Harry Potter Imagines + Preferences

George Weasley imagine

Holidays at the Weasley household were different, nowadays.
The Burrow, new and improved, was still just as bustling, members of the family and friends that had practically become family in every inch of it. Molly had decorated the Burrow profusely. The halls colored with moving photos of the growing Weasley clan from over the years, the seemingly never ending staircase banisters adorned with tinsel, and the fire is crackling in both the kitchen and the living room. The kitchen, to no surprise, is full too. With plates magically refilling as fast they're emptying to the hungry crowd, hot cider pouring into goblets to the right, and desert in the works, it was another holiday season at the Weasley household.
Yet despite the apparent holiday glow, the holidays had been a bit duller, slightly less festive, in a way after the Battle of Hogwarts at the Weasley household. It wasn't spoken, but everyone knew. The lack of Fred's presence, even after all these years, still casts a murky feeling.
It was in the subtle ways, passing around the dishes at Christmas dinner over the chair that remained permanently empty since the Battle. The lingering stares and pondering thoughts as people gazed upon the holiday photos from over the years, the vacant spot next to George within them causing a nauseating feeling. It was the crinkling skin around Molly's bright eyes and way Arthur allowed himself to drink just a tad more wine than usual. It was in the way Ginny, Ron, and the other Weasley siblings would reminisce on past holidays, recalling the shenanigans that had longed defined their family.
Most of all, though, it was in the way George would keep to himself. Ignoring his usual tendencies of being the loudest voice in the room, with the most to say. It was in the way he would smile at his family and feel grateful, and the way he couldn't ignore the digging feeling that this wasn't right. That something, someone, was missing.Even with the absence of Percy, the family had still stayed in tact. But without Fred, it had been like trying to play quidditch without two beaters.
"Okay, kids, gather around now. Hurry!" Molly says as she settles next to Arthur on the arm of a chair. The family gathers around, Hermione and Ron by the fireplace, Ginny and Harry sitting on the floor, Bill and Fleur standing near the tree and George and Y/N sitting closer to the kitchen.
All the children, Rose and Hugo, Teddy, Albus Severus, Lily Luna, and James Sirius clamber into the center of the room tittering off the hot chocolate and Christmas spirit as they all sit in front of their grandparents with wide eyes and expectant smiles.
You smile mixing a cup of hot cocoa as George scoops up your son and makes his way over to the living room.
"Let's get a better look, yeah buddy?" He murmurs into the soft ginger tufts of your toddlers hair. The toddler babbles in response, swinging it's chubby arms in delight as George takes a seat on the edge of the couch. You watch them in awe, smiling slightly as you finish off the cup and scoop it up, following them over.
"Alright, here we are, there's yours Rose. And Lily Luna, got yours darling?" Molly asks, peering at all the children through her spectacles as she makes sure all the packages are accounted for.
You hand George his mug and he leans up slightly to press a kiss to your cheek in thanks, "Thanks love." He scoots over a bit, large hand sprawled across the entirety of your toddlers stomach and holding him close. slightly bouncing the gurgling baby on his knee as you sit down next to them.
"Mhmm." You respond with a smile as you watch your nieces and nephews open their presents, wrapping paper being magically floated through the air as their tiny hands rip away at it in excitement.
"Mine's blue!" James Severus cries proudly, lifting up the J embroidered sweater against his chest to show it off. You smile as the kids ooh and ahh at the sweater, and Molly clasps her hands together in utter delight.
"What is it? Why're you fussing?" George asks as your toddler lets out a drawn out squeal and the entire family chuckles at the youngest member of the Weasley clan.
"Want your mumma, is that it? Needy boy, aren't you?" George mutters lowly, as he balances his drink carefully to keep your boy from spilling it's contents over with his squirming.
"Wonder where on earth he gets it from." You remark sarcastically as your scoop the boy up and into your arms, pressing your lips to his head as he calms in your embrace.
George leans over and wraps his arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his chest, "Must be his daddy's kid, I reckon." You chuckle softly in agreeance as George buries his face slightly into your hair.
Lily Luna wanders up to you two, her small dawdling feet tripping slightly as she places her little hands on George's kneecaps for balance, huffing a bit. "Uncle Georgie! S'too big!" She whines, shaking her sleeve covered hands at him.
George laughs slightly, scooping his niece up onto his lap as he smoothes her hair over. "It's okay darlin, let's see what Uncle George can do, yeah?" He folds over the sleeves umpeeth times until they're short enough for Lily not to trip on and she giggles in delight.
"All better, poppet?" George asks as he watches her beam at him.
"Yes, yes!" She replies, kicking her feet in triumph.
"Lily, what do you say?" Ginny asks from across the room, giving her daughter a knowing look. "Thank you Uncle Georgie." Lily says, smiling up at him.
He chuckles, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead, "Uncle George should get a thank you kiss, don't you think Lil?"
Lily nods adamantly , sending her ginger locks so much like George's scattering in the air as she crawls onto his lap and presses his lips to his cheek. He lets her down and watches as she toddles her way over to Ginny and Harry to show off the new sweater.
"Remember when you had to do that for yourself?" You whisper, glancing over at George.
He snorts at you, "I never had to fold them over."
