Embers of the Heart ; George Weasley

Four - 2.0

Christmas at the Burrow was usually a time of joy and laughter, but this year felt different. The festive decorations were up, but they almost seemed mocking in their cheerfulness, a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere that permeated the house. Snow had fallen thick and heavy, covering the field around the Burrow in a pristine white, but the beauty outside couldn't touch the turmoil inside.

I stood at the kitchen window, staring out at the snow-covered garden. The twins' old broomsticks, which used to lie haphazardly against the shed, were now neatly stored away, unused. George and Fred were in the other room, quietly discussing something with Arthur. I could hear the murmur of their voices but couldn't make out the words. Freya was napping upstairs, blissfully unaware of the tension around her.

Molly bustled around the kitchen, trying to keep up the appearance of a normal Christmas. The rich aroma of roasted turkey and freshly baked bread filled the air, but even Molly's cooking couldn't lift the pervasive gloom. I turned away from the window as Molly approached with a tray of mince pies.

"Here, dear." Molly said softly, her eyes weary but still kind. "Would you help me take these to the table?"

"Of course, Molly." I replied, taking the tray from her. My hands shook slightly, and I tried to steady them. "Anything to help."

I set the tray on the table, arranging the pies carefully. The absence of Harry, Ron, and Hermione hung heavily over us all. They had become like family, long before I did, and their absence was a constant reminder of the dangers lurking outside our safe haven.

As I finished setting the table, George entered the room. He gave me a weak smile, and I tried to return it, but it felt forced. His face still bore the marks of the recent torture he endured back in August, and it pained me to see him like this.

"Hey." he said softly, coming over to me. "How are you holding up?"

"I should be asking you that." I replied, reaching out to touch his arm. "You really should be resting."

"I'm fine." he insisted, though his eyes betrayed his exhaustion. "I can't just sit around and do nothing."

I sighed, knowing he wouldn't listen. "Just promise me you'll take it easy, okay? For Freya's sake."

He nodded, his expression softening. "I promise."

The door creaked open and Fred walked in, looking equally worn out. "Mum's got the food ready." he announced, trying to inject some cheer into his voice. "Let's sit down before it gets cold."

We gathered around the table, the usual lively chatter replaced by sombre conversation. Arthur tried to keep the mood light, telling stories from Christmases past, but it was clear everyone's thoughts were elsewhere.

Charlie walked through the front door, having gone to the nearest town for some stuff for Molly and I. He snuck the pregnancy tests into my coat pocket, giving me a secretive smile and I mouthed, 'Thank you', before returning to my food.

After dinner, we all moved to the living room. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow, but it couldn't chase away the chill in the air. George and I sat on the couch, Freya on his lap. She reached up, tugging at his hair, blissfully unaware of the tension around her.

"She's getting so big." George said quietly, his eyes fixed on our daughter. "I wish... I wish things were different."

"Mee too." I whispered, leaning my head on his shoulder. "But we'll get through this. We have to."

He kissed the top of my head, his arm tightening around me. "As long as we have each other, we'll be okay."

As the evening wound down, the Burrow settled into a quiet calm. After the chaos and fear that had plagued us for months, the tranquillity was a welcome respite. George and I took Freya upstairs, her little body heavy with sleep as she lay against my shoulder.