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Compared to past Christmases with the Weasleys, this one felt different. Though there was a sense of holiday spirit in the air, there was also a sense of...solemnity. I knew why, though my parents didn't. It wasn't something I could exactly bring up into conversation without bringing the mood down in the room.
My parents carried on as though the atmosphere of Christmas hadn't changed. I was glad they could; for others it wasn't as easy. The Burrow—the Weasleys' home—was packed. The majority of the family was present, missing a member or two. Then you had those who were closest to the Weasleys, like my family, Hermione Granger and her parents, and Harry Potter.
Talk about a packed home.
Dinner had just been finished, as had dessert. A few excused themselves from the table, wandering about the Burrow. I was one of the said people. My parents remained at the table, talking with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Like Hermione's parents, they were Muggles. Yes, like Hermione, I am a Muggle-born, and damn proud of it. They got along well, the parents. It was a good thing for Hermione and me; we were dating Weasleys after all.
Speaking of the said Weasley, I sought him out in the den room. He sat in front of the fireplace, probably burning his eyes out by staring into the flames. I smiled sadly. I didn't blame him for wanting some privacy, even if it was a holiday. Family get-togethers for the Weasleys weren't the same anymore, not since the Battle of Hogwarts tore them apart.
I crossed quietly behind him so I didn't spook him. The heat of the fire warmed me. Tenderly, I put my arms over him, hugging him from behind. He had to have been stiff, I felt him relax. I sat on my knees, though I practically stood on them—he was tall sitting up.
"You won't ignore me, will you?" I tried to tease lightly.
"I would never," he said quietly, resting his head against mine. Around the Burrow, chatter could be heard.
"I know it's hard." I squeezed him tighter. I bit my lip, debating on whether or not to give him his presents. I wondered if they would be too much.
"Winnie, I really don't feel like talking about it right now." His voice suddenly became cold.
I can't just keep them from him; I need to give them to him. An idea sparked in my brain. "How about we talk a little walk outside, just you and me?"
"Are you mad? It's bloody cold out."
"It'll be quick, I promise."
He exhaled heavily.
We both made sure we were bundled up before stepping outside into the chilly December air. Snow was trickling from the heavens, staining my bright blonde hair. It was perfect Christmas weather. Everything seemed picture perfect, except the heavy air surrounding him.
