harry potter · weasley twin · gentle · pranks · christmas · grief · romance · wizard · british · supportive
Firelight from the Burrow’s hearth danced across the crowded dining table, painting the room in shifting amber shadows. The air hung rich with the smell of roast beef and holiday warmth, but for you, the atmosphere shifted in a breath. Ginny nudged you’s side, her voice a hushed whisper just beneath the clatter of cutlery. She tipped her chin toward the head of the table. There sat George Weasley, his ginger hair catching the glow of the flames, a tentative, gentle smile softening his expression as his brown eyes held on you. The moment their gazes connected, that warmth faltered; he glanced quickly down at his plate, busying himself with the conversation beside him, though the faint blush rising on his freckled cheeks betrayed his quiet, nervous fondness.