Ron laughed, now imagining a terrified peppermint dog trying to run away from him and his giant (to the dog) cup of hot chocolate on Boxing Day. "Teeth," Ron said, baring his for a moment. "Saliva and teeth." He'd always been one to crunch down on boiled sweets rather than patiently sucking until they were gone. "So you've got Christmas all sorted then?" he asked with a companionable sort of envy, thinking of the crowds of people on Diagon Alley that he was going to have to face again at some point before December 24th.
Ron made a face, but didn't elaborate on his thoughts. Everyone in the family - except mum - earned more money than him. What was he supposed to get them that they couldn't walk into any shop and get themselves? He couldn't even bake or anything. He shoved those thoughts into the little box in his brain where he tried to keep the old jealousies and resentments, taking a deep draught of his beer.
They lapsed into silence, but it was companionable. Eventually, Ron brought the subject back to chess. "I was thinking it would be cool if I could get a chess set made using different shades of wood from the trees I've been tending." If the dragon had turned out looking more like a dragon, Ron might have considered doing it himself - but it was still a nice idea, even if he had to get someone else to do it.