A/N: Hello, loves. I apologize in advance for the cliffhanger I'm leaving you with here.

Oh, I do believe

In all the things you say

What comes is better

Than what came before—Cat Power

As the rest of the party chatted, laughed or—in Michael and Andromeda Tonks' case—playfully waltzed about the sitting room, Katie sat at the edge of the couch holding her poinsettia. She had tired easily from her short dance with George, physically drained from the emotional demands of the day. George had seemed to sense this and led her over quietly to rest for a moment. Now she considered the flower, running her fingers over its soft petals. Its warmth, which had initially surprised her, now appeared to be departing. It didn't seem to leave her feeling cold, however—at least not the sort of bone deep, soul-numbing cold that had caused her to shiver so many times over the past few days. The warmth in which it had blossomed was simply leaving. The flower itself was still there. Tangible. Real.

George sat beside her. He was talking quietly to Ginny and the recently-arrived Hermione, and was turned slightly away from her. Still, Katie knew he was there for her benefit. He seemed to be standing guard over her in an odd, protective sort of way. As she stared at her poinsettia and listened to the even conversation George was having with his sister, she marveled at the easy capability he suddenly seemed to possess. This was, after all, the man who could barely stand on his feet just a few short hours before. Now, there seemed to be a calm sort of acceptance about him that surprised her. There was still the old vulnerability, but he seemed less manic, less lost. It had to have something to do with what happened after they had all left the cemetery—but she couldn't make herself think about that now. It had been all her battered heart could manage to simply get through that visit. Trying to comprehend something that had happened between Fred and George—something that had to have defied natural law—wasn't something she could handle at the moment.

Instead, she continued to gaze at the poinsettia and try to make peace herself.

After a moment or two, Mr. Weasley suddenly surprised the group by standing up before them. He raised his hand to gain all of their attention, and then fell silent. Katie thought he looked as though he had only half formed his words before deciding to speak. She considered him warily, still holding her flower, as he struggled for the right way to begin. Mrs. Weasley watched him from the corner with a tired, concerned expression on her face. Katie glanced sideways at George, but his look was blank and unreadable.

Finally, the Weasley family patriarch began.

"I just wanted to say a couple of things while you're all here before we start dessert," he said. His voice was calm and even, but his eyes still lingered somewhat on the floor. "Which I have to say looks excellent, by the way, Molly."

Mrs. Weasley smiled but said nothing. Her husband cleared his throat and started again.

"I just wanted to say thank you for joining us here this year. It's been a hard year for all of us."

As he said this, his eyes began to glisten slightly with tears as he finally looked about the room.

"Not a single person in this room hasn't lost someone. Some of us, more than one someone. They've been our parents and our grandparents, our husbands and our wives. They've been our daughters and our…our sons. They've been our sisters and our brothers. Sometimes brothers closer than anyone on the outside can understand."

He smiled weakly at George, whose eyes had once again begun to shine. George swallowed silently.

"And they've been our friends," Mr. Weasley finished. "Not one of us here that hasn't lost someone."

He paused again as everyone in the room considered his words. Katie stared stolidly down at her poinsettia, but in her mind there was all too clearly her mother and Aunt Elizabeth, who had lost their father. And Liz had lost her husband, too. There was Andromeda Tonks who had seen her husband, daughter, and son-in-law all killed in battle. Teddy, who would never know his parents, and Harry, who had never known his. And of course, there was the stalwart Weasley family still reeling from the loss of one of its brightest members. The magnitude of loss in the room was staggering. When she looked up again, however, Mr. Weasley was smiling through his tears.

"Loss is confusing," he said quietly. "It's a path that can lead to so many different outcomes. It can scar us, and it can hurt us, but it can't claim us unless we allow it to. We have all suffered loss…but we're all still here. It's not the ending chapter in our lives. There is so much to live for and so much happiness, love, and joy in the world. It's Christmas Eve tonight, and here we all are together. We have a chance to make this holiday about more than our personal pain—we can make it about the next chapter in our lives. And I think we should take it. Together."

He nodded briefly as a way of ending this short speech. At first, no one said anything except for Molly Weasley, who quickly crossed the room in order to embrace her husband. They stood there holding one another as everyone looked on, lost in their own musings. Then Katie felt the couch cushion beside her shift as George stood up and walked over to his parents. He put his arms around both of them and at that moment, the remainder of the room found their feet. They soon became one large, weeping unit, holding onto one another as the Christmas lights glistened from the outside.

XxX

"Charlie was the best Quidditch player in our family, hands down," Ginny said to the small group now gathered around the fireplace. "I'd love to argue my own case, but he was just too good—fantastic Seeker. Gryffindor never lost with him."

