Falling For

We had chosen to quickly visit my mother before returning to the Burrow for Christmas lunch. Fred and George were living at home for the holidays, not wanting to be away from the family in the snowy darkness of Diagon alley. We had already set down their gifts under the giant tree that had been erected in the family room, a house full of redheads all shaking present simultaneously something you had to see for yourself.

Sitting in the lounge room, I cradled my mother's Christmas present, which was just a set of nice blouses, a new quill set and a bunch of never-perish snapdragons. She was incredibly hard to buy for, being a woman that had everything and all. She wrote two kinds of books; one for the mature-aged witch, and one for the mature-aged woman – still the same in essence but the magic had to be toned down.

So I guess you could say that my mother was a muggle lover too.

When George stood up to kiss her on the cheek as she arrived into the lounge, I snapped out of my fantasy and jumped up to greet my mother with a swift hug.

“Merry Christmas, mum." I pulled back, still holding her to my middle as I gushed forth with holiday spirits. "Are you sure you’re going to be okay by yourself?”

“By myself? I’m going out with Wendell and Frida! I think I’ll be fine.” She snorted at me, shoving a gift into George’s arms before beaming a smile. “Come on, open it.”

He gingerly tore off the paper, staring quietly at the object in his large hands before letting out a noise of quaint approval, quickly wrapping it back up so I couldn’t peek. “Thank you, Martine.” He looked at me slyly, grinning before cocking his head back to mum.

“Oh,” I held out the gift, “Merry Christmas!”

She smiled. "Is it some clothes and a quill set again?”

“Am I that obvious?” I sighed, exasperated by my inability to choose proper gifts for the woman that birthed me. She just grinned further, passing me a small gift wrapped in light cellophane. I evened my eyes at it. “Really went all out this year, didn’t you Mum?” I teased with a smile and she rolled her eyes.

“I know you’ll love it.” She edged me with her elbow and I scoffed, tearing off the prickling plastic before staring oddly at the small rectangular object in my hand. She laughed blatantly in my face.

“What is it?” I asked. The small, brick-like contraption was blue, with numbers on its little buttons and a small green screen. Like a little television.

“It’s a muggle mobile phone! I know you like all that stuff, so I got Wendell to hook me up with it. If you don’t like it I can take it back.”

“So it’s a phone..? A muggle telephone that doesn’t need to be plugged into a wall socket?”

“Something like that.” She sniffed awkwardly. “I don’t know, I didn’t listen. It turns on and everything and there’s even a game where you’re a snake and you eat dots and chase your tail. It’s rather exhilarating, if I say so myself.” She chuffed, making George beam down at it.

“Dad is going to murder you in your sleep and keep this for himself.”

“I love you so much, mum.” I looked up at her and grinned. “Thank you so much! This makes our gift look like gnome’s bollocks!”

“Language!” She shrieked with sudden laughter and my eyes softened, pulling her in for a hug. As I squeezed her tight, she smiled into my hair. “So, how do you exactly know what gnome’s bollocks look like?”

The room erupted with laughter and I went red, hugging my muggle phone to my chest as if it was the most precious thing in the world. George gave my mother a quick hug and she patted him on the shoulder before adjusting her scarf.

“Merry Christmas, my little lovebirds.”



That night as I stood outside my bedroom door, I kissed George on the forehead as he bent down to give me a hug goodnight. He sighed into my hair, and when I leant back he gave me a tiny smile as he wrung his hands together as if he was nervous.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine here by yourself?” He asked, leaning on the soft wood panels as he reached out to play with my hair. I rubbed my cheek against his rough hands and nodded.

“It’s just a night. I don't think it could outdo my day in any respects. I mean, the Minister of Magic turned up. Can't say you Weasleys don't know how to party." I snorted at him and he looked at me seriously. "George, I’d much rather you spend it with your family.”

“You know I would ask you to stay if I could, right?” He then smiled. “I just don’t think my parents would be too happy at the thought of proliferation in their own house.”

“Oh please, I’m sure your brother and Hermione have been there before.” I teased awkwardly, flashing my brows to let him know I was kidding.

“You’ve seen it too?” He snorted. “I don’t think he’s got the heart for that, Min.” He smirked. “It’ll be a right day when she and Harry both just marry into the family. Though, I doubt Ron has the heart for polygamy either.”

I snorted.

“Speaking of procreation,” I then pursed my lips, “you know what would make my night better?”

“No?” He blanked. “Do tell me.” He quirked his brow at me and I mimicked him.

“Want to come inside and keep warm under my blankets for a while? It really is cold outside.”

“Smooth, sweetheart.” He let me take his hand as I opened my bedroom door, met with the smell of stale air and dust. It had been a while since I had actually stayed at my house, preferring to sleep in the lovely cheap bed that was George’s.

I stared up at him until he suddenly bent down to kiss me, as it always began in that way, letting me tangle my fingers in his longing red hair. My lips ghosted across along his jaw, careful fingers touching some skin exposed from an unbuttoned breakage. I untucked his shirt, pressing my cold lips to his bare, pale skin. He shuddered and ran my jacket off my shoulders.

Tugging my long-sleeved shirt over my head, I was pulled close to be picked up in a soft fit of passion, pushed against my bedroom wall as it heated up. It was really more than I expected for foreplay to be honest, but in our obvious fashion it had to be ridiculous sometimes.

I smiled into his lips as he looked down at me, some thing in his eyes saying something I could not read. My eyes, in return, softened when he muttered ‘I love you’, all before leaning in too hard and knocking his head with mine. We burst into laughter and I pulled him closer, rubbing his forehead better with my small hands.

“Merry Christmas, you idiot.” I whispered back after the wheezes of laughter died down. “I love you too.”