In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the WeasleysWritingWar_FlashCompEdt3 collection.

Prompt:

Fred Weasley

This story was written for the Weasleys, Witches, & Writers Facebook group's It's A Weasley Winter Flash Comp. My chosen main character was Fred Weasley. I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe. I want to thank my Alpha/Beta, who shall remain nameless for now, for their work on this story.

This Fic won the Fireside Glow Best Fluff award in the It's a Weasley Winter Flash Comp.

Giggles met his ears as he stepped out of the floo into his childhood home, the smell of freshly baked Gingerbread filled his nostrils. The living room hadn't changed much over the years, the only sign of the passing time were the photographs above the mantle, and on the walls; photo's depicting the expansion of their family as he and his siblings had had children of their own.

"Uncle Freddie," a voice squealed as he made his way out of the living room into the hallway of the home. Fred couldn't help but smile at the small whirlwind that was running down the stairs towards him.

"Jamie how is my favourite prankster," he questioned, leaning down to catch his young nephew into a large hug. James Potter was dressed in a snowsuit and a pair of wellies with a knitted bobble hat atop of his head.

"It's snowing," the three-year-old informed him happily.

"Is it now," he asked, lifting the boy to his hip, James' face was flushed, his nose so red he could rival that of Rudolph.

"Yep," the boy nodded excitedly.

"In that case we best get outside," Fred replied enthusiastically, holding James tightly, he headed towards the kitchen.

"Oh, Freddie dear, we weren't expecting you until the evening," his mother greeted, she was sat at the dining table with Victoire and Dominique helping his nieces to decorate gingerbread people to look like their family.

"Those look great Girls," he praised, ruffling their hair with his free hand.

"Thank you," they both replied together.

"I decided to close the store early, the Hogsmeade branch doesn't get many people when it isn't a Hogsmeade weekend for the school," he told his mother, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

"That's lovely dear, I wish the rest of the family were here too," she told him quietly.

"They will be, It's Christmas Eve tomorrow," he replied.

"Uncle Fred these are you and Auntie Mione," seven-year-old Victoire told him pointing at a pair of gingerbread people that sat on the tray in front of her. Leaning forward, Fred chuckled fondly as he looked at her hard work. The one that represented himself had messy red icing for hair and flaring purple robes with a garishly yellow WWW written in the centre of the gingerbread man's chest. The one depicting his wife however was what had made him chuckle; Hermione's hair had been done in chocolate, wild curls flying everywhere while the pink icing dress the gingerbread girl was wearing had been built up into a large pile, to signify his wife's growing stomach.

"Great likeness has Hermione seen them," he questioned worriedly, as recently she had been inconsolable when her favourite jeans wouldn't fasten over her baby bump.

"She has," his mother confirmed.

"Was she okay," he asked.

"Of course, she was," his mum answered.

"Uncle Freddie, snow," James reminded him. Fred nodded seriously.

"Yes, we are going to play in the snow, see you ladies later," he told his mother and nieces as he carried his nephew out of the house.

"Down," James requested wriggling in his grasp. Placing him on the ground he watched amused as the tot took off running through the thick snow. Shaking his head, he followed along as James led him around the side of the property.

Hermione was there, her cheeks glowing, hair windswept, a thick parker warding off the cold chill but failing to conceal her growing stomach. Fred stopped, unseen by his wife or the children with whom she was playing.

Giggling animatedly little Weasley's and Potter's chased one another, throwing snowballs excitedly at their siblings and cousins. Fred watched as they ducked and hid, behind little forts and snowmen they had built together. Despite been seven months pregnant, Hermione waddled through the snow after them, two-year-old Albus Potter on her hip, using her wand to send flurries of snow, and bubbles at the children who laughed in glee.

"Auntie Mione, I'm back," James shouted happily as he re-joined the game, the young Potter grabbing a handful of snow that he threw at his cousin Roxanne gleefully.

"Jamie, I'm going to get you," Roxanne screamed, chasing after her younger cousin.

"You have to catch me first," James shouted in delight.

"Daddy," the light of Fred's eye shouted.

"Hello Rosie-Posy," he greeted, scooping his daughter into his arms, and tickling her tummy, the two-year-old giggling wildly.

"Look daddy, snowman," she shouted, pointing at one of the oddly shaped balls of snow.

"Did you make that one," he asked.

"With Albie," she nodded happily.

"I love it," he told her, leaning forward to kiss her nose.

"Mummy," Rose, squealed, her arms outstretched for her mother who had waddled over to them, Albus no longer in her arms.

"Hello Love," he greeted, kissing her crown of curls as he wrapped one arm around her, Rose safely held between them.

"This is a pleasant surprise," she told him, resting her head against his shoulder.

"I wanted to see my favourite girls," he told her sweetly.

"I'm your most favourite daddy," Rose asked, her eyes wide.

"Without a doubt love," he told her seriously as Hermione yawned.

"Tired love," He asked tenderly, rubbing her back lightly.

"Exhausted, your son has been kicking my organs all day," she chuckled.

"You've also been chasing after these little Rugrats, your meant to be resting now that you are on maternity leave," he scolded lightly.

"I love playing with the children," she defended, masking a second yawn behind her hand.

"You still need to rest," he chuckled.

"I suppose I could do with a nap," she confessed.

"I'll play with the kids, you go lay down," he told her.

"That sounds nice, I love you Freddie," she told him, leaning up to kiss him.

"I love you too, Mione," he told her quietly.

"I love mummy and daddy," Rose added, his little cherub smiling up at them sweetly.

"We love you too Rosie-Posy," they said together leaning down to kiss her cheeks in sync while their daughter laughed.

Holding Rose in his arms, he watched as his wife of four years waddled back to the house, her hair just as wild as it was the day, he'd first met her. They'd experienced atrocities in their youth, much more than most couples in their twenties would ever face, but the war was long over, the world now at peace and Fredrick Gideon Weasley wouldn't change a thing; content in the life he now lived with his beautiful wife and their expanding family.