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Fitz stood on the grass of the pitch, his arms folded across his chest and broom lying on the ground at his feet. They had two days before their match against the Wigtown Wanderers, and the team was spending their last training day running drills. They were looking good today, still riding high off their defeat of Montrose. His eyes tracked the Chasers as they drilled offhand throws and catches. Zara, Sid, and Beathan flew well together, and Bram fit in seamlessly when he took a spot as Chaser.

Mariah, on the other hand… It wasn’t that she was bad: when paired with Sid she looked pretty good, and fair with Zara, but she couldn’t seem to catch what Beathan was doing until a second too late, missing passes that the others would have caught without blinking and not seeing Beathan’s intent.

She was only a reservist, but she didn’t fit as well as they needed her to. She’d been better in Tutshill.

Maybe she needed more time, he told himself halfheartedly, not entirely believing it. Or maybe he needed to talk to McCormack about replacing her. He didn't know if that was his dislike of her, or an honest evaluation of her skills. He thought it was the latter but wasn't ruling out the former.

It was hard to be dispassionate about Mariah. Even setting their disastrous marriage aside, now he knew about what Rakes had done to him, he couldn’t help letting it colour his perception of his ex-wife.

She hadn’t known about it, he was sure. She hadn’t reacted much to his injuries after the fight at the pub, no more than the rest of the team. He’d half-expected her to coo at him in that annoying way she had when she was trying to provoke him, but she hadn’t said anything. She hadn’t even tried to talk to him the day he’d brought in those Muggle films, only watching and laughing with the team. She’d dropped calling him Fitzie in the last few weeks as well. He didn’t know what she was doing, behaving so well.

They hadn’t had a word alone since he’d snapped at her for tattling to McCormack. Sometimes he thought he ought to tell her about Rakes, but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.

They’d been married, after all. At one time, he’d loved her. He knew she’d be horrified that his injury had been her fault, however unwittingly, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that to her. It was best left alone. But then sometimes he thought about all her affairs and the urge to tell her came back, to punish her for all she'd done to him. Mostly, he simply didn’t want to have to listen to her crying and apologizing for it when it wouldn’t do any good.

She always cried when she was sorry.

Above him, Beathan tossed the Quaffle in a reverse pass, and Mariah missed it completely. Zara swooped by to snatch the Quaffle before it hit the ground.

Fitz kicked the grass and ground his teeth. He was going to have to talk to McCormack about getting more reserve players for next season anyway. Maybe she could replace Mariah while she was at it. The thought of not having to look at Mariah every day filled him with a guilty sort of relief.

Molly was hovering in front of the hoops talking to Jinks, who had somehow managed to balance on his broom stretched out on his side with his head propped on his hand, one leg dangling lazily below the tail bristles. She was laughing and Jinks was grinning, and Fitz scowled, knowing he didn't have the right to be jealous.

She's not interested in Jinks, he told himself sternly. And even if she was, you all but told her you didn't really want her, so it's your own fault.

This didn't make him feel any better. He rubbed his hand over his face, wondering how he'd managed to put his personal life in the cacky when he'd finally started working out his professional life again. Apparently he could have one or the other, a decent career or a decent love life, but not both simultaneously.

When the team had gone home, he went up to his office to look through the small stack of brochures for bed and breakfasts in Wigtown, looking for somewhere for the team to stay the night before the match.

One didn’t have enough rooms even if they doubled up, one was dormitory-style and that seemed like a recipe for disaster – no one would get any sleep – but another had a large cottage garden in the back that Beathan would probably love, if they were willing to double up in some of the rooms. He could put Deimos and Bram together, that was a fairly safe combination, and Zara and Beathan…

He looked up at a knock at the door to find Molly’s father watching him down his long nose. His nerves twanged, and he tried not to look worried as he set the brochures down and got to his feet.

“Mr. Weasley,” he said in what he hoped was a casually friendly tone. “Come in, have a seat.”

Percy Weasley was tall and lanky, no doubt where Molly had got that build. His hair was thinning, and as he sat Fitz saw a bald spot on top. The Weasley-red hair was gone grey on him. He wore glasses with a thick tortoiseshell rim, which he adjusted as he sat back in his chair.

