A/N: TW: Very slightly NSFW at one point, and of course more loss/grief, because I just can't help myself.
ooo
Life at the Burrow was nothing like Greg had imagined. He wasn't exactly sure what he had expected, but years of hearing Draco make fun of the Weasleys' home and suggesting that they lived in a pig-sty and were probably forced to all share one room, had him thoroughly unprepared for what the Burrow really was.
The place was huge. Unconventionally so, yes, but Greg was sure that if you took the whole building and put it right next to Goyle Manor, the Burrow would tower over his family's ancestral home with ease. It had SIX floors (not including the attic), which were stacked on top of each other in the most precarious way, with several rooms added around the outside that were supported by nothing but a few wooden posts. It also had four different chimneys; a ghoul in the attic, that made a lot of racket during the night; two lopsided balconies that were overlooking a spacious garden with a pond and apple orchard behind it; a broom shed, two chicken coops, and a big barn, that Mr Weasley regularly disappeared in, but no one else was allowed to enter.
Greg was convinced that the only way the Burrow was still standing upright, was because it was held together by centuries of very strong and enduring magic; and yet, despite its size and complicated structure, the Weasleys' family home was by far the cosiest, most down-to-earth place Greg had ever stayed at.
But the thing that had surprised him the most, was that people seemed to genuinely like each other. In his own home everyone avoided each other at all costs, but the Weasleys… they sought each other out. They sat and talked, played games, helped in the kitchen, went for walks together, and on sunny days, when everyone felt like they had been cooped up for too long in the stifling heat of the Weasleys' cosy living room, they all went out to play quidditch above the old apple orchard.
A couple of days after their arrival, Charlie came, Ginny's second oldest brother; a friendly chap that loved to tell stories about his adventures in Romania, where he worked as a dragon tamer. Then Percy joined with his new girlfriend Audrey, who were both nice, but a bit more reserved than the boisterous Charlie.
Greg soon started to wonder where in Merlin's name they would fit everyone, once the rest of the family would join them for Christmas, but despite it being crammed and chaotic, and practically impossible to get some lone-time, he was enjoying himself. – more than he had ever enjoyed a Christmas in his own home.
Today was one of those rare days where he had managed to get some time to himself. He had been up since the crack of dawn, and after offering to help Molly with breakfast, and being shooed out of the kitchen immediately, had found himself a spot by the living room window with one of Bill's old books about a French warlock from the early 1400s, who was captured by the French king and cursed his capturer with ill luck, which almost wiped out the entire royal family.
At some point during the morning Ginny had joined him, and was now curled up on a sofa across the room, pretending to read one of her own books, but really, trying to not fall back asleep.
She was still in her pyjama shorts and a large knitted jumper; her stockings pulled all the way up to just above her knees. Greg swallowed as his eyes travelled across her legs, and he could feel his pulse quicken as his gaze lingered on the large area of exposed skin on her thighs.
Living with Ginny, Greg had quickly found out, was a lot more complicated than he had first anticipated. It wasn't so much the close proximity – after all, he had spent plenty of time alone with her before – but the way she dressed and behaved. It didn't take him long to realise that Ginny loved to wear comfortable clothes around the house. And for her that meant ridiculously short sweat-shorts and oversized t-shirts and jumpers that would ride up and expose her waist if she stretched out on the sofa, or slide down one shoulder and reveal all the freckles on her collarbone. And apparently, she had an aversion to underwear too, because more often than not, Greg would spot her pebbled nipples poke tantalisingly through the thin fabric of her tops.
He had never in his life seen a girl show that much skin before, and that meant something, considering he had spent seven years sharing a common room with Pansy. But then he had never really had access to the girls' dorms in school, so maybe this was what young witches did. Maybe they all walked around in shorts and no underwear. Either way, if Greg had felt attracted to Ginny before they had come to the Burrow, it was nothing compared to how he felt now… and it took him an immense amount of willpower and self-control to not act on it.
