Draco Malfoy hated Christmas. He could often be seen stalking down the hallway, where a gaggle of Hufflepuff first years were singing Christmas carols, snapping at them, or throwing things so that they cried. It was, in fact, the highlight of his day. “Bah humbug!” he’d chuckle to Crabbe and Goyle as they walked away. They’d look back at him with vacant stares since they had never picked up a book unless they wanted to kill a bug with it.

To be fair, it wasn’t the holiday itself that Draco hated. Who could find fault in getting a lot of expensive presents for no good reason? It was just that everyone used “Christmas” as an excuse to be exceptionally irritating. They seemed to think that he should become a right, jolly old wizard merely because it was nearing December 25th. Well, Draco was sorry but he wasn’t about to go bursting into song unless something really spectacular happened. Like if Harry Potter had a hippogriff dropped on him. He’d sing then. Heck, he’d write a musical comedy about it.

Ginny Weasley, on the other hand, rather enjoyed Christmas. She loved everything about it: the snow, the presents, the decorations, the mistletoe, the fact that her twin brothers went around singing “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.” Ginny had taken to wearing a red, Santa’s hat instead of her usual witch’s hat around Hogwarts. Except in Potions, when Professor Snape made her take off “that ridiculous hat.” But not even Professor Snape could spoil her cheery mood. Christmas was simply her favorite time of year. And even though she couldn’t look forward to lots of presents, like Draco could, she couldn’t wait for Christmas morning.

This was a tiny bit of a problem, since the odd couple were... involved. Neither was sure how it happened exactly, all that mattered was that Draco was in love with Ginny and vice versa. No one, besides the happy couple, had thought their dating was a good idea. The Great Hall had collectively spit out its pumpkin juice when the news was announced. Her brothers had been particularly miffed at the idea, and now went out of their way to annoy him. And since they knew he didn’t like Christmas carols, the twins sang extra loud whenever he approached.

“Uh, Ginny? Can I talk to you?” he asked one day between classes.

“Yeah, sure,” she said brightly.

He pulled her off to the side and shot murderous glances at Fred and George. They winked at him and went right on singing. “I was wondering what you wanted for Christmas.”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh, Draco, you don’t have to get me anything for Christmas--”

“You can say there’s no such thing as Santa! But as for me and Grandpa, we believe!”

“Of course I do!” he grumbled indignantly. What was Christmas without presents? “You’re my....”

“What?” she asked hopefully.

“You know.” He avoided her eye and became very interested in the song.

“So what do you want?” he pressed on, despite her melancholy attitude.

“Well it’s not any fun if I know what you’re going to get me, is it?” she exclaimed, irritated. “It’s a gift, not a request.”

“Fine then,” said Draco, as if this weren’t a problem at all.

Ginny grinned, for the first time during their interview. “Fine then.” She kissed him on the cheek and returned to her brothers. They all walked away together, as a family, singing. “Grandma got run over by a reindeer...” Ginny didn’t notice Draco’s scowl. He hadn’t the foggiest idea what to get her, and Christmas was only a few days away!

* * *

The next Hogsmeade weekend found Draco in every shop in the entire town. But nothing he saw screamed “Ginny!” As he entered Dervish and Bangs for the second time, he frowned darkly. He still didn’t know what to get her. He hadn’t been with her that long. This was their first Christmas together. He wished there was some sort of chart that would tell him what was the appropriate gift for your gir--... Ginny-type-friend of four months.

“Anything I can help you with, Mr. Malfoy?” the salesperson asked politely. They were always sucking up to him because they knew he had money to burn.

Draco took one look at the crap they were hocking, rolled his eyes and left.

The snow was coming down pretty hard outside. It swirled around and covered everything like frosting. Draco was sure that, somewhere, Ginny was gleeful. She loved snow. It irritated him because it made his ears cold and he had lost his scarf. He sighed as he realized that his legs had taken him to the edge of town. The snow was fresh here, unmarred by the feet of hundreds of Hogwarts students. He came out here sometimes because Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid to find their way back from this far away from the castle, so he could be alone.

There wasn’t any place to sit though, since everything was hidden under the snow. Draco scowled as he searched the horizon for a good spot. The sunlight bounced off the snow, making it hard to see anything without squinting for the glare. It was official. He hated Christmas. He hated snow. He hated being cold. He hated shopping. He hated it all. He kicked a large block of ice more violently than necessary and watched it break into lots of little pieces that skidded across the ground in every direction.

