THE WEASLEY JUMPER
Harry woke one Saturday morning and could tell just from the chill in the dormitory that it had snowed in the night. He burrowed down under the covers and rubbed his nose on the pillow to warm it. The idea of leaving the cocoon of warmth was deeply uninviting, but today was the day he had made plans with Hermione to go into Hogsmeade. Grumbling, he eased one foot, then the other, over the edge of the four-poster. He pushed back the hangings and found his slippers quickly. He glanced around at his fellow Gryffindors as he threw his dressing-gown on. Neville was snuffling softly and the only bit of Ron he could see was a tuft of red hair.
Harry would have liked to do his Christmas shopping with both Ron and Hermione, but Ron was going with Lavender instead. As Harry prepared for the day in the bathroom that adjoined the dormitory, he wondered about this new relationship. When Ron and Lavender had got together after the Slytherin v Gryffindor quidditch match, he'd been as surprised as anyone. Inexperienced as he was in affairs of the heart, he'd been sure Ron and Hermione were on the verge of becoming an item. They'd been throwing looks at each other since the summer and they'd made noises about going to Slughorn's Christmas party together. But that ship seemed to have sailed for the time being.
None of the boys had stirred whilst he'd been in the bathroom so he tried to dress as quietly as possible. He pulled on his Weasley jumper from last year, it still fit rather well though he imagined he'd get a new one soon. Harry fingered the wool as he eased the dormitory door closed behind him. He still remembered how touched he'd been in first year when he'd received his first jumper from Mrs Weasley. The kindness of strangers had blown him away and as he descended the stairs, he realised with a guilty twinge that he'd never given Mrs Weasley anything in return. Well, that would change this year.
The common room was unusually busy so early on a Saturday morning. Of course, it was a Hogsmeade weekend, and the majority of those milling around were third years and older, fastening cloaks and donning scarves and gloves. There was however a knot of excitable first years in the corner by the window. Hermione stood with them, using her wand to levitate a huge Christmas tree into place.
"Morning Harry," she called as the tree settled with a thump.
"Morning," said Harry, joining her. "What's this about? Don't the elves usually do the decorating?"
He was eyeing the boxes of baubles and tinsel piled on a nearby sofa. Hermione smiled.
"Not this year. Professor Flitwick thought it might be fun to make a project for the first years. They have to decorate their common rooms using only spells they've learned this term."
"Then he's going to judge which house did the best job, and the winners get a Honeydukes deluxe box as a prize!" explained a small blonde girl. She was huddled over a notepad with her two friends, quill in hand ready to jot down ideas. She looked like she meant business.
"Oh god, it's a miniature you!" Harry whispered as he and Hermione left the first years to it. Hermione sniffed but did not look put out.
"Sarah's a good girl. She and the others will have this place looking a treat. You'll see."
The two of them joined the crowd clambering out of the portrait hole and along the Fat Lady's corridor. At the foot of the marble staircase they paused and debated popping into the Great Hall for some breakfast. Harry was tempted by the delicious smell of sausages and bacon, but ultimately they decided to head straight to the village and beat the crowds.
"We can have an early lunch in the Three Broomsticks," Hermione suggested.
The Hogwarts grounds were indeed blanketed in a thick layer of snow and the lake had frozen solid. There were drawbacks to being the first to make the journey to Hogsmeade, Harry and Hermione had the wade through fresh snowfall and by the time they'd reached the first thatched cottage they were pink in the face and sweating under all their layers.
They veered first into Honeydukes were the sugary air made Harry's stomach gurgle.
"Have you made a list of people to buy for?" Hermione asked, extracting a roll of parchment from her pocket and peering around the shelves.
"Uh, no. I was just sort of going…remember," Harry replied and his friend threw him an exasperated look.
"Honestly, I'll never understand how you keep yourself organised," she sighed. She reached up for a box of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum and Harry grinned, looking around for the Chocolate Cauldrons. He didn't feel he needed a list, he knew exactly who he would get presents for. Ron and Hermione, of course, Ginny and the twins, Hagrid, maybe Lupin if he got a chance to see him this year, and for the first time, Mrs Weasley.
His hand paused over the pepper imps as his mind turned suddenly to Sirius. Though he hadn't let grief consume him, he still felt frequent pangs whenever he thought of his god-father. His particular regret this time was that he wouldn't have known what to get Sirius even if he was alive. They had spent so little time together that Harry had to admit to himself that they'd been virtual strangers. What had Sirius liked? Breaking the rules, motorbikes, defence against the dark arts and…what else?
Harry sighed and moved down the shelves. If only they'd had more time.
