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.

"Do you have some bad news to tell me or something?" he asked. "Is that why we're out here?"

"God no," I stammered. "I can't believe you'd think I have something awful to tell you. I just wanted you to air out some. Everyone else seems to be doing fine except for you, George."

"They seem fine, but really they aren't."

"At least they're putting on a better mask than you," I retorted. "Look, I don't want to get you upset, nor do I want this Christmas to turn sour. I know you've been keeping things bottled up. That's not smart, because the way I see it, one day you'll explode. If you have anything you want to say, now is the time to." I grabbed his hand. "You know I'll listen."

George huffed, looking up at the flying snowflakes. "You know what I don't like, Winnie? When people tell me they know how it feels to lose someone in the family. The truth is they don't. They don't know what it's like to lose a twin brother, because they've never had one! They don't know what it's like to wake up every damn morning and realize that it's just you, not you and your twin anymore!" His figure shook; I watched him carefully. "I just—I just miss him, Win." George's head drooped.

"Everyone here does." I hugged him tightly. "We've all got our pain to deal with." I wondered if it was worth giving him his gifts now. Since he was letting out his frustration, I wondered if my presents would only make him worse.

"I'm glad you're with me," George whispered.

I looked up at him. "Why?"

"You're the only thing keeping me sane right now."

My heart ached. "You aren't thinking straight," I said carefully.

"No, I mean it, Winnie. I'd be a lot worse than I am now if I didn't have you." My eyes bugged as George got down on his knees, holding his hands in mine. "Marry me?"

I was floored. This was way out in the middle of nowhere. I knew George wasn't his normal self right now. He wouldn't joke about something like this, either, I knew. But if there was one thing I did know, it was that George—a clear-headed George, I might add—would know this was asking too much too soon.

I laughed nervously, joining George down on the ground, on my knees. "Have you been drinking?"

George's eyes narrowed. "No."

"Are you sure?" I asked cautiously.

"I know I don't have a ring or anything..."

"George, it's not that." My eyes fell to our interlocked hands.

"Then what is it?"

"Your head isn't clear." Slowly, I raised my eyes to his. "You're letting your emotions take control. Now don't think this means I won't consider marrying you." A timid smile played on my lips. "It's...it's way too soon. All I ask is for you to ask again in a few years, when things have calmed down."

George's stature slumped, I could see any joy he had leave his eyes. Whether clear-headed or not, I hated to see him like this. For the longest time, I'd known him as an optimistic jokester. It was like Fred took that away from him when he died.

I knew the George Weasley I loved was still inside this shell; it was just going to take some time to bring him back out again.

"I-I," I cleared my throat, "I wanted to give you your presents, but given the circumstances, it may not be a good idea."

Some life came back into George; his brown eyes were muddled in puzzlement. "What did you get me?"

"I didn't get you anything, I made them."

"What are they?"

"I don't think I should—"

"Winnie, you don't just say you've got something for someone and then don't give it to them." I could hear his teasing tone try to break through. The poor boy couldn't muster enough effort. "Come on, out with it."

"Well, I—I figured since you couldn't see him anymore, I-I figured I could give you something of him." I pulled out a neatly folded piece of parchment, holding it out for George to take. It was just one of a few I'd drawn and colored. This one was a test run, to see whether or not I should give him the others.

George didn't say anything but accepted the parchment. With slowness, he unfolded it. For a while, I waited with bated breath. I was concerned when tears welled in his eyes. He looked into my eyes, and I knew I could see a solemn joy in his. I wasn't sure if I was smiling at him or not, my face was starting to go numb from the cold.

"Winnie..."

"It was how I dealt with losing him. I figured this would be your way too," I said quietly.

"Have you got any others?"

I giggled. "You know me, the overachiever." I pulled out one more. "I only made two, but I think that's more than enough."

George nearly made us fall over when he pulled me in to hug me. He cried into my shoulder. I rubbed his back, all while trying to not break down with him.

"You are the best thing that's happened to me, Win," he muttered into my shoulder. "How did I end up with someone like you?"

"You won my heart." I kissed his temple. "Now, come on. Chin up." I helped wipe the tears off his cheeks. "You can't go back in looking like this. Are you feeling a little better now that that's out?"

"Yeah."

"Come on, on your feet, George."

Carefully, we got ourselves standing again. I ruffled the flakes out of George's fiery hair. He bent down to kiss me.

"Merry Christmas," I crooned against his mouth.

"I love you, Winnie," George whispered.

I didn't see why I'd worried. I should have known, deep down, that George would have loved the drawings. Though they may want to make him break down into tears every now and again, I knew he genuinely loved them.

The first one I'd given him was just a portrait of Fred. Let me tell you, I had to look through a bunch of photos thanks to Mrs. Weasley. It wasn't an easy, fun process. It nearly killed the mother hen to pull them out. The second one I thought George would like more, as it was the two of them. That one had been a task to draw, but it turned out pretty nice.

I knew George would keep those forever.

"Winnie, George!" Hermione's voice rang in the Christmas air. "Get in here before you get frostbite!"

Leave it to Hermione to break apart a sweet moment. She just had that luck of doing it only with us, never with Harry and Ginny. Sometimes I wondered if she did it on purpose, but if anyone would, it would be Ginny or Ron. Fred would do the same thing if he was still around, and he'd most certainly make comments which would make me laugh and engage George in a witty comment battle.

"We'll be in soon!" I shouted back to her. She closed the door, leaving George and me out in the snow.

"You're lying, right?" George asked me.

I kissed him deeply. "No. I'm bloody freezing, and I don't want to risk frostbite."

"Oh, live a little, Win. Who cares if you lose a few fingers, toes, or a nose?"

"Um, I do. I'm sure my parents would throw a fit too."

"Eh, they'd learn to love it like I would."

"George, I don't want you to be the reason I lose a valuable body part to the cold."

"You can still manage with nine toes or nine fingers."

"George, come on, we need to get inside."

"As you wish, my lady."

I squeaked as George picked me up in his arms. "There's a little bit of the George I love. Don't lose those pictures."

"I wouldn't if my life depended on it."

**In the holiday spirit, I figured I'd re-post this little lovely yet bittersweet one-shot. Not much changed, just cleaned up a few things is all.

Hope it's enjoyable all the same. :)**