George had done stupid, reckless, terrifying things throughout his entire life. He had acted without thinking and leapt before he looked. His mother had begged him to think of others, or even the safety of himself, but he had only scoffed. He had jumped from the astronomy tower to his broom several stories below. He had dropped out of high school to start a business at the beginning of a war. He had tested wacky inventions without thinking of his insides. Hell, he had taunted Voldemort on live radio while his family was being threatened at every turn. Life was too short to think, too fragile to second guess every decision.

Even after Fred had passed, he had moved forward without thought, until now. Now he was standing in his own kitchen, staring at the bathroom door where Hannah was getting ready for their date, doing nothing but thinking.

It was Christmas Eve, and he could hear her singing carols through the door. She had an awful singing voice that he couldn't get enough, every crack of the highest note made him smile. He had tentatively asked her once, and she informed him she knew. She had tried out for every choir and they had all turned her away. She insisted singing was not a talent but a joy and no matter how awful it was she would keep doing it, even if it was only in her own home. He couldn't get enough. On days he was there to watch, she paid him no mind as she danced and threw her head back in untamed delight. She was mostly likely dancing, now serenading the mirror with a hairbrush to her lips. He wanted to enjoy the mental image, but he couldn't, not with his coat pocket heavy and his palms clammy.

And he couldn't stop fidgeting!

One second, he was drumming his fingers against the counter, the next he was pacing, and the next he was opening every cabinet within reach, staring at the unchanging plates. He had almost gnawed a hole through the inside of his cheek, and he had stubbed his toe twice; he was almost certainly going crazy.

Everything was planned. He had rehearsed his speech for hours the night before, sneaking off to the bathroom once she was asleep. The contents of the velvet box in his pocket had been approved by Malfoy at the store and Sloane in the corner of some publicity event he hadn't wanted to go to. He had spoken to Mr. Gladdis (and Henry, of course) and they had both patted him on the back, wishing him the best of luck. He had even swallowed his pride and spoken to his own father on the matter. He had picked out the spot. He had even picked out a coat with large enough pockets to hide the box until the perfect moment, and yet he couldn't stop worrying.

He worried about the nonexistent wrinkles in his suit. He worried he would get tongue tied. He worried that his hair looked terrible. He worried that the ring wouldn't fit, or that the diamond wasn't big enough, or simply that despite Malfoy and Sloane's insisting, she wouldn't like it. He worried that a snowstorm would blow her away from him. He worried that a past lover with a Brazilian accent would whisk her away. He worried that a wall would crush him just as he dropped to his knee. But most of all, he worried she would say no.

Finally, finally, the door opened, and his angel stepped out of the bathroom. She was dressed for the cold, just as he had requested. Her dress was made of cream-colored knitting, her boots ready for a walk through the snow.

"You look gorgeous," he said, only managing a whisper as he stared at the woman he was lucky enough to have standing in his apartment.

"You look rather handsome yourself," she replied, pulling on a hat and a pair of mittens. He hoped she didn't notice his hands shaking when he helped her into her coat. If she did, she didn't say anything about, just smiled and waited for him to take her arm.

They landed with a crack and before George had fully gathered his bearings she was gasping with delight, staring at the picturesque town that surrounded them. Snow was falling around them, catching on her eyelashes as she stared.

"Your very own trip to Hogsmeade, just as promised," George announced, hand sweeping across the scene. She practically leapt into his arms, gratitude falling from her lips as she desperately tried to take in the view while simultaneously looking at him.

He led her down the street, handheld tightly in his. The streetlights reflected in her eyes as she took in every inch of the town. Wizards stared back at her, but either she didn't notice or didn't care because she paid them no mind.

"Does it live up to your expectations?" he asked, and she nodded, unable to pull away for even a moment.

"It's the most wonderful place I've ever been," she gasped, startling a few onlookers.

"Is there any particular place you'd like to go?"

"Wherever you suggest," she replied. He grinned and dragged her towards the radiating warmth of Honeydukes, prepared for her sweet tooth to die of excitement. When the burst of warm air pulled them in, she squealed, just as he had expected her to. As he watched her dart from shelf to shelf, staring at the strange array of sweets, he grew nervous once more. Without her holding his hand, a physical reassurance that everything would be okay, his thoughts were able to reemerge, threatening his sanity once more.