He and Hermione spent a considerable amount of time in the sweet-shop and left weighed down with bags full of brightly coloured boxes. Next, they parted ways as Hermione wanted to nip into the post office to send a Christmas card home to her parents and Harry needed to look for a gift for Ron in Spintwitches Sporting Needs. He dithered over a broomstick servicing kit, like the one Hermione had given him for his birthday a few years ago. He knew Ron would love it, but it was also expensive, and Ron could get very touchy about the fact that Harry had more spending money than he did.
So instead, Harry settled on a leather-bound Quaffle, as Ron had been complaining for ages that the one he had at the Burrow was falling to pieces. Harry was going to head the Scrivenshaft's next to find something for Hermione, but his eyes fell on Gladrags Wizardwear and he decided to give it a look. He by-passed the men's section and found himself in a crowd of middle-ages witches exclaiming over a sale. At once he started to feel a bit lost as he browsed the robes and cloaks. The shop-assistant clearly spotted his confusion a mile off because she bustled over, sparkling tinsel glinting on her hat.
"Can I help you, dearie?" she asked kindly. "Looking for something for the girlfriend?"
"Um, no," said Harry, his face warming up as Ginny flashed across his mind. No, you got her the sugar quills remember? Focus! "Actually, I need something for my friend and, uh, my other friend's mother."
The shop-assistant nodded sagely and tapped the side of her nose.
"I get you. Did you have anything in mind?"
"Uh…" Harry mumbled.
The witch beckoned him over to a stand of attractive purple cloaks made of soft wool.
"They're much warmer than they appear," the assistant explained, after insisting that he feel the fabric for himself. "Charms are woven into the wool as it's weaved. A little on the pricey side but you pay for quality."
Harry was completely at sea. He'd never bought clothes for girls before, maybe it wasn't the done thing? But he forced himself to think about it for a moment. The cloak was very nice and he did need something for Hermione. He'd been meaning to get her quills or a book, but he always got her books. Maybe it would be nice to give her something different for a change. And he'd noticed, vaguely, that she'd started wearing more feminine clothes at the week-ends, taking more care with her appearance.
"Yes, I'll take it, thank-you," he said, boldly making his decision.
If only it were so easy to pick something for Mrs Weasley. The kind assistant showed him many different styles of robe and hat, but he couldn't make his mind up. In the end he only bought the cloak for Hermione and some luridly patterned socks for Dobby, before leaving the shop.
The high street had filled with Hogwarts students whilst he'd been in the robe shop and several people greeted him as he crossed to the Three Broomsticks. It was warm and cosy inside, students and locals alike sat around the tables gossiping and laughing, whilst a fiddler in the corner played, We Wish You a Merry Christmas.
"Harry! Over here!"
He went on his tip toes to peer over the heads of the crowd and saw Hermione sitting by the fireplace with Ginny and Luna. He gave a thumbs up to show he'd heard her and went to the bar to order a butterbeer. With some difficulty, trying to balance the tankards and all his bags, he joined the table without any mishaps.
"You've been ages!" Hermione complained. "I thought we said we'd get an early lunch."
"Sorry," Harry panted, throwing his cloak and scarf over the back of a chair before slumping into it. "You shouldn't have wait for me. I got side-tracked."
Ginny leant sideways to try and sneak a peek into his bags and Harry quickly kicked them under his chair.
"Something special in there?" Ginny teased and Harry smirked.
"You'll have to wait and see, won't you? You two joining us for lunch then?"
"If you don't mind. We won't stay long. I have to get back, the cold won't be good for my Dirigible plum cutting. I've been trying to grow it in the dormitory but for some reason the poor thing just won't take," said Luna, shaking her head sadly.
Harry was surprised but secretly pleased that Ginny was here. He'd expected her to be spending the day with Dean but he was nowhere in sight. He'd heard gossip that the two of them had been fighting but he'd been trying not to get his hopes up. As Madam Rosmerta served them steaming leak and potato soup with home made bread rolls and local butter, he turned his attention back to Mrs Weasley's present. What could he get her? What did he know she liked? Cooking, knitting, Celestina Warbeck?
He was on the verge of asking Ginny what she thought her mother would like when his eyes fell on Hermione's hat, drying by the fire. It was one of her own bobbly creations, one of dozens she had knit last year to try and free the Hogwarts elves. He'd never had the heart to tell her Dobby had been taking them all but she appeared to have given up on the idea this year. At least, he had seen any hats or scarves covered in rubbish recently.
"Hermione," he asked as a sudden idea gripped him. "Can you teach me how to knit?"