur what he thought about her taking a more offensive role in the war. He had told her as much as it might sooth her to go and fight, to not to, because she was important to those who came to their home. Order members needed a trustworthy minder. One they didn't have to fret about being a Death Eater sympathizer and one they didn't have to fear would abandon their children and run in an attack.

Those points alone were excellent reasons for her to not join the fray, but then Arthur had added in the fact their home was also sanctuary to families chased from theirs by Death Eater attacks, in-between places for those on the run, or on their way into hiding, to stay and rest as they made and finalized their plans for their futures.

It was these reasons that always swayed Molly into continuing her role as the minder for the Order. Perhaps she didn't use her Gryffindor courage to fight the Death Eaters directly like her brothers, but she certainly used it each and every time she agreed to house targets of You-Know-Who. It took bravery in itself to constantly allow her home to be used as a kind of halfway house and congregation place for Order members and their families.

(Or, so she had been told, by many who came through her doors).

Coming to a halt once more as the line toward the coffins stopped its forward motion, Molly turned her head at the sound of a particularly loud whimper. Down a row of chairs to her left was a small collection of people, four men and a woman. The woman kept sniveling into her sleeves; unable to stop her tears despite the way one of the men kept telling her to just take a big breath. Feeling a pang in her heart at the sight, Molly pulled her handkerchief out of her purse and left the line of mourners to approach the group.