The Weasley girl was having a friendly argument with Ron and George over who was the best Quidditch player in the family. Harry, Hermione and Katie listened on, the former two looking greatly bemused by the topic of conversation. The rest of the room was sitting and standing around casually in both the kitchen and the drawing room, eating the Christmas cake and custard Molly Weasley had prepared. George sat on the loveseat surveying his younger siblings and their friends, his arm wrapped tightly around Katie's shoulders. She was curled up slightly more than she was usually when they sat together, and leaned more closely to George. She seemed tired and a little distant, but he could hardly expect anything else, and besides, she didn't look unhappy. Mostly, he was grateful for her nearness. It helped.

Shaking his head at Ginny's comment, he rolled his eyes.

"Seekers get all the attention," he said dismissively. "What Fred and I did was ten times harder. And we were ten times better, too. Those dolts on the other House teams never saw us coming, did they? The Bludgers hardly ever did either, come to that. We were stealthy, Fred and I. Charlie just went for the glory."

"Right, talk about subtlety coming from someone whose job it was to knock other people out cold," Ron jabbed, causing Hermione to giggle.

"You could have done that job well enough yourself," Katie suddenly said. "Nearly bloody killed me with that Quaffle to the face in practice."

Ron flushed a deep red as the others hooted in laughter. George turned to grin at her and she responded with shake of the head.

"Don't you give me that," she teased. "Immediately afterward, you and Fred gave me the wrong end of a Nosebleed Nougat and I spent the rest of the day in the Hospital Wing. Your family clearly has some kind of vicious death wish for me."

"Now you know why you were invited here," George said smoothly, removing his arm from her shoulders. "Ginny, go get the prepared materials. No use pretending now."

She grinned back at him and laughed in her pleasant way. He couldn't help but notice how the firelight shined off of her dark hair and when her hand brushed against his, he shivered just slightly. He cursed himself mentally. Really, tonight? Couldn't he keep it together tonight of all nights? Put it to bed, George. Just forget it.

But Katie leaned her head against his shoulder, took his hand, and wrapped her fingers around his, and he was lost. He hesitated, telling himself he ought to pull away (she couldn't know what she was doing to him), and then turned to laugh at something Hermione had said that he hadn't quite heard.

He couldn't do it. He'd fought it too long—maybe tonight he wouldn't do the honorable thing. In fact, maybe tonight, he'd just—

XxX

"George, are you alright?" Katie asked, sitting up slightly. The younger group had just floated off into the kitchen, dishes in hand.

George looked slightly taken off guard. He took a moment to compose his face and then nodded, unable to quite fully meet her gaze. "Yeah, Kates, I'm fine. I told you—I'm okay now."

"Your hands are cold."

"Are they?" he asked, seeming slightly uncomfortable. He ran his free hand through his hair. "There must be a draft or something..."

"George, you're shaking."

She was really quite concerned now, and peered into his averted eyes. He seemed to be trying to keep them focused straight ahead, but she caught him glance surreptitiously down at their entwined fingers and she suddenly felt deeply embarrassed. It wasn't appropriate to do that anymore, was it? She had grown so used to reaching out for George's hand in comfort or distress, so accustomed to the gesture that she hadn't realized the time had probably passed for it to be considered acceptable. It had always felt like a lifeline to her, but he obviously felt deeply uncomfortable with it now.

"I'm sorry," she blushed instantly, moving away and attempting to withdraw her hand. George gripped it more tightly, however, and shook his head.

"No," he said with a sudden intensity that surprised her. "No, it's not that."

He stared at her seriously, and Katie watched his expression change from one of urgency to one slightly more hesitant.

"Katie—"

But at that moment, someone tapped their fork against their glass and the whole room looked up. Katie turned to find a grinning Elizabeth calling for attention and holding tightly to Daryl's arm. In her surprise, she dropped George's hand and turned fully to face the couple.

"Can I have everyone's attention for just a second?" Liz called. She looked spritely and beaming compared to the solemn figure she presented just hours ago. "Just for a second…"

The room quieted down and she began, looking at Daryl momentarily before she spoke.

"We were going to wait to announce this until after Christmas," she said hesitantly. "But Arthur's speech was just so lovely, and seeing you all here together made me think that maybe this is the right time."

Katie raised her eyebrows, hardly knowing what to expect. She met Michael's gaze from across the room and he shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he was just as lost as she was. Their aunt plunged forward again.

