A Very Weasley Christmas

It was very early Christmas morning at the Burrow, perhaps five or so; it was still very much dark outside, and just as well as it was. Arthur and Molly had just finished playing Santa- they'd just finished wrapping the last presents for the little ones. Bill would be getting the radio he'd wanted- Arthur, of course, had taken it apart first. (And was not entirely sure he had put it back together correctly.) Charlie was getting the broomstick he'd been pining for- it had taken a long time for his parents to save for it, but they had finally gotten enough to buy him a used broom. Percy was to get a large share of books- the four-year-old seemed to have a love of reading already, the little tyke. The toddler twins, Fred and George, would be getting a toy broomstick to share.

Arthur and Molly had gotten each other presents as well, though neither knew it. Molly had purchased a book on muggle cars- she knew he would be thoroughly excited with it. Arthur got his wife a brand-new Cookbook- the novelty of it was that it recited the recipes aloud as needed- there would be no need for Molly to try to bustle about the kitchen while at the same time having to lean over to read from a cookbook. Currently, however, neither of them had Christmas presents on their minds. Or at least not of that sort.

Molly's hands tugged on the front of Arthur's shirt, scrabbling at the buttons with her nails. Arthur was too busy to notice- he was busy working on his belt already. He fumbled hastily with the buckle, managing to pull the clasp undone just as Molly undid the second button on his shirt. He leaned in and kissed her, eyes closed, tongue exploring her mouth, lost in the moment. His hands closed around hers, helping her undo his shirt buttons. The collared shirt fell away as he shrugged out of its sleeves, and he started on his pants. Molly had done away with her own shirt now, and was working on her long skirt. It didn't take long before it hit the floor, Arthur's pants following suit soon after. His tongue was exploring her mouth again, his hands at the small of her back. She was pressing against him, her hands on his chest. She ran her hands over his firm chest, over his ribs, down the thin trail of red hair that led from his navel... He grabbed her around the waist, eyes glinting, heart racing. Pressing tight against his body, Molly felt his pressure on her. She smiled wickedly at him, eyes alight.

"Why hello, Mister Weasley," she breathed, throwing him down on the bed. He brought her down with him, and they fell in a heap on the bed. Molly was giggling, her face almost as red as her flyaway hair. She pulled Arthur's glasses from his face and tossed them carelessly onto the bedside table. He grinned at her, eyes alight.

"Hello, Miss Weasley- I believe we've met before?"

In the next room over, Charlie was laying petrified on his bed, hearing things. There was a lot of noise from next door- thumps, low cries, moans, and gasps came through the paper-thin wall. He knew it wasn't the family ghoul- he'd heard his father's voice distinctly say "I'll plug your outlet anytime-" whatever that meant. Charlie just shuddered at the strange sounds and put his pillow over his head. Maybe this was all just a weird dream.

On New Year's Eve, Molly called Arthur alone into the kitchen. She'd been in there a while, and Arthur, who had been attempting to control the children (without success), had assumed that she had been working on dinner. But there was nothing on the stove, nothing on the counters- no evidence of any meal-making. Molly, was standing in the middle of the cramped kitchen, arms folded across her ample chest when Arthur came in.

"Yes dear?" he asked, wiping smears of paint from his face.

"Arthur, I'm pregnant."

Arthur looked briefly up at her, and then returned to rubbing the paint from his glasses.

"That's nice, dear."