It had only been last night, that Ginny had taken a shower and then decided to walk out of the shared bathroom with only a towel wrapped around her slender waist, skin still glistening with fine droplets of water, and slightly flushed from the heat of the steam. She had smirked at him, before squeezing past him on the narrow hallway and slipping back into her room.
Greg had thought about that later on, when he was lying in bed, his hand wrapped around his achingly hard cock, and it was all he could do not to moan her name loudly a few minutes later, when he spilled himself all over his belly and chest.
He was still staring at the expanse of creamy white skin on Ginny's thighs, when Hermione and Harry walked into the room, and he quickly dropped his gaze to his book and shifted ever so slightly in an attempt to discretely adjust himself.
"Morning." Hermione sing-songed, a bright smile on her face, as she walked over to the window and looked outside, while Harry dropped onto the sofa next to Ginny, a sleepy, tousled kind of look about himself, as he lifted a lazy hand in greeting.
"Oh, how beautiful!"
All three of them raised their heads to follow Hermione's line of vision. The view through the small living-room window was spectacular. The sun was only just beginning to rise, and everything had begun to glitter and sparkle, as the first golden rays of winter sun had broken through the layer of morning fog and reflected off the frosty grass and hedges.
It was breath-taking.
Unlike the weeks of snow they had already had up in Scotland, winter hadn't quite reached Devon at the same level yet. It was frosty most mornings and there was a certain chill to the wind, but the afternoons were still quite warm and they hadn't had any snow so far.
That, however, was about to change.
"There's a snowstorm predicted for tonight, so I've asked your father to dig out some more winter clothes." Molly announced, as she walked into the living-room with a large carboard box in her hands. "We'll have to go through it and see what's usable, but there should be plenty of jumpers and scarves in here for everyone."
She dropped the bulky box onto the coffee table in the middle of the room and began to pull out a variety of old clothes and knitted throws.
"Oh, I remember this one, Harry look! The first Weasley jumper I ever made for you." She pulled out a rather worn-down, emerald-green jumper and lifted it up for Harry to see. "Hmmm… you're a bit big for that now, but I'm sure there'll be other things you could wear in –"
She froze and all the colour drained from her face as she stared at something in the box
The mood in the room instantly shifted and no one moved as they all waited with baited breath for Mrs Weasley to continue. … but she didn't.
Greg cast a confused look over to Hermione, who shook her head lightly, her brows knitted with concern and lips pressed tightly together, before his gaze wandered over to Ginny and Harry on the sofa, who were both wearing identical looks of worry on their faces.
"M-mum?" Ginny's voice was small and unsure, as she pushed herself up and made to approach her mother, and all of a sudden, Molly snapped back into motion and turned around to face them.
"If you'll excuse me for a minute. I forgot something upstairs." She rasped, the small smile on her lips not reaching her watery eyes. "I'll be right back."
And with that she turned around and rushed out of the living room.
They all stared after her in confusion, until Ginny began to move again and leaned over the box.
There were several, torturous seconds of complete silence as they all watched her face morph from initial confusion to shocked recognition, until it eventually settled on gut-wrenching heartbreak. She let out a shuddering gasp as she reached into the box and pulled out two almost identical sets of Christmas pyjamas – both a mixture of red, white and green plaid, with tiny silver reindeers scattered across the fleecy fabric – the only difference between them being that one had a large silver G embroidered on it, while the other one was sporting an intricate woven F.
"Fred and George's Christmas PJs." Ginny whispered, a pained quiver in her voice, as she let go of the smooth fabric and dropped the pyjamas back into the box. "They always insisted on having matching ones."
In an instant Hermione had crossed the room and pulled Ginny into a tight hug, looking traitorously close to tears herself as she began to mutter soothing words into Ginny's ear.
Greg and Harry exchanged helpless looks, before they both got up and approached the hugging witches tentatively. Greg wasn't sure what would be the appropriate thing to do in a situation like this, but he knew that he wanted to be closer to Ginny, to be able to touch her and console her; so he moved closer and put a gentle hand on her shoulder, before he began to rub soothing circles across her back.
