Work Text:
It’s 9:53 pm on the 23rd of December when Errol flies straight into Arthur and Molly’s closed bedroom window, startling Molly awake. At first, she thinks the Burrow is under attack and grabs her wand from under the pillow, ready to take on the unseen intruder, but then she hears Errol's distinctive hooting and her guard drops instantly. That bloody bird, she thinks, shaking her head as she opens the window to let him swoop in. He holds his leg out impatiently waiting for her to untie the note he’s been sent with and hoots appreciatively once she finally does and slips him a few owl treats as a reward. “What have we here?” she asks, unfolding the parchment. She immediately recognizes the untidy scrawl as Ron’s and her heart starts to beat a bit faster, anticipating that something is wrong with one of her children. She reads the note with shaking hands and prays she's wrong. Sorry to bother you Mum and don’t worry we’re all fine but there’s an emergency! Harry just told me the Muggles aren’t getting him any Christmas presents and I don’t know what to do. M’sorry it’s so late, but d’you think you could maybe make him something nice? Love, Ron
She doesn’t know much about Harry, just the things she’s heard from Ron, but she was always fond of Lily and James and she’ll be damned if their little boy goes present-less at Christmastime, which is how Molly Weasley finds herself knitting yet another Weasley Christmas sweater. A Weasley sweater is warm and cozy and she hopes it makes Harry feel like he’s got a family - a real family. Those Muggles don’t count in her opinion, no matter what Dumbledore thinks.
*****************************************************
Arthur gets home late from work again to find his wife wide-awake in the sitting room with a basket of yarn, her knitting needles furiously clacking away. “Er, Mollywobbles?” Arthur asks, eyeing his wife suspiciously.
“Yes, dear?” Molly replies, not taking her eyes off the half done sweater in her lap. It’s emerald green, which is a color he’s never seen her use for a Christmas sweater before.
“I thought you were done with the sweaters by now. Did we somehow acquire another child while I was at work?”
“Yes,” she says firmly. The look in her eyes tells Arthur it’s best not to question her.
“…Okay,” he says slowly, a little thrown off.
“Little Harry,” she offers like he should know exactly who she’s talking about.
“Harry?” He wracks his brain, but can’t recall knowing any Harrys.
“Ron’s friend, Dear. Harry. Harry Potter. The same Harry Potter who isn’t going to be getting Christmas presents from those horrid Muggles.”
“Oh, yes. Of course. Carry on then, but do come to bed soon. We’ve got to be up early to catch the Portkey to Romania.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I finish making him some fudge.”
“Molly…” He knows better than to argue with her when it comes to things like this, but they really do have to be up early and he knows what she’s like when she hasn't gotten enough sleep.
“The boy isn’t expecting to get any Christmas presents, Arthur! I have to do this!”
“Well alright, but remember, not too late.”
“Of course, Love.”
Arthur walks over to give her a kiss goodnight before bounding upstairs to get ready for bed. He shakes his head when he thinks about his wife and how caring she is. That woman sure is something else and he wouldn’t trade her for the world.