Every year, Bill looks forward to Christmas.
In the summer, he gets really tired of having five little brothers (and a sister).
But by the time Christmas rolls around, he's happy to be going back. He misses heart-to-hearts with Charlie (they never talk during school – one, especially when one is as popular as Bill, cannot talk to one's younger siblings while one is at school. Even if no one knows) that they have during the hols in their shared room.
He even misses Percy, who spends all his time trying to do real magic with his toy wand and steals all their textbooks because he wants to have a head start. However, Bill is sure this is one of the last times he'll miss Percy, as he'll be coming to school next September.
Bill doesn't want to think about that.
Bill misses the twins too. In the way you miss the excitement of a storm. Or something like that. It's hard for him to think up an appropriate analogy for the twins. But they definitely make the holidays fun, even if they also make the holidays more alert than he'd like them to be – you've always got to watch where you sit at home, because who knows, the chair might blow up, your pillow may talk, or you could be sitting on your sister.
Not that Bill doesn't like his sister. She's five and she's cute and she gives him candy and is smart enough not to have sucked on it first. And it won't turn him into something horrible if he eats it. His mum has never been able to figure out where the twins get all that stuff in those candies.
Back to the subject at hand – Ginny idolizes Bill. Whenever he's home, she follows him and Charlie and sits on the ground while they fly (Charlie's on the Gryffindor team and Bill's not bad either), and sometimes, if Bill doesn't think his mom's looking out of the windows, he'll take Ginny for a fly too. He is sort of glad he doesn't get to see her a lot, he figures he'd probably think she was a useless nuisance. This way, every time he sees her, her girl-ness and five-year-old-ness is cute, rather than a stultifying bore.
And, the last time he was actually home with her for long periods of time she was one and she didn't really do anything but make funny noises.
Problem is, when they go flying, the twins between them have more eyes than mum (Bill is convinced they've also got more than four eyes between them, but he's been unable to prove this, so far), and they invariably sneak outside, gather huge, formless handfuls of snow and chuck them. Bill and Charlie are better fliers than to be put off by a little bit of snow, of course, but you can't ignore Fredngeorge when they start chucking snow at you, because they will just keep chucking snow. Bill's never seen them get bored – the only way to get them to sod off is stick the snow down their pants. Which mum doesn't like but there you are – not that mum can mind too much, since it's always, "Bill! Stop that right now and come drink the cocoa. I'm warning you!" so Bill isn't too worried about being grounded for the rest of the hols (not that there's anywhere to go. Ottery St Catchpole, tons of fun that place is) as he lands and helps Gin off the broom, Charlie already running after the twins shaping a great handful of snow and throwing, seeker reflexes working for him, even though he doesn't really throw things ever.
And minutes later he, Charlie, and Ginny are in a pile on top of the twins, gleefully filling their pants full of snow, all of them bright pink, Ginny giggling madly, Fred and George squirming and being tickled. They're all, of course, dripping wet and there's probably more snow up Bill's back than down Fred's pants, but one has to make sacrifices for the Greater Good, right?
Then there is mum at the door saying, "stop that! Stop that! It's time for cocoa anyway, come on, come on – we've still to draw names!" So, grudgingly, they all get up, dust off, and troop in, with Bill squirming to get the snow out of his back and saying casually, "by the way, Gred – do that ever again and I'll hex you to next Christmas." To which the twin in question replied, "but you can't, you're in hols," and then Bill counters with, "just watch me" and winks and runs ahead to catch Ginny's hand and ask her if she's having fun with him and Charlie back. She is, and to prove it, she hands him a neatly wrapped lemon drop from the bowl on the kitchen table.
Inside, the house is warm, the tree is up (sparkling with a million stars) and the cocoa flows much more freely than either the water or the spiced wine. Ginny drinks up her cocoa and then she and Ron set about making cookies, which is very funny because both are too small to make much headway on their own. They clamber onto counters in hopes of finding mixing bowls, and look very confused when they start to think about what to put in the cookies – which is when Mum comes back from the living room and gets them off the counters and gets them flour sugar eggs water … and she helps them make shortbread and they all put it into the oven, when Molly goes to get The Hat.
