She hates Christmas at the Burrow. It hadn't been so bad when she was little and wrapped up in all the excitement that gifts brought – but that was she had been a lot closer to her cousins. Now she feels like an outsider looking in on something that she can never fully be a part of.
She sits with her aunts and uncles whilst her all cousins laugh and play in the snow; she wishes she could go out and join them – she knows they will let her – but she feels as if something is holding her back. The snow is still falling heavily and she turns away from the sight to watch the flickering orange flames of the fire, but the sound of laughter easily carries through the glass windows and she can't help but wonder what it is that she is missing.
Sometimes she imagines what would happen if she did go out there, but she knows that she would never act on these fantasies; she hates all the noise and her younger cousins always seem to mess everything up. A wave of regret washes over as she slides closer to her dad, blocking out the sounds from the garden with meaningless chatter about things that she will inevitably have forgotten by morning.
The only thing she actually likes about Christmas is her Grandma's jumpers.