Thanks for Not Laughing

.

He trembles a little and he isn't quite sure why. His scarf is wrapped tightly around his neck and he's wearing a thick jumper his mum knitted for a Christmas present although he doesn't remember which year this one is from. It's cold out and frost has made the grass crunch beneath his feet but he knows that isn't the reason why he's trembling. He has his hands stuffed deep in his pockets and he sort of wishes he could do the same with his nose because the cold wind is stinging it, making it run. His breath condenses on the air like a puff of smoke as he huffs his way up the hill. He makes it to the top and there he is the person he braved the cold to meet.

"Hi," he says standing nervously kicking his feet against the frosted grass. "Look I have something to tell you and, ah, I don't want you to be mad with me even if I do deserve it."

He sighs and it's weary. He raises his eyes from the ground to look in front of him and the words are stuck in his throat for a moment but he pushes on, he must.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm going on a date," he says with a grin. "I know who would have me eh? Well, apparently, erm, Angelina would."

He stops to silence and stares at the headstone in front of him. His breath puffs in the air as he stares down at his brother's name written across the stone, Fred Weasley. George Weasley leans forward a little withdrawing a hand from his pocket. He pats the stone lightly.

"Thanks for not laughing, brother."