#i also don’t think I sill ever recover from that picture being the only real life thing etho has ever shown us

[theethoslab]

I’m dying to know if the hermits have seen Etho’s cursed headset photo. He may not use them anymore, but just this image alone might still put him at the weirdest setup

[wicked-hg]

Love, The Weasleys || g.w.

Day 12 of @jamilelucato and @whack-ed Very Harry Potter Christmas.

George Weasley x muggleborn!reader

Prompt: Writing Christmas cards

Summary: George never knew about Christmas cards until you.

A/N: This ended up being more about Christmas cards in general than writing them. Hope you all enjoy! I’m thinking about maybe writing more.

WC: 2.3k

Y/H/C- your hair color ; Y/L/N- your last name ; Y/H- your house (except Gryffindor. Sorry. I didn’t realize my mistake when writing this. You’ll understand at the end. Forgive me.)

First year George wasn’t expecting anything from you during Christmas break. You were a muggle-born he had met one day running away from Filch after getting separated from Fred. You two became friends as you became a silent partner and helped with their escape plans. George didn’t realize you had an owl. 

George opened the envelope and stared at the strange letter that had a picture on the front with reindeer pulling a fat man in red robes in a red cart. The front read “May all your wishes be granted”. George curiously opened the strange letter. A still photo of your family stared up at him. He moved it to the side. Printed inside was “Happy Christmas with lots of joy!” Signed underneath was The Y/L/N Family. On the opposite side was a note from you. 

George,

I hope you have a Happy Christmas with your family! I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything in time. I promise to have something for you on the train. Miss you lots dear friend!

Sincerely,

Y/N

“Mum, Dad,” George asked. “Do you know what this strange letter is? My muggle-born friend sent it to me.”

“That’s a Christmas card,” Charlie piped up. “We learned about muggle Christmas traditions before break. Muggles send cards out to family and friends during the holidays. Sometimes they send pictures and longer notes to catch up with people. It’s just a way to celebrate the holidays. Professor Quirrell didn’t really understand them.”

George nodded and stared at the card. He looked over at the picture of your family. You were in the middle with a giant grin and a red sweater. Peeping up from the bottom of the photo, he swore it was the beginning of a gold G. “I like these strange letters. Christmas cards you say, Charlie?”

———————

George stared out of the window in hope. Fred watched his twin while he sat on his bed and worked on pranks for their shop. “She doesn’t even know we’re here, Georgie. How can you expect Y/N to send you a Christmas card when she doesn’t know where you’re staying?”

“She will!” George argued. “She always does.”

“You didn’t tell her, did you George? It doesn’t matter that she is finally your girlfriend after you both finally got it through your thick heads.”

George shook his head. “I didn’t tell her. She knows we are not at the Burrow. She thinks we’re staying with Aunt Muriel. I told her to send the letter to the Burrow. Errol is there waiting for the trade off. Told her it was too far for Sova to fly the whole way.”

Fred shook his head. “You’re letting Errol deliver your happiness? Oh Georgie. You’re doomed.”

George stuck his tongue out at his twin before turning back to the window. Soon, he thought, Errol should be here soon. As if by magic, the shadow of Errol appeared in the distance. George scrambled to grab the owl treats he had waiting on the window sill. 

“Cmon, you stupid old owl. Come get the treat and give me that letter,” George almost shouted. Fred shushed him. The last thing either of them needed was for someone to wake up and discover what they are both up to. “Incoming, Freddie! He’s coming in hot!”

Fred quickly stumbled out of bed and grabbed a pillow as George made the window wider and grabbed another pillow to go under Fred’s. Errol blasted through the window and hit the pillow at Fred’s chest before falling onto the pillow George held underneath. George laid the treats next to the owl and snatched the letter. This year glittery snowflakes adorned the front with “May your life be full of flurries of happiness”. The inside read similar like every year with something about having a happy Christmas, the family signature, and the family picture. Just like always too, there was a note from Y/N. 