“I stopped by to let you know, my brother Ron and my brother-in-law have been looking into the attack on you a few years ago,” Percy said, watching him closely. “They wanted to update you on their progress, so I volunteered to deliver the message.”

Fitz’s body tensed up at the mention of the attack. He hadn't let himself dwell on it again since the bar fight with Rakes. He'd spent entirely too much of his time thinking about the attack when he was recovering, and he was sick to the teeth of it taking over his life. It hadn't been as difficult as he'd expected to put it to the back of his mind again, since his days were kept busy with the team, and new strategies occupied much of his thoughts. He forced himself to relax before responding.

“What’s the word, then?”

“Cautiously optimistic that they’ll get something on him. Apparently Rakes has a record, a few charges of assault and magical battery over the years, nothing that serious. They’re talking about bringing him in and seeing if they can pressure him into an admission of guilt.”

It didn’t sound like the Aurors had much yet, then, if anything. But Percy Weasley had felt he needed to come and tell Fitz this? Fitz had a bad feeling there had been an ulterior motive to this visit.

Sure enough, Percy gave a small cough and then said, “I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you at the Montrose game. I’m sure you’re aware that Molly told me about the two of you.”

“I reckoned she must’ve said something,” Fitz said warily.

“I had assumed, from what she relayed to us about you, that you didn't think much of my Molly,” Percy said thoughtfully. “But then I saw you with her at the pub after the game, and I could see that wasn't true. And I couldn't think why, then, you would want to chuck her the way you did, when it's plain to see that you do care about her.”

Fitz's eyes had gone wide during this speech. She'd told her father a lot more details than he'd expected, it seemed. “Sir, I-”

“My sister suggested it was because you didn't realize how strongly you felt until afterward. But that wasn't my impression.”

“Your sister?” Fitz was starting to feel railroaded by the conversation. Ginny Potter knew about him and Molly as well? Please don't write an article about it, he thought wildly. “You told your sister.”

“She's my sister,” Percy said, as if this explained everything. He was so damnably calm, Fitz was almost hoping the man would take a swing at him and get it over with. If it had been him in Percy's place, he probably would have by now. But Percy seemed to have the same iron grip on his temper that Molly had.

Fitz ran a hand through his hair. “I don't know what to say.”

“You can help me understand it. Why are you making the both of you miserable when you do love her? And I know you do, I can see it on your face.” Percy waited attentively, and Fitz hoped to hell no one else could see that on his face.

“With respect, sir,” he said gruffly, “that's none of your goddamn business.”

Somewhat to his surprise, Percy smiled. Not an I'm-about-to-sock-someone-in-the-jaw sort of smile, a genuine smile, as if Fitz's rudeness had pleased him. “With respect, young man, she's my daughter. She's been my business since she was born. So now you are too.”

Fitz grimaced. He didn't know how to explain himself, and was half-tempted to tell the man to get out. He was a grown man, and he didn't owe a woman's father any sort of explanation of their relationship. The words wouldn't come to tell him off, though, because this was Molly's father. He drew a slow breath, and met Percy's eyes.

“Because she deserves better than me.”

Molly's father gave him a thoughtful look. “Is that how it is? I guessed as much.”

Fitz watched him warily and wondered if that had been the wrong thing to say. It was the best way he knew how to put it. She wouldn't want him around forever; he was a mess and she wasn't, and she didn't tolerate anything but perfection from herself. How could he expect her to tolerate less than that from him? Wasn't it better to get it over with sooner, rather than waiting for the inevitable implosion? Things like that always hurt less when caught early.

Percy was still examining Fitz's face with that piercing look Molly and Hugo both used and Fitz was starting to think of as the Weasley gaze. Whatever he saw there made him give a small nod. “You seem a decent fellow.”

“Thank you,” Fitz said cautiously.

“I hated to think you broke my daughter's heart deliberately.”

His stomach dropped into his shoes. “I didn't – I broke her heart?”

“She would kill me for saying that,” Percy Weasley admitted. “But I think, man to man, that sometimes it's what you need to hear. Words have consequences. Sometimes they aren't what you thought they would be.”

I broke her heart. No, she was fine. She hadn't even cried. All right, she'd been hurt when he'd told her they had to break things off, but she'd seemed perfectly fine the next day. And she'd been fine ever since. Hell, she'd come and picked him up when he'd been arrested. She wouldn't have done that if he'd broken her heart. He thought of her stomping her foot and yelling at him on the pitch in Falmouth. Maybe she'd only been angry and her father thought she was miserable?