“Careful. What if that block of ice was related to you, Iceman?” asked a giggly voice.

“Then I should’ve kicked it harder,” Draco grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Ginny laughed. The red of her hair was the only thing that stood out from the whiteness everywhere. She came forward, wrapping her arms around his waist. “What do you want?” he asked gruffly, trying to pretend like he didn’t like it.

“It’s cold,” she observed, snuggling closer. “You’re warm.”

He scowled, wishing there was a less utilitarian reason for her hug. “Why are you -- hey, where’s your hat?” he asked, realizing that it was her hair that stood out against the snow, not her Santa hat.

Ginny frowned. “Snape used it to test Disappearing Solution. Now I can’t find it!”

Draco had to resist the urge to laugh. “I’m sorry,” he said instead.

She glared at him. “No, you’re not. You think it’s funny. You wish you had thought of it.” He couldn’t help himself; he started to chuckle. She swatted him playfully. “You’re a horrible boyf-- person.”

He grinned, gratefully accepting such a moniker.

“Want to make snow angels?” she asked, abruptly. “The snow is all fresh here, perfect for snow angels.” She looked up at him hopefully.

“I’d rather bathe in a tub of Bubotubor pus,” he answered dryly.

Ginny put her hands on her hips and scowled at him. “How are you ever going to get into the Christmas spirit if you don’t do these kinds of things.”

“That is exactly why I don’t do these kinds of things. I don’t wear ridiculous hats. I don’t sing silly songs. And I don’t roll around in snow so that my bum freezes off and I can’t sit properly.” He smiled. “It’s a perfect plan.”

“Well can’t you at least pretend to be happy when I’m around then laugh at me behind my back like a normal person?” she quipped.

“I’m happy,” he protested.

“Why are you kicking innocent ice, then? It never did anything to you.” It was unnerving the way that she stared at him and seemed to be reading his mind. He tried to push the thoughts of not having a Christmas gift for her from his head, in case she really could. After closer examination of him she exclaimed: “You didn’t get me a gift yet!”

“Damn you!” he swore. Ginny giggled and clapped her hands, knowing that she was right.

“I told you, you don’t have to get me anything.”

“I. Will. Get. You. A. Present,” he said determinedly, through clenched teeth. It had become his mission in life. He wouldn’t fail. Draco Malfoy did not fail.

She assumed the saccharine, up-on-my-soap-box air of an Christmas book or special. “Christmas isn’t just about presents, Draco.”

“Sure it is,” he said with a yawn. “It’s about showing people how much they’re worth through how much you spend on them. All that other rubbish was made up by greeting card companies and religious nutters.” He paused to enjoy the look of fury on her face. Oh how he enjoyed teasing her. She was very pretty when she was brassed off.

She barely restrained her anger and said instead “it’s almost over,” in an attempt to be helpful.

Draco grinned. “And I suppose you’re sad about it. Wish there were more holiday festivities, do you?”

Ginny nodded fervently. “I wish we had the Yule Ball, like last year.” Draco pulled a face. The memory of spending the entire evening listening to Pansy Parkinson dribble on was enough to make him want to run screaming from England. “You wouldn’t have to go with her,” Ginny said, once again reading his thoughts. “You’d go with me!” She flashed him a brilliant smile. “We could dance... or something...”

He began to kick clumps of snow absentmindedly, avoiding her gaze. This idea resulted in mixed feelings. He didn’t know what to say to her, so he decided to change the subject instead. “What’d you do at Christmas when you were young?” he wondered, while starting back towards the heart of the town.

“I always got up insanely early because I couldn’t sleep. I’d go downstairs and hide behind our clock to wait for Santa. One year I got all teary eyed because I didn’t see him, so after that my Dad would dress up like Santa and pretend he didn’t know I was there. He’d even eat these gross cookies I made. I was little. I couldn’t tell the difference between the sugar and salt. My Mom made this rule that we couldn’t get up for presents before 7 am, so at exactly 7 I’d run into everyone else’s room, jump on them and yell until they woke up. Then we’d all go open our presents. When we got bored of that we’d steal each other’s presents and play with those. Fred and George would always break something, usually something of Percy’s by “accident.” Much screaming and crying would ensue. So Mom would call us in for food. She’d make so much that we’d all gain 2 robe sizes and have to go to bed right there on the floor because our legs couldn’t handle the new weight long enough to get us up the stairs.” She sighed nostalgically. “It was lovely.”