"Daryl has asked me to marry him," she said in a voice that barely contained her excitement. Katie and her mother gasped; Nicolas smiled and Michael laughed outright, which made Liz laugh a little as well.

"I know," she said, grinning now. "It seems so sudden, but we've actually been talking about it for a while, and three days ago, we made it official."

"I realize you must think I'm crazy, but I really do love this woman," Daryl grinned. "And I can't wait to take her back to Chicago with me."

Katie reeled, her stomach dropping through the floor. Back to Chicago?

Liz bit her lip, obviously aware of the indelicacy of the announcement, and tried to smooth it over.

"Yes," she said slowly. "After we marry, I'm moving with Daryl to America. He's setting up a minor Quidditch league in the States, and well…I want to go."

She smiled hesitantly and placed her arm around Dayrl's waist. Katie's jaw dropped. There was some mild applause and chatter from the rest of the room, but the real reaction to the news came from Meda Bell, who nearly dropped her glass of egg nog.

"Have you lost your mind?" she sputtered loudly. All other voices cut out now and Katie watched in horror as her mother took her younger sister to task. "You've known this man, what, four months?"

"Meda—"

"And you're moving out of the country? Liz, your family is here!"

"My family hasn't been here for a long time," Elizabeth answered quietly, but calmly. "First Gareth was killed, then Dad…"

"But what about us?"

"Annie," Nicolas put in gently, stepping between them. "Annie, let's calm down for a minute."

"Don't 'Annie' me! And how can I calm down? Didn't you just hear what your sister-in-law said?"

The rest of the room looked away in discomfort. Mrs. Weasley began gathering the remainder of the dessert dishes and hummed loudly as she took them to the kitchen. Hermione was blushing visibly.

Nicolas sighed and launched into his characteristic understatement. "Well if you insist on shouting, dear, maybe you could do it outside. I think the rest of the party is still trying to have a pleasant time…"

Mrs. Bell glared daggers at her husband, but took the advice and stalked out the back door. Elizabeth frowned and followed her.

There was relative silence in the room until Nicolas began talking very loudly with Daryl, and the natural volume of the party slowly returned and people began moving around again.

Katie just stared at the ground. She was horrified with her family, humiliated by the display. On Christmas Eve, too. Just when it seemed like the drama for the evening was over…She had almost forgotten she was sitting next to George, when the redhead himself put his hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," he said quietly in what he clearly thought was a bracing voice. "It wouldn't be Christmas without a family row, would it?"

He smiled encouragingly, but Katie just looked away. She felt sick inside.

George lingered for a moment, and then rubbed her shoulder gently before getting up and walking toward the kitchen. Almost reflexively, she turned to watch him go. Mrs. Weasley was struggling to place a batch of freshly washed dishes onto the top shelf of one of the many cupboards mounted on the Burrow's kitchen wall. George, who towered over his mother, cut in and took over. She smiled with what was obviously immense pleasure and reached up to cup her son's face, saying something too quietly and too far away for Katie to hear before she kissed him on the cheek. George blushed and batted her away, but Molly Weasley was clearly touched by the gesture. Katie blinked and looked away, feeling oddly affected by the scene.

Her reverie was broken as her brother walked over and replaced George's presence on the loveseat next to her. Michael threw an arm around his little sister and sighed.

"I know," Katie murmured.

He looked at her seriously. "You alright?"

She considered this briefly, and then nodded. "I guess so," she said, still feeling a little confused. "I mean, I don't know what to think about Aunt Liz and Daryl…but Godric, did our mother really have to-?"

"I know."

Katie sighed.

"I don't know," she continued. "It's just this whole night…it's hard anyway, and then our family goes and has a row in someone else's house and—"

"You're right, you two had better leave immediately," a voice said from behind them. Katie turned, caught off guard, as Charlie leaned against the loveseat and observed the two siblings. He grinned ruefully.

"You think our family is remotely functional right now?" he continued. "Look around you, Katie, my mother invited half the wizarding world to our house so we wouldn't have to spend the holidays alone. Not that sheer numbers have really helped to reduce the feeling…"

She frowned. "At least when one of you speaks, it leads to general feelings of goodwill. My aunt's speech led to a row."

Charlie laughed and Michael joined in, in spite of himself. Katie looked at the pair of them and then sighed.

"It's okay, Kates, really," Charlie said bracingly. "Out of everything that's gone on tonight, Liz's surprise wedding announcement is going to end up being one of the least memorable. George's near-death stunt will win top prize, trust me."

"How is your little brother?" Michael asked now, turning his gaze to the kitchen. Charlie looked over to where George was now standing by the sink, helping his mother finish washing the last of the dishes. Bill, who had apparently just wandered in, gave George an approving look and placed a hand on his shoulder. George quickly looked away, as though embarrassed by the gesture.