Percy was watching him when Fitz looked up, and his eyes were speculative.

“Molly's very reserved,” he informed Fitz. “She keeps her deeper feelings to herself. So when I tell you that she came to my house and cried on my shoulder for half an hour, you'll understand.”

Fitz stared at him, shocked. “She did?”

But Percy didn't answer, instead looking round the office in silence, letting Fitz process his words.

He didn't like the thought of Molly crying over him. It made him feel a bit sick, angry with McCormack for forcing him into it, angry with himself for telling Molly they wouldn't last instead of admitting he was afraid. Again he wished he'd done something differently when McCormack had confronted him, wondering how things would be different now if he had.

“Family is extremely important to me,” Percy mused then, bringing Fitz's attention back to him. “It's the most important thing in life. I'd like to think my daughters will choose men who feel as strongly about family. Lucy never dated much, and then suddenly she brought home Hilarion. He's a nice bloke. Loves Lucy and their little baby to distraction.” It was obvious from Percy's voice that he approved of Hilarion Winston-Fisher's devotion to Lucy. “Molly has dated a lot of blokes, but none that loved her the way she deserves. Maybe they didn't know how. She's so clever, and she's always been so good at arranging things for everyone else, people tend to let her take over and forget about her needs. It happens with her cousins, and it happened with a lot of those boyfriends. Not that she introduced me to any of them, of course. But I make sure I hear things anyway. They're my little girls. They're older now, but I'm their dad. It's my job to take care of them, to make sure they're happy. My daughter is not happy, and you don't seem happy either.”

Fitz's heart dropped into his shoes, but he couldn't seem to speak, to say anything to excuse himself. He felt battered by the entire conversation, unable to catch his breath before Percy hit him again.

“I always thought I would kill anyone who hurt my little girl,” Percy said, watching Fitz with pity. “Not sure I have the heart for it now.”

“Thanks?” Fitz ventured.

“I do recommend you sort things out, though. Sometimes when you've talked yourself into a corner, and pride won't let you back down, you have to eat a bit of crow.” Percy's long face drew down, deepening the lines around his mouth. “It's a lonely way to live, and it gets harder to come back from the longer you wait.”

Fitz stared at him. This obviously went beyond the conversation in this office for Percy, but he didn't understand how. Those words felt deeply personal in a way that made Fitz uncomfortable. “I didn't know she was upset.”

“Didn't know, or didn't want to know?”

The pinpricks of a headache were beginning to settle in on Fitz's temples. Molly's face when he'd told her he'd always known they wouldn't last together flashed across his mind, pale with devastation. I broke her heart. “Maybe both,” he admitted softly.

Percy gave him another penetrating stare. “I suppose we’ll leave it at that, then,” he said, and got to his feet.

Feeling uncertain of himself, Fitz stood as well and reached across his desk to shake the man’s hand.

“It was, erm, nice to see you again, sir,” he said, feeling like an idiot.

Percy smiled. “Probably not, but I appreciate the thought.”

Fitz cracked a grin at that, feeling some of the tension leave him. “For a moment, I thought you were going to punch me in the face when you started talking about Molly.”

“I haven’t ruled it out,” Percy assured him. “I haven’t decided yet if I like you or not. But Molly does, and that’s what’s important. If I punch you in the face, she’ll probably get cross with me.”

“I think if she wanted me punched in the face, she’d do it herself,” Fitz said ruefully. “And she already got to see the aftermath of that fight with Rakes. He hit me in the face plenty of times.”

“I heard you had a black eye and a split lip when my brother saw you.” Percy seemed to be repressing a smile, and Fitz sighed.

“Yeah. And two broken ribs.” He wondered how many Weasleys knew he’d been arrested. Probably all of them, by now. According to Molly, they wouldn't care about that sort of thing, but he didn't want to make a worse impression than he already had.

“You seem all better now,” Percy observed dryly. “Good evening to you. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

Fitz wasn’t so sure of that, and wasn’t even sure it would be a good thing. “Possibly.”

Once Percy had gone, he collapsed back into his chair and covered his eyes with one hand.