The moment was drawing closer by the second, and his fingers wouldn't leave the stupid box alone. If he was sure he wouldn't throw up, he would have done it right there next to the bin of sugar quills. He couldn't be sure though, not when she looked so beautiful and every time, he looked at her butterflies slammed against his windpipe. She was so beautiful he could cry, and if everything went to plan, she would be his, his beautiful, wonderful, wife. His eyes welled up at the thought of him. Oh, how he desperately tried to hold onto that thought, the thought of calling her Mrs. Weasley, but it flitted away like one of the butterflies. Instead he was left with the dark cloud of what-ifs and rejections that had been haunting him since he bought the ring.

Hannah was very aware he was nervous, what for sure couldn't be sure, but he hadn't stopped squeezing her hand since he took it. She could still his fingers threaded through hers even as she picked around the shelves of Honeydukes. She wondered if being so close to the school was hurting him, she wondered if she should offer to leave. It felt selfish to stay if it was only a painful reminder, but oh how she longed to be selfish a little while longer.

The storybook town outshined every story she had ever heard. They hadn't mentioned the candles in the trees or the way every shop seemed to smell like magic, reaching out to her with promises of wonder and awe. Yet, she turned back to George, watching him for a moment as he nervously shifted from one foot to another, hands crammed into his coat pockets.

"George," she asked, cautiously approaching him.

"What's up?"

"Are you okay? To be here, I mean?"

"What do you mean? Do you want to leave?" he asked clearly panicking, but she shook her head with a laugh. She pulled his hands into hers, swinging them back and forth as she smiled.

"Definitely not, I just thought it might be a bit much to be this close to where it all happened. I don't want you to be uncomfortable for my sake," she replied, and his shoulders dropped with relief. He pulled her into a hug, kissing her forehead as he took a deep breath.

"I'm wonderful, and you're wonderful," he said, and she squeezed his hands once more before 1allowing him to lead her back into the depths of the candy shop. He insisted she try everything that wouldn't give her tastebuds nightmares. At the end he ordered them both a cup of hot cocoa. Somehow it warmed her instantly, melting her frozen toes the moment her tongue. She took a mental note to look into adding it to her own menu, before focusing all her attention on the steaming chocolate.

They stepped back out into the cold and he pointed out all the different shops. He told her stories about being banned from Zonko's and the time Fred had managed to convince him that taking a girl to Madame Pudifoot's was the way to go (it was not). He pointed out the Three Broomsticks where he had tried firewhiskey for the first time and consequently asked out Rosmerta until she had been forced to call for McGonagall to drag him back to school.

Eventually they ended up on the end of the street, staring at the brightly lit castle on the hill.

"That's Hogwarts," he informed her, and she nodded sullenly. It was beautiful, just as she had suspected it would be, but she also knew of his last memory within it's walls and waited. She waited for him to turn away, too haunted by memories to look, but he continued to stare. He pointed at a tower and she leaned closer to find where he had been motioning. "And that tower was where the world ended." She didn't know what to say. He wasn't crying, he wasn't shouting or throwing things, he was simply pointing with a sad glint in his eyes.

"George," she whispered, tugging at his arm but he shook her off and turned away from the castle to face her.

"I thought the world ended in that tower, but I was wrong," he said, taking her face in his hands as he pulled her close to kiss her. His hands were shaking until they touched her, and then it was as if everything was still. The snow froze and the small breeze subsided with on final whoosh. He dropped in front of her and she grabbed his arms, terrified he had fallen.

"George, George, are you okay?" she asked, and he laughed, glancing up at her with tears in his eyes as he sunk onto one knee. "Oh my gosh." He pulled out the object he had been fidgeting with all night and opened the royal blue box revealing a beautiful diamond ring.

It put every light she had seen that night to shame.

"Hannah Gladdis, Ithought the world had ended that day, but the day I met you it truly began. So,I beg you, do me the honor of marrying me," he choked out and a lump formed inher throat as she nodded, not sure whether to laugh or cry or shout for joy.She settled for dropping to her knees in front of him and kissing him asfiercely as mortality would allow. She only pulled away long enough to allowhim to slide the ring on her finger, and then she kissed him again. It didn'tmatter that ice was cutting through her stockings or that the wind had pickedup once more, all that mattered is that George Weasley was holding her and nowshe knew he would never let go.