A/N: Written for a challenge last year on tumblr.

It seemed to 9-year-old Ron Weasley – sixth of seven red-headed children and moderately accomplished gobstones collector – that older brothers were the very worst things a boy could be stuck with on a snowy day. They were always so busy.

The whole family was home for the Christmas holidays of 1989. Fred and George, his twin brothers who had just started their first year at Hogwarts, were chasing their old owl Errol around the living room. Percy was sitting in the kitchen with Mum, eating the remnants of last night's pudding and reading his Ancient Runes text. Charlie, a sixth year, was apparating from room to room. He'd turned 17 two weeks earlier and said that waiting for a chance to practice had been torture. He had his test in January and was determined to pass first try.

Grown-up Bill had come sweeping in a few minutes ago with lots of mysteriously wrapped presents for under the tree. Mum had worried him about his hair and his funny clothes, but he just laughed and hugged her. He had Ginny up on his shoulders, squealing every time he pretended to forget to duck through a doorway.

But it was snowing. Ron really thought they should all care a bit more about that.

Charlie appeared with a pop just behind him.

"Where'd you come from?"

"Mum and Dad's room," Charlie said with a wink. "I'm getting more precise."

"Cool." Ron meant to be more enthusiastic, but his eyes were drawn to the window again.

Charlie glanced at him, then outside. He reached over and ruffled Ron's hair, prompting a grumble about how he was not a baby and go fuss with Ginny's hair if he must.

"You wanna build a snow fort?" Charlie asked innocently.

Ron's hopes shot up. "I mean, if we are attacked by dragons we'll need a good line of defense," he said. He'd been reading a lot of books about medieval wizards who fought dragons and saved towns from destruction. He thought he'd like to be a knight.

Charlie shouted with laughter. "You know, dragons aren't all bad." He led Ron to the pile of coats, hats, scarves and mittens in the corner of the entry hall. "Some people reckon that with proper training, they can actually bond with wizards."

Ron scoffed. "How do you train a dragon?"

His 17-year-old brother looked smug. "Well it's not exactly training… but you have to be tough. And really good on a broom. And don't tell Mum yet, but Professor McGonagall reckons she might know someone –"

"Whatcha doin?" One of the twins stuck his head around the corner. Fred. Ron was sure it was Fred, although he'd found it harder to tell them apart since they went away to school.

"We're building a fort to defend against dragons!"

Fred looked at Charlie. "And snowballs?"

Their older brother nodded. "See if you can get Bill and Perce out."

"On it." Fred spun back into the kitchen, howling at the top of his lungs. "SNOWBALL FIGHT!"

Ron had one glove, one mitten, and was searching for his other boot when Bill (Ginny still attached to his shoulders) stuck his head around a few feet above where Fred's had just been.

"Teams?"

Charlie narrowed his eyes, considering. "You, twins. Me, Ron, Percy, and Ginny?"

Bill nodded. "Unfair because this one," he bounced Ginny up and down, "has wicked aim. But I guess you've got to make up for Percy."

"And we'll have a snow fort!" Ron added proudly.

"A fort!" Ginny's eyes widened. "I wanna help!"

"Boys!" Everyone froze when Mum's voice rang out. She appeared a moment later, frizzy red hair pulled back and a suspicious look on her face. "What's this about a fight?"

"Snowball fight, Mum," Charlie assured her. "We're gonna go play before it gets dark."

"Tell Perce he has to come," Bill added. "Or Charlie's stuck with just the little kids for a team."

"Fine. But back in time for dinner, you hear? And, Ron, what on earth are you wearing? That's Ginny's glove and your father's hat. Here, dear, try these." She fished around in the pile for another set and soon he had a matching pair of mittens and a hat that did not slide down over his eyes.

The storm was a surprise. It had been bitterly cold for the last week, and their fair cheeks reddened as soon as they stepped out into the wind. But the flakes were big and fluffy and the deep snow crunched satisfyingly beneath Ron's boots.

"Is there lots of snow at Hogwarts?" he asked, watching Charlie sketch out the dimensions of their fort. "I bet there's a place where there's snow all year round, just because."

"Nah," Charlie rolled his eyes. "It's just a school, Ron. No matter what Fred and George like to say."

"But it's the best school ever." Ron sighed and sat in a snow bank. "Do you think we'll get to come see a quidditch game this year? Mum says maybe not, she says the Hogsmeade prices have gone up. But we don't have to have a room for Fred and George, so I thought maybe."

The older boy shrugged. "If you don't, you know I'll reenact the highlights for you again. McGonagall says we're likely to have some scouts at the Ravenclaw game this spring."

"Why would you want to chase after dragons when you could play quidditch forever?" Dropping his chin onto his hands, Ron let his mind wander happily off to the Chudley Cannons, triumphantly streaking across the sky, Charlie at their front clad in the bright orange…

"Ron!" His brother had a hand up to block the snow from his face, and looked like he'd been trying to get his attention. "You can start heaping snow here."

