Angels Brought Me Here (George Weasley)

Stuck on You

Ninety-Three Diagon Alley

"Rocking around the Christmas tree, have a happy holiday!" George was in a splendid mood, and it lifted Jenny's heart. It was Christmas Day, and he had invited her to his home for dinner, which assured her that kissing him hadn't been some massive mistake to regret.

"You have a wonderful voice," She smiled, and he bowed dramatically.

"Could have gone professional, if not for Voldy," George tutted, and she laughed.

"There's still plenty of time for a big singing career, George," She said, and he nodded.

"You'll be my manager?" He asked.

"Who else?" She laughed.

"You know, I was dreading this Christmas, on my own and stuff," He confessed.

"I was dreading it as well," She said.

"Why?" He asked.

"Things aren't great at home," Jenny shrugged. She blamed the mulled wine she had been sipping entirely for her brazen confession she was suddenly deciding to make, she felt a bit fuzzy.

"I didn't know," She appreciated that he wasn't pushing her to confess her darkest secrets to him, but she also wanted him to know that he wasn't then only one that had experienced trauma during the war.

"Nobody really does. My father was killed, during the war," She said, and his jaw almost hit the floor.

"What? When?" He asked.

"The same day Fred died. Though he died after that, it was more towards the end of the fighting. It was Bellatrix Lestrange, who did it, in the end," She knew her dark story was directly contrasting with the happy Christmas music humming away in the background, and she was only too aware that she was dragging the tone of their Christmas down into the pits.

"Jenny, I had no idea," George shook his head.

"You weren't meant to have an idea, that was the idea," She smiled softly, thinking to herself how much her father would have adored George and his sense of humour.

"And your Mum?" He enquired.

"Dementia. Early onset. It was already developing during the war, but the nurses think it was exacerbated when she lost my father," Jenny explained. She remembered how it had felt, the first time her mother had forgotten who she was. It had been not long after she had met George.

"Merlin, Jenny. What's dementia?" She almost wanted to laugh at his innocence, she hadn't even considered that he might not know what dementia is.

"It's a muggle disease, basically you forget who people are. You forget who you are," She explained.

"Your Mum is a muggle? And she doesn't know who you are?" He asked.

"Yes, and yes," She affirmed.

George stormed over to her, and at first she wasn't completely sure what he was going to do to her. But then he through his arms around her and held her close. It was cosy, with her head in his chest. She liked it there. It felt like home.

"Jenny, I need you to listen to me," George held her away from him and bent down slightly, staring into her eyes.

"I'm listening," She nodded.

"I'm here for you. I'm always here for you. I'm not going to forget you, I'm not going to go anywhere. I'm here for the long haul now," She felt herself growing emotional at his words. He of all people seemed to understand how badly one needed this sort of assurance after losing someone in such a brutal way.

"You're very special to me," She managed to utter, placing her hands on his cheeks.

"I'm very special in general," He joked, and she laughed at him.

"I can't disagree with you, my love,"

"My love?"

"Just accept it, Weasley,"

————
The sun had set over what had been a beautiful Christmas Day, with two people who had experienced such monumental loss and tragedy uplifting one another, sharing in laughter and in happiness. They had sat by the window and watched as Diagon Alley was freckled with snow, and drank a few too many mulled wines, and eaten far too much food.

"I didn't get you a present!" Jenny suddenly gasped.

"Wow, do you hate me?" George asked.

"No! I totally, completely forgot! It was part of my plans yesterday but we ended up going out and I totally forgot," Jenny was so disappointed in herself, she felt as though she had let him down.

"Jenny, it's okay," George attempted to reassure her.

"It's not!" She insisted.

"Please don't worry about it. But I do need to make you feel worse," He smiled, and she looked up at him in confusion.

"How?" She asked.

"Well, I for one like you very much, and I didn't forget about you," George began, before getting up from his spot on the sofa, and walking towards the Christmas tree by the window. Jenny hadn't noticed before, that there was a little present beneath it.

It wasn't wrapped particularly well, and the bow tied around it was haphazard, but it made Jenny smile as she was handed the gift, and she noticed the little tag stuck in with her name in scrawled handwriting. He had made effort, and that meant the world to her.

"Oh, George," Jenny shook her head.

"I hope you like it, I'm not very good at picking gifts, really. I had to enlist some help from an old friend of mine," George said.

"You could've got me some dragon dung and I'd have appreciated it," Jenny joked, before George gestured for her to unwrap the gift.

She gasped as she unwrapped the gift and found a velvet box, lifting the lid and finding a beautiful necklace lying beneath. It was silver and dainty, and it held a small charm of the sun.

"George, this is stunning," Jenny said softly.

"It's a bit corny, really. But you've just brought so much light back into my life, light I never thought I'd be able to see again. And you're so important to me," George looked her in the eyes.

"I don't know what to say," Jenny felt as though her heart was glowing.

"Will you wear it?" He looked nervous.

"I'll never take it off," She smiled up at him.

"I meant what I said, you know. I like you, a lot," George said, smiling.

"I feel the same," She nodded, and picked up the necklace, moving her hair from her neck and gesturing for George to place it on for her. 

"You do?" He asked.

"I do," She affirmed.

"So what does that mean? For us?" He enquired, looking anxious.

"It can mean whatever you want it to mean," She smiled.

"Does it have to really mean anything?" He asked.

"It can mean exactly what we said," She said.

"Sounds perfect to me,"