The first line of the story, I got from chapter 2 of MoonysMistress’s excellent Tonks/Lupin story, ‘Missing Scenes’, but I swear the remainder of the fics are totally different, but go read her story anyway. It rocks. Well, that’s all from me. Let the tale… begin!
Nothing for Christmas
Chapter One: A Gringotts Trip and a Talk in the Dark
Monday, 19 December, 1983, Gringotts Wizarding Bank
Five-and-a-half days until Christmas
Molly Weasley liked being a mother. Loved it, in fact. Raising her troop of little red-heads was probably the most unusual; most fascinating, most rewarding experience of her life, and it was far from over. With Ginny, her youngest, just two, Bill, her oldest, only just into his teens, not to mention the five others in between, she was going to be a busy, cheerful mother for a long time. Molly reminded herself of this happy thought as she scraped the last of the sickles, and every dusty knut from the bottom of her vault in Gringotts.
It wasn’t as if they didn’t have enough to live off; they were just going through a hard time at the moment. Right now, Molly had little Ginny to look after and Ron not much older (or easier) at three, the twins, although only five, had the ability to create absolute chaos, whatever they did, wherever they were. Even at home with plenty to do; on Platform Nine and Three Quarters; at weddings, at funerals (although everyone had needed to lighten up then), at baby showers for goodness sakes. At their own baby shower! If you put Fred and George Weasley in the middle of an empty room with no windows and no doors, nothing in their pockets and nothing on them at all except for the clothes on their backs, they could wreak havoc like a fireworks display in the middle of the Great Hall at dinner time.
At seven, Percy demanded attention like nobody’s business and seemed to have some kind of vendetta against the twins, getting in the way (and therefore becoming victim to their destruction of peace) and constantly correcting everything his brothers did wrong. It was absolutely gorgeous, even if grass and porridge were harder to wash out of clothes than they looked. Molly had barely been able to keep a straight face when Percy told a stunned looking Ron off for talking too loudly while Arthur was asleep this morning (and had consequently been the one to wake him up).
Charlie seemed to fall into many of the traps that Percy did, but tended to just quietly do what he thought was right, or what he was supposed to, and quietly think most of his siblings were totally off their rockers. He tended to be a little withdrawn in large crowds, occasionally easily intimidated or emotionally sensitive, but very gentle. If all her children were like Charlie, everything would be so much easier, but she would not get the chance to raise such an array of personalities.
Her eldest son, Bill, seemed to be a little of both worlds, as well as having something about him completely unique. As the eldest of so many, at thirteen, he seemed to feel a great amount of responsibility for every one of his siblings, but still managed to find small ways to rebel against this role, usually at Hogwarts. He seemed to have no problem taking care of babies, setting the table, answering the door, or, on a bad day, hunting the twins. As if to remind her that Bill was not just an oldest brother, Molly and Arthur received interesting little messages from him, letting them know that yesterday he was out after hours (but was back in the dorm be eleven, he promised); he had drawn all over his tie (but only with materials that could be washed out, of course); he’d cut the sleeves off his jumper so that it was like a singlet (but he swore he knew the spell to reattach them); he had ignored his Charms homework (although had done the reading and would not have that sort of thing affect his grades on the end-of-year-exams).
Yes, she loved her children, loved her family in general, and a bit of financial trouble would not change any of that, even if they had just had both Bill’s thirteenth and Charlie’s eleventh birthdays and Christmas was just around the corner, bringing with it not only the usual task of present-buying, decorating and sending out cards. This year, it was big. Since the war, neither Molly nor Arthur’s families had been communicating much, everyone remaining separated, each little faction healing within itself, adjusting to new circumstances. This year, Molly and Arthur were planning a sort of reunion, for both families, at the Burrow, and expected twenty to thirty guests, depending on who could come and whether they brought all their children.
“Mu-um, are we done yet?” whined Percy from behind her.
“Yes, I think so. Back in the cart, Percy. We’ll get back home soon…”
“PEEERCYYYYY!” Molly jumped and turned quickly, several knuts getting scattered all over the floor. It was a moment before she realised it was just Ron screaming. He tended to copy her, Arthur, any of his brothers and even Ginny sometimes, and had gotten into the habit of yelling out random names (she had not quite deciphered whether or not he chose any name in particular because of something related to that person). In his mind, she did this all the time.
