HSWW Asst 12 | Gryffindor | Folklore, Task 3 | Write a story about an item of clothing imbued with meaning - a religious item, a family heirloom, a handmade gift…

Camp Hogwarts | [Color] Black

IPC #243 | [Dialogue] "Don't be so hard on yourself."

365 #68 | Delicate

WC: 787

o . o . o

Handmade with Love

Molly inspected the garment carefully as she folded it, running her fingertips over the lumpy yarn. She was quite torn. On the one hand, it was her first attempt at knitting anything, so she really ought to forgive herself the occasional mistake. But the perfectionist side of her insisted that a gift be perfectly done, and this certainly was not. And still, it was all she had to offer. What a pitiful gift for her husband on their first Christmas as a married couple.

With a heavy sigh, Molly laid the garment in it's box, and carefully folded wrapping paper around it, waving her wand to seal the paper perfectly. She dearly hoped that Arthur hadn't done anything silly and gone over the top on a gift for her. He made so little money, and most of their savings had gone toward the wedding. Arthur had a habit of being sweet though, and she wasn't entirely convinced that he wouldn't go out and buy her some pretty piece of jewelry or a beautiful hat. Or, more likely, some befuddling Muggle trinket that would make her giggle.

As Molly was musing, Arthur plodded down the stairs, his red hair messy and his glasses askew on his nose. In his hands was a small box, messily wrapped in gold wrapping paper.

"Happy Christmas, love," he greeted, smiling widely as he saw her sitting cross legged on the floor in her flannel pajamas.

"Happy Christmas, dear," she replied, leaning over to kiss him softly as he sat down next to her.

"You were up early today," Arthur observed, reaching out to play with a curl of his wife's hair fondly.

"Well I had to put the finishing touches on your gift," she teased.

"Do I get to open it then?" he laughed, reaching out for the big box. He withdrew his hand at the last moment. "Actually, I think you should open yours first. I just can't wait."

Smiling tentatively, Molly accepted the little gift box from Arthur, and carefully peeled at the gold wrapping. Inside was a worn little box, and Molly instantly knew there was jewelry inside. She popped the box open and her expression softened immediately. The gold locket inside was inscribed with a swirling, decorative 'W' and rested on a long, delicate chain.

"Arthur, it's beautiful," she whispered, moved by the little treasurer. "But it must have been expensive, how -?"

"It was actually my grandmother's," Arthur answered shyly, "so it didn't cost me a knut. Although I did have to fight my brothers for it, so I wouldn't say there was no price to pay."

"Thank you," she breathed, hugging her husband tightly. She felt indescribably moved by the sweet gift.

As Arthur moved to pull his gift onto his lap, Molly suddenly felt overcome by a wave of anxiety. It wasn't nearly enough - not to begin with and certainly not in comparison to his present. Her cheeks began to flush red, and she looked away to hide her embarrassment.

Oblivious to her discomfort, Arthur quickly tore off the wrapping paper and pulled the lid off the box. Lifting his gift out of its box, his eyes widened in awe as he took in the carefully knitted sweater. It was black and charcoal, with two cables knitted down the front and one on each sleeve. It looked very distinguished, and Arthur marvelled at the softness of it.

"Molly, this is amazing! Did you make this?" he was incredulous, but all Molly could see when she looked at the sweater were the lumps and dropped stitches that marked her mistakes.

"It's just something small, it's not really much of anything at all," she objected, shaking her head as her cheeks stained an even darker pink. "Quite poorly done, if I'm honest, but I didn't have time to start over…"

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Molly dear," Arthur soothed, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to it. "I love it! So much, in fact, I might insist on this becoming an annual tradition."

"You're just saying that," Molly said, pouting a little, though his words were starting to reassure her.

"I'm not, love," he answered, leaning over to whisper the words against her lips sweetly. "It's the most magnificent sweater I've ever owned, and I think I'll put it on today."

"Do you really like it?"

"I love the sweater almost as much as I love my darling wife," he said, smiling as he kissed her soundly.

Molly smiled in return, always grateful for the kindness of her husband.

"Come now, let's have breakfast," Molly said, inviting him to join her in the kitchen. "That at least I'm confident I can do without making any mistakes."