From the moment he woke up on Christmas morning, Arthur was in a great mood. He awoke to a silent dorm – all his dorm mates had gone home for the holidays – bright, wintry sunlight streaming through the windows, and the prospect of a Wentworth-free holiday. With her boyfriend away at home, Molly would be free game.
After ripping through the pile of presents at the foot of his bed (mostly sweets and books on Muggles), he took his time as he dressed and readied himself for the day. He was unusually meticulous in his grooming that morning, combing each flaming red hair into place, and actually taking the time, for once, to make sure his robes weren’t lopsided.
He was nearly ready to declare his appearance satisfactory when he noticed his glasses. They almost entirely blocked his eyes – the one feature he possessed that he thought noteworthy. He hesitated, wondering if Molly would think him as foolish as he felt himself to be, then took off his glasses and tucked them in his pocket.
Squinting, he walked slowly toward the door, hands outstretched.
Ten minutes later he emerged into the common room with a sore backside and his glasses back on. He had dismally overestimated his ability to see without aid. Nevertheless, it had taken quite a nasty tumble down a full flight of stairs to make him concede defeat and return his glasses to their perch on his nose. Berating himself for his vain attempt to look more appealing, Arthur limped to his favorite armchair in front of the fire, intent on sinking into it and abandoning his mission for some other time. But when he got to his armchair, it was only to find someone else sitting in it – a short, curvaceous, redheaded someone else.
Molly Prewett blinked up at him with a pair of enormous brown eyes and smiled.
Arthur’s stomach jumped. Unable to think of anything to say, he smiled back.
“Happy Christmas, Arthur!” Molly said brightly, standing up.
Arthur gulped. “Ha-happy Christmas, Molly.” His brain seemed to have stopped working. She was there. He had been planning on finding her. Now wasn’t there something he needed to do?
Suddenly, it clicked. Happy Christmas… Christmas… Presents… Christmas presents. His gift for Molly!
With hands that seemed suddenly much too large and clumsy, Arthur fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the box that he had wrapped in coloured paper and string over a week before.
“I got you something, Molly. Er, here.” He shoved it eagerly into her hands.
Molly’s smile grew and her dimples made an appearance.
“Thank you! That’s so kind of you!” She turned her attention to the box. With a few deft movements from her tiny hands, the paper and string fell to the floor. Molly lifted her eyes to Arthur’s once more, then opened the box and brought out the contents. A tiny snow globe emerged from the box, fake snow whirling. There was a wintry scene inside: a tiny snow-laden cottage with blazing windows and surrounded by trees covered in more fake snow. Molly stared at the globe, entranced.
“What is it?” she breathed, as if the little globe might shatter if exposed to sounds any louder than a whisper.
“A snow globe, Molly. They sell them all over in Muggle towns during Christmas. And look, that’s not all it does, see?” He turned it over and showed her the tiny wind up key that stuck out of the bottom. He gave it a few quick turns, then flipped it right side up again.
A soft, sweet song chimed from the globe as the fake snow inside fell in lazy circles.
Arthur watched Molly’s rapturous face, feeling a curious burning sensation in his middle. When the song ended, Molly looked up, her cheeks a little more pink than usual.
“Oh, thank you, Arthur, it’s wonderful!” She paused and bit her lip. Arthur’s stomach dropped. She didn’t have anything for him. He didn’t know why he felt so disappointed. She was dating someone else, after all. And she hardly knew him anyway. Why should she get him anything? Trying to keep his smile from faltering, he said, “Well, happy Christmas, Molly. I should probably get going to breakfast—”
“No! Wait— wait, just one moment, Arthur. I’ll be right back! I’ll go put this in my room and be back in a minute. I’ve got— I’ve got something for you, too.” Molly smiled and her face flared red. Arthur watched her go, hopeful butterflies dancing in his midriff.
When Molly returned to the common room a few minutes later, Arthur couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. In her arms she held a dark blue sweater. Molly’s face flushed and she held it up for him to examine.
It was about his size with a large, clumsily knitted A in yellow on the chest. It was obvious that she had made it herself. Arthur felt his spirits soaring. She must care about him! She wouldn’t have taken all the time and effort to make this for him if she didn’t! Then she spoke.
“I felt, er, so very grateful… You know, after you gave me the pillow a few weeks ago, and then you helped me up to the Hospital Wing and… Well, I just had to do something for you to— to express my… thanks. So, er, here you go.” She handed it over.