Charlie frowned. "The sooner George realizes it's not just his burden, the better it will be for him," he said quietly. "Of course, he's having a harder time of it than anyone. He's had a rough last couple of days…barely spoken two words together. And Bill's been on his case about his mood a bit, which hasn't really helped. He does seem a lot better tonight, though. Thankfully…It hurts to see him that way."

"And how are you?" Katie couldn't help but asking, as Charlie's voice grew thinner. He looked down at her now, eyes shining slightly.

"Some days are better than others," he smiled. He tugged on her hair affectionately. "Now let's see if we can't fit three people on this loveseat, eh?"

She budged over and tried to laugh, but found her eyes wandering back to George, who was now drying a pot by hand. He looked up at her and smiled wanly, a brave effort from someone who had reached the point of exhaustion and then passed it. It broke her heart for some reason she couldn't explain—like a love letter she'd picked up off of the ground and then read somewhere in private. It was like discovering something a little too intimate, maybe. But she smiled back anyway, kept from looking deeper by the sudden strange impression that there was something she was missing.

XxX

Katie wasn't aware of the passing time, though she felt instinctively that it was late. More than half the party had gone to bed already, her parents having led the pack. Meda Bell and Elizabeth Garibaldi had reentered the house soon after they had left it, red-faced from the cold and looking solemn. Each sister had gone their separate way, and Meda had led Nicolas up to where they were staying in Percy's old bedroom soon afterward. Katie resisted their entreaties of going to bed herself and remained where she was, staring at the fire and leaning against the old flannel sofa.

She had also remained after Andromeda had drifted off to bed, saying she needed to put Teddy down. She had kept vigil while Ron bid Hermione good night and after Ginny and Harry parted ways. She sat through Elizabeth and Daryl's quiet attempts to smooth over the explosion their earlier announcement had caused, and experienced only minor irritation when Fleur shook her magnificent blonde hair out and announced she was ready for bed.

One by one, they all drifted off and disappeared up the stairs, an anticlimactic end to a pain-riddled day. Soon, it was just Mr. and Mrs. Weasley on the loveseat, George brooding in his corner armchair, and Katie staring into the fireplace with Michael by her side. The Weasley parents seemed hesitant and unwilling to allow their most troubled son to remain up on his own, and Michael appeared to feel the same about his sister, because all three of them kept casting worried glances at the two in question.

Finally, Molly tentatively suggested that she was getting tired. George remained motionless as though he hadn't heard the statement, but Arthur nodded quietly.

"I'll join you in a minute, Mollywobbles," he said in a low voice. "I think I'll just go out and check on the chickens before bed."

"But Bill said they'd patched up all of the holes—"

Arthur smiled weakly. "Just a moment alone, dear."

His wife looked fretful, but eventually acquiesced. He kissed her gently on the forehead and soon, Mrs. Weasley too had disappeared up the stairs. Arthur carefully wrapped himself in his greatcoat, letting in a gust of cold winter air as he stepped outside. The wind made Michael stir, glancing from the door, to Katie, to George and then back again, but neither of them seemed aware that there were other people in the room.

For herself, Katie was lost in thought. She wondered, in a rather detached way, how her impulsive, sentimental aunt—who had had far more Christmases with Gareth than she'd had with Fred—was able to forget them all and announce her engagement to another man on the very night that seemed to most inspire nostalgia. She was far from condemning the act as her mother had done, but still, she wondered. She was past the point of clinging fatally to memories, but she found it difficult to move forward. She hovered in the in-between—the gray space separating past and present. How could her aunt be so certain that things would ever be as good as they once were?

Unnoticed by Katie, snow continued to fall in flurries around the Burrow as the hour grew later. Noises around the house died down as well, and soon it was only the hum of the wireless that stood out in the quiet living room. It wasn't an unpleasant silence—rather more like the world was going to sleep.

With a full stomach and the warmth of the fire, Michael began to feel his eyelids droop. He knew he wasn't going to be able to fight sleep much longer, but he didn't like the idea of leaving his sister awake on her own. He was on the verge of reaching out to put his hand on her shoulder and tell her to go to bed, but stopped when he noticed that George wasn't staring into the fireplace from the corner like he thought, but rather at Katie.

George was regarding her thoughtfully, almost in meditation. It was a look Michael couldn't quite put his finger on, though he felt certain he had seen it before. It left him feeling strangely like an intruder, and as sleep continued to fight for his control, he eventually gave in. Telling himself that at least Katie wasn't alone, he nudged her slightly from her reverie.

