Hello! Just unearthed this little gem and decided to post it. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own any HP characters...


Christmas Sweaters

Christmas came every year like clockwork, and no one was more aware of the fact than Molly Weasley. It was a well known prospect, that she would make sweaters for everyone as Christmas presents. She even made sweaters for her in-law children and all of her grandchildren. It was often the speculation of the recipients of such gifts that she knitted them all year round. Her youngest son would often say she was 'mental' to spend that much time on sweaters; they got one every year. He had about a million, he said, but he was too wizened to his mother's wrath to ever throw them out.

Her son in-law rather liked getting the gifts. He was of the opinion that it showed her love toward her family, especially because she always made them by hand, without the aid of magic. Even though he had, through the years, accumulated quite a surprising amount of the things, he still felt a glimmer of warmth whenever he received one.

Her daughter in-law always felt accepted when she got one every year, though with a tinge of jealousy. A woman of extreme talent, she had always picked up on most everything rather brilliantly. Knitting, like Divination, was one of those things that eluded her. Still, it was a comfort to receive a sweater labeled with a big, golden H every year. She loved more than anything to see them on her children.

In fact, it brought no greater joy to an old Molly Weasley than to see her gaggle of family members dressed in matching sweaters, all her toil, and all made with love. She blushed with pride every year when her kind husband, wearing his own sweater, would kiss her on the cheek and say he loved his present more than anything else in the world, besides his own beautiful wife that had taken the time to make it.

Soon, though, the night would wind down, the sweaters wouldn't see the light of day again, and Molly Weasley would resume her knitting for next year. Yes, it was a year round expedition of hers, making those sweaters. Every year she would knit Ron a nice maroon one. Every year, she would craft Harry a beautiful emerald one to match his eyes, and Hermione a pretty blue one that seemed to compliment her skin color.

Every year she would make a sweater for Arthur, Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Percy, George, Angelina, Fred II, Roxanne, Ron, Hermione, Rose, Hugo, Ginny, Harry, James, Albus, and little Lily.

And every year, that didn't feel like enough.

Every year she would come back upstairs, search for her knitting needles, and make one last sweater. More carefully than the others she would knit together the soft yarn, spelling out in brilliant gold the letter F. When she finished, she would admire her work with a soft gleam to her eye.

"There you are, Freddie." She would whisper. "My name isn't Molly Weasley if I let a child of mine go without a sweater on Christmas."

With a trembling hand, she would reach out and touch the golden letter, study every part of the sweater her son would never wear.

It was like this that every Christmas would pass. Mr. Wealey would find his wife sobbing on their son's old bed, clutching her newly made sweater as if she were clutching her lost son. He would coax her upstairs and put her to sleep, her hands still wrapped around Fred's Christmas present, and the next morning, the sweater would go in a box filled with many identical sweaters. Too many.

Because every Christmas Molly Weasley made Christmas sweaters for her entire family, and she wouldn't be Molly Weasley if she forgot about the son who could no longer wear one.

Hope you liked this one, and I'd love to hear your opinions. Flatter me, trim my ego, or set this story ablaze: I'm happy for any type of review to fuel my ongoing writing development!