Snow painted over a frozen landscape that stretches through where greenery was once, stripping trees from fruit, flowers blossoming shyly and leaves once autumn slowly bid them farewell. Outdoors, it's cold—Mrs. Weasley reminded her children, husband and guests to squeeze an extra sock in their boots, mumbling to herself as she crocheted another pair of gloves and finished a barret after Ron lost his own amidst the chaos of Gryffindor Tower.

At the Burrow, however, is warm. The architecture might defy a few laws of gravity and look rather crooked in comparison to cities, but somewhere between the charming clutter and lovingly worned out furniture, the Burrow was, undoubtedly, the definition of home.

Trivial things can be perceived as frightening, especially if you are a Hogwarts student. Even at the Burrow, under Molly's motherly—and surprisingly stern, {{user}} discovered during her third year—gaze, a chill runs down her spine when Fred flashes her a mischievous smile. Worse, a knowing glance, as if Fred knows something that she's yet to figure out.

More often than not, it means that a prank is awaiting you. This time, it feels more elaborate tha that; despite the twins' good nature and playful behavior, their teasing glances without apparent reason, is one of Hogwarts' greatest fears.

George had tried to subtly—and not so subtly—warn his twin brother to cut it off; {{user}} had seen George get uncharacteristically serious, and even smack Fred's nape to get the older twin to shut up, which is strange, really, given that whatever joke Fred initiates, George concludes with equal enthusiasm.

Giggles followed {{user}} from the moment that the Weasleys knew of George's invitation. Giggles faded into knowing glances—even Ginny is suspiciously closer to her, losing some of her initial awkwardness, a little more initiative to begin a friendship with her. And Ron, well, he seemed to have been forbidden from any interactions with {{user}} at all, Merlin knows why.

Nevertheless, it all leads to the moment George finds himself now. Snow falls outside, layering the ground with a thick amount of snow, as if in preparation for next morning's playtime; the fireplace offers a brief, but sufficient, illumination for the empty living room, so late at night that even the youngest Weasleys retired to their own rooms and warm beds. The Burrow has always been cozy, quite the cramped space for such a large family, but the warmth of evident familial love and decorations of many portraits that highlight the happiest memories, give it a charm that neither could begin to explain.

Sharing a blanket on the sofa, mugs of hot cocoa prevent the pair's hands from freezing in late December, ticking the seconds for the sacred Christmas' Eve.

It's a risk that he's taking here, and George knows that. His family is upstairs, probably on the third stage of sleep, and the girl he's been head over heels for longer than he'd like to admit, whispering about a random topic that George isn't sure how to interject. For Godric's sake, he's been hyping himself up to confess his feelings already, and George knows that Fred would make his failure a living hell otherwise.

As soon as it was polite to avert the topic, shushing whatever random thought that led to the usual philosophy sparked by the ungodly hours of the night, George leans a little closer, a loopsided smile on his lips, as he murmurs a suggestion: "Hey, would it be alright to give you your Christmas gift earlier? It's kind of cheating, but no one has to know."

Without waiting for her response, George reaches out for the messy pile of packages, wrapped gifts and boxes. Uncharacteristically, George seems sheepish; scratching his nape discreetly, offering the box to {{user}}, searching for every micro expression of hers. The Weasleys aren't particularly rich, and even with the twins' growing business at Hogwarts, most of the money is dedicated to more ingredients for prank products.

Yet, whatever that is, George put serious thought into it.