After a while, Ginny's body stopped shaking and her shoulders relaxed a little, until she finally pulled out of Hermione's embrace and looked at them with big, red-rimmed eyes.
"Dad…" she sniffled, sounding like she had a horrible head cold. "Someone needs to tell him what happened. He'll want to check on mum."
"I'll go!" Harry offered, giving Ginny's shoulder a comforting squeeze, before he rushed out of the room.
Hermione inhaled deeply and took a step back, her hand flying up to stroke lovingly over Ginny's cheek, before she let out a shaky sigh.
"I'll go and put the kettle on." She said, putting on a brave smile. "I think we could all use a cup of tea."
Ginny and Greg both nodded in agreement, before she left the room, and then Greg finally got to hug Ginny. With a swift move he pulled her into his arms, his chin resting gently atop her head as she leaned against his chest, her hands gripping the front of his t-shirt as if it were a lifeline; and once again, Greg's chest filled with a fierce protectiveness that he felt for the brave Gryffindor.
He knew she didn't need him to protect her, she was one of the strongest people he had ever met, but he couldn't help but want to be there for her. Always.
The rest of the morning was a bit of a blur. At some point Hermione returned carrying a tray laden with tea, biscuits and a variety of sandwiches, and not long after that they were joined by Ron, Percy and Audrey, who had already heard what happened.
They all sat mostly in silence, quietly sipping on their tea, no one really felt like eating much; until eventually Arthur and Charlie entered the room, both wearing grave expressions.
"I'm afraid your mother isn't feeling very well." Arthur said, his own voice rough and full of emotion. "She is very sorry, but she doesn't think she'll make it back downstairs for the rest of the day."
All of them nodded, the same, glum expressions on their faces, until Audrey stood up and cleared her throat.
"Percy and I will make lunch then." She said, looking at her boyfriend, who instantly jumped up and nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, dad." Ron piped up. "We'll all help. Harry, Hermione and I can sort through the rest of the boxes you brought down."
"And Greg and I can go grab more firewood and make sure all the windows are closed and vents covered up." Ginny chimed in.
Arthur's eyes began to swim with emotion as he swallowed hard and nodded. "That would be a great help. Thanks, children."
So for the rest of the day, they all worked, one by one ticking off the chores on Mrs Weasley's to-do-list, until everything was set and ready for the predicted storm.
Ginny had been unusually quiet throughout all of it, her face set with determination and refusing to give into her emotions.
It wasn't until long after they had said goodnight and Greg was lying in bed, going over all the events of the day, that he heard a soft knock, and the door to his room creaked open.
"Greg?" Ginny's voice was a shaky whisper, small and unsure, as she tiptoed into his room on bare feet.
"Hey, what's up?" Greg instantly sat up, worry pooling in his stomach as he caught a glance at Ginny's pale face; the only light coming from the moon outside his window.
"I… can I come in? I can't sleep." She looked small and insecure as she stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but a big t-shirt and her pair of cotton shorts, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
"Yeah, sure."
He moved over to let her crawl into bed, and she instantly moved underneath the duvet to snuggle up to him. Her feet were cold as ice and her skin was covered in goose bumps as she pressed herself up against his much larger body, shivering.
"Come here." He murmured, turning around to face her and pulling her flush against his torso, his arms wrapped tightly around her, as she let out a deep sigh and rested her head on his chest.
"You okay?" He asked, threading his hand through her silky hair and scraping his fingernails soothingly across her scalp. She let out an appreciative hum, her eyes closed as she nuzzled his t-shirt with her nose.
"Not really." She whispered, shaking her head ever so slightly. "But I will be."
Greg hummed in response, before he lifted his head, placed a soft kiss on top of her hair, and pulled her even closer.
They lay like that for a long time, both listening to the howling of the wind outside, as it blew the snow past the window in great, pearlescent swirls; until their eyes fell shut and their breaths evened out, and eventually they both drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep.