George loved Lydia. This was not in question. He would - and had - walk to the ends of the earth for her. He wanted to spend forever with her. But she was not his very favorite person. That honor was, of course, reserved for Fred. To be fair, though, she was a very, very close second.
So, despite how much he liked spending the night with Lydia, George wanted to go home. He'd spent every night with her for a fortnight and hadn't set anything on fire. It was tragic, really. Sibling Shenanigans were definitely called for.
After arriving at the Portkey office in the British ministry and Disapparating together to Diagon, George bid his lady a rather inappropriate goodbye and made his way up to his own flat. Mostly, he wanted to see Fred. But also, he wanted to dump all his things in a messy pile on the floor of his bedroom to be ignored for days on end while hanging out with Fred. Priorities.
His plan had been to burst in and start shouting and throwing presents, but no sooner had he thrown open the door and inhaled to start yelling than he had a mouthful of brightly colored confetti. Hacking and gasping, he dropped all his bags on the floor as he frantically tried to get bits of paper off his tongue.
He was aware, also, of utter pandemonium around him, and he shouldn't have expected anything less. Laughing despite the confetti coating his airway, he dove for the largest of the bouncing balls he could find to hurl at his brother.