“Oh,” he said, unable to think of anything better to say.

“Why? What did you think we did at Christmas? Press our noses against other people’s windows and watch them celebrate? Ooh! Ooh! Or did you think we all had one toy, that was like a old boot or something, and we’d just pass it around? That we only had one bed and since there was so many of us, we had to take turns as to who got to sleep on it? Ooh. Or we starved at Christmas and when we came to Hogwarts for the feast, we’d all poke the dinner with our wands and wonder aloud what this strange substance was?”

“Do be quiet.” He started taking bigger steps, trying to get away from her.

“Don’t stop me. I’m on a roll,” she teased, and kept going as they walked back into town. “Did you think that we all huddled around one candle for warmth and longed for the good ol’ days, when we had two...?”

* * *

Ginny had decided she wasn’t going to put up with this “leave the presents at the foot of the bed” stuff any longer. One day the Gryffindors returned from class to find a giant Christmas tree smack dab in the middle of their Common Room. “This way we can all come down here Christmas morning, like at home!” she exclaimed excitedly. The rest of the Gryffindors adopted the same “just smile and nod at the mad woman” attitude they used when Hermione started going on about Elf Rights. They knew better than to fight with Ginny about Christmas.

By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, she was literally bouncing in her chair in excitement. “Let’s go to bed now,” she said to Ron at dinner. “The sooner we get to sleep the sooner we’ll wake up and it’ll be Christmas.”

Ron spat out his mashed potatoes. “Ginny, it’s four o’clock.”

“So?” she demanded.

“Uh,” he looked around him for help, but no one was offering. “Nevermind. It‘s perfectly normal. Perfectly.”

“I’ll go to bed with you,” said a voice. Ginny whirled around to find Draco smirking at her. She bounced up to give him a hug.

“Oh, it’s you,” Ron groaned, then turned away not being able to bear the sight of Ginny hugging Draco Malfoy.

“Are you going to give me my present now?” Ginny asked, excitedly.

“It’s not Christmas yet, Gin. You can’t have your Christmas present until Christmas.” He emphasized each “Christmas” in an exaggerated impression of her. “I thought I didn’t have to get you a present, anyway?” he taunted, in the same manner as someone tall holding something above their head so a smaller person couldn’t reach it no matter how high they jumped.

Ginny pouted. Draco, on the other hand, was quite pleased with himself. He had finally thought of something to get her. He sat down next to her and stroked her back soothingly. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it soon enough.”

“I hate waiting,” she whined.

“Hey!” shouted some 3rd year to Draco from across the table. “This isn’t your house table! You can’t sit there!”

Draco shot a death glare at the kid, causing her to “meep!” and leave the table abruptly. Still, he kissed Ginny’s cheek, said, “See you tomorrow. Bright and early!” and got up to leave.

* * *

Ginny woke up Christmas morning before anyone else. She wriggled around, trying to force herself to go back to bed. It was still dark outside and everyone else was sleeping peacefully. But it was Christmas. She couldn’t lay still. If everyone was asleep, then they wouldn’t mind if she went down to the common room to get a peek at the tree, she rationalized. Only two minutes after she woke up, she was carefully creeping down the stairs on her tiptoes.

The sound of someone laughing caught her completely off guard. “Bright and early, eh?” Ginny gasped and fell forward from the shock. She toppled down the remaining stairs and landed in a heap at the foot. Blowing a wayward lock of red hair out of her face, she looked up to find Draco looking down at her. He had his hands in his pockets, looking as cool as could be. She blushed the color of her hair, feeling completely stupid. This hadn’t been how she had expected Christmas to begin. She bet Draco never tripped and rolled down stairs. She couldn’t even recall a time he had ever stumbled. He walked like water. What the hell was he doing there anyway?

“Have a nice trip?” he asked wryly. “Ergh,” he bit his lip, noticing how embarrassed she was. He didn’t know why he opened his mouth and said what he said. It just came out. “My father decided when I was very little that I would be on the Quidditch team for Slytherin and hired a coach so I could learn to fly. Anyway, the first time I got on a broom I fell a good 20 meters and landed on my head. I still have the scar,” he added, in a pleased sort of way.