All this time, he'd been telling himself she was just fine, especially now that they were friends again, of a sort. She had gone from keeping him at a distance to joking around and smiling at him like one of the team.

I broke her heart.

Molly didn't cry. He had never seen her cry, even when she'd been injured during a match. She'd gone pale, her teeth gritted against the pain, but she hadn't cried. She hadn't cried when he'd chucked her, either, not for him to see. She'd gone to her family for that.

He didn't know what that meant, but it meant something.

He'd thought he was preventing worse heartache for himself by breaking things off with her, but apparently all he'd done was shuffle the heartache onto her, and he hated himself for it. It gets harder to come back from the longer you wait, Percy had said. Fitz thought of her smiling at Jinks on the pitch, and wondered if he'd already waited too long. She wasn't ignoring him any longer, though. Did that mean there was still hope, or that it was already too late?


Molly went to her parents' for dinner on Sunday evening, after the Prides had defeated the Wigtown Wanderers by a margin of ninety points. Even having lived on her own for ten years, she always thought of her parents' house as going home. Her father was in his study when she arrived, and her mother greeted her at the door with a kiss on the cheek.

“Did you see the new Witch Weekly?” Audrey asked eagerly. “I've got it in the kitchen, I've read it twice now-”

“What, Roxanne's article?” Molly shook her head. “Can't believe she didn't tell me it was out.”

“Oh, she's so busy, you know Roxanne. She writes very well. Come and have a look.”

Molly followed her mother into the kitchen and found the magazine was already folded to the page of Roxanne's article. Her cousin's smiling face looked up at her from a small photograph above her byline. The headline read 'The Pride Of Portree Picks Up Prodigiously'.

“Really struggled for the alliteration on that one,” Molly said dryly, scanning through the text.

“Don't be rude,” her mother told her primly. “It's a wonderful article.”

It was pretty good, Molly had to admit. Roxanne had a lively writing style, and the informal tone she used when she wrote for Witch Weekly made it feel as if she were sitting her readers down over a cup of tea to gossip together. And the article painted the team in a very positive light as promised, something that was bound to please both Fitz and McCormack.

“Everyone was talking about it at work today,” Audrey went on excitedly. “I'm so proud of you, my dear.”

“For being in the article or for my performance with the team?” Molly teased her.

Audrey ignored this and gave her a pat on the shoulder. “It's just wonderful. Things are really looking up for the Prides, aren't they?”

“They are.” She skimmed the article again, smiling. Roxanne had described her as 'the former Harpy, Molly Weasley, who keeps the skies around Portree's goals clear'. Roxanne had always got a kick out of calling her cousin a harpy.

“Dinner won't be ready for half an hour yet,” Audrey said then. “Cottage pie, your favourite.”

Molly had never liked her mother's cottage pie, and nor had anyone else in their family. No one had the heart to tell Audrey, though, who did like it, and so she kept serving it regularly. Molly went out to the hill behind their house to lay down in the overgrown grass and watch the cloudy skies while she waited for dinner. It was so overcast there was hardly any sky visible around the clouds, but sometimes an anemic blue peeked out. She stacked her hands on her belly, crossed her booted ankles, and breathed deeply, trying to quiet her thoughts.

She was still there ten minutes later when her sister came out to join her.

“Congratulations on defeating Wigtown,” Lucy said as she stretched out beside her.

“Thanks.” Molly smiled. “Only an hour, I think it’s our shortest game this season.”

“Probably. Hilarion says Wigtown's quite good though, so you should be proud.”

“I am.”

They lay in companionable silence for a while, then Lucy heaved a sigh. “Did Roxanne tell you she’s pregnant?”

She smiled, thinking of how happy her cousin had been. “Yes. I’m godmother.”

“Of course.” Lucy paused a moment, then said, “I think I want another baby.”

Molly turned her head to look at her sister. Lucy’s expression was pensive. “So have one. Hilarion would probably love another.”

“What if I get even fatter?” Lucy made a face. “I’m still a stone overweight from Flora.”

“Then wait until you drop the rest of the baby weight.”

“If I ever drop the weight.”

Lucy's weight had always been a sticking point for her. Molly was naturally thin in a way her sister wasn't, and she knew it bothered Lucy, though it wasn't her fault she'd inherited that particular gene. “You know Hilarion doesn't care what you weigh, Luce. He thinks you're gorgeous no matter what.”

