Written for the final round of training camp on the Quidditch League Forum.

Team - Penzance Pegai

Position - Chaser 2 - Write about George Weasley

Prompts - ridiculous, winter, and back

Partially inspired by a hp tumblr post and I wanted to do something different than the typical angst fic. Enjoy! Un-beta'd.

It was in the middle of the night when soft cries filled the air and George Weasley had to hide a tired groan in his pillow. But when the cries failed to lessen, he twisted around to curl an arm around his sleeping wife.

"Angeline."

The mop of brown hair shifted and she murmured. "What?"

"Your son." He replied as if that explained everything and he kept his eyes closed. Maybe if she thought he was still mostly asleep she'd take pity on him and take care of their crying child.

"It's before dawn..."

"Mhm?"

Angeline didn't turn around as she swiftly brushed his arm off of her grumpily; "Before dawn, he's your son."

Angie...

He twitched, but silently complied by sliding out of bed, barely avoiding tripping over a stack of knitting yarn in his sleepy confusion. George could've sworn that he heard a small giggle behind him, but the sake of his sanity he didn't turn around to verify that Angelina was laughing at him.

By the time he made his way into his son's bedroom, the cries had died down, but George could still hear a soft whimper. When he leaned down over the crib the sounds fell away completely and dark brown eyes blinked up at him. He couldn't deny that by just looking at Fred Weasley, all sleepiness in him disappeared and a crooked smile appeared.

"Hey, buddy." George held out his hand and laughed when the smaller hand grasped his finger tightly. He leant down to lift his son and rest him on his hip, grabbing a blanket just be sure he wouldn't catch a chill in this cold winter air. It had taken weeks before George had felt comfortable holding his son without someone standing by. It taken months until George felt strong enough to feel like father. Even now, he wasn't sure if he knew what he was doing, but taking every day at a time was the way he lived now.

Fred laughed and tugged roughly on his hair that George had to restrain a wince. His boy was getting stronger every day too. The slow walk to the hallway was a battle of strength between Fred's fists and his defense from becoming bald at twenty-five.

Luckily when they reached the beginning of the hallway, George was able to provide a quick distraction and pointed to a hanging picture of a bushy-haired woman waving a quill at the viewers. "Look, it's Hermy."

Fred giggled and waved back at the picture while George perused the large collection of pictures that Angeline had hung on the wall over the years. She had called it a new Weasley tradition and their son would easily become fascinated with the fluttering pictures. George grinned when he came across a picture of his younger brother looking askance at the camera while in the middle of proposing.

"We have a big family," George mused to himself. "In a few years, we might not have enough space on the wall, Freddie."

Fred was too busy trying to grab the grinning portrait of his grandmother to listen. George hurried along before he could succeed. Pausing to roll his eyes at a certain picture of his younger sister snogging her boyfriend. He muttered under his breath, "Might want to get Angie to take that down. For my sake as well as yours."

Fred blinked.

"I can't wait when you start talking. I sound less crazy when it doesn't look like I'm talking to myself."

Blink

"You have beautiful brown eyes, I see that b — ow." George rubbed his nose where the little monster had just tried to tug it off. "Alright..."

Fred restlessly turned his attention elsewhere and frowned at a certain picture of his uncle hugging his grandmother. George followed his gaze and smiled. "And there's Harry. He was the first one to hold you. That drew Gin-Gin absolutely nuts because she wanted to be the first. But Harry was the only one there."

George wanted to call this the 'Wall of Misfortune' because Angeline seemed to have managed to frame every single picture that captured the ridiculous essence of each member in every snapshot. Whether it be ''ickle Ronniekins' in his embarrasment, or Harry, holding their newborn child with the most timid face he had ever seen on the Boy-Who-Destroyed-The-Dark-One.

But there was still more.

He froze as they reached the end of the hallway and the last picture awaited them. Fred had already started to nod off on his shoulder, curling his tiny arm around his neck, but George whispered softly. "Y'know who this is, Freddie? Of course you do."

Fred blinked blearily at the moving picture of red-haired twins, both were grinning at him over a candle-lit birthday cake.

George suddenly found it hard to swallow and looked down at the ground for a moment to catch his breath. Even after War, he hadn't felt the need to celebrate his birthday anymore. Not without his brother there. But staring at this picture easily knocked him back to the years before — when he didn't talk to himself alone and someone always answered.

"That reminds me. It's your birthday coming up, eh Freddie? Mum's going to bake you a cake whether you want it or not." George shifted the sleeping Fred in his arms. "I wouldn't mind celebrating my birthday with you." An idea started to occur to him and he wondered out loud. "I could change my birthday. We could celebrate it together."

He brushed away the hair from his face — softly so he wouldn't wake his son again.

"Just think," George said wisftfully. "Fred and George blowing out the candles again."

But Fred was already sleeping peacefully in his arms and George returned to watching the moving picture of his last birthday on rewind over, over, and over.

He sighed. "Good night, Fred."

Nobody answered back.