Author's Note: This is the first of thirteen new stories just in time for Christmas. I suppose you could call this collection a sequel to A Very Weasley Christmas that I published two years ago, although you don't have to read that one to enjoy these stories. This time around, the Next Generation steps into the spotlight, marking the first time I've written for most of these characters which was a challenge. These are self-edited and I apologize in advance if they are a bit rough. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: The characters and world belong to JK Rowling.

Roxy: First Christmas

December 24, 2002

"That's the last of it, Mr. Weasley."

George looked up from the till to stare at the apple-cheeked clerk he'd hired for the holiday season. In six weeks of employment, George had yet to convince the kid to call him anything but "Mr. Weasley", which George found distasteful on several levels. First, "Mr. Weasley" was his dad, or maybe even a wanker like Percy, but George was most certainly not a "Mr. Weasley". Second, the whole good breeding thing just didn't work in a joke shop. The kid simply did not show the proper disregard for authority as befitting the job.

"Thanks, kid," George said, synching up a fat sack of coins to be placed into the safe. "See you after Boxing Day, bright and early. My two least favorite words."

"Yes, sir."

The kid disappeared out of the door, and Verity locked it after him.

"Successful day," she commented, putting out the lights. "I mean, I haven't sat down in eight hours, and I had to Petrify two old bats fighting over the last box of Canary Creams, but successful."

George chuckled. "Yeah, so much for good will to men, right?"

"It's kind of sad, isn't it?" Verity leaned on the counter. "This season is meant to bring out the best in us, but sometimes it's hard to see when you're working in a shop."

George shrugged. "Puts blunt in the bank. Speaking of which, here you go."

He pulled a smaller sack out of his pocket and dropped it in front of Verity. At the start of the month, George had handed out Christmas bonuses to all of his regular employees, but Verity was more than a regular employee. She'd started with the shop exactly one week before it officially opened its doors. She'd stayed with them through the good times and the bad, and the bad was really, really bloody bad. Certainly Verity could have left George hanging a thousand times over. To her credit, she had walked out on him, but she always came back. George had to appreciate that kind of loyalty because he didn't deserve it.

"What's this?" Verity asked.

"Call it your retirement fund," George replied.

Verity smiled. "Cheers."

"Happy Christmas, Verity. And thanks, for everything."

"It's been an adventure." She pocketed the coin purse, and slipped out the back, calling, "I'll lock up!"

George took the moneybag into his office, placing it in the safe. The day had started before sun up to ready for the madness to come. Last minute shoppers, school kids home for the holidays, maniacs who'd pissed off their girlfriends before Christmas. Diagon Alley turned into a regular loony bin every December 24. George and Verity had spent two hours prepping the shop for the crush when they opened the door at eight in the morning, and they didn't close again until eight that night. And here it was ten o'clock on Christmas Eve. George hadn't seen the sun or sky, he'd barely had time to eat, and he'd only caught a glimpse of his wife and daughter in their beds before he left the flat that morning.

Funny how Fred and George had thought being their own bosses would make them kings of the world. As usual, Fred had been wrong. It was all hard work and grueling hours. So, sure, George also took home a nice paycheck to keep Angelina in posh shoes and Roxy…Well, Roxy didn't seem to need much besides clean nappies and Angelina's tits.

Before leaving the office, George took a moment to stare at the framed photo that hung by the door. It was taken the day Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes opened. He and Fred were dressed in matching purple robes with orange ties, they had their thumbs in their lapels and smug smirks. Merlin, they really did think they were kings of the world, didn't they? Too bad that world was rapidly crumbling.

Oi, happy Christmas, you sentimental bastard.

George closed his eyes against the voice in his head.

"Happy Christmas to you, too, wanker." He tapped a finger against photo Fred, who dodged out of the way, then George made his way upstairs to the flat he used to share with Fred, but was now all fancy and baby-proofed. Gone were the days of second hand sofas and rubbish on the floors. The hardwoods gleamed, the furniture didn't have questionable smells, and a pink and brown nursery had taken over Fred's old room.