“What, Ron?!” Percy exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly, for Ron, who was currently sitting with Charlie in the cart, sniffled for a moment and burst into tears. Percy scowled.
“Shoosh,” said Charlie gently, putting little Ronald on his knee. “Shoosh. Even Ginny shuts up more than you…”
When Molly had climbed into the cart and calmed Ron down, Percy and Charlie had snuck around, collecting up all the coins from the floor, and the goblin who had brought them here had given the four redheads several annoyed looks, they were finally able to get back into the cart again. How glad Molly was that Arthur had taken Fred, George and Ginny to pick up Bill from Platform Nine and Three Quarters.
When riding in a Gringotts cart, it was, and always had been, impossible to talk to anyone without shouting, so no one said anything, except for Ron who gabbled the whole way with no one quite sure what he was talking about as the sound was left one hundred feet behind them somewhere. Like every one of her children, (except for Charlie, who had been positively petrified of the place, the cart rides and the goblins when he was younger) Ron was very fond of riding the Gringotts carts.
“Ron, look!” said Molly loudly, pointing at a large, sparkling marble pillar that had a stream of tinsel tidily wrapped around it in a spiral. It was usually necessary to distract him when they got off the cart, because he, like most of her other children, got incredibly upset when the ride ended.
“Green!” yelled Ron, not much in a talking mood, it seemed, and far too excited to say more than single words.
“Yes,” said Molly. “It’s green tinsel around a marble pillar!” Ron seemed to find this absolutely fascinating.
“Green, Mummy!” he yelled again, pointing.
“That’s right, Ron,” said Molly, and put him down.
“Can we go home now?” asked Percy.
“Green, green, GREEN!” yelled Ronald, and Charlie had to prevent him from ripping down the tinsel.
“Soon, darling. We need to get Bill a new quill…” Charlie rolled his eyes, just catching up, Ron’s wrist firmly in his hand.
“A new quill.” He was clearly unimpressed by the fact that they still had to walk around Diagon Alley with Ron just to get a quill.
“Yes,” said Molly pointedly. They continued (much to Ron’s dismay) through the huge doors of Gringotts.
None of them said anything for a while as they made their way down Diagon Alley slowly.
“Home bang bus?” asked Ronald.
If it weren’t for you, probably not,” said Percy, who was between Molly and his youngest brother.
“Why?”
“Because you refuse to go by floo powder.”
“Why?”
“Well, I don’t know, do I?”
“Ron not power,” proclaimed Ronald wisely.
“What?”
“What?” And thus the discussion went on. Molly didn’t interrupt when everyone was content, something she had found to be a very useful tactic.
“Mum?” Charlie said thoughtfully, after a while.
“Hmm?”
“Why do we need to get a new quill?”
“Because at school, you need to use quills, just like we do at home.”
“Mum?”
“Yes?”
“But why do we need a new quill?”
“Because his old one’s worn out or broken. You can’t keep using the same old quill forever. He’s had the same one for a long time.”
“But Mum?”
“Yes, Charlie?”
“Why do we need to buy a new one?”
"Because Bill needs a new one.” Percy snorted.
“You know Ron, Charlie’s just jealous because Bill can to magic at Hogwarts,” he said conspiringly to Ronald, who clearly didn’t quite grasp what everyone was talking about but smirked all the same. “It’s a bit stupid though. He’s going next year.” Oh, yes. Charlie and Bill had just had their birthdays, Christmas was just around the corner and Charlie was starting at Hogwarts next year.
“Will I need a new quill, Mum?” asked Charlie, ignoring his younger brother’s cocky manner.
“Probably. The one at home that you’ve been using to write probably won’t last too long.”
“How much does that cost?”
“A few sickles.”
“Will I need a robe?”
“Yes. I think Bill will still be in his old one, so I think you’ll have a new robe.”
“How much does that cost?”
“Not much if we get a good price on it.”
“Will I need a new cauldron?”
“Yes. I’m sure we can find something second hand though…”
“How much does that cost?”
