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Arthur was all smiles on Christmas morning as Molly handed him a soft wrapped gift. He’d be lying if he said this moment hadn’t crossed his mind when he had been getting ready to propose several months ago. He had spent several Christmases watching his girlfriend give out knit Christmas jumpers to all of her family and friends while he sat on the side without one. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to make him one and it certainly hadn’t been that he didn’t want one. He wanted one more than anything but approaching their first holiday season as a couple a few years back, Molly had made an off-hand remark about an old knitting superstition. The sweater curse.
The sweater curse said that if someone attempted to make a sweater for a boyfriend, that they would break up before the sweater was even complete. So for years Arthur had loudly fought the idea of getting a sweater from Molly. Not until they were engaged.
Well this year, sat around the fireplace of her parents house, Molly’s brothers and parents sitting on opposite couches and the couple snuggled closely on a loveseat with rings on their fingers, Arthur finally had it in his lap. He was quick to tear open the wrapping paper to find a gorgeous maroon jumper with a large golden ‘A’ across the front. It was everything he’d dreamed of in a famous Molly Prewett jumper.
“Oh Molls. This is perfect,” he said, trying to make quick work of putting it on but being stopped by an outstretched hand.
“Look at the collar before you put it on,” Molly said.
Arthur pulled out the arm he’d already managed to slip in before holding the jumper out to admire it. “It’s gorgeous, love.”
“The inside, you dunce,” she said with a teasing lilt.
He peered into the garment to find something hand-stitched to the inside of the collar. Property of MP. “Is that the jumper or me?” He laughed.
She shrugged with a smile.
“Well soon you’ll have to go in and stitch in a W.”
“I did think about adding it anyway,” she admitted.
“You aren’t a Weasley yet, Prewett.”
“No but this time next year I will be.”
Arthur slid on the jumper, relishing in the soft warmth. Marveling at every stitch.
“This time next year we’ll be hosting Christmas at our house.” She laid against him and he kissed her on the forehead.
“Merlin, I can’t wait. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
No matter how many jumpers Arthur got over the years, the first was always his favorite. Despite that, he was still always the most excited of anyone to get them even as they began to take over his closet over the years.