The Hat is sort of like the Sorting Hat. Only it doesn't talk and you don't wear it and it was never owned by anyone as interesting as Godric Gryffindor and all that sort of thing, so really, it isn't like the Sorting Hat at all. Mum magicks all nine names into the hat – you see, it's no good to buy presents for nine people just in your family, so they draw names and you only buy for that person (only mum and dad always give all their kids something, of course). You don't tell who you've gotten, but the whole group goes to Hogsmeade (the best place for Christmas in the Wizarding World) and they buy each other the presents and pile into the car, hiding them from each other as best they can.
Bill draws Fred.
Bill always draws Fred. He'll get him a dungbomb, there, that's done, and by now (this hat business is all very chaotic and takes quite a while) the cookies are ready, so Bill sneaks a few before they've cooled properly. Ginny is looking at him with big brown eyes and giggling sort of, so he scoops her up (he loves doing that), and takes her into the living room, accompanied by a cry from Dad that there's no more wood left so will one of the twins go get some from the woodpile now. Fred and George look at each other out of the corners of their eyes and Bill knows what's coming – they'll settle this the way they settle all their disagreements (luckily disagreements between the two of them are few and far-between and usually caused by only one being asked to do chores) – a good, old-fashion, do-you-want-to-take-this-outside fist-fight, and before Bill could've said Jack Robinson had he tried, Fred and George are on the floor and locked in a death match over the firewood. Talking like Howard Pyle-style pirates, just to add a little pizzazz. This is one of the most entertaining parts of Christmas holidays, and Bill cheers both of them on as Ginny giggles and claps her hands, and the twins throw punches and kicks and sneak in a tickle or two, all while wearing great and devilish smiles.
Then, of course, Dad would have to come up the stairs and that's that, both of them have to go and get the firewood, which is, of course, the result they were looking for (and usually ended up getting).
But that's all well and good because, outside, they've either found or magicked up some mistletoe, which is never any good except that it's always hilarious to watch Percy and Ron stand uncomfortably underneath mistletoe that follows them around until finally, Percy ducks his head and brings pink plump lips to little Ron's pink cheeks … so he runs off to sit with Ginny and Bill in safety on the couch. Of course, they aren't the only ones victimized by the twins; Bill finds that Ginny brings her hands up to his face and puts little moist lips right up under his, just where his smiling lower lip becomes his chin.
Eventually, he and Charlie (who, by this time, are going insane with the number of times they've had to kiss each other, and Bill isn't totally comfortable with how comfortable he's becoming kissing his brother full on the lips, since Fred and George don't want anything less than the best, according to them) conspire to bewitch their mistletoe to float over Fred and George's heads for an indefinate amount of time. However, the plan kinda backfires because George grabbed Fred with a rather alarming amount of gusto and the two sit locked, snogging rather disturbingly passionately until Charlie and Bill get bored and go find some fudge to eat, not the least put off by the mischievous laughter and pan-like grins the twins share as they walk away.
And then finally, finally, it's Christmas, with all the mad dash for the stairs at five thirty (turns out mum made breakfast the night before) and scrabbling for presents … and Bill doesn't find one. Which is a real bummer, and it must've been Ginny or Ron who got him – incidentally, here comes Ginny, and then Bill's wrapped in little arms (well partly wrapped …) and a little girl's voice says in his ear, "Merry Christmas, Bill" and gives him a kiss on the cheek and another lemon drop. Which is still not a new broom but what can he expect when it was Gin who drew his name, really?
And anyway, here's the owl for today (there's a parcel service and stuff that brings Christmas mail and gives the other owls a holiday break), and the aunts usually send presents – which explains the gigantic sack, really (Arthur has eleven siblings, you see), and while he mostly gets sweaters (aunts being like that) and candy (from uncles and that one cousin), it's still mostly alright, because when both Ginny and Ron had fallen asleep on the stairs where Ginny had fallen, and Ron had come and put his arms around her and kissed her knee better and told her it was alright because he was there and he would always be there for her, and what Bill didn't know was that Ron then whispered in his sister's ear, because when we grow up I'm going to marry you, right, Ginny? And Ginny had nodded her head and they'd gone up to bed, then Mum and Dad come over and gave Bill a used Cleansweep, Bill decides really, Christmas is the best time of year.