Darling George,

Give my love to your family. I do hope your father is okay and recovering well. I also hope that the hag of an aunt you call Muriel is treating you all well too. It was a bummer to end term without you, but alas I know I’ll be doing it once more. One of us has to have a diploma, even if I will end up working with you. Don’t throw a fit, my darling George. I know I can do more with my life, but this is what I want. I already made that clear to my parents. They’ve accepted my choice. Back to end of term. It was okay. It would have been better if Umbitch wasn’t there. She did leave me alone though...unwillingly. Somehow she kept getting fed your nosebleed nougats and lost quite a bit of blood. Hmmmm. Who knows how that happened. I certainly don’t, and neither do Peeves or that elf Dobby your brother knows. Mum and Dad and those idiot brothers of mine say hello. They’re all glad I finally officially have you as mine. Apparently they’ve always known too. Perhaps I should tell them the truth about our Yule Ball last Christmas and we went as much much more than best friends. I’ll give you your present on the train back. Take care, darling. Do enjoy your break. Miss you tons, but I love you more. 

Love always,

Y/N

George grinned at the card. “She’s brilliant, Freddie. Absolutely brilliant.”

——————

George was nervous as he handed Fred the card. It was still early in the morning. The Hogwarts express had gotten back the day before, which meant the holiday rush will be hitting soon. Y/N was managing the store with Verity while George and Fred were going over some inventory in the back. Fred stared at the envelope before gingerly opening it. He smiled at the card with a fireplace wishing him a warm and festive holiday. “Well finally, Georgie boy,” Fred grinned. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to tell the Y/L/N to include me in their list of Christmas card receivers.”

George didn’t say a word and just motioned for his brother to open it. Fred opened the card. Staring back at him was a muggle photo of Y/N and George. Both were grinning in the midst of pine trees. George’s arms were wrapped around Y/N and she was leaning into his chest. Fred moved the picture to be greeted with the typical Y/L/N family picture, but he very quickly noticed his twin was a part of the family photo. Moving the photos he saw the card was signed by The Weasleys, but it was in Y/N’s handwriting. On the left side of the card, Fred was greeted with the familiar sight of George’s writing. 

Forge,

Y/N told me I didn’t have to write you a note updating you on my life because we live and work together and see each other every day. But where is the fun in that? I want you to have a true Christmas card experience! We’ve been through so much this year, Freddie. I’m just glad I got to experience it with you along the way. As you can see, I’m a part of the Y/L/N Christmas cards now. Y/N is my everything. I have to thank you. Thank you for giving me the pushes to make her mine. It’s no lie written in the card, Forge. She’s gonna be a Weasley. Will you be my side as I celebrate my new life? There’s no one else I’d want. Let’s celebrate Christmas with a bang. 

Gred

Fred immediately looked up. “You serious, Gred?”

“Absolutely, Forge. There’s no one else for me, and with the war and her being a muggle-born. It’s just going to be a quick muggle ceremony. Once the war is over, we’ll do the real thing.”

“Why muggle?”

“She’s read about wizard tradition. She wants to experience that and have her family see it too. Besides, if we did a quick magic ceremony, her family wouldn’t be allowed to come. With a muggle ceremony too, if anything happens she can easily blend right in and be taken care of.”

“You sure about this, George? I’m not talking you out of it. I know she’s perfect for you, but I want you to be happy.”

George smiled and hugged his brother. “I am, Fred. I have everything I want right now. Her. You. The store. I just want to make her as permanent in my life as you are.”

Fred chuckled. “Well I am amazing. It’s only a given. But George, have you told mum and dad yet?”

“They’re getting a Christmas card from Y/N and I. All the family is. They also got one specifically from her family.”

“I meant do mum and dad know you and Y/N are getting married?” George stayed quiet. “Oh Gred. What have you gotten yourself into?

————————

George found you at the kitchen table writing a list. “Making a list and checking it twice, darling?” George joked. 

You smiled and kissed him. It was good to hear those little quips from him. When the war hit hard and Fred was killed, you worried he wouldn’t laugh again or joke. You feared the store would stay closed and layers of dust would settle over the products. It took George a few months, but they got the store up and going again. You knew he wouldn’t be the same without Fred, but it was good to see him somewhat the same again. “It’s what he’d want, Y/N,” he told you when working on cleaning up the store. “He wouldn’t want me to give up everything we’d ever hope for.”

“Very funny, George darling. I’m making a list of who we need to send Christmas cards too. My mum called and said the prints were in. Which reminds me, you need to make a list of which friends and extended relatives you want cards to go to and get their addresses.”

“We’re still doing this?”