"Oh right, so I'm just imagining you huffing Christmas morning in the common room about how long the sweater was." You retort, smirking at him. He rolls his eyes at you but smiles nonetheless.
"Mum, I think you've had too much free time. There's another sweater here." Ron says suddenly, pulling out a package from near the fireplace.
Molly and Arthur share a bit of a look as she takes the package from Ron. "Oh Ronald, don't be daft. I know how many grandchildren I have." Molly says, shooting him a glare. She hesitates a moment as Arthur nods at her, before she clears her throat, "It's erm, for Freddie."
The room freezes at the statement, and you feel George tense next to you slightly.
It had been your idea, to name your son Fred. You remember the conversation distinctly, George laying with his head balanced on your stomach and hands sprawled across what he wasn't covering with his head. You had been discussing names, very early on, and when you had pitched the idea he had stayed quiet for such a long time you were worried you had upset him. Until he had lifted his head to gaze at you with bleary eyes, "You-you'd do that for me?"
The answer was yes, of course. There wasn't a thing you wouldn't do for George, and although Fred had been his twin, you had been just as close. Although George put on a strong front, you knew how much he missed his twin, and the moment he had held little Fred in his hands, you knew there wasn't another name in this entire world that would have been better.
Fred fusses in your arms, craning his little head up and pointing towards his grandma, little fist opening and closing as he babbles at you. You lower him to the ground and he titters his way over to his grandma, the kids clearing a path for their youngest cousin. You've dressed him in overalls and a green shirt, and when he makes his way over to Molly the entire room smiles as he squeals in delight, his little hands gripping the packing greedily.
You glance at George and don't hesitate to unconsciously slip your hand into his, squeezing it as you two watch your boy. Molly helps him rip the packing open and slips the fabric over his head with a smile.
"There's my boy, look at you. It looks good doesn't it, Arthur?" She lifts Fred up into her arms and shows the room his embroidered sweater as he beams and claps his hands together.
You chuckle slightly as he giggles when Ginny takes him into her arms and tickles his belly. But George is still silent next to you and it's causing an uneasiness in the room. You lean closer to him, hands still clasped and the you shoot Hermione a look. She gets the message and clears her throat, standing up, "Let's get some dessert then, shall we?"
The room clears out except for you and George, and you turn to look at him with expectant eyes.
"Love?" You mumble, releasing his hand to cup his cheek. He turns towards you and you can see the softness of his eyes. He closes them slightly, reaching a hand up to cover yours.
"Alright?" You murmur softly, leaning forward to press your forehead against his.
"Yeah, m'.. M'fine, it's just.. She shouldn't have- It's Fred's." He says gently.
You sigh a bit, pulling back to press your lips to the spot where your forehead was before, "He is Fred, darling."
"S'not what I meant." He grunts back at you. You're quiet for a moment, thinking of the words you're going to say next carefully.
"George, look at me." You command, voice hard.
He opens his eyes to look at you and you nod at him, "I know it's hard, love, but it's a Weasley family tradition, isn't it?" The narrows his eyes slightly, but nods. "Right, and well, Freddie is a Weasley, isn't he? That's the thing about traditions, love, they live on when.. we can't." You whisper to him. He blinks a couple of times, exhaling deeply. "Look at how happy it's made your mum, George." You point out softly, and indeed, Molly is beaming brighter than she has in ages.
George follows your gaze and you see a slight smile creeping on his face.
"It's not like anyone's trying to replace Fred, darling. You know that. Traditions, they're passed on, aren't they? And you know if he was here.. Fred would want to see little Freddie in the sweater too. S'the only way traditions live on, love."
George stares at you in wonder and you lick your lips slightly, trying to wrack your brain for another way to comfort him. "You're right." He mumbles to your surprise.
"It's just hard without him, you know?" He says after another moment.
"Oh, sweetheart, I know. I know it is." You whisper, darting forward to kiss his lips gently.
A gentle, music to the ear like giggle fills both of your ears and causes you to pull apart and glance down. Fred is standing at next to both of your legs, babbling and smiling up at you with a toothless grin and eyes so much like his dad's. His sweater is snug around him, almost touching the floor.
"Hey there, bud. Whatdya get, hmm?" George mumbles, reaching down to pick up him into his arms.
"Dada!" Fred cries in excitement, wrapping his sweater covered arms around his neck.
You freeze, as does George, eyes wide.
"What did you say?" You gasp in shock, reaching forward to tickle your child.
"Dada!" Fred cries again gleefully, reaching forward to put his tiny hand on George's cheek.
"S'right! Yeah, I'm your dada!" George says in astonishment, turning his face to press a kiss to Fred's chubby little hand, then another, and another.
You two share a look of excitement, the uninterrupted precious moment between you three while the family bustles around in the background.
And later on when the night is stirring down and the kids are knocking out one after one like lights going off in a town, George comes up behind you, arms encasing you to his chest.
"You owe me something." He mumbles into your ear.
"Oh really, what's that?" You ask, turning in his arms.
He smirks at you before glancing upwards. A mistletoe is hanging just above you two, and you stifle a giggle.
"Somethin about it being a tradition, love." George says softly before leaning down to press his lips to yours.

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I'm sorry for procrastinating you guys, but it's a problem I have to live with every day, Y 'know that and being left handed.