I wrote this for the 25 Days of Christmas competition on Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges.
Author's Note: The following story was inspired by my own 8 year old son…so this is for him even if he won't read it for a while.
These are self-edited and written rather on the fly. I apologize if they are not very polished.
Finally, I'd like to thank keeptheotherone for pre-reading the following story when I wasn't sure what it was missing. She had a great new story everybody should check out called 'The Faintest, Slimmest, Wildest Chance.' Also, for the fun of it—and because 'tis the season—check out 'The Weasley Christmas Song List,' you won't be sorry!
Disclaimer: The characters and world belong to JK Rowling.
Prompt: Stockings
Molly and family
Molly crept down the stairs in the darkened house-freezing when one step squeaked. She waited a moment, listening for movement or voices. When all remained silent, she continued on her trek, levitating a bag of goodies and gifts ahead of her. In the lounge, sprawled out before the fireplace, were her three oldest boys. Eight, six and two. The eight month old twins were upstairs in the cot that they shared.
Charlie was sprawled on his back, limbs flung in all directions, snoring softly. Percy lay between the big boys, snuggled into Bill, who was on his side with an arm around his little brother. They were so sweet when they were asleep. It was easy to forget that she'd found another chipmunk in Charlie's drawer yesterday morning or that Bill had yelled at Percy because he'd got jam on Bill's comic books or that Percy had smeared peanut butter all over the front of his jumper.
As quietly as possible, Molly stepped over the boys to the fireplace. On the mantle hung five stockings. They'd bought the three oldest boys' stockings on Diagon Alley over the years, but this year she couldn't quite scrape up the extra galleons for the twins stockings. After all the everyday expenses, then add Christmas gifts and the cost of a nice holiday meal? Well, new stockings were low on the list of priorities. So, instead, she'd stayed up late knitting stockings in red and gold. One with an 'F', the other with a 'G'.
Pushing those thoughts aside, Molly couldn't help but smile as she listened to Charlie's snuffling snores. He'd been quite keen on catching Santa Clause in the act this year. It had been all he could talk about since lunch that day, yet there he was, fast asleep. She was glad that he still believed in Father Christmas, and probably would for another few years. Billy, on the other hand, was growing up.
oOo
Three weeks earlier…
"All right, boys," Molly announced after breakfast on the first of December, "I have a special writing project for you this morning."
This announcement was met with groans. The hours between breakfast and lunch were spent doing lessons with the older boys. They rather liked maths and sciences. Charlie was especially interested in anything to do with animals and plants, whereas Bill was more inclined to potions. Though reading and history seemed to appeal more to Bill than Charlie. However, the boys were united in their hatred of writing assignments.
"Well," Molly sniffed, hands on her hips. She tried to suppress a smile but couldn't quite manage it. "I was going to have you write your letters to Santa, but if you don't want to..."
The table was cleared in no time and she had two attentive boys eagerly awaiting their lessons. Three, actually, as Percy had popped up between Charlie and Billy with a curious look on his freckled face.
"Who Santa?" he asked.
"Just the greatest wizard to ever live," Charlie exclaimed with round eyes and waving hands.
Percy gave Charlie a skeptical look, then turned to Billy. "That twue?"
Bill hesitated for a moment, which caught Molly's attention. She had expected a quick and enthusiastic confirmation to Percy's question.
"Um, yeah, Perce," Bill said with a wary glance in Molly's direction.
"Even better than Merwin?" Percy asked.
"Absolutely!" Charlie said, but Bill merely nodded his head.
"And Brumblebore?" Percy added.
"Way better than Dumbledore," Charlie said.
"How come?" Percy asked and he was still looking to his eldest brother for answers.
Again, there was that slight hesitation. Billy wouldn't look at Percy as he nodded his head. With a pang in her heart, Molly realized that maybe Billy was putting it all together. That, maybe, he no longer believed in Santa Clause. She had known this was coming and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. On one hand, she was concerned that Bill would let it slip to the younger boys, but Bill was her thoughtful one. He'd be mindful of his younger brothers.
Then again, what if she were wrong? What if Billy was just feeling off this morning and he really didn't know? If Molly tried to talk to him about it, would she inadvertently be revealing information he hadn't already chivvied out himself? Or confirming something Billy wasn't quite ready to admit? Sometimes Molly felt like she was failing Bill. Every first for him was a first for her, too, and sometimes she just wasn't sure what to do. It would be easier when it was Charlie's turn and routine by Percy, but with Bill it always felt like she was trying to walk across an icy pond. One wrong step and she'd slip and fall, taking him with her more than likely.
