The Arrival

When George woke up on the morning of Christmas Eve, he immediately saw that his bedroom window was crusted with frost. He could tell it had snowed the previous night, too, and as he pressed his face to the window (ignoring the numbing cold), all he could see was an enormous, blinding blanket of white stretching out miles into the distant horizon.

Then he thought, Angelina. She would be arriving today; she had sent him an owl two days ago saying she was settling in, to give him time to tell his family and prepare for her arrival. He leapt out of bed and narrowly slipped on the bedroom carpet as he made a beeline for the bathroom. He brushed his teeth twice with extra care and scrubbed his face with deliberate vigour until they went pink. When he was done, his teeth were cleaner and whiter than he had ever seen before, though the skin on his face bordered on raw. For a moment, he wanted to laugh at himself for making such a ridiculous effort to look good in front of someone he hadn't seen in years.


Angelina Apparated into the Weasley's farm and instantly found her boots smothered in snow. She pulled them out with some difficulty and shook her feet, and when that didn't work she bent over to brush at the remaining ice with her warm mittens. Her attempts were futile however, as she made her next step and found she had to repeat the process. Not knowing whether to yell in frustration or laugh, she desisted and trudged forward, lifting each foot with precision and practically clomping through the snow. It wasn't long before she reached the house itself, and she stood back a little to admire the sight before her.

The Weasley house looked exactly like how George had described it to her – cozy and a little lopsided. It literally emanated the words family and home in a way she had never seen before. Pleased by this observation, she stepped forward, dragging her trunk behind her, and rang the doorbell.

It took a lot longer than she expected. When she moved closer to the door, which was apparently not soundproof, she heard someone walking very quickly and a woman's voice, "Oh, she's here, she's here! I'll get the door!" Said door opened and Angelina came face to face with a very nervous-looking Molly Weasley wearing a flowery, tattered apron.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Weasley," said Angelina, smiling and sticking out her hand. Mrs. Weasley shook it, but it was a very weak handshake; she was too busy staring at her.

"Merry Christmas, Angelina," she replied, managing to inject a kind tone into her otherwise faraway voice. "My, you do look different from the pictures of you at the Yule Ball!"

At this, Angelina thought, Of course. She had never met Mrs. Weasley in person, but she had forgotten that Fred had taken a photo with her at the Yule Ball. He must have shown it to her all those years ago. It seemed so far away now, and she didn't know how to feel about the fact that Mrs. Weasley could still remember it so well. "Well, I grew up, you see," said Angelina, trying for a laugh. To her relief Mrs. Weasley gave a chuckle and made a welcoming gesture with her hands to indicate that she should come in.

"I've made some tea," she said brightly, as Angelina sat down at the table. "Help yourself to some scones, I baked them specially for today."

"Oh, thank you ever so much, I'm absolutely starving," said Angelina graciously. "Have you seen George?"

Mrs. Weasley gave a very noticeable start, and the next words that came out of her mouth sounded a little timid, almost unsure. "I-I was just going to get him. Er… give me a moment, he's just upstairs." With Angelina watching her, Mrs. Weasley made her way to the stairs, where she yelled shrilly, "GEORGE! ANGELINA'S HERE!"


George's first thoughts were Merlin's beard she's downstairs oh my goodness what am I going to say what am I going to do she's actually downstairs. Trying and failing abysmally to cover up his nerves, he came down the steps.

"Ange!" he said brightly as soon as he saw her, doing a double take at the sight. Angelina had grown a lot since he had last seen her; she was thin and graceful in form and had a brilliant smile that lit up as she set her eyes on him.

"George!" she exclaimed, putting down her buttered scone and getting up. She gave him a warm hug as she went over to him. The unexpected action made George freeze, but he recovered and wrapped his arms around her thin waist. It must be the American influence, he thought. Angelina smelt of the woody perfume she had sent him in her letter, but somehow it smelled so much better when it was on her. George realised that they had been hugging for a fraction of a second too long and let go, almost reluctantly. Angelina smiled at him.

"She's very pretty, isn't she?" said his mother, who was looking curiously at the exchange between the two of them.

"Yes, of course," said George enthusiastically, forgetting himself. "Isn't she the most beautiful girl you ever saw?"

Mrs. Weasley gave a very pronounced cough and sat down abruptly at the table. "Er – you gained a little weight, though, didn't you, darling?"

"Oh, it comes and goes," said Angelina breezily, not noticing the undercurrent of tension between mother and son.

Just then there was a loud clunk coming from upstairs, and a stampede of footsteps as the rest of the Weasleys came down the stairs.

"Is she here?"

"What's going on?"

"Angelina!"

Angelina was overcome by the number of redheads she now saw standing at the foot of the stairs, all grinning at her. "Merry Christmas," she said, grinning back.

"Merry Christmas," they chorused. There was a cacophony of scraping chairs as they all made to sit down at the table, before fighting over the remaining scones and the butter dish.

"How have you been?" asked Ron, who was sitting nearest to her. He had also grown a lot since Angelina had last seen him; his hairstyle had changed and he had also grown taller, a feat that Angelina had thought impossible given the height he had already achieved.

"I'm quite well," replied Angelina. "America's very different from England, but I'm glad to be home."

"Can we celebrate tonight?" said Ginny. "A real Christmas celebration, I mean."

"Yes, let's," said Angelina, cheering up considerably. "Raise some hell around here, like before Fred left..."

She instantly knew that she had said something wrong.

Author's Note:

Sorry, cliffhanger! Stay tuned for the next chapter!