The Greatest Time of Year
A/N: Dedicated to Gare de Lyon, a wonderful reader and reviewer.
Disclaimer: I do not own
George Weasley
b i t t e r s w e e t
(of cupcakes and frosting, memories and lost love)
George Weasley glanced into the kitchen furtively. His wife, Angelina, had baked cupcakes to bring over to her mother-in-law's house for Christmas dinner tomorrow night. She sat at the table, expertly slathering real French buttercream icing – courtesy of Fleur's parents, who had come to Britain to spend Christmas with the Weasleys – onto each cupcake.
"Need some help, love?" he asked innocently.
"No," she replied shortly, picking up a new cupcake. "Besides, if I let you help, you'd just eat all the frosting."
He laughed, pulling out a chair and sitting next to her at the circular table.
"Give me the knife," he told her, but Angelina just shook her head and twisted away from him. He tickled her sides, causing her to shriek and squirm, writhing in the kitchen chair.
"Okay, okay," she relented, handing over the knife. "Just one."
She passed him the tin of frosting and he picked up a cupcake, carefully spreading on the frosting. George bit his lip in concentration, looking like a five-year-old trying not to scribble out of the lines in a colouring book.
"You know I do love you, right?" he asked softly, not looking up.
Angelina sighed, looking weary. "Yes, George, and you know I love you too. Just…"
"…not like that," he finished, and their eyes met in understanding. "Platonic, I believe the word is."
She sighed again, placing her hand over his. He glanced at her and saw that her eyes had a slight mistiness to them; she was thinking of him. Fred.
The sky was gray and cloudy, fitting for the event. Fred's funeral was not a happy occasion, though on nearly any other, George would have been pulling pranks as if there were no tomorrow. But today was not happy. Today was not normal.
It was five days after the battle at Hogwarts. Everyone was wearing black dress robes and, after the ceremony, had divided themselves between clustering around the various Weasleys and Fred's coffin.
"George?" It was Angelina who stood behind him, looking timid.
"…" He didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry?" Alicia, who had been her best friend, had also been killed in the battle, and George had gone to her funeral two days prior. He had seen Angelina there but didn't go up to her; he had no idea what to say. But now here they were: two peas in a pod.
Fred had taken Angelina to the Yule Ball three years ago and they had continued to date after they graduated. George had – at Fred's urging – written Alicia a letter after he and Fred had "graduated" asking her to dinner. She had agreed, and they began to go out while she was still at Hogwarts. He had even planned on asking her to marry him, eventually…
"George?"
"Angelina." The words came out in a rush. "I saw you at Alicia's…I'm so sorry…" He trailed off awkwardly, wishing he could crack a joke and laugh off the uncomfortable silence that was settling.
Finally, Angelina said, "Well, you know, I just came by because…if you ever need to talk…I mean, nobody understands your situation better than me, you know…so, if you ever need anything –"
"Marry me," he replied, surprising even himself. That wasn't what he wanted to say…
She hesitated, looking slightly shocked but still considerate. "You don't love me," she stated calmly. She was not angry or upset, just stating a fact.
"Yes, I do," he answered sincerely, looking into her eyes, "I do love you."
It wasn't a lie; he did love her, though in more of a brother-sister way rather than as husband-wife. He loved her, but he wasn't in love with her.
"Okay," she answered softly, looking down. "I'll do it. I'll marry you."
Angelina inhaled sharply, snapping him back to reality.
"You've had your turn," she said briskly, holding her hand out for the knife, "now give it back. I won't have you messing up my cupcakes for tomorrow."
Surprisingly obedient, George handed over the knife and the frosting.
"So, we're breaking the news to your family tomorrow," she continued in a businesslike tone.
"Mum will be sure to ask what we're naming him," answered George, his eyes drifting to Angelina's stomach.
But although they had never discussed it, both George and Angelina already knew what they wanted to name their baby boy.
A/N: I actually really liked the ending, but wasn't so fond of the beginning half of Fred's funeral scene. Ehh. What did you think? R-E-W-I-E-W?
I know who I'm writing about for the next chapter, but after that, who do you guys want to see in here? I'm now taking requests!