“I know. But I care.” Lucy was silent for a bit, then asked, “How are things with you and Fitz? Has he come to his senses and fallen in love with you?”

Molly stared up at the clouds blindly. She missed him terribly, even though she saw him nearly every day. It seemed like forever since she’d last kissed him. Being friends with him was bittersweet, making her heart heal and break all over again every day. “No, he hasn't. I think we're just friends now. We're talking again more, ever since he got arrested in Falmouth, but-”

“He got arrested in Falmouth?” Lucy echoed sharply. “What on earth for?”

“Fighting in the pub with one of the Falcons. One of their Chasers was sleeping with his ex-wife when they were still married, and he’s the one who hexed Fitz and ruined his shoulder.” It seemed so dry to explain it that way, but she didn’t know how to put words around the feeling of seeing him, bruised and bloody, in a cell at the Ministry.

Lucy turned her head to stare, wide-eyed, at Molly. “Are you serious?”

Apparently Lucy hadn’t seen their uncles recently for them to spill the beans about the arrest. “Sadly, yes. Uncle Ron let him off with a warning, and had me come collect him. He and Uncle Harry are going to see if they can prove anything with Rakes.”

“Oh my goodness.” Lucy looked stunned. “Arrested.”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” Molly told her. “Louis gets arrested at least once a month.”

“Yes, but you don’t date men like Louis,” Lucy pointed out. “You normally date men who are just like you.”

“I don’t,” Molly said in surprise. She'd dated men of all persuasion, from musicians to businessmen, even a few her mother had set her up with, but she'd never dated another athlete.

“Yes, you do. There was that accordion player, and before him that bloke with the motorcycle, and the one with the checkerboard hair. They were all neat and tidy and liked everything in order. Not at all the types of blokes who would get arrested in a bar fight.” Lucy waved her hands vaguely. “I don’t know how to explain it. They were a bit... unemotional.”

“I’m not unemotional,” Molly retorted, a little horrified that her sister thought that of her.

Lucy put a hand on her arm. “I know you’re not,” she said softly. “You just come off that way. I know you better than anyone, and sometimes I can’t be sure what you’re really feeling. Well, except out here on the hill.”

Molly thought about Roxanne’s joke about never having to have a feeling again if she didn’t like it. “I…” Her voice died off. She didn’t know what to say to her sister’s pronouncement.

“You never told Fitz that you love him,” Lucy went on in a quiet voice. “Did you?”

“No,” Molly whispered.

“I don’t think he had any idea,” Lucy said thoughtfully. “That might be why he thought you were trying to get his problems all sorted out, so that you could let yourself love him. He might not have minded it as much if he'd known you already did.”

“He knew I… I showed him… I’m not…” Molly suddenly felt on the verge of tears. She squashed them down ruthlessly, and cleared her throat. “I’m not good at being all emotional like that.”

“Practice makes perfect.”

Molly was getting very tired of the word perfect. “Just because I don’t always show my feelings doesn’t mean I haven't any.”

“I know that,” said her sister mildly. “Does Fitz?”

She turned to look at her sister, and saw Hilarion approaching up the hill. He sat down beside his wife and gave Molly a smile.

“Good job with the Wanderers. I watched the game on the wireless, your team did well.”

“Thanks,” Molly said shortly.

Hilarion blinked at her, evidently feeling her lack of welcome. “Did I interrupt you?”

“This is sort of a sister thing.”

“Since you’re here, though…” Lucy patted the ground beside her and Hilarion stretched out, taking her hand.

Molly laid her head back down so the sky took up all of her field of vision. She had mixed feelings about Hilarion joining them for their confessionals on the hill. She didn’t have much faith in his ability to be insightful, but she didn’t quite want to tell him to go away in case she hurt his feelings. She did like him, after all. Maybe he didn’t know that, she thought, thinking about what Lucy had said.

“I suppose you’re my brother now,” she said aloud, uncertain how to express it. “You can join us if you like.”

His quiet voice floated over to her. “Thanks, Molly.”

“Molly likes you just fine, you know, darling,” Lucy said, then turned her head to her sister. “I’ve told him, but he wasn’t sure.”

