“So, what do you think?� Arthur Weasley questioned, draping his arm gently around his wife.

From an outside point-of-view, the pair stood in a slightly crooked house, looking affectionately towards their Christmas tree. In truth, Arthur had just made the voyage into the large backyard to retrieve the couple’s first Christmas tree. To a Muggle, the house they stood in might have looked more like a death wish than a cosy place to live. However, after some magical reinforcements and a large sum of their limited Gringotts account the couple had bought The Burrow as their first house. After all, The Burrow was quite a large step up from the small third floor apartment they had lived in previously.

“It…needs something,� Molly Weasley replied with a coy smile. Carefully, she sifted through the box of family ornaments as she searched for her wand that had been buried underneath the load of fragile decorations. Moments later Molly's wand rested playfully against her chin as she eyed the pine tree.

“It needs…� Molly tapped her wand against a metal bowl filled with freshly popped popcorn. Immediately after, the small kernels began threading themselves with an invisible binding.

“Popcorn.�

The witch slowly lifted her wand into the air, and the popcorn string began wrapping itself around the chubby tree. The placement of the food decoration looked as if someone had taken hours in decided exactly where each string would go on the separate branches. Molly grinned in accomplishment.

Arthur nodded in appreciation of the addition. He distractedly murmured something along the lines of “looks much better� as he kissed Molly lightly on the cheek. Happily, the couple settled onto the old patched couch that sat across from the warm fire, their joyous grins evident.

“One moment,� muttered Arthur as he leapt from the couch. His even steps lead him to the old record player that was tactfully hidden behind the holiday decorations. With practiced precision he lifted the needle from its position and placed it onto the ancient looking record. Within moments, a magically magnified Christmas song erupted into the room.

When Arthur returned to the only piece of furniture in the room, Molly had disappeared. With a sigh that bordered on the edge of impatience, Arthur sunk onto the couch and waited for his wife to return.

Molly returned to the room with an exaggerated sour expression. “I thought you were going to get rid of that old thing,� she joked. On a few occasions they had talked about giving the gaudy record player away to anyone who would take it. It was most defiantly outdated, but Arthur refused to part with it.

“You could do with a few new records, you know,� she added before she caught the edge on her tongue. Her pale hand flew to her mouth, anxious of his reply. Of course, if she hadn’t insisted on getting a new place of their own, her husband could have afforded several new records. Much to Molly’s relief, her husband only laughed at her comment, brushing it off.

Laughter continued to echo across the room as Arthur swept his wife into an embrace as a Christmas sounding waltz began to play from the record player. Soon, the pair were dancing in the limited space the living room provided, their steps small and rotations of the sequenced dance tight.

Finally, Molly broke away from the waltz, collapsing tiredly on the couch. However, a large Muggle looking camera was now held carefully in her pale hands.

“Smile!� she exclaimed as the flash went off on a surprised Arthur. Her chime-like laughter filled the room once more, overcoming the continuous Christmas music.

“I wasn’t ready,� returned her husband disapprovingly. Arthur grimaced inwardly as he thought of how horrible the portrait would turn out. No doubt it would be the next addition to the dreaded wall of portraits Molly had insisted on hanging.

“Those are the best types,� responded Molly, waving her hand as to brush the topic away. “Those are the ones that have life in them,� she said through her recurring laughter.

“No,� rejected Arthur, “those are the ones that have me with a weird look on my face.�

“Same difference,� Molly returned through a sloppy grin. With a sobering look, she patted the cushion next to her, indicating she wanted her husband to join her.

Noticing the serious look on his wife’s face, Arthur joined Molly on the couch. He slowly crossed his legs so he could look towards his wife’s perplexed face. He nodded slightly, an indication that she could pour her problems whole-heartedly on him.

“You know,� began Molly in what she hoped to be a thoughtful tone, “we really don’t have to get each other anything for Christmas. What with the baby on the way and the new house…� As she spoke, her hand gradually found its way to her slightly rounded belly. She was only a few months along, but she knew they had to begin considering the impact that children would have on their lives. Molly nodded slightly, as if enforcing her statement.

“Are you sure?� questioned Arthur. “I’m sure we could manage something. It is, after all, our first Christmas together. Maybe just something small?� he questioned, his loving nature for his wife emerging before his economic sense could take control. If he had been thinking economically he would have agreed automatically. For in truth, they really didn’t have any money to spare, but he was sure he could –and would- manage something for his wife.