She looked at his smirking face. Something occurred to her. “Are you suggesting that your fall was better than my fall?” she asked irritably. Draco always had to be best.

He shrugged. “If the shoe fits --”

“But!” Ginny scrambled to her feet, and pushed her hair out of her face with more force than hair needed. “Did you see that flip I did in midair?”

“Well sure,” he replied haughtily, “you get points for artistic merit, but mine clearly had a higher degree of difficulty.”

Ginny smiled, grateful he wasn’t going to laugh at her. Her brothers would’ve laughed at her. If she had done it in front of Harry, she’d never be able to look at him again. Yet somehow with Draco, it was funny.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, finally. It had been her first question but had somehow gotten pushed to the side by their riveting discussion of trips and falls.

“I came to tell you that ‘Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus’. Actually, I came to give you your Christmas present.” He yawned lazily. “I can’t believe you get up this early. I didn’t know this hour actually existed.” He sat down on the floor where two packages, wrapped in silvery paper attached to one another with a green and red ribbon, lay. The one on top was tiny, the size of a ring box and the one on the bottom was square and thin.

Ginny crouched next to him. She plucked the small box from the top of the package, her mouth set in a firm line. She turned the box over and shook it by her ear. It was tiny, square and looked like it could hold jewelry. “This isn’t was I think it is, is it?” she asked nervously. God, she didn’t know what she’d do if he had gotten her anything really expensive.

Draco looked from her, to the box, then back to her. “No,” he replied dryly.

“Is it --?”

“No.”

Satisfied, Ginny tore into the paper, leaving shredded strips everywhere. She was relieved to find a wooden, carved package instead of a velvet one. She turned it over, to examine every angle. “What is it?” she wondered. It was just a wooden box; she couldn’t find any hinges to open it.

“Gimme,” said Draco as he snatched it out of her hands.

He held the box just centimeters above the floor. The box seemed to pull apart on it’s own, rather than Draco doing it, like there was something inside just bursting to escape. Ginny watched, in awe, as a miniscule figure emerged from the box. It was moving. She tipped her head to the side, lowering it to the ground to get a better look. Her face was practically right up against the floor when she realized that it was a figure. It was two figures.

They were dancing, like ballerinas in music boxes except there was no music box and they weren’t ballerinas. They seemed to be moving of their own accord. One of the little people was male, the other female. They both wore immaculate (but tiny) dress robes. The boy’s midnight black robes contrasted with his silvery, almost white hair. The girl had green dress robes that looked exceptionally Christmasy along with her bright, red hair which was topped off with a miniature Santa hat.

“It’s us,” she whispered, amazed. She giggled as little Draco dipped little Ginny.

“You said you wanted to dance,” he reminded her, as if he didn’t know what the fuss was about.

She didn’t look at him, she was entranced by the teeny figures in front of her. “How -- I mean, they didn’t cost a lot, did they?” she asked, worriedly.

“No,” he said again as before. “I made them myself.”

“YOU DID?!?” she cried, astonished.

“Don’t be so surprised,” he grumbled. She obviously didn’t appreciate the full extent of his magical skill. “I transfigured blocks of wood and put Charms on them so they’d dance.”

“Oh,” she giggled, turning her attention back to the dancers, who had danced their way into a patch of moonlight. They kept time perfectly with one another. It was like there was music playing that only the two of them could hear. “Oh!” she shrieked, abruptly, and ran from the room.

“Where are you going?” Draco asked, shocked, and a bit hurt that she was leaving. Didn’t she like this present?

“To get your present!” she hissed from the stairs, wanting to keep her voice low enough to not disturb the other Gryffindors but loud enough for him to hear. When she reappeared, she was clunking down the stairs with a rectangular box, that looked as though it had been used before to hold clothing. Something inside thudded against the sides, too small for it’s container. “It’s not a good wrapping job,” she apologized, as she handed it to him, with a wide grin on her face.

“That’s all right,” he said absentmindedly. He thought the package looked odd in his hads, foreign or something. He had been so caught up in finding the perfect gift for her that he had almost forgotten that she would be getting one for him. He turned it over, examining it.

“You’re supposed to open it,” Ginny teased, as if he were too stupid to figure that out.

Draco glared. “I know,” he grumbled as he began to unfold the wrapping paper. Ginny watched, barely suppressing giggles, as he neatly pulled the paper from the box, careful not to rip any of it.

