"Molly, love..."

Molly didn't look up from her knitting. "Yes, dear?"

Arthur pulled the ottoman over in front of her chair and sat on it, facing her. "I need to tell you something."

She put down her knitting. After this many years, she knew when Arthur was serious. "Okay."

"Moody's found the French Camp."

"Oh," Molly said, thoughts whizzing through her head. They had to go there, stop these people. Save the children being held there. With that thought, came the immediate thought of who would die this time. The last camp they'd raided had resulted in the death of an Auror. Who would it be this time. "When are you going?"

"I don't know. Moody is going to talk to Harry and probably schedule a meeting..." he paused, not wanting to say what he knew he had to say. "And I think it's going to be just the Order, so we may need your help as well."

"Oh," Molly said again. "What do you need me to do?" She was terrified. Of having to go. Of watching people die. Of watching her family die. She knew, however, that it was needed. She would do what she had to, to help.

"There are likely to be several children working there, and it's doubtful that they have parents there. I think we'd use you to help lead them -- and the rest -- to safety so that the rest of us can keep our attention on the liberi agents."

She nodded. Molly could help the children. Keep them safe. That was easy. Keep them safe. "I can do that," she said to herself before looking up at Arthur and saying the same to him. "I can do that, Arthur."

He grinned, and leaned up and kissed her. "Thank you."

Molly grinned at her husband. "Of course, dear."