A bitter-sweet one-shot. I don't know why, but I woke up to myself crying because I had somehow come up with this in my half-asleep state...
I don't own anything!
It was Christmas morning in the Weasley household, the first December since the war. Everyone was scattered around in the living room and had just found their gifts from Molly Weasley under the tree. Sounds of ripping paper could be heard throughout the room, followed by "thank you"'s and "you're the best, Mum"'s, and Molly smiled happily at her children. Ginny got up to kiss her mum's cheek and Harry gave her a grateful hug. Fleur complimented Molly on the softness of the fabric and Bill threw his on excitedly. Percy simply folded his up and thanked his mother earnestly.
Suddenly, a loud squeal filled the room, and Hermione leaped from the couch, bounding over to Molly as she hugged her new jumper to her chest. It was periwinkle with a light yellow H in the center. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" She exclaimed as she hopped up and down. She wrapped her arms around Molly's neck and Molly laughed.
"My goodness, Hermione, dear," she smiled warmly, pulling away from the hug. "If I'd known how excited you'd be to get one I would have made one for you ages ago."
"I've wanted one for so long, Mrs. Weasley, tha—"
"Ah-ah-ah," Molly scolded, waving a finger. "Who are you thanking?"
Hermione resisted rolling her eyes and smiled. "Molly," she corrected herself. "Thank you Molly."
"You're very welcome, dear," she patted her cheek lovingly. "You are a part of this family as much as anyone else."
Hermione kissed Molly on the cheek before squealing happily again, and she held out her new jumper towards Ron to show him. He was smiling at her in amusement and looked almost as happy as she was. She skipped back over to where he was on the couch, already wearing his usual maroon jumper, and kissed him on the lips. Charlie whistled as she snuggled up next to Ron, and everyone laughed lively.
The joyous sounds of the holidays faded quickly, however, and heads suddenly turned towards the dining room. There, leaning his hands against the back of a chair, was George Weasley, his back to the living room.
He wore a yellow jumper, with his shoulders slumped over and his head down. A red jumper with a yellow 'G' was lying discarded among the wrapping paper on the table. He gave a loud sniffle and the room was suddenly silent.
Very slowly he turned around, and he stood hugging himself, the sleeves covering his hands cozily. His head was facing away from the family, but everyone could see the large, red letter 'F' on the jumper. He sniffled again before his bloodshot eyes met Molly's.
He breathed out a silent sob, rubbing the back of his sleeves against his eyes like a small child. Without a word Molly opened her arms to him, tears in her eyes as well.
"Mum," he choked, and gratefully crossed the room into her embrace. He then let out a true sob, and his tears fell freely as he dug his head deeply into his mother's shoulder. Molly rubbed his back lovingly, hushing him gently like an infant.
"I know, baby," she murmured to him through her tears. "You're okay, love."
The entire family was silent, some crying themselves as they watched the scene in front of them. No one said a word. George continued to hold tightly onto his mother, his shoulders shaking up and down heavily as he cried.
"Th-thank y-you, Mum," he managed to say.
"You're welcome, Georgie," she answered quietly, and placed a kiss on the top of his head.
"I love you s-so m-much."
"I love you too, Georgie. Merry Christmas, dear."
He closed his eyes and sighed. "Merry Christmas," he replied in a whisper.