The hustle and bustle had died down in the other room meaning “Father Christmas” had finished his duty for the night and every one was getting ready for bed. Soon the Burrow became quiet and a lone figure sat in the heavy silence of the kitchen. Candlelight danced off the beautiful face that kept its gaze so near the flame. Her cheek rested gently in her palm as she watched the flame sway and flicker; it was as if soft whispers bid it dance just for them.

“Have I just rumbled some secret tryst you and Teddy have cooked up?”

The sudden voice startled Victoire and she turned to see Uncle George smiling at her from the shadows. A faint blush coloured her porcelain cheeks from the implication.

“I didn’t see you around the tree for Father Christmas; I suppose you’re getting a bit old for all of that now, though,” he said as he helped himself to a drink from the cooling cabinet. He sat down at the long wooden table across from her, looking at the solitary source of light that sat between them.

“Ah, but I see you’ve still left out cookies for him. Maybe you’re not too old to believe after all.” George picked up one of the star-shaped cookies left at the base of the candle and held it up. “Funny, that,” he mumbled to himself.

His mouth tilted in a regretful smirk as he was lost in his memories. Because there were seven children, his mother had given each child a symbol to represent them and every Christmas they would receive an ornament or gift in their symbol. Bill’s is a snowflake and Charlie’s, a gingerbread man; Percy’s is a snowman and Ron’s a reindeer; Ginny’s is an angel, as she was the last and the only girl; his is a bell and over the years he’d received the most ornate holiday bell to a bell off of a cat collar. Fred... Fred’s had always been a star.

“You still miss him, don’t you? Uncle Fred?”

George gave sad smile and, after a moment, silently nodded.

“If you could talk to him – say anything and know that he could hear you – what would you say?”

He blinked. George’s mind reeled with years of memories, all without his twin. The windfalls and heartbreaks, the growth of their business, as well as their family, all of the things he’d endured with only half of himself. What words would be enough to convey it all?

He sniffed and said quietly, “I’d want to know if he’s proud of everything we’ve done.”
The candle continued to burn silently between them and the flame that had stilled flickered restlessly once more.

Victoire stood up and smiled warmly to her uncle as she left him to his thoughts. From the shadows of the doorway, her voice floated back to him.

“Uncle Fred says that he is...except that you’re a lousy Father Christmas. He would have been much better.”