You gave him a funny look. “Of course, darling. Why else would we have taken pictures with my family and gone to Selfridges to buy cards and some decorations?”

“Well I knew your family would still send cards out and that’s why they needed us there,” he answered. “They haven’t gone through a war.”

“But isn’t that why we should do this?” You asked. “So many people have gone through pain and sorrow this year. Let’s give them something to smile about, George darling.”

George gave another weak smile. “Fred loved the cards,” he whispered. “He always got excited when I got them and started bugging me 3rd year that he wanted to be in on it. He was so excited when I gave him his first card. I don’t know what I’ll do this year.”

You brought George closer to you. “You can still write him a Christmas card, George. The box is down stairs that you guys started your business out of. You can keep all the Christmas cards you write to him in there. It might sound weird, but I think it’ll be good for you. Include the pictures too. What do you think, darling?”

George kissed your cheek. “You’re an angel. You know that? You don’t think it’s weird?”

You shook your head. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I thought it was. I think it’ll be good for you, George. It’ll be therapeutic in a way.” You pushed a card and envelope towards George. “This can be his. Why don’t you go grab your coat. We can go pick up the photos and then grab some lunch at the fish and chip shop down the road.”

“Maybe on the way back we can stop at that bakery by Flourish and Blotts,” he suggested. “I saw you looking at those cauldron cakes and strawberry trifles the other day.”

You grinned and kissed him. “Of course, Georgie darling.”

———————

“Y/N!” George shouted. “Where is the box? I have Fred’s card done.”

“Check the office, darling!” You answered. “I put it there so we didn’t lose it. I’m off to the station now. I’ll be back in a half hour.”

George entered his office and found the orange box he stored Fred’s Christmas cards in. A mouse wearing Christmas tree sunglasses and a Santa hat. He stuck the picture inside the card before putting it in the box. No longer was the photo of Y/N’s family included when sending out cards. Instead the photo was of George and Y/N wearing their Weasley sweaters. In front of them were two smaller red heads and a light haired Y/H/C also wearing their Weasley sweaters. 

George smiled as he put the box back on the book shelf. “Until next Christmas, Forge.”

———————

Dear Forge,

It’s been a crazy year. The last of this Weasley clan has joined Hogwarts. It’ll be interesting to see if the twins follow in our footsteps. Anya is in Gryffindor and Fred is in Y/H. Part of me is glad Fred isn’t in Gryffindor. It would’ve been cool, but this way I hope he will be able to forge his own path. Forge. Hah! Get it? Clara is studying for her OWLS this year. I found some of our old charms, defense, herbology, transfiguration, and potions notes. I let her into our little secret that we are quite smart but just never turned our assignments in. She was thankful. She’s definitely my daughter. She acts like me so much, but she’s definitely loud like you with that Gryffindor bravery. I miss you, brother. Y/N was right though; this has definitely helped me. Hopefully you get these wherever you are. Happy Christmas, Freddie!

Love, Gred and his Weasleys

[aswithasunbeam]

“And I have to finish packing up all my books, and my bedding. There’s just so much still to do, you know? I don’t think I’ll be sleeping tonight.” Eliza looked over at Alex. The glare of passing headlights illuminated his face, his eyes fixed on the curving country road. “Alex?”

“Mm?”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes,” he said distantly. “You’re going to be packing tonight.”

Their hands were clasped together over the cup holders of his ancient Camry. His palm felt sweaty against hers. She squinted, trying to see his expression in the dark.  

“Are you all right?”

“Fine.”

“You’ve just been kind of quiet.”

He hadn’t been himself all day, his usual sunny smile and exuberance missing ever since this morning when they’d starting packing up her parents’ beach house. At first, she’d put it down to his being tired. They’d sneaked into a their favorite dive bar one last time the night before and stayed until the place closed down at two in the morning, drinking plain cokes and singing karaoke to the crowd of people too drunk or disinterested to care that they were terrible. (At least, she was. Alex had a really beautiful singing voice, in her opinion, although he’d been laughing too hard to give the bar’s selections of 80s pop hits his best effort.) They’d slept in, though, and spent much of the afternoon lounging on the beach. Surely, he ought to have perked up at some point.