Molly could feel a blush creeping up her face and was glad Hilarion was watching the sky instead of her. Even knowing he'd seen her crying hysterically, it was still hard to say that sort of thing out loud. Easier when all she had to do was agree with her sister, though. “Yes, I do. Did you think I didn’t?”

“Well, at first. I was a bit scared of you. Before I met Lucy,” he added in a rush.

Molly digested that. Hilarion had only met her once or twice before he’d got together with Lucy. She remembered telling Rose that he couldn’t string two thoughts together and felt a bit guilty. Perhaps she could be more open with people. She hadn't thought this hard about everything she said since she'd been at school. It was exhausting.

“I’m not afraid of you now,” Hilarion said then, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “You’re worth getting to know, Molly.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He reached across Lucy to pat her arm gently. “Are you still upset about Fitz? Your dad told me he met him at your match against Montrose.”

“Dad was at that match?” Lucy asked.

“What did Dad say to you?” Molly demanded, turning to get a look at her brother-in-law.

Hilarion shrugged. “He asked me if I knew your coach. I said just a bit, but I liked him. He didn’t say much else after that.”

Lucy looked concerned. “Is Dad being nosy?”

“Dad is always nosy.” Molly sighed. “You’re lucky he didn’t know about that whole thing with Roxanne when it was happening, or he'd have been nosy to you two as well.”

Hilarion and Lucy both winced at the thought.

They lay there in silence a few moments, then Hilarion said, “I do like Fitz, you know. I think he’s good for you.”

“How do you mean?”

“Don’t get upset, but, you’re nicer when you’re happy. Fitz makes you happy. And he’s a sharp bloke. He won’t lay back and let you tell him what to do all the time like Cornish Dan did.”

Molly turned to stare at him wide-eyed, and he added, “Perry told me a few things.”

Cornish Dan the accordionist had been her boyfriend for several months just after Roxanne and Perry had got together. He was an old friend of Perry’s. She’d quite liked him at first, but had grown bored of him after a few months. He was too agreeable. You could never call Fitz agreeable, she thought wryly. She hadn't thought of herself as telling Dan what to do all the time, but now she thought about it, she had definitely been the dominant personality in that relationship.

“I think you’re right,” Lucy mused. “He challenges you, Molly. Cornish Dan didn’t. And I did like how he protected you at that party.”

“Protected me?” Molly echoed.

“What party?” asked Hilarion.

“You weren't there, dear,” Lucy told him, then went on, turning back to her sister. “He didn’t let the team see your colour-coding. You always try to keep that a secret, like you think people will think you're strange if they know. You didn't need to tell him to do it, he just knew you wouldn't want it getting out, so he helped keep it secret for you. And he didn’t seem to think anything of it, either. He didn’t think you were mental or anything.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “Well thanks for that, Luce.”

“We don’t think you’re mental,” Hilarion assured her. “You’re just very particular about things.”

Molly frowned up at the clouds. She hadn't really thought of things quite the way Lucy and Hilarion saw them, but she understood their point. It was all irrelevant, though, because she'd been wrong about the depth of his feelings for her. Oh, he felt something, but it wasn't the same as what she felt. I knew it couldn't last. She'd thought they were falling in love, but that had been just her. Wrong, wrong, wrong again.

“None of that matters,” she said aloud. “He was never... He said he wished he hadn't started anything with me when he'd always known it wouldn't last.”

“Maybe if he'd known you loved him, he wouldn't have said that,” Lucy said softly. “Maybe he was trying to protect himself when he thought he'd be hurt. Men say stupid things sometimes and they don't always mean them. No offense, dear,” she added to her husband.

“It's true, we do that,” he agreed placidly.

Molly waved her hands sharply, dismissing her sister's rationalization. “But he did say it. And he meant it, I could tell.”

Had he meant it? She wasn't as sure now, not after that kiss in Falmouth. Either he'd meant it, and she'd been wrong about how much he cared for her, or he really had cared about her and she'd been too upset to see whether he meant those words through her own misery that day. She made a small noise of disgust, at herself and the entire situation.

Lucy reached over to pat her hand again. “Do you want to come inside and hold the baby until you feel better?”

“I want Fitz to kiss me until I feel better,” Molly said, “but holding the baby will have to do.”

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