“You don’t open presents right!” she declared amusedly after a few moments of this. “What? Are you saving the paper for later? Just tear into the thing!”

He leveled her with an icy stare. “You have your way. I have my way,” he answered, haughtily.

Ginny grunted in frustration as she fell into a nearby cozy chair. She watched him finish unwrapping through narrow eyes and with her arms folded across her chest. However, she sat up, eagerly, when he finally finished. After removing the box top, he uncovered a large, leather bound book sitting on top of something fluffy. Draco picked up the book and examined it much as he had the box.

“It’s a book,” he observed, not impressed.

“Oh well spotted,” she said dryly.

The cover of the book had no writing on it, just a picture of a wand doing a spell. He opened the front cover, and read the title page aloud: “Rare Curses and Hexes: Make Your Enemies Suffer without Getting Caught.” He pondered this for a moment, then turned to her with a large, mischievous grin on his face. “I love it!” he exclaimed, as Ginny burst into a fit of laughter and fell from her chair.

“There’s more,” she said through chuckles.

Draco peered inside the box once more. She was right. There was something else inside. Curious, he pulled the soft something out. As he raised it into the air, he noticed that it was unfolding. It was actually quite long. By the time it was completely out of the box, the piece of fabric was almost to the floor.

“It’s a scarf.” Ginny whispered.

“I know.” He wasn’t that dumb. He was just surprised by it. It was green and silver like the ones the that came with the Slytherin winter robes. Just like the one he had lost.

“You said you lost yours...” Ginny offered meekly. “I know it’s not as nice as the ones Madam Malkin’s has, but... See, I made it myself. My mum knits sweaters for us all every Christmas and I asked her how... I’m not quite up to sweaters yet...” She was getting nervous and couldn’t make herself shut up. She felt stupid all of a sudden. Draco had loads of money, he could get himself a good scarf if he wanted to.

He didn’t say anything, just smiled and wrapped the scarf around his neck despite the warmth of the Common Room. “It’s cozy,” he said, in what he hoped was a helpful, encouraging tone. Ginny blushed. “Now you have to finish opening yours!” He picked up the other package, that lay forgotten on the floor.

She took it with shaking hands that were still nervous from before. “What is it?” she asked timidly.

“You’re supposed to open it,” he answered in the same tone she had used.

Ginny began to tear into the wrapping paper, leaving bits of it crumpled all over the floor in front of her. Draco smirked at her mess. She reached into the box, with her eyes closed; she wanted to save the surprise until the last possible moment. Her hand touched something furry. For a moment, she was afraid that it was alive. Then she opened her eyes and shouted joyfully:

“My Santa hat!” She beamed as she jammed it onto her bright red hair, as if it had been cold without the hat. “You found it!”

“I mixed a Reappearing Solution,” he admitted sheepishly. “Professor Snape’s not happy about it.”

She was grinning at him so broadly now he thought her face would fall off. He collapsed into the chair, next to her so they were snuggled together. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered.

“Merry Christmas, Ginny.”

Ginny playfully teased Draco about how he unwrapped while he made fun of her hat, never missing a beat. They seemed to have a rhythm that they easily fell into when they were together. It was as if there was music playing that only they could hear. They sat in that chair, murmuring to each other and watching the tiny dancers dance across the Common room, until the sun rose into the sky and the sounds of dozens of students waking up could be heard overhead and Draco had to leave.

The hoots and catcalls from the students in the Great Hall filled Ginny’s ears. “Come on!” “Woo!” “Kiss her already!” “Pucker up, Weasley!” She closed her eyes to shut them out. Maybe if she just ignored them, then they’d all go away. Like magic. She sighed. That had never worked with her brothers though. Maybe if she could learn a spell to make the Earth rise up and swallow you whole.

Yeah, that was the ticket. Damn Earth wasn’t cooperating though.

Ginny cracked one eye open to look up at the pale faced boy who stood in front of her. Was it just her imagination or did Draco look paler than ever?

“Draco and Ginny sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” screeched Lavender Brown before she erupted in a fit of helpless giggles. That was witty, Ginny thought wryly, Lavender clearly has a long and fruitful career as a dimwit ahead of her.

Draco was scowling more than ever now. He kept looking up at the mistletoe that hung above them as if he were trying to make it spontaneously combust. Ginny rather hoped it would work. If the mistletoe wasn’t there, then she wouldn’t have to kiss him. In front of the entire school.