Another car passed, and she saw him biting his lip. His hand twisted away from hers to grip the steering wheel, and he popped on his directional, the clicking sound loud in the quiet car as he pulled off onto the sandy shoulder of the road. He put the car in park, tapped on the overhead light, and closed his eyes. His breathing seemed shallow, a little ragged. She wondered if he was sick.

“Alex?” She brushed her fingers over his sleeve.

He swallowed, still not looking at her. “I think we should break up.”

She stared at him, hearing the words but not comprehending. “What?”

“I think…I think we should break up,” he repeated.

“Wha – why?” Her voice was higher than usual, slightly strangled.

“We’re going to different schools. You’re going to be meeting all these new people, and I’ll be hours away. It’d happen anyways, right? Slowly. One of us would stop calling the other back right away. The texts would get shorter, cooler. Soon, we’d stop talking all together, without even a real goodbye.”

“That won’t happen,” she insisted. “We won’t let it.”

The picture he’s painting is so bleak, but it’s also familiar somehow. She recalled suddenly her aunt’s words, back a week or so ago at the beach house when the whole extended family had been visiting. “It’s not good for her to hang on to puppy love, Philip. She ought to tear the band aid off quickly, in my opinion.” Had Alex heard her, too? Had he taken her words to heart?

“You say that now, Bets. But it will, sooner or later. Eventually I’ll be a nuisance, an anchor holding you back from your college experience.”

“No. Alex, that’s not…if this is about what my aunt said—”

“She’s right.”

“She’s a cynical gossip, that’s all. She doesn’t know us.”

His eyes were still squeezed tightly shut. “Bets, please don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“But I love you,” she said.

“It won’t last. It can’t. No one finds their true love at six years old.”

“I did.”

“Betsey, please. Just…I want to say goodbye now, while we still love each other – while we still care. Better a clean break now than a slow death over the next year or two. Right?”

“No,” she said again, hunting madly for more words, more arguments. She refused to agree with him. Refused to make this easy. Tears pricked at her eyes. “No.”

“We had a good last summer, didn’t we? Swimming, staying up late, singing bad karaoke. Those will be good memories, ones we can hold on to for a lifetime. It will never get awkward, or uncomfortable, or stale. Just a perfect summer with our first love.” His voice is strained, too, like he’s fighting tears himself.

She choked down a whine of pain.

Finally, he looked at her, his eyes red and damp in the fluorescent overhead light. He reached for her hand again, squeezing it tight. When he leaned over and touched his lips to hers, she reached out, latching on to him, kissing him desperately. His nose bumped against hers affectionately as he pulled back. “I love you, Eliza.”

“I love you, too. So don’t do this. Alex, please.”

“It’ll be okay. You’ll see.” He gave her a sickly looking smile and pressed his fingers against the overhead light, plunging them back into darkness. Then he shifted back into drive, put his directional back on, and pulled back onto the road. They drove in silence.

She sat in shock, tears leaking lazily down her cheeks, searching for something to say, something to convince him that breaking her heart wasn’t the noble, gentlemanly thing he seemed to think it was. All too soon, they were pulling into her driveway. He was watching her in the light from the house.

“Text me, when you’re settled at school tomorrow?” He asked, tentative. “So I know you’re okay?”

She glared at him, and bit out, “What do you care?”

He jerked back as if she’d slapped him across the face. “Eliza—”

Fury ran through her in place of the shock. Who was he to decide this for her? Who was he to break her heart the day before she left for school? When everything else in her life was changing and shifting in new and terrifying ways?

Wrenching the car door open, she said, “You know what, why don’t you just block my number, okay? Then you can be sure I won’t be a burden to you while you’re pledging your Frat house, or whatever it is you’re planning on doing.”

“That’s not—”

She slammed the door on him and stalked towards the house.

Her mother popped her head out of the kitchen when she came inside. “Oh, there you are, sweetheart. I thought you’d bring Alex in with you.”

She shook her head and pounded up the stairs without explaining. Peggy glanced out at her curiously from the room across from hers, but Eliza ignored her, too. Slamming her bedroom door shut, she laid face down on her bed, and sobbed.

**

When she woke, her lights in her room were blazing, though it was still very dark outside. Her eyes felt sore and crusty from crying, and a dull headache pulsed around her temples. She was clutching the bear Alex had won for her at the spring carnival, her head pillowed against its plush, fuzzy head.