Molly sighed. Wait and see seemed a good strategy for now.
"Well," Bill said at last, "it's not like he created an important potion or new spell or anything, but he's the nicest wizard to ever live. He brings gifts to all the children in the world on Christmas Eve."
"Not all the kids," Charlie corrected, leaning on his elbows. "Just the good ones."
"So, no pwesents for Fweddie and Georgie?"
The first real smile during the whole conversation came to Billy's face, but Molly flushed red.
"Why would you say that, Percy?" Molly demanded, hands on her hips.
"You said they bad babies."
"Oh."
Molly pressed her lips together. Oh, dear, she had said that, hadn't she? She would have to be more careful about what she said in front of her middle boy. Best just to change the subject. Molly passed out parchment and quills and set the boys to their task. She smiled as she watched Percy tug on Bill's sleeve and ask his big brother to write a letter for him. Bill set his own letter aside, and pulled Percy into his lap.
oOo
"What grand thing did you do today, boys?" Arthur asked from the head of the dinner table that night.
"We wrote letters to Santa," Charlie reported with a gapped tooth grin.
"Ah, good, excellent. And what did you ask for?"
"Well," Charlie started and shot a look at Molly. "Do you s'pose Santa would put a dragon egg in my stocking this year, Mum?"
"Not at all, Charlie Weasley," Molly replied, pursing her lips. "I sent Santa a stern letter instructing him not to bring any living creatures into my home."
Honestly, that boy. Did he think she was running a menagerie here?
"Ah, Mum…"
Arthur interrupted by speaking to their eldest. "What about you, Billy, what do you want Santa to bring you this year?"
Billy shrugged without looking up. "You could just put a book on Africa in my stocking." Then he paused, before adding, "Or maybe Santa could bring me one of those leather kits. I could make a scrivener's bag like Uncle Fab's."
Arthur exchanged a look with Molly. So, her husband had noticed it, too. Molly had been hoping it was her imagination, but that did not seem to be the case. She felt another pang in her heart.
oOo
Come Christmas Eve, Charlie's enthusiasm for Santa Claus had only grown. At lunch that day, Molly had been subjected to a regular interrogation by her second son. He'd wanted to know all about Santa and how he went about his work. She rather wished that her eldest was as excited.
"So, does he use a Portkey to get from one place to another?" Charlie asked.
"He simply Apparates from place to place, dear," Molly replied absently, setting a plate in front of little Percy.
Charlie's forehead crinkled as he studied his sandwich. "And he visits every child in the whole world in one night?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Wizard and Muggle?"
"Yes, of course. Santa may be an important wizard, but he doesn't believe in all this pureblood nonsense."
"But that's a lot of kids," Charlie said, his forehead still crinkled. "How does he go to so many houses in one night?"
Molly stopped what she was doing for a moment to wipe her hands on her apron and smile at her second son. "Magic, dear, what else?"
"Well," Charlie announced, "I'd like to see it. Wouldn't you, Billy?"
Bill looked at his little brother a moment, then shrugged before turning away. "I suppose so."
"I wanna know," Percy piped up.
Somehow, Molly wasn't surprised by this. All of her boys were curious in their own ways. Charlie was endlessly exploring. If she had a knut for every squirrel, frog or newt he'd brought into the house, she could buy the boys new jumpers instead of knitting them. Bill, on the other hand, wanted to know how things worked: everything from Arthur's Muggle thing-a-majigs to magic. He craved knowledge. Percy, it seemed, was more like Bill. Already, he would sit down with a toy automobile and turn it this way and that trying to figure out how it was put together. The twins, since learning to crawl, only seemed to be interested in things that were in opposite directions.
"Let's stay up and wait for him!" Charlie said, bouncing in his chair.
"Now, Charlie," Molly said, "Santa only comes when you are asleep, you know that."
"We p'tend," Percy said, looking at his brother with bright eyes.
Charlie beamed at his little brother, before turning to Bill. "Or we could hide, yeah?"
"Behind the settee," Bill said with a grin. He seemed to be warming to the idea.
