A/N: Merry Christmas to everyone!! I thought it would be fun to write a holiday story. I have a couple snippets for the story running around in my head, but no real direction as to how I want it to end. So, please, leave suggestions!! I'm open to all. I love to hear your feedback and ideas.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the affiliated characters. This is just for fun.
Moonlight & Mistletoe
A Brother's Gift
"You're seriously pathetic, you know that?"
Ron glared over the rim of his goblet of pumpkin juice.
"It's true. You could have saved yourself all of this grief if you had just asked her."
"Shut up. It's not that easy."
"Oh, but it is that easy, little brother. We've both done it tons of times." George smiled widely.
Ron's face flushed scarlet.
It was past dinner time and the Great Hall was quickly emptying out—the Gryffindor table nearly vacant. But Ron remained, surrounded on each side by Fred and George, mindlessly picking at the cold remnants of his food.
It was winter at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Snow fell in giant flakes, dancing to the ground in sporadic patterns. The semester was quickly coming to an end, and there was an excitement in the air. But not just because of the term coming to a close . . .
A few weeks ago, it had been announced that a Winter Ball would be put on for the students—a Yule ball of lesser proportions, if you will—as a reward for a hardworking semester.
Most of the students were buzzing with excitement in anticipation of what the night would bring. There was constant chatter over what outfit was to be worn, how hair was going to be done, and who was going with whom.
Students were pairing up and as the days ticked by, the pickings quickly became slimmer.
And as usual, Ron was procrastinating.
But with the vivid memory of his last Yule ball, Ron was not excited. In fact, he was downright dreading it, not even sure if he was going to attend.
And now, the day loomed ever nearer, and he was still in the same position that he was in on the day that the dance was announced—torn and miserable.
"Ah, cheer up." Fred clapped him heavily on the shoulder, "because this is where it pays to have sneaky older brothers like us."
Ron didn't look up. "What are you talking about?"
George leaned in. "Look, we knew that you would chicken out and not ask her."
"And we've been sick and tired of watching you mope around for these last few weeks." Fred chimed in. "So . . . ."
"We've been working our magic behind the scenes."
Ron looked up in alarm. "What did you do?"
George looked over at Fred and winked.
The color drained from Ron's face. "What did you do?! Did you say something to her?"
"Relax. You know that we don't work that straightforward."
"But, let's just say . . . you're going to have a great time with her at the ball."
Ron's shoulders slumped. "She's already going with someone else."
"Ah, now there's where you've given up. Because, you see, all's fair until there's a ring on that pretty little finger of hers." Fred smirked and pointed his left ring finger.
"You gotta learn how to play a little dirty, if you want to get," George paused and waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "dirty."
"What the hell are you two talking about?"
"Jesus Christ, Ron. Are you honestly that thick?" Fred tipped his head back toward the magically altered ceiling.
Ron's face contorted in confusion. "What?"
"George? Would you mind explaining this to your dimwitted brother?"
George sighed. "Let's just say that you may not be the one going to the ball with her, but you will be the one going home with her." He spoke slowly, as if talking to an infant.
Ron scoffed. "That's impossible. You can't be certain of that."
George clicked his tongue. "You see, now that's where you're wrong."
"And that's where our genius—if I do say so myself,—comes in."
George tipped his head in thought. "It is genius isn't it?"
"One of our best yet." Fred laughed and high-fived George over Ron's head.
"I don't like it when you guys are scheming."
"Oh, it's not scheming. It's just a little something to help the poor, unfortunate-"
"Good word, Bro!"
Ron waved his hand in annoyance. "I get it!"
George laughed. "Wizards of the world."
"And what is this creation that's going to change the world of Wizardry?"
"Not the world of Wizardry, my dear brother. The world of love." Fred leaned back, his arms behind his head, a smug look of satisfaction on his face.
"One of our finer inventions, actually. I have a feeling this is going to be a best seller." George mimicked Fred's actions.
"And what is this 'invention'?"
"I'm afraid we can't unveil that as of yet."
Ron sighed heavily. "Fine. Could you at least tell me what this invention does?"
"Well, we're still in the process of ironing out all of the kinks . . . ."
"But, don't you fear. It'll be good to go by the time the ball rolls around."
Ron shook his head. "Oh no . . . I'm not going to be your guinea pig. The last time I did that, I turned purple for a week."
Fred guffawed. "But it was such a nice color against your hair!"
Ron stood up. "That's it. I'm done . . . I'm not going to be your little science project."
George put his hand on Ron's shoulder and pushed him down once more. "Oh, relax. It'll be fine."
Ron sat heavily, his arms crossed over his chest. "I'm not doing it."
"Yes, you are."
"And how do you know that?"
Fred put his arm around Ron's shoulder and leaned toward him. "Because you're desperate. And this may be the only way you'll ever be with her."
Ron opened his mouth before quickly shutting it—at a loss for words.
"You know we're right. Besides, we've got your back . . . so you know we would never subject you to anything that could hurt you."
"It's all for your own good."
"A gift . . ."
"From older brothers to younger."
"You trust us, right?"
George slapped him on the back and stood up. "Excellent."
Fred slapped him harder and stood as well. "Now, don't you worry your pretty little head about anything. We'll take care of it all."
"Just dust off your old Yule ball dress, show up, and prepare to have a night to remember."
And with that, the Twins left the Great Hall, their heads bent together in excited conversation, leaving Ron at the Gryffindor table, alone, his mouth agape—wondering what the Hell had just happened.