“No, no.� Molly’s brightly coloured hair bobbed in protest. “No, this house and our new lives are enough of a present. We really need to think of the future of our family, Arthur.�

Her husband grudgingly gave in. “It will still be a memorable Christmas,� he promised persistently as he kissed his wife lovingly on the cheek.

“We don’t need new shiny things to be happy.�

Arthur strolled down the streets of the small Muggle town, his black wizarding robes billowing behind him. His eyes were adverted to the ground, and his confidence in his quest was steadily decreasing. Was it normal for all these people to be staring at him?

He had only managed to escape Molly’s questioning by saying that he needed to go to the library and get some research in. He had spent longer than he had deemed necessary convincing her that that was the only way he would be able to receive the promotion.

The hesitant wizard tapped his side pocket reassuringly, where two vital objects were carefully hidden.

Arthur stopped suddenly as a small antique store appeared next to him. Overhead a plain, simple sign read in bold black letters ‘The Little Stop.’ In the clear glass windows there was an assortment of odd Muggle objects on display, but it was the vibrant red and green poster that caught his attention.

The Little Stop
50% Percent Off All Items!
-Take Advantage of this Sale Before it Ends-

The wizard paused automatically in thought. Maybe here was the perfect place for buying Molly an inexpensive gift. Not that he wanted to be cheap, but truthfully it was all he could manage. He had a biting feeling that his wife might become offended if he presented her with a gift instead of honouring his promise. But then again… Maybe just something small?

Arthur walked into the store uncertainly, the store bell echoing as the door closed behind him. The knocking sound of the bell reminded him of his ill kept promise to his wife, the fact that he hadn’t yet violated it seemingly irrelevant. Immediately, Arthur promised himself he would only look, although he wasn’t sure how long that guarantee would last.
The wizard began his search towards the back of the store, planning on shielding himself from any other customers that had entered. However, it quickly became evident that this was the sort of store that no one bothered with, and instead marked it off as rubbish.

However, Arthur’s infatuation with Muggles and consequently their everyday items, kept his interest in the objects sharp. Yet, even to someone whose interest was as prominent as Arthur's couldn’t help but wonder what use Muggles could find for objects such as a singing black box. His interest in the customers of this quaint shop only grew as he found small car looking creations that had to have been made for a bug-sized group of people.

After exploring the odder half of the store, the wizard found the more practical gifts that he was looking for. Books were shelved in long rows across the walls, though Arthur was lost as to in what order they were. Nearby, neutrally coloured coats were hung neatly on racks, each unique in their own way.

Various items caught Arthur’s immediate attention, like the long fur coat that would have been a heavy contrast to Molly’s fragile looking pale skin. Or even the embroidered matching scarf and mittens. Yet nothing seemed to scream ‘Molly’ in a way that would make it impossible for him to deny purchasing it.

Finally, the persistent husband began heading towards the exit of the antique store. He silently made a resolution to stick to the side of the store where the bookcases stood massively so there would be no chance for distraction. Slowly, he trudged towards the door, saddened in the fact that he had not found the perfect gift for the edited version of their first Christmas.

It was odd how it found him. Even as a young child he had scoffed at how foolishly such acts seemed to happen in such fairy-tales. Someone would be down on their luck, and then, almost magically, the perfect solution would appear. Yet, Arthur didn’t question this phenomenon.

There amongst the endless row of books, was the exact gift he had been searching for. Arthur’s suddenly gentle fingers tugged at the leather diary, freeing it from its tightly packed row. The other books seemed to breathe in the absence of the diary, automatically expanding to fill the gap.

In his tender grasp the soft pad of his finger traced the silk embroidery that danced across the cover. It was only the image of Molly tucked next to their fire with her quill moving fluidly across the pages of the diary, that convinced Arthur he had to get it. It would surely be messing with fate if he didn’t.

The oddly dressed wizard’s hopes suddenly crashed as the book fell open in his hands. In his hindsight the act seemed to be mocking his gift idea. Scrawled across the water-ruined pages was the unreadable writing that filled the pages in a loopy mess. Sourly, he decided Molly’s handwriting would have looked much more elegant in such a diary.

However, the surrounding books had seemed to grow, filling the empty space the diary had once occupied. With a twinge of remorse, he shoved the book onto the nearest table.

A hollow ringing sound met his ears promptly, evidence that he had carelessly thrown the book onto another object.

The polished silver caught his eye, as Arthur caught sight of the explicit glimmering camera stand.

The perfect gift.

A new image replaced the first, as he visualized Molly placing her gaudy camera on the stand, taking new, better portraits of the pair of them in front of their Christmas tree.

Rapidly, the wizard grabbed the stand, marking it with his sticky fingers. However, he paid the small imperfection little heed as he rushed through the labyrinth of aisles, searching for the register.

While in the secrecy of a rack of women’s jewellery, he enlarged the carefully wrapped parcel from his coat pocket. The now fully sized record player rested on a magically appeared trolley, another magically induced object.

“I need to trade something,� announced Arthur, his confidence waning as his statement was made. “You do make trades here, right?�

The Muggle clerk looked oddly towards Arthur, his hands retreating into the safety of his black leather jacket. To the average person the clerk might have seemed like a shady character, with his drooping brown hair and the small gold ring tucked through his lip. But no amount of fear he had ever provoked could overcome the look of awkwardness that was now evident on his profile.

“Sure…� His eyes were directed towards Arthur’s odd outfit. The pair were roughly around the same age, but the clerk – one of the few workers on duty in the store at the time, was positive that he wouldn’t have been caught dead in such an outfit.

Oddly enough, Arthur didn’t notice the odd looks he was receiving from the guy at the register. Instead he focused on what he had come here for: to get his wife the perfect Christmas gift.

“Good, good,� he whispered to himself thoughtfully as he tried to decide the best way to present the trade. “It might look ancient…but it’s still in pretty good shape.� Arthur motioned stiffly towards the record player. “I don’t need too much for it,� he added, choosing his words carefully. “Just this stand, really.�

In drastic contrast the new metal stand cast a shameful shadow on the grimy machine. Really, it was little use to anyone as it was so outdated, but Arthur hoped it would get him the metal stand at the very least. For a long moment, he got lost in the vision of Molly receiving the unexpected Christmas gift.

Without even bothering to inspect the piece of machinery any closer than from the safety of his counter, the clerk – whose nametag read ‘Charlie’, handed Arthur a few crumpled bills and mumbled something about having a good day. Then the cashier disappeared into an office behind the register.

The broad smile didn’t register with Arthur’s consciousness as he bounded out of the chiming doors. Molly would be so pleased despite the fact that she had made him promise that he wouldn’t spend any money on her for Christmas. But, nonetheless, this gift would most defiantly please her, and technically he hadn’t spent any money.

Arthur returned to The Burrow with the feeling that this would undoubtedly be the best Christmas ever.

Molly’s finger traced the edge of the wooden cabinet and her lips curled in disgust.

The small store at first appeared to be quaint, but upon closer inspection it gave Molly the impression that it hadn’t had a thorough cleaning in years. Undoubtedly though, she would be able to find Arthur the perfect gift somewhere on the cluttered and grimy shelves. The perfect gift for the perfect – and by perfect Molly meant inexpensive enough for her limited amount of money without looking cheap - price.

Unknowingly, Molly had stumbled into the same store that Arthur had visited only a few days previously. In contrast to Arthur’s adventure into ‘The Little Shop,’ she hadn’t entered the store because of its claim to low prices, but instead because she had visited nearly every Muggle store on the street. Also, unlike Arthur, Molly had a vague idea of what she hoped to find amongst the thick layer of dust.

Molly danced between aisles, her hands skimming over the tops of shirts without much interest. If she had been in search of clothing, she could have stayed at home and knitted or sewn something for her husband. Instead, she found herself out on this frigid day in search of a Muggle item that Arthur would enjoy without a doubt.

Finally, she found her way to a row of trinkets. Many of the palm-sized items seemed to be intricately decorated with bright colours and careful strokes of a paintbrush. Delicately, she picked a frail looking ballerina from the shelf, inspecting it closely.

Arthur had spoken of such trinkets on numerous occasions; the kind of statue that danced and sang a short melody. However, Molly credited those tales to his imaginative thoughts that probably grew from someone’s mistaken story at the office. After all, without magic, how could such things be accomplishable to Muggles?

“Can I help you?�

A Muggle man only a few inches taller than Molly stood in front of her. From the expression on his face it was obvious the store didn’t see many customers, even during the normally busy Christmas season.

The man was dressed in simple stone washed blue jeans and a loose fitting green, long sleeved shirt.

Molly surveyed her own outfit with a small grin. She was glad to notice that she could easily pass as a normal Muggle, despite the wooden stick discreetly tucked underneath her knitted sweater.

“Yes, please do, Charlie.�

The man looked slightly taken aback, but he managed to quickly regroup only a few seconds later.

“What exactly are you looking for?� Charlie questioned.

“Something for my husband,� proclaimed Molly. “He has an odd fascination for…� she stopped suddenly in her sentence before the words could escape her lips. He has an odd fascination for Muggle items.

“For?� prompted the clerk, a bite of impatience on the edge of his voice.

“For trinkets. You know, the odd little things that are utterly useless and people cast out as rubbish.� Molly nodded slightly, trying to make up for her stumble of words. “Oh!� exclaimed the redhead in recognition. “He also has this old record player he absolutely adores.�

Charlie nodded in a forced friendly action. As uninterested as he was in Molly’s gift affairs, he pondered his suggestion for several minutes. Finally, after an unnecessarily long amount of time, Charlie suggested the obvious.

“Why not get him a few records? We have some of the older ones at a large discount.�

Molly’s mouth went slightly ajar. Sure, she had considered the options on numerous occasions, but she had assumed that records would be too expensive for what she was prepared to pay. Or rather, what she was prepared to give up.

“Okay,� agreed Molly, motioning for Charlie to lead the way to the records.

Charlie nodded contently as he began to walk towards the cash register, motioning to a cardboard box of circular disks next to the till.

Molly nodded slightly. However, instead of immediately sifting through the box of records, she headed towards the opposite side of the counter.

“How many of the records could I get for this?� she questioned, tentatively pronouncing each syllable. In her ivory coloured grasp her gaudy black camera hung delicately. “Two? Three records?�

“Three of the newer records,� spoke the clerk, immediately surprising Molly. Charlie extended his hand towards the camera, which Molly carefully handed over.

Charlie nodded in approval, motioning towards the rack of records that were in decent conditions. He waited idly while Molly made her selection and then disappeared behind the break room.

Molly walked out of the store with a happy grin. Clutched in her hands was Arthur’s Christmas present, her profit for exchanging her beloved Muggle camera.

But she didn’t have any regrets.

Arthur entered the modest sized house with a noticeable bounce in his step. Christmas Eve was one of his favourite days of the year, although compared to the day that followed it was dust on the floor. It was a simple annoyance that they followed through with each year.

He glanced down at his Muggle watch, his heart a distant flutter in his body as he counted the final few seconds of the day in a whisper.

It was then that he noticed Molly in a slightly slouched position on the couch; her arms hugging her legs, most likely to keep warm. Without a second thought, Arthur picked up a crocheted blanket from the floor and wrapped it gently around his wife. His lips met her forehead in a loving gesture.

“Arthur?� she questioned softly, eyes still gripped with sleep.

“Hmmm?� Arthur hummed in response. Slowly, trying not to disturb her further, Arthur climbed onto the couch next to Molly.

In the same soft dream-like tone, Molly said, “You’re late.� Her head, covered in a crimson mess of hair, blindly found its way to her husband’s shoulder.

“Sorry,� murmured Arthur, the soft pads of his fingertips pressing gently against her uncombed hair. However, he didn’t dare offer his legitimate excuse for fear it would only upset her.

Shortly before they decided to purchase The Burrow, the couple had decided it would be in both of their interests if Arthur took a second job. It was only a part-time one that forced him to work odd hours such as today. It was only on a rare occasion, like tonight, that it upset the time that was scheduled to be spent with Molly.

“Christmas?� The first words of the question seemed to be lost from her dream-like trance, but Arthur understood her question.

“Yes. It’s Christmas.�

Suddenly, Molly had cast the blanket aside and was off the couch. Her grin was large and made her face seem brighter than the Christmas tree that was in the centre of the room.

Molly’s wand was in her grasp as she spun around the room in a blur. First she lit the fire, which soon was followed by the fairy dust that suddenly appeared on the tree; the sparkles most resembled a light flurry of snow. In quick succession candles from around the room came to life, their colours a variation of green and red. And with a final spell, a carefully wrapped package with a large red bow came soaring towards Molly, and it hesitated in front of her just long enough for her to grab it from the air.

“It’s Christmas!� she said with a similar amount of glee a young child would possess on such a holiday.

Seemingly pleased with herself, Molly returned to the couch, the package in hand. When she briefly glanced down at the parcel a sheepish look overtook her features.

Molly took a deep breath before her crimson lips parted and she claimed, “I know I was the one who made such a big deal out of not getting each other gifts, but when I saw this I simply couldn’t resist.�

Arthur visibly allowed a sigh of relief to escape his lips. His hands worked quickly through his layered cloaks, struggling to remove them from his body. When Arthur was finally free from the fabric, he retrieved his wand from his pocket and mumbled the spell to send his own gift for Molly towards him.

His stiff fingers struggled to move in the correct motion. Instead, they shook violently from the cold winter night. Arthur’s carefully chosen gift came soaring towards them, clearing Arthur’s head easily. Luckily, the newly decorated Christmas tree was there to cushion its stop, or else the Weasley family might have had a new window for Christmas also.

As his face transformed into a deep red colour, Arthur retrieved the gift from the tree.

However, as minutes passed Molly couldn’t resist laughing at the spectacle. Her recently decorated tree was now toppled over, sending a cloud of sparkles into the air. It was only after the flakes of sparkles settled onto the floor that she could finally control her laughter and manage a somewhat sober look.

In comparison to Molly’s, Arthur’s own gift was messily wrapped, though that was easily forgiven. Molly’s sparkling package was in the simple shape of a square. In drastic contradiction, however, Arthur’s gift was in an unnameable shape that resembled more of a long stick with a head than anything else.

“You really didn’t have to,� remarked Molly, although the growing grin on her face illustrated her happiness better than any amount of words could.

In a careful tangle of hands, they finally managed to exchange gifts. Once this difficult task was completed, they both sunk to the couch, each waiting for the other to open their gift first.

Finally, after a brief silence while each person excitedly waited for the other to open their gift, Arthur insisted she opened her gift first.

“Okay,� agreed Molly. Her finger carefully found the place where one layer met the next, and she gently dragged her hand along the opening. It would have been obvious to even a complete stranger that she was only opening the gift so quickly because she was anxious to see her husband unwrap his. The wrapping paper fell off the gift smoothly, giving to the atmosphere of the shocked look that framed Molly’s features.

However, Arthur mistook the shock on her features for shocked excitement. His grin continued to grow on his profile, before it seemed that his entire face would be claimed by the happiness that was pulsing through his veins.

There was no fake, ‘Do you like it?’ or ‘You can take it back if you want.’ Instead there was only the sure feeling within him that his wife adored the gift. As boastful as it might have sounded, it was anything but. Truthfully, Molly did love the gift, but it was the fact that she had no camera to place on the shiny metal stand that had startled her so.

“It’s gorgeous,� she managed to choke out. Her delicate touch skimmed the smooth metal texture of the camera stand, before she looked towards her husband to open his gift.

“Go on,� she prodded, tapping the square shaped package gingerly.

Arthur tore the decorative paper from the box. After struggling to remove the box’s binding, Arthur finally revealed the carefully stacked records. As if in a trance, his hands separated one from another, his eyes reading the titles rapidly.

“I figured you might want some new songs for that old thing,� she joked playfully. Her now timid fingers twisted her morning coloured hair in thin coils, before she released them to spin in wild directions.

The same shocked look played on Arthur’s profile. After only a few seconds passed, too quick of a time period for Molly to catch the edge of horror in his eyes, he hid the look from his face and replaced it with a cheerful grin.

“Thank you,� he replied slowly, his mouth twisting around the oddly formal words.

Molly was the first to give into the tiredness of the night, a long vertical yawn escaping her mouth. The contagious yawn quickly spread to Arthur.

“We probably should get some rest if we plan on visiting anyone tomorrow,� voiced Molly, thinking of the many social adventures they would have to take part in later that day.

“Right,� agreed Arthur as he helped his wife up from the couch. Slowly, the pair found their way to their bedroom, each plagued with guilt.

Once both were in each other’s embrace underneath the warm winter quilt that lay on their bed, the nagging voices in their heads began to truly take effect. They had never kept such a secret from one another. They both were aware that they would have to admit the truth at some point.

Molly was the first to collapse.

“Arthur,� she began timidly, the nervousness an effect of her guilt. “Looking back, I honestly don’t have any regrets,� she began, “but I traded my camera for those records. I just thought I’d tell you, but I do love the camera stand.� After a short, calming breath, she added, “Good-night.�

“Me too,� murmured Arthur almost inaudibly.

“You too what?� questioned Molly, confused.

“Traded my record player for the stand,� he mentioned tiredly. “No regrets.� His caveman sounding talk was credited to the exhaustion that had just bloomed inside of him.

Molly grinned, and a small chuckling laugh filled the room. “Arthur?�

“Yes?�

“I love you.