Her books were still in piles, her bedding not yet stripped, empty plastic tubs littered about the room waiting for her to finish packing. She couldn’t find the energy to get up to deal with any of it. She felt drained and weak, like she was recovering from a bad bout of flu.

It all felt like some sort of terrible dream.

Her phone buzzed on her side table. Her hand twitched towards it automatically. Alex’s goofy face grinned out at her, cross-eyed, with his tongue hanging out. She ached to answer it, to hear him say this was a stupid mistake, a bad joke. More likely, he wanted to explain himself more, to hear her say she understood his bone-headed decision.

She declined the call.  

The phone buzzed again.

She rolled over, hugging the bear closer to her chest.

She was drifting again when a curious tinkling sound caught her ear. Rolling back towards the window, she listened, and heard it again. A soft clink of something hard hitting glass. An animal, maybe? Something stuck on her window ledge?

Heaving herself off the bed, she pushed aside her curtains and wrenched open the window. A tiny rock hit her in the forehead. “Ow.”

“Sorry!” A loud whisper carried up from below.

Looking down, she saw Alex standing in nothing but a t-shirt in the cool night air.

“What are you doing?”

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

“I know. I was ignoring you.”

He looked a crestfallen at that. The part of her that loved him warred with the part of her that wanted to start pelting him right back with hard objects of her own. She leaned onto the window sill, waiting.

“Can I come up?”

“No.”

He sighed. “Will you come down?”

“Why?”

“I want to talk to you.”

“We already did that. What else could you possibly have to say? Want to stick the knife in a little deeper? Did I not cry enough for you?”

“No! I – I need to…. Marry me?”

Her jaw slackened. “What?”

“Let’s get married.”

“We’re only eighteen. And we broke up four hours ago.”

“I know.”

“Are you drunk or something? Feverish?”

“No.” He looked up at her, imploring. “Marry me.”

She looked back into her bedroom, wondering for a moment if she were dreaming. Everything looked normal and solid. Sticking her head back out, she called, “Wait there.”

She hurried down the dark stairs, out the front door, and around the back of the house, wrapping her arms around herself to keep off the chill. Alex was standing in the grass below her window, just where he’d been, waiting for her. She stopped in front of him, staring, the dewy grass cold and slick under her bare feet.  

“So?” he asked. “I could get down on one knee if you want? I don’t have a ring or anything, though. This was a little spontaneous.”

“You think?”

He let out a shaky exhale. “I don’t know what to do, Betsey. Everything is changing so fast. You’re going to be so far away from me. I’m trying to do the right thing, but I don’t know. I’m…I’m scared.”

This was the Alex she knew. Insecure, uncertain, trying to do the right thing.

“I’m scared, too,” she admitted, unfolding her arms. “College is scary. It’s new. Being away from you is going to be awful. But at least I knew I still had you. At least we weren’t going to be changing at the same time as everything else. So long as we were together, I knew everything would be okay. You were supposed to be my rock.”

His face crumpled. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to get married.”

“Okay.” His whole body seemed to deflate at her words. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

“Alex,” she sighed, moving to catch him before he could slink off into the night. He could be so dense sometimes, for someone so brilliant. “I love you. I want to be with you forever. But I don’t want you to propose to make up for breaking up with me. Those things you’re worried about? Us drifting apart? I worry about that, too. But I’d rather try. I’d rather see how it goes instead of giving you up for fear that it might go badly.”

His muscles trembled under her hand, but his eyes were alight with a wary sort of hope. “Will you tell me? If you start feeling that way? Like you don’t want to answer the phone for me? I’d rather know. I’d rather break up. Don’t break my heart slow.”

“I’ll tell you,” she promised. “As long as you’ll tell me?”

“There won’t be anything for me to tell,” he said. “I’m going to think about you every minute you’re away from me. I don’t think it’s possible for me not to love you.”

“But you think I’m fickle?”

“No! No, I’m just—”

“Scared?” she supplied, feeling a little more charitable.

“I was going to say dumb.”

“That works, too.”

They smiled at each other. He inched closer to her, and she wrapped her arms around him. He was so warm, so safe, so much better than her silly old bear. She squeezed him against her, breathing in his scent. He squeezed back even tighter, like she was a buoy in a storm, keeping him afloat.

“Don’t do that again,” she said. “That was the worst four hours of my life.”

“Never, ever,” he vowed. “Never again.”