Chapter 3

The morning sunlight filtered softly through the Burrow's kitchen windows, casting a golden glow across the countertops and illuminating the worn wooden floor. Ginny Weasley, still half-asleep, shuffled into the room, her bare feet making soft thuds as she yawned and stretched. The familiar rhythm of her morning routine settled over her as she glanced around, expecting the usual bustle—her mum humming over the stove, her dad tinkering with some Muggle contraption that had captured his interest, perhaps even an owl tapping on the window for a leftover crust of bread.

But today, the house was unusually still. The faint scent of last night's tea and toast lingered in the air, but there was no comforting clatter of dishes, no murmured conversation. The absence of sound put her on edge.

Ginny frowned, her gaze sweeping the room until it landed on something crumpled near the kitchen table. At first, she thought it was a dishtowel someone had dropped, but as she stepped closer, the object became unmistakably... off.

It was underwear.

Her brow furrowed as she bent down, carefully picking it up between her fingers. The fabric was soft and luxurious, definitely not the kind of material any of her brothers would wear. And it was enormous—definitely not her father's either. As she flipped the waistband, her heart stopped. There, stitched in a tiny label, were the words: Property of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Ginny stared at the large underpants for a moment, dumbfounded. Her mouth fell open, and she let out a disbelieving laugh. "Oh, Mum…"

Just as she muttered the words, the door to the garden swung open, and Molly Weasley breezed in, humming softly as she set a basket of herbs down on the counter. Without breaking stride, Molly glanced at Ginny and the offending garment dangling from her hand. "Oh, good, you found them."

Ginny blinked, her jaw practically hitting the floor. "Mum! What... why... are Kingsley's underwear in our kitchen?"

Molly raised an eyebrow, as if this were a completely mundane question, and busied herself setting the kettle on the stove. "Well, dear, Kingsley came by last night for dinner, and things got a bit... heated. The poor man must've left them behind in all the excitement."

"Excitement?" Ginny repeated, trying to wrap her head around what her mother was suggesting.

Molly waved a hand dismissively as she reached for a spoon to stir the tea leaves. "You know how it is when Kingsley and your father get going on Ministry reforms. They both get rather... passionate about their positions, and one thing leads to another."

Ginny's brain was spinning, trying to make sense of it. "So... they were debating Ministry reforms, and Kingsley... just... stripped down to his underwear? In our kitchen?"

Molly chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, not exactly. But you know Kingsley—he's a man of great comfort. It was warm, and after all that treacle tart, he wanted to relax."

Ginny gaped at the underwear again, the absurdity of the situation hitting her. "Comfortable enough to leave these lying around?"

Molly smiled sweetly, her hands already moving to chop vegetables as though nothing unusual had happened. "I'm sure it was all very innocent, Ginny. He's been under a lot of stress lately, poor dear—probably wasn't thinking straight." She paused, then added with a mischievous wink, "Besides, it's not the first time someone's left a bit of clothing behind at the Burrow."

Ginny let out a nervous laugh, still holding the underpants like they were enchanted. "Mum, I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that."

Molly patted her on the arm, entirely unfazed. "That's probably for the best, dear. Now, be a love and toss those in the laundry, won't you? Kingsley might need them next time he visits."

Shaking her head in disbelief but also slightly impressed by her mother's nonchalance, Ginny muttered, "Sure. I'll just… pop them in with the delicates." She dropped the underwear into the laundry basket by the door and turned back to see Molly calmly going about her morning routine as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Unable to suppress a grin, Ginny said, "You know, Mum, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you and Kingsley were having a little more than tea and Ministry talk."

Molly's hand stilled for just a fraction of a second before she resumed chopping with perfect calm. "Oh, Ginny, you've always had such an active imagination."

"Right. Imagination."

Molly's eyes twinkled with amusement as she finally looked up from her work. "Now, if you're done being cheeky, could you fetch me the eggs from the pantry? We've got a busy day ahead."

Ginny chuckled as she walked to the pantry, shaking her head in disbelief. The Burrow had always been a lively and unconventional place, but this... well, even for them, this was something else. As she returned with the eggs, her mind wandered back to a time long ago—before the war, when she was just a girl, and there had been another presence in the house.

It was a witch with vibrant green robes and flowing dark hair. Ginny had been too young to understand the full dynamics, but she remembered the woman's name: Delphina. Delphina had visited often for tea, stayed for dinners, even spent the night on occasion. She hadn't been an outsider. Not exactly. There had been a sense of shared joy when Delphina was around—a warmth that expanded the family for a time.

Ginny hadn't thought about it in years, but now it seemed clear. Her parents hadn't hidden anything; their bond with Delphina had been open, affectionate. Looking back, it wasn't jealousy or awkwardness that lingered in her memories but love. A different kind of love, one that stretched beyond conventional expectations.

In the wizarding world, polyamory and open relationships weren't so unusual. Witches and wizards lived long lives, and some forged connections with more than one person—connections that filled different parts of them. It had always been understood, accepted even, in their circles. Love wasn't limited to just one shape or one person. It could shift, expand, and evolve.

As Ginny whisked the eggs, a sense of understanding washed over her. Perhaps that was why her mum seemed so calm about this whole Kingsley situation. Her parents had navigated this kind of thing before, and it hadn't weakened their marriage; it had strengthened it. She remembered the way her mum had laughed more, smiled more when Delphina had been around. Her dad had never been jealous, nor had their relationship faltered.

The whisk clattered against the bowl as Ginny smiled to herself. It wasn't like the jealousy and secrecy that plagued Muggle relationships. Here, love was fluid, respected, communicated.