They did most of the work by hand, with Charlie only using his wand to melt the snow into a tighter seal and shear off edges. About halfway through, the rest of the family tromped out, and Bill started his own fort about ten feet away from Ron and Charlie's. Percy argued that their angle was all wrong and suggested they should build in arrow-slits big enough for snowballs and complained that it was cold and he had been reading.

"Perce," Charlie snapped. "You want arrow-slits, build some. In the meantime, your youngest siblings and I are doing our best to compete with THAT."

They all turned to look at the progress on Bill and the twins' snow fort. It was two stories, glistening and sporting defensive icicles and a self-replenishing snowball pile.

Percy gaped, then looked at Ron and Ginny's wide eyes and scowled. "Well that's just all flash and no strategy. See, Professor McGonagall says that the best magic is functional, not showy."

Charlie sighed. "Professor McGonagall also starts off lessons by – " he stopped short, noting the rapt attention Ron and Ginny were paying to the conversation. "Well, she's not afraid of being showy from time to time."

They redoubled their efforts, making their towers taller, big enough to fit tiny Ginny and skinny Ron. Percy did add those arrow slits, and even Charlie complimented the 13-year-old on his magic. Ginny found some icicles of their own to add, and soon the two fortresses loomed, ready for battle.

The snow was still coming down, sticking to tongues and eyelashes and stinging Ron's cheeks when Bill waved his hat to signal a parley. Charlie met him halfway.

"Mum wants to remind us that it's almost time for dinner."

A chorus of "awwww" sounded from both sides of the battlefield. To have done all this work, Ron thought with dismay, and be called inside to dinner with no battle? It was an outrage.

Charlie shrugged, and Bill brushed his long hair away from his eyes. "We can clean em up fast, eh Bill?"

Ron held his breath. Ginny grabbed his arm.

"I can't see, Ron, won't you lift me?" Her voice was squeaky and he was only a few inches taller than her so there wasn't much point.

Percy hefted her up in his arms so she could peer over the top of their fortress and listen to Bill's decision. The twins were hanging out of a window, sucking on icicles and being equally attentive.

"Ah, bloody hell. Why not?" Bill was only just 19, but he liked to say he was almost 20. Still, Ron thought the crafty smile he shot Charlie was much more like the brother he remembered from a few years back.

Charlie jogged back to their team, nodding at the pile of snowballs. "All right, you lot. We're going for maximum destruction in minimum time. Do your best not to get hit, Perce, and keep Ginny supplied. Ron, shout when you're low and I'll dump more in for you."

Ron nodded his understanding and scrambled up the icy tower to his spot overlooking the enemy. For a moment, he could picture himself as a knight indeed. Armor shining, wand at the ready, astride a great flying horse he would ride off to do battle with the rampaging dragon and make the kingdom safe again. Then maybe Mum would stop making him corned beef sandwiches when she knew he preferred salami.

Then three snowballs came flying at them from Bill's side of the field. Ron watched as they flew straight and sure down the middle, then gaped when each one split apart into four and pelted the relatively unprotected Charlie and Percy, who'd thought they were safe on the sides.

With a yell, they returned fire. Charlie had enchanted some of their snowballs to do spins and sudden turns, which was impressive but made them hard to aim. Ron did manage to knock one of the walls down, and saw Fred – no that was George, he had blue mittens – scramble out of the way with a wail.

His tower held, though a fair number of snowballs thudded against the outside. Charlie refilled Ron's stack twice before a lone figure waded into the middle of the battle and froze everything in midair with a wave of his wand.

"Ahem, boys, Ginny?" Dad looked tired, but then Dad always looked tired. He also looked jolly, which was a good sign on Christmas Eve. "Your mother would like me to remind you of your promise to be on time to dinner."

He winked and waved his wand again, turning all of the snowballs back at their throwers. The twins erupted into pleased laughter when Bill got clumps of snow stuck in his long hair. Ron's came zooming right through his arrow slit and hit him square in the face.

"Aw, Dad!"

A moment later he heard Ginny's screech, and wiped at his wet cheeks content with the knowledge that he was not the only one so abused.

They straggled in, the twins being the very last ones, as they were throwing their exploding snowballs as high as they could in the air and calling it Christmas fireworks while Ginny laughed and ran around beneath them.

The Burrow rang with voices as they shed their wet coats and argued over who had won. Dad met them in the hallway to make sure they weren't tracking snow into the dining room, and to complement the snow fortresses.

Sat between Ginny and Percy, Ron spent the meal arguing with his sister about whose team – the Chudley Cannons or her favorite Holyhead Harpies – would win in a match this year. Charlie dodged all of his parents' questions about exams, but was happy to talk quidditch. The twins transfigured Percy's potato into a little garden gnome who ran around on his plate and threw his tomatoes into the gravy. Bill and Dad talked about Rome, and how he'd finally gotten to go curse-break on his own last month, and about the transfer he was hoping to put in for a job in Egypt.

Meanwhile, the snow piled up against the windows and muffled the sound of the outside world. Ron could see one of the spires of Bill's fortress from the window, now wearing a little puff of snow as a cap and looking jaunty. And tomorrow was Christmas!

Mum's pot roast and green beans had never, to Ron's mind, tasted so good.