A/N: This is just a little bit of Holiday goodness that goes along with my other Harry Potter stories! As usual, I do not own the characters, nor am I profiting from this story in any way. Happy Holidays all!
Candles sat in the windowsill of one of the windows lining the eastern wall of the room. The sun was rising, the faint peach light throwing shadows that danced along the ceiling. The tree twinkled brightly in the center of the living room, the magical baubles bobbed lazily up and down, glowing and changing colors in sequence. Someone had lit a fire in the fireplace; the log crackled merrily in the hearth. The kitchen smelled like a combination of George Weasley's mother and his wife's cooking, giving the whole house a gingerbread feeling. A mountain of presents were stacked in orderly piles under the tree, wrapped in green, red, gold and purple, waiting to be opened.
The silent tranquility was shattered by the sounds of feet stampeding down the hallway.
"Santa Claus came!" the delighted squeal of Lucy Weasley rang through the house. 13 pairs of feet cascaded down the steps, headed by the eldest of the cousins.
George Weasley's son and daughter were positioned in the doorway with the rest of their cousins. They bounced anxiously on the balls of their feet, eying the stacks of wrapped gifts under the tree. George knew what was in some of them; the ones for his kids contained an assortment of things he had invented himself with some Muggle trinkets that Angelina, his wife, had turned the kids on to. Roxanne's hair, auburn, but as thick and curly as her mother's, exploded off of her head, nearly blocking from view her older brother. Fred II was playfully shoving his cousin Victorie as she jockeyed around him for a better position. Between their legs the younger cousins peaked out, shaking visibly with excitement. Roxanne bent down to scoop up Rose, her bushy-haired ginger cousin while Victorie picked up her little sister, Dominique, and set her on her shoulders where the little girl peaked over her platinum hair.
A flash of blue was visible from behind Fred. Teddy, not technically a cousin but family nonetheless, was trying to sneak by. He was holding the hand of Molly, a tiny little brunette who looked so much like George's older brother that it was comical. George watched the scene, amused, with the other adults. He heard his mother, wife and sisters scrambling about the kitchen, finishing breakfast. His little brother Ron was leaned on the wall next to him, positioned between Percy and Harry.
"They can't hold out much longer now," he whispered to George. "They're going to explode."
George laughed. "They'll have to wait a minute more." He remembered similar scenes from the Burrow, his childhood home. He and his late twin, Fred, were always the first ones down the stairs. Ginny and Ron would arrive next, followed by the eldest brothers, Percy, Charlie and Bill, and together all seven of them would wait for their parents to give the all clear. Now all of them had made a tradition where they brought their children to each others home for Christmas, rotating every year. This year was George's turn, and therefore it was up to him to decide when presents could be opened. Loathe as he was to keep them waiting, he knew his wife and parents would want to watch.
The women all emerged from the kitchen at once. George caught the eye of Angelina and she took one look at the kids and smiled.
"Better let them go, eh?" she suggested, coming to rest next to him. He wrapped one arm around her waist and nodded.
"Alright then," he agreed. "Go!" and he released the magical barrier that had kept all of the children in the doorway.
It was a blur of flying paper and ginger hair as the Weasleys and the Potters tore into their gifts. Teddy and little James were already zooming around gleefully on toy brooms. Roxanne squealed with delight at the Muggle video game she had been given, Victorie and her sister fussed over their hair accessories and new robes, Rose was already buried in a new book, Molly was tumbling around with Fred; Hugo, Lily, Louis, Albus and Lucy sat in their parent's laps, having presents opened for them.
He looked over at his parents, sitting on the love seat and surrounded by grandchildren, and thought fondly of Christmases at the Burrow. George knew that his mother was saving her presents for last, a pile of wonderfully warm hand knitted sweaters for each person present, gifts that now had to be begun months in advanced.
Later, after the wrapping paper had been cleared, the toys put away and each Weasley (plus Andromeda, Teddy and a handful of Potters) had been stuffed into a Weasley sweater, the family crowded around the magically expanded table for breakfast. The 12 cousins, some home from Hogwarts, some still in high chairs and diapers, some bickering amongst themselves or playing with toys smuggled to the table, sat sprinkled amongst their parents.
Arthur Weasley cleared his throat and raised his glass. "To fond memories, good food, and to family!"
The house of Weasley echoed him.
And George leaned back in his chair, pulled his wife to him and watched the chaos unfold, completely and totally happy.
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