Yellow (George Weasley)

39 - First Christmas

"Filthy Mudbloods back in my mistresses house again...blood traitors can't stop bringing around these Mudbloods...I heard their father's dying..." Kreacher grumbled.

"OUT!" Sirius' voice came from the corner of the room. He looked slightly less put together than when we had last seen him, and he reeked of stale liquor. "What happened!? Phineas said Arthur's been badly injured?"

We all looked to Harry, slightly eager to hear the story ourselves. I clung to George's side as Harry began to share the details of his dream. He had seen from the snake's point of view that Arthur had been bitten multiple times, and apparently there had been a lot of blood. I relished in the thought that he had at least made it to the hospital alive, but couldn't help but feel sick to my stomach at the idea of celebrating Christmas without him.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Fred threw his hands in the air. "We've got to get to St. Mungo's!"

"No." Sirius shook his head. "We have to wait for your mother. How do you think it'll look if you turn up before she's even there?"

"Who cares!? We have to go see dad!" George scoffed, getting as red in the face as his twin brother.

Sirius paced in front of the fire, running his hands through his ragged black hair. "I'm sorry but your father would agree with me on this one. He wouldn't want to have risked his life for the Order only for you all to blow his cover and—"

"The Order doesn't matter!" Fred was shouting by now.

"This is our dad dying we're talking about!" George yelled along with him.

"I know this is hard." Sirius sighed. "But I'm sorry, I have to be firm on this. We have to wait for your mother."

If looks could kill, Sirius would have dropped dead under Fred and George's glares. I led George over to a leather couch, sitting him down by my side. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire, accompanied by George's quiet grumbling. I took his hand in mine, playing lightly with his fingers in an attempt to calm him down.

"Accio Butterbeer." Sirius mumbled. Six bottles wobbled on top of the coffee table after they had been summoned from the kitchen. "We might as well have a drink while we wait."

George leaned forward, his fingers wrapping around the neck of the bottle before bringing it to his lips. He passed me my own drink and slumped back into the couch again with a huff.

Sirius fumbled around with a cabinet in the corner of the room, pulling out a dusty bottle and popping the top off. He lazily poured the amber liquid into a crystal glass that appeared to have the Black Family crest engraved on it. "If anyone wants something stronger..." He took a long gulp from his glass, nearly downing half of it in one swig. "...I won't tell your mother."

Fred looked to be considering it for a moment, his eyes narrowed on the bottle before he settled into the arm chair, pulling his leg up over the armrest. We sat in silence. George's arm was wrapped around me as I slumped against his chest. He slid back on the couch, stretching slightly in an attempt to get comfortable.

The next hour seemed to be the slowest hour I had ever experienced in my life. Fred's head had lulled to the side, light snores escaping his lips. Ron hadn't spoken much at all since we got here and was now holding his head in his hands, occasionally checking his watch. Ginny had curled up in another arm chair and fallen asleep, the blanket Fred had strewn over her tucked underneath her chin. Harry was wide awake, watching the wax burn lower and lower on the candles on the coffee table.

It felt like I had only closed my eyes for a second when I heard Mrs. Weasley's voice. I jolted awake, in turn waking up George whom I was using as a pillow. The old wooden grandfather clock read ten past five in the morning. We all turned to her expectantly. Her usually rosy face was pale, bags already forming beneath her eyes.