Molly frowned as she looked at her oldest. Last year, he would have been the one making the plans and doing the persuading. This year? Well, Molly couldn't ignore it any longer. Her first born no longer believed in Santa, he just didn't want to come right out and say it.
oOo
In the end, Molly had relented. Charlie had become very determined, so much so that he'd pestered her until she gave in. Though, it was really little Percy who had finally convinced her. He'd been Charlie's shadow, parroting all of his big brother's arguments. The toddler was so excited to be included in this grand adventure with his big brothers—a rarity—that Molly just couldn't say no.
They'd made quite a little party out of it. They'd bought blankets and pillows from their beds into the sitting room to make tents. Arthur had provided them with some Muggle thing that he called a lightflash. The boys had put out all the candles and huddled around the contraption, telling stories and drinking hot chocolate. The only downside that Molly could see was that she was required to stay up past her bedtime before she could go to work filling the stockings.
In the babies' stockings she put small things: bananas because they were just beginning to take table food, stuffed dragons and new socks. For Percy, some Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, a paperback picture book, and a Muggle toy robot with a key. Arthur had found it, and he'd thought Percy would like to see how it moved. Molly had not asked Arthur how he'd come across such a thing.
No live animals for Charlie, but she'd found a nice toy Chinese Fireball to add to his collection, along with a book all about them and some sugar quills. And for Bill? Well, the leather kit had been too expensive. So, it was a second hand travel book with lovely pictures of a faraway land. Molly had made sure it was free of rips and marks and as nearly new as she could find. The one on Egypt had been well worn, and even though she knew he would like that one better, her pride had made her choose the virtually unopened copy of A Wizard's Trip Through Luxemburg.
Now, it seemed foolish. She should have got the Egyptian one. Bill wouldn't have cared that the spine was broken or the pages dog-eared. He would have loved the pictures of the pyramids and the endless desert. Christmas had never seemed like such a stretch as it did this year.
Molly wiped a tear away as she stuffed a small Auror figure and some chocolate frogs into her oldest boy's stocking. She reminded herself that the important thing was that they were all together this holiday, and that was so much more than most could say. They had each other and who needed toys in shiny wrappers? They had family. They had love.
She turned, ready to tiptoe back up the stairs, but she found herself looking into the eyes of her oldest. Again, she froze, truly caught out this time. With a sad sigh, she realized that Bill's illusion was truly over now. Here she was-filling his stocking-proof that there was no Santa. Her baby was growing up, and he was leaving childish things behind.
"Mum?"
"Billy," she whispered, crouching down beside him. "Come to the kitchen with me, dear."
Bill sat up, putting a hand on Percy's shoulder when the little boy stirred. Molly smiled at how thoughtful he was. He was growing up so fast, she knew. The world was a scary place around him, that's what truly made this Christmas so difficult.
Once in the kitchen, Molly lit the lamp over the table.
"Sit, dear," she whispered. "Have a biscuit and milk with me."
Molly poured two mugs of milk and warmed them with her wand. Then she brought over the plate of biscuits that the boys had left out for Santa. Bill sleepily dipped his in his milk, munching on it in silence. Molly took the minute to watch her eldest boy, reflecting on how grown up he looked.
He was tall for his age and slim—maybe even skinny. He hated to have his hair cut, but she'd wrestled him into the chair for just that task two days ago so his red hair was nice and neat. Almost all of his adult teeth were in now and when he flashed her that handsome smile—that was one part her brothers and two parts Arthur-she could imagine what the girls would think of him in a few years.
Yes, he was so grown up.
"Billy," Molly said and waited for him to look at her, "tell me what you know about Santa."
Bill's eyes dipped down and he broke off a piece of his biscuit. "I don't know," he muttered.
"Santa lives as long as you believe in him," she said, leaning in close. "And it's okay if you want to believe in him still."
"Yeah?"
"Of course. Just…remember to be careful about what you say in front of your brothers because they believe in Santa."
"I always try."
Molly stroked his hair. "I know you do."
Bill yawned great big and stood. "Happy Christmas, Mum." He kissed her cheek. "And thanks."
Molly watched as he wandered into the sitting room to join his brothers. Bill might be growing up, but he was still her little boy. Her clever, thoughtful, loving little boy. Maybe she'd put together a few extra knuts and get him that book on Egypt, after all.
