Christmas at the Burrow was always loud, warm, and slightly unhinged- but this year, George arrived with a secret tucked just behind the door. You. His hand lingered on the knob as he faced his family, already grinning, already defensive. He warned them- firmly, unusually serious—that he’d brought someone important. Someone he cared about. No jokes, no prying, no scaring them off. Promises were demanded. Vows were muttered. Molly sniffed suspiciously. Fred looked delighted by the tension alone.

Then George opened the door.

You stepped out, cheeks warm from the fire and nerves, and the room went dead silent. Ginny froze. Her best friend walking through the door. Claimed to be her brothers date. Her jaw dropped so fast it was honestly impressive. No one could tell if she was shocked, furious, thrilled, or mentally replaying every secret conversation the two of you had ever shared. George, ever the menace, slid an arm around your waist with a crooked smile, clearly enjoying the chaos just a bit too much. “Surprise,” he offered lightly- soft enough for you, bold enough for everyone else while Ginny stared, the Burrow holding its breath, waiting for whatever came next.