This went on for a while, until they got to the quill shop, found the cheapest, decent quality quill there, left the quill shop and were almost at the Leaky Cauldron. Along the way, Ron had grown very tired and grumpy, so Molly was now carrying him, pleased to see his eyelids were drooping.
“What about parchment?”
“Yes. You will need parchment.”
“How much“”
“A few knuts, it depends on how much you want.”
“Will I need new socks?”
“Probably. Your socks are the wrong… Charlie, why do you want to know if you’ll need new socks?” Charlie shrugged.
They stepped through the archway into the back room of the Leaky Cauldron, and walked into the bar. It was getting late; out the windows was darkness.
“Mum, can we just use the floo just this once?” whined Percy. Molly sighed.
“All right,” she told the enthusiastic seven-year-old, taking a small drawstring bag from her cloak, “but just because Ron’s tired and just because it’s Christmas.”
Percy marched cheerfully to the roaring fireplace.
II’ll go first,” he said, as if this was a very brave, responsible thing to do. Molly smiled, amused, and threw some of the powder into the fire.
“Off you go.” Percy stepped into the flames, the beaming.
“The Burrow!” and he was gone.
“Charlie,” she said, offering him the bag and making sure Ronald was still sleepy and oblivious.
“Where do you get floo powder from?”
“A shop in Diagon Alley. Quickly, I don’t want Ron to wake up.” Charlie solemnly took a handful of floo powder, threw it in the fire and said,
“The Burrow.” He spun off. Molly followed soon after, delicately protecting Ron’s face from the ash as they travelled together.
Predictably, as soon as Ronald realized what was going on, he began screaming at the top of his lungs, and the first thing Molly had to do when she saw Bill after a term at school was calm his baby brother down.
Neither Ron nor Ginny lasted long before they were too tired to stay awake, and the rest of the evening was relatively peaceful. Well, except for Fred and George, but they were too tired and slightly more subdued than usual, so it was a peaceful evening on Molly’s standards anyway. Charlie acted strangely though, quieter and more thoughtful than usual.
After coaxing the twins into bed, bribing Percy to do the same and leaving Bill downstairs to chatter with Arthur, Molly headed up to Bill and Charlie’s room to put her second oldest son to bed. She bustled up the stairs as quietly as possible, as to not wake her youngest children and knocked quietly on the door. Charlie opened it after a few moments, his face very pale against the relative darkness, blue eyes almost glowing.
“Are you ready for bed?”
“Yeah,” he said distractedly, and pulled at his red pyjama top on the way as he turned and scrambled under the covers. Molly sat down on the bed beside him and pulled the blanket up to his chin.
“Are you alright, darling? You’ve seem a bit… distracted.”
“Yeah,” said Charlie, looking at the ceiling, and then at her.
“Do you need an extra blanket?”
“No…” They sat for a moment, before he went on. “Christmas is coming soon, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. Five days. Percy and the twins have been counting down.”
“Yeah… I’m looking forward to Christmas.”
“Me too.” There was silence again, as Charlie reflected on this thought, and then gave a humungous yawn.
She kissed him on the forehead.
"Goodnight, Charlie. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mum… night.” Molly flicked her wand to turn off the light, so all she could see of her eleven-year-old son’s bedroom was a jumble of faint outlines in the darkness. He was no more than a mass of shadow with little blue pinpricks for eyes.
“See you in the morning.” She stood up, and walked quietly to the door.
“Wait!” hissed Charlie, and Molly turned.
“What is it?”
“Mum, I… I don’t want anything for Christmas.”
“What do you“?”
“I just don’t need anything this year, and I don’t want anything for Christmas, ok?”
“Charlie…”
“Just… don’t worry about it. You don’t need to get me something.” Molly was very confused… maybe he was just tired. He’d change his mind on Christmas day when everyone was opening Christmas presents from each other and distant family members from far and wide.
“We’ll see what happens,” she said quietly, standing in the doorway.
“G’night,” he said again, and turned on his side, not facing her anymore, and Molly closed the door softly.
Thanks to everyone who has given me positive feedback (heck, even the positive VIBES were good). Without you, I really would have just given up on this story. Hearing feedback is very encouraging. Especially when it happens to be even in the form of a review… Not dropping any hints, of course… ;)