Damn mistletoe wasn’t cooperating though.

She glanced around the Great Hall. All the Hufflepuffs were standing up to get a better view. The Ravenclaws were sniggering as if they had never seen anything funnier. The Gryffindors and Slytherins were all torn between being amused and being ill. Ginny’s brother, Ron, was pretending to vomit into his goblet of pumpkin juice.

“Come on,” whined a particularly annoying Hufflepuff who Ginny wished would die a painful, horrible, gruesome, ugly death. A death with lots of blood. Ooh! Ooh! Or maybe she could contract some rare disease that ate away at her insides. Painfully. “You two are under the mistletoe. You have to kiss. It‘s tradition.”

Ginny violently cursed that moment when she had decided to leave the Great Hall. That same moment that had just happened to be the same moment Draco Malfoy had decided to leave the Great Hall. Thus, they walked under the mistletoe together. Thus, the hell began.

Malfoy folded his arms across his chest. “It’s a stupid tradition,” he scoffed. For once in her life, Ginny heartily agreed with Malfoy.

“You’re not getting out of here until you kiss her!” shrieked the annoying girl, emphasizing the word kiss for extra irritation. Visions of transfiguring her into a fruitcake danced in Ginny’s head.

Draco sighed and squared his shoulders. He shot a withering glare over his shoulder at the Hufflepuuff. As he leaned towards her a frightening (and oddly exciting) thought occurred to Ginny: Ohmigod! He’s going to kiss me! Her mind whirled in a frenzy of nervousness. She tried to remind herself of all the things she should do when kissed while simultaneously taking in every sensation.

The crowd “ooh”ed and “ahh”ed in unison as Draco’s lips descended on Ginny’s. Even Ron stopped barfing into his drink to stare at the pair of them. Ginny didn’t hear them whisper amongst themselves. All thoughts immediately left her head other than “Kissing is good. Me like to kiss.”

Just as quickly as it began, it stopped. Ginny slowly opened her eyes. Draco was looking down at her curiously. Neither one heard the Great Hall burst into applause and whistles. Ginny opened her mouth to say something. In her brain it had been something intelligent and endearing but in reality it was a squeaky “Eughhh....” It looked like she’d be enjoying the same illustrious career as Lavender Brown.

She was surprised to see Draco wink at her before walking away with his goons, leaving her standing there like an idiot.

“I can’t believe you kissed her,” said Goyle, stupidly.

“It’s tradition, right...?” his voice was carried away by the sounds of her friends running over to her. Some of them were laughing, others were shocked that they had actually gone through with it. They whisked her away to first period, chattering about who they would like to get caught under the mistletoe with.

“Maybe I’ll walk under it with Malfoy too,” giggled someone, Ginny was in too much of a daze to recognize who. “He’s so hot. Was he a good kisser, Ginny?”

It was that moment that she realized that she had forgotten to keep her mouth shut.

Damn mistletoe.

Winter at Hogwarts had always been a joyous occasion. Ginny remembered the way the snow glistened off the top of the tallest towers and the way the fairy lights twinkled throughout every hallway. The Great Hall was decked with dozens of Christmas trees and charmed with falling snow that was warm to the touch. There was never a time that the castle seemed more magical than on Christmas.

But never before had Hogwarts been caught in the grip of such darkness—the war. It filled the thoughts of everyone inside the castle walls, and seemed to seep into the very air around them so that even the twinkling fairy lights couldn’t penetrate its shadow.

Ginny stared at her plate; it was filled to bursting with hearty food and she knew that she should be thankful. She should be thankful that she was alive—that her family and friends were alive—and that the Ministry of Magic was finally working with Dumbledore to hold back the Dark Lord’s wave. They had a chance now to eliminate the threat forever so that her children and her children’s children wouldn’t have to live in the fear that now gripped her everyday.

But that thought didn’t keep her from wanting to cry each day when she woke up from peaceful dreams and remembered.

Tiny Professor Flitwick was charming the many Christmas trees a few yards down. No one was watching with the awe that Ginny had when she had first seen the Great Hall at Christmas. Their minds were elsewhere.

Death was everywhere. It seemed like every morning owls brought news that someone’s cousin or aunt or brother had died in the fight. Sometimes Ginny bowed her head in reverence for the lost soul. And sometimes she cheered because it meant one less enemy. She wasn’t sure which made her sadder.

