Tidal Wave [george weasley post war]

4. A Weasley Christmas Morning

After scrubbing herself, almost raw, in the shower, Aurora pulled herself together enough to sit at Ginny's vanity and try to cover up the redness underneath her eyes with some makeup. She dressed herself slowly, almost dreading joining the rest of the Weasley clan downstairs because of her run-ins with George.

Sitting down on the edge of Ginny's bed, Aurora pulled her thick black stockings up her legs before standing to pull the waistband up over her hips. She then pulled on the slightly form fitting red dress while simultaneously slipping her feet into some black ballet flats.

Once her feet landed on the last step, Molly rushed over to wrap her arms around Aurora in a gentle hug. "Oh, you look beautiful Aurora. Happy Christmas darling!"

Aurora smiled softly, hugging Molly back before turning to look up at Mr. Weasley. "Happy Christmas, Mr. Weasley! Is that a new jumper? It looks so vibrant!" She giggled, hugging Arthur tightly before looking at Molly who spoke up, "Oh, sweetheart, I've got my tips and tricks, I do!" Molly's hand gently pat at her husband's chest before leaving a kiss upon his cheek.

"Yes, Aurora, you know my wife." Arthur joked with a laugh, turning to head back into the kitchen. "Come, sit down, let's all eat as a family!" He exclaimed, his eyes wide as they took in his son, George, sitting in the middle of the table. Ron was perched to his right, and Percy on his left.

"Happy Christmas, Aurora!" Ron and Percy spoke at the same time. Percy lifted his hand and waved as Ron nodded his head in Aurora's direction. "Hermione will be here for dinner. She's spending some time with her parents now that their memories are back in full." Ron smiled, piling his plate sky high with pancakes, bacon and some scrambled eggs.

Aurora grinned back at Ron and Percy, choosing to look down between the two and not make eye contact with George. "Happy Christmas you two!" Ginny softly pat the seat beside her. "Is this all of us?" She asked her friend, her mouth almost watering at all of the food laid out in front of them.

"Charlie can't make it home this year. Bill and Fleur will be stopping by shortly. They never make breakfast. I think they enjoy their bedroom adventures in the morning, if you catch my meaning..." Ginny giggled devilishly, though her cheeks turned red as Molly let out a loud gasp, "Ginevra Weasley! We do not speak of such things. Honestly, who raised you girl?"

"You did."

Aurora quickly turned her head to search for the source of the comment. It was George. And if she wasn't mistaken, a small smirk could be found on his lips. That is, until he saw Aurora staring at him inquisitively. His lips fell into a straight line with her glance. "What? She did." He grunted with a roll of his eyes, stuffing his mouth with a forkful of pancake and a tiny piece of sausage.

Ginny giggled. Molly almost started screaming. But her eyes wandered over the face of her son. The son she had not seen for six months. That little bit sounded like her son. The real George. Not the empty shell of a man they have seen for the past three years. Her round eyes were starting to get wet but before any tears could escape, she dabbed at the corners of her eyes and scooted her chair in a bit closer to the table. "Yes, well, dig in everyone! Happy Christmas!"

Arthur smiled to himself as he turned to Aurora. Their entire conversation throughout breakfast was about the newest televisions and how expensive they were. Aurora swore she could feel the heat of someone's stare against the side of her face but every time she looked away from Arthur, nobody was looking at her.

After breakfast, presents were exchanged. She didn't have anything for a majority of the Weasley family other than Ginny and her parents. For Ginny, Aurora had found a stunning pair of winter gloves. Red leather. "I know it's not much, but they made me think of you. I-uh, I know they might not be regulation, but they certainly help keep the cold out and could help while you're playing." She spoke softly, her fingers twisting the edge of her dress a bit before letting go and smoothing it down against her thighs.