If he were lucky, Angelina would still be awake. Besides having a daughter who was almost five months old, Angelina was also three months pregnant. Needless to say, the sprogs took a lot out of her. George actually felt pretty guilty about that. Not to say he wasn't happy to have another little snot monster, but he went and knocked up Angie again before they were even technically supposed to be having sex. Guess there was something to this whole Weasley fertility thing.

Once inside the flat, George found both of his girls asleep on the sofa. Roxy was splayed across Angelina's impressive chest, and Angie's arms were wrapped protectively around their daughter. This wasn't the first time George had found them like that. Angie kept the baby up so that George could spend time with her after work, but in the Christmas season, work hours often lasted long beyond either one's endurance.

George leaned on the back of the sofa, and watched his girls sleep in the twinkling light of the Christmas tree. In all his life, George had never realized that he actually valued peace until he'd seen his sleeping child in his wife's arms. Gently, George stroked the baby's brown cheek. She looked like Angie, but with creamy café au lait skin, and freckles across the bridge of her nose. And, to Angie's utter disbelief, Roxy had inherited the Weasley red hair. Or well, maybe it wasn't exactly Weasley red, but there was a definite red tinge to her dark curls.

While he watched, Roxy's big, brown eyes blinked open. At the sight of her daddy, she gave a sleepy, gummy smile.

"Happy Christmas, sproglet," George whispered, tickling her chin.

Roxy's head popped up, so George carefully extracted her from Angelina's arms. "Did you have a nice day?" He carried her over to the tree, watching as Roxy reached out for the shiny bulbs. Maybe she'd be a Seeker. "Well, since you asked, my day was completely mental. Barely sat down. I ate half a tub of clay before I realized it wasn't my lunch."

George looked at Roxy, who was staring back. Could a baby look at a person like she thought he was mental? Well, George always knew that Roxy was especially talented, including in the art of dirty looks. Just like her mother.

"Now tomorrow is going to be your first Christmas. You won't remember it, and it's just as well. I've seen the frock you're mum bought you and it has a lot of flounces. If you know what's good for you, you'll go ahead and puke on it first thing."

Roxy was still staring at him intently, so George decided to carry on.

"And we have to go see your Granny, you know, your mum's mum." George sighed. "I know, it never ends well. They always fight, and Mummy cries a lot lately because of all the baby hormones, but it's family so what are you going to do? But your aunties will think you are bloody fantastic." He tickled Roxy's belly and she giggled. "Because you are, especially when you do that."

"George?"

He turned around to see Angelina sitting up on the couch. "Did we wake you?"

"I knew Roxy was gone." Angelina stretched her arms above her head, arching her back.

"Bloody hell, Angelina, your tits are amazing."

Angie gave him a dirty look. "And full of milk. When did you get in?"

"Just a few minutes ago."

George sat on the sofa next to Angelina, and Roxy immediately reached for her mummy.

"I wish you didn't have to work such long hours on Christmas Eve. We missed you." Angelina made a silly face at the baby. "Didn't we?"

"Life of a shopkeeper, I'm afraid. And look, if you were still with the Harpies, you'd be playing tomorrow."

"I reckon." Angelina rested her head on George's shoulder as he stretched an arm along the back of the sofa. "This Christmas Eve is certainly different from last year, isn't it?"

"You kicked me last year."

"You were messing me about."

"I know one thing that this Christmas Eve can have in common with last one," George said, waggling his eyebrows, then diving into Angelina's neck to give it a small nip.

Angelina laughed. "George! You have an audience."

"So I do." He looked at Roxy. "Back to sleep, little one, so I can shag your mum senseless."

Angie snuggled into his side, the baby between them. Both babies really. For this one Christmas, George's whole world fit within the circle of his arms. He forgot about the shoppers, and their lack of Christmas spirit, because this really was the most wonderful time of the year. He kissed the top of Angelina's head.

A/N2: Look for the second chapter tomorrow. Until then, please leave me a review!