Even now as she looked over at the Slytherin table, she felt like weeping. Never before had she felt so much pathos for the Slytherins. They had been lied to. At least Ginny had known what the Dark Lord’s coming had meant—she knew only too well what he had in store for the world. But they had thought it would be joyous—the wizarding world would finally throw of the mantle of muggleborns and live up to its potential.

They hadn’t realized that many of them would die in the fight. Still more would be shunned and scorned by much of the rest of the world. And now inside of leaving Hogwarts and becoming gods among men they would join the Death Eaters and serve the Dark Lord. They would fight and die. If they were lucky they might end up in Azkaban, tortured night and day.

Ginny felt sorry for them. There had been times before when she had hated them with every bit of her soul. But now she couldn’t muster up enough emotion for that. She just pitied them and felt bad that she would no doubt have to kill one of them one day—or else one of them would kill her.

*

The climb to Gryffindor tower felt longer and harder each evening. By the time Ginny reached the Fat Lady’s portrait, she was so weary all she could do was drag herself up the last few stairs that led to the girls’ dormitories and collapse into bed.

Ginny looked toward the bright stars in the window. They shone brightly now that the nights had become so dark. It was comforting to see them fighting to keep the light alive against the blanket of darkness.

She closed her eyes and prayed. Ginny had never been much for prayer when she was younger. Molly Weasley had stopped bringing her children to church when the twins were born because it was just too difficult to keep them all quiet and too embarrassing when they disrupted the entire ceremony. So when Ginny had begun praying the night Cedric Diggory passed away she felt a bit like a hypocrite, asking God for things when she had never done anything for Him.

Still she prayed every night—to the Christian God or ancient gods or anyone who was willing to listen—that her brothers would be all right, that her parents would not be killed, and that the souls of those who were taken would finally be given peace. Sometimes she prayed that Tom Riddle would be given enlightenment, finally realize the pain he was causing, and just stop. Stop what he was doing and go away. But she had touched Tom Riddle’s soul once and she knew that there wasn’t any light there.

That was why she prayed for it. Only a god could work a miracle.

As she prayed she remembered the Christmases she had spent at Hogwarts years before. Even the one she had spent with Tom had been better than this. That year she had snowball fights with her brothers and Percy had bullied her into taking medicine she didn’t need. That had been when Percy was still speaking to the rest of her family.

And suddenly she felt like crying again. It seemed she had done too much crying recently. Every moment of the day felt like that moment just before the tears begin to fall. She wanted a happy Christmas again, not just for herself, but for the entire school.

She wanted Dumbledore to laugh and pretend to be Santa Claus. She wanted the chorus to sing carols while Professor Flitwick to danced on top of his chair. She wanted Professor McGonagall to wear the horrid wreath around her hat and shout at students for pulling crackers in the corridors. She wanted Fred and George to throw snowballs at Ron. And Ron to complain because his sweater was maroon.

Most of all she wanted her Mum to send her sweets and a cozy sweater, which Ginny already knew wasn’t coming since Mum had been so busy with the Order. And she wanted the castle decorations to inspire the kind of awe and wonderment in all the students as they had when she had first seen them with the fresh eyes of a little girl.

And that was when she realized there was something she could do to make this Christmas happy.

*

Sneaking around Hogwarts at night wasn’t as simple as Ron and Harry Potter would have led Ginny to believe. She felt that Mrs. Norris was constantly nipping at her heels. Now she understood why and Invisibility Cloak would come in handy for someone who was off fighting evil at all hours of the night. It would have come in rather handy for her. But she hadn’t wanted to tell anyone what she was going to do. It was her secret. Everyone else would be surprised.

Well, except for the fairies. They giggled as she passed and whispered to one another. At first she thought their incessant chatter would get her in trouble. Filch was bound to hear them. But instead it seemed that they were on her side. Once, Mrs. Norris had been nearby and they had flashed an SOS and distracted the cat by swirling around her. So as Ginny walked by them in the dark she grinned and gave them the thumbs up. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or not, but she thought that their lights shone brighter than they had before.

The Great Hall would be her biggest challenge. It was large but there wasn’t a place to hide should someone enter the room. And it would be hard to top the decorations that the house elves had provided for the Yule Ball years earlier. If Ginny wanted this to be memorable then it would have to stand