Arthur rubbed a thumb over the thick wool, thinking, his spirits flying a shade lower. So, it was only a thank you gift. She didn’t really care about him. She cared about something he had done. Well… that was still better than nothing. Arthur took off his jacket and pulled on the sweater. When he had it on he looked down at himself, examining it. The right sleeve was longer than the left, and the knitting was tighter in some places than in others, but it was warm, and it was from Molly. He didn’t care how it made him look.
Arthur looked up at Molly, grinning. Molly’s expression was, Arthur thought, almost anxious as she waited for his verdict.
“Thanks, Molly,” Arthur said, then in response to the unspoken question, “It’s great.”
Molly smiled, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes – they still appeared troubled. Probably wondering whether Wentworth will approve of her giving me a gift, Arthur thought, bitterly. Unable to meet her gaze, Arthur looked down at his hands.
“Yeah…Thanks. I, er, I’d best be going to breakfast now…”
He was turning away when Molly said, “Oh, wait, I’ll join you, if you don’t mind.” Arthur’s head snapped up just in time to see Molly disappearing once more up the stairs to the girl’s dormitories. When she returned, she was wearing a jacket and scarf.
“Shall we?” she asked, brightly. Arthur nodded and followed Molly through the portrait hole, nonplussed.
***
Arthur could hardly believe the day’s events. It seemed strange that one of the best days of his life had begun with a tumble down the stairs. After accompanying him to breakfast, Molly had not scurried away as usual, but had returned to the common room with him, laughing and talking. They had spent hours playing wizard chess (Arthur had tried not to beat her too badly), then they had gone to lunch together. After lunch they had had another snowball fight. Arthur, feeling bad about winning the chess game, had eventually sat down in the snow and allowed Molly to pelt him with as much snow as she could throw. They had returned to the common room laughing and sopping wet.
With coats, scarves, socks and shoes drying by the fire, they had roasted marshmallows and discussed the mysteries of the universe, like whether cats were smarter than dogs. Arthur was a staunch believer that dogs were the more intelligent species, while Molly would not relinquish her view that cats were smarter. The playful argument had ended with Arthur snatching up Molly’s scarf and, pretending it was a tail and he was a cat, running about the common room, mewing. Molly, pretending to be angry, chased Arthur for a several minutes before collapsing on one of the worn couches, laughing so hard she could hardly breathe. Arthur, also laughing, sat down beside her and leaned back into the cushions, eyes closed, feeling content.
He heard students leaving the common room, then Dorcas Meadowes’ voice.
“Molly, we’re going to dinner. Are you coming?”
Arthur sank lower into the couch, waiting for her answer, waiting for her to go with her friend.
“Oh, I’ll be along in a few minutes, Dorcas. I don’t think my shoes are quite dry yet.”
Relief mingled with curiosity flooded Arthur. Why was she staying? Surely her shoes were dry by now. Was she staying for him? His stomach flipped over at the thought.
Opening his eyes, Arthur discovered that he and Molly were alone in the common room now. Molly’s eyes, large and brown and innocent, were focused on his face. Arthur blinked, surprised. Molly blushed and looked away. Arthur’s heart thumped in his chest. She was so close. So close…
Molly turned to look at him again and her eyes widened. Arthur leaned in–
And Molly jumped to her feet. Her face was bright red and she was avoiding his eyes. “We ought to get off to dinner, Arthur.”
Arthur shook himself. She was seeing someone! What had he been doing? “Molly, I– “
Molly was pulling on her socks. She still wasn’t meeting his eyes. “Yes, Arthur?”
Arthur gulped. “I’m sorry I– Molly…”
“Never mind.” Molly stuffed her sock-clad feet into her shoes. When she looked up there was a stiff smile on her lips. “Let’s go.” She turned and marched toward the portrait hole.
Arthur leapt to his feet and, without waiting to put on his socks, he pushed his feet into his boots and scrambled after her.
“Wait– Molly, I didn’t mean–!”
Molly whirled around, eyes flashing.
“Didn’t mean to try to kiss me? You don’t kiss someone on accident, Arthur Weasley! What do you think I am? What about Johnny? You thought I’d just– you think I’m some kind of…” Her voice rose to a shriek. “Some kind of scarlet woman?”
Arthur blanched.
“No, no, Molly, I just – I couldn’t, I didn’t… I like you, Molly! I like you! I didn’t mean to— I’m sorry!”
Molly glared at him for a moment then turned away. Just before she reached the portrait hole she paused. Arthur thought he heard her sigh. Then she was gone.