She glanced over at Molly, who was now humming again as she stirred a pot on the stove. A part of Ginny wanted to press for more details, to dig deeper, but she held back. Maybe it didn't really matter. If Kingsley made her mum happy, and if everything was still solid with her dad, why worry?

"Ginny, dear," Molly's voice cut through her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. "Are you going to scramble those eggs or just stand there daydreaming?"

Ginny laughed, picking up the whisk again. "Right, sorry, Mum. I was just thinking…"

Molly raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

Ginny shrugged, trying to sound casual. "Oh, you know... just wondering if you and Dad are planning to invite any more guests over for dinner. Or if I should start keeping an eye out for any more... forgotten articles of clothing."

Molly's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Well, Kingsley does have a fondness for your father's treacle tart. I wouldn't be surprised if he pops by again soon."

Ginny chuckled, shaking her head. "Right. Treacle tart."

But as she poured the eggs into the pan, she couldn't help but feel a small sense of relief. Her family might be unconventional, but they were also full of love, acceptance, and trust. If her mum had something going on with Kingsley, well... it wasn't her place to judge.

—

Later that evening, after the dishes had been cleared and the house had settled into its usual evening lull, Molly found Arthur sitting in his favorite armchair by the fire, tinkering with some small Muggle gadget. It clicked and whirred in his hands, sending out tiny puffs of steam that made Molly smile. He always did love his little projects.

"Arthur, dear," she said, her voice soft as she approached him, "I need to talk to you about something."

He looked up, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. "Hmm? What's that, love?" He set the gadget down on the table next to him, leaning back in his chair with a warm smile. "Everything all right?"

Molly hesitated for a moment, then sat down on the edge of the couch across from him. She smoothed her apron, her fingers fidgeting with the fabric—a rare sign of nerves for her. Arthur raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic behavior.

"It's about Kingsley," she said, glancing up at him, watching for his reaction.

Arthur chuckled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Oh, I thought I saw him sneaking out without his pants last night," he teased, though there was no trace of malice in his tone. "I take it things got... a little more heated than Ministry talk, then?"

Molly blinked, surprised by how easily he had said it. "You knew?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Arthur leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked at her with that familiar, gentle smile. "Molly, we've been married for how many years now? I know when something's stirring your heart. You've been glowing lately, and not just because of the treacle tarts." He winked. "Kingsley's a fine chap. He's been a good friend to us for years, and I trust him."

Molly exhaled, a flood of relief washing over her. She hadn't expected Arthur to be upset, not really, but the way he handled the whole thing so effortlessly made her heart swell with affection for him.

Arthur reached over and took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You've always been free to love, Molly. That's never been something we've kept in a box. Merlin knows we've talked about this before." His eyes softened, and he added, "Besides, Kingsley's a handsome devil. Always thought he was."

Molly's cheeks flushed, and she let out a surprised laugh. "Arthur, you're impossible."

"Not at all," Arthur said with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair. "You know I adore you. You're the heart of this family. If Kingsley's making you happy, then that's enough for me."

Molly felt a warmth spread through her chest, not just because of his words but because of the love and respect they had built over all their years together. She had never doubted Arthur's capacity to understand her, but hearing him say it out loud felt like a balm to her soul.

"You're not... jealous?" she asked hesitantly, even though she already knew the answer.

Arthur shook his head, his expression soft and sincere. "Molly, we've always been open with each other. We've shared love, we've shared struggles, and we've shared people." He smiled. "I'm not about to get bent out of shape because Kingsley Shacklebolt leaves his underpants in our kitchen."

Molly giggled, her heart lightening. She had expected some awkwardness, maybe a hint of discomfort, but Arthur had none of it. He was steady, as always, understanding her without her needing to explain everything.

Arthur sat back again, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Though I will say, I might have to pick up a few pointers from Kingsley. He seems to know how to keep you on your toes."

Molly laughed, swatting playfully at him. "Oh, stop it! You're just as charming now as you've ever been, Arthur Weasley."

He grinned, clearly enjoying her flustered reaction. "Just as long as you're happy, love, I'm happy. And if Kingsley's part of that, well, then I'll make sure there's always an extra plate at the table for him."

Molly's eyes softened as she looked at him, her heart full. "I am happy, Arthur. I really am."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow around the room. Arthur picked up his Muggle gadget again, turning it over in his hands with curiosity, while Molly leaned back into the couch, feeling a deep sense of peace settle over her.

Arthur glanced up again, his eyes twinkling. "Though I'd appreciate it if next time you two could manage to keep all the clothing in the bedroom. I'm still not sure how to explain to the boys why there were underpants in the kitchen."

Molly burst into laughter, her worries dissolving into the warmth of her husband's love and humor. "I'll see what I can do," she managed between giggles.

Arthur smiled, his gaze full of affection. "That's my girl."

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Molly, meanwhile, tried to mask her exasperation as she busied herself with the teacups, her heart still pounding from the kiss they'd just shared. She shot a pointed glance at Bill, who either didn't notice or chose to ignore it.

"Bill," Molly said, her tone sharper than usual. "A little tact wouldn't go amiss, you know."

Bill turned to her, blinking as if he'd only just realized the situation. His eyes flicked between her and Kingsley, and then a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face.

"Oh," he said, the realization dawning on him. "Ohhh. Right. Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt... whatever was going on here."

Kingsley chuckled softly, but Molly narrowed her eyes at her eldest son. "I swear, William Arthur Weasley, you have all the subtlety of a Hippogriff in a china shop."