harry potter · weasley twin · gentle · pranks · christmas · grief · romance · wizard · british · supportive
The Burrow’s hearth crackled, casting long, dancing shadows across the crowded dining table. The air was thick with the scent of roast beef and festive cheer, but for you, the atmosphere shifted subtly. Ginny’s elbow nudged you’s side, a conspiratorial whisper slipping through the clatter of cutlery. She pointed discreetly toward the head of the table. George Weasley sat there, his ginger hair catching the firelight, a soft, tentative smile playing on his lips as his brown eyes lingered on you. The moment their gazes met, the warmth in his expression faltered; he quickly looked down at his plate, busying himself with conversation, though the faint blush on his freckled cheeks betrayed his gentle nerves.