"Hey," he said in a low voice, taking her arm. "I'm going to bed. Are you going to be alright here?"

She turned to face him and nodded quietly. "Of course," she muttered. "Thanks, Michael."

He sighed and gave her a hug. "Sweet dreams, Kates. You did good today."

She smiled a little and watched him go before turning back to face the hearth. Michael cast one more look at George before disappearing up the stairs. He was still looking at Katie.

Minutes slipped past and suddenly the old grandfather clock in the corner chimed out the hour. Katie looked up, counting the gongs until they reached twelve. Midnight—it really was Christmas then. She exhaled slowly and got up, walking over gingerly to the window that looked out onto the frozen landscape of the English countryside. Katie crossed her arms and rubbed her shoulders, vaguely admiring the way the red and white of the Burrow's Christmas lights shone against the flakes of snow.

Aware of George's presence in the room, it came to no surprise to her when she heard quiet footsteps approach and then felt his arms circling around her from behind. The tall redhead leaned over to rest his chin against her shoulder, and Katie reached up and took both of his hands.

"Merry Christmas, George," she whispered.

"Merry Christmas, Katie."

His voice was so low, she wouldn't have heard it if his head weren't right next to her ear. There was something in it—some slight tone perhaps—that struck her as sounding different. She suddenly remembered that he had almost said something to her earlier…something that sounded like it may have been important.

"George," she began, turning around to face him. "You were going to—"

She was stopped however, by the way his hands fell to the small of her back and the look in his eyes that she couldn't quite read. She unexpectedly felt conscious of their closeness and how her hands had naturally come to rest against his chest. His heart was beating below a little quickly—perhaps too quickly.

Katie looked back up into his face, but his expression was somber and indiscernible. Dismissing her strangeness, she tried again.

"You were going to tell me something earlier," she said quietly. "Before Aunt Liz got up."

To her slight relief, George's expression shifted into one she recognized—hesitation and slight vulnerability.

"I don't remember what it was," he said, looking away. "It must not have been important."

"Yes it was," she pressed, though she was feeling increasingly unsure if she wanted to hear whatever he had been about to say. "I could tell by your voice. I can tell now."

He looked back at her, his mouth falling open slightly in uncertainty.

"I just—"

He shook his head, closed his eyes and then opened them again; he looked over her face searchingly. The static on the wireless was interrupted as the soft, half fading signal of a low melody emerged, and Katie suddenly recognized the look behind his eyes and the shift in tone between them. She could feel it in the heavy air pressing around them. She began to shake just slightly.

And then they were leaning toward one another, inch by inch, eyes shifting downward. George's hold on her waist tightened. There was a sharp intake of breath, and then his lips were on hers.

A white hot flash of something instantly ran through her body and left goosebumps on her skin. They kissed—slowly, but deliberately—and a second later they parted once more.

As Katie stood there, hovering in the millimeters of distance between them, her last conscious thought occurred: If she were to do anything other than back away immediately, this would leave the realm of acceptability. Right now, she could pass this off as a momentary slip, a slight error of judgment. But if she were to stay, even a half second longer where she was, she would lose that right. She would be actually kissing George Weasley.

And then she was.

Katie was unsure who made the decisive movement—maybe they both had. George raised one hand to cup the side of her face, thumb tucked away behind her ear, and their lips met once more. Her knees went slightly weak at the gentleness of his touch. She slipped her arm around the back of his neck, and George deepened the kiss, pressing her to him tightly. Katie thought nothing and felt nothing identifiable other than the fact that her heart was about to burst with whatever it was. His familiar, comforting scent consumed her. She suddenly realized it had been hanging over their heads for weeks, even months maybe, without her being able to recognize it. And it seemed right.

After a few more moments of this, George's tongue pressed up against her lips and Katie allowed him in. She was surprised to hear a small moan escape her, and was abruptly very conscious of the near perfect silence of the house. This only seemed to drive George further, however, and she was locked in place by the tightness of his grip on her waist. They continued, kissing far more deeply, quickly, urgently now. Her hands reached up and tangled themselves in his hair. The faint music still playing on the wireless began to swell, and Katie's ears started to ring.

By the time either of them heard the front door open and someone come into the living room, it was too late. Katie heard the sounds, but failed to register what they meant until she felt George tense up. Within nanoseconds, the two pulled away from each other. Gasping for breath both from the lack of oxygen and the surprise she felt, Katie whipped her head around to find Arthur Weasley standing in the foyer staring at the pair of them.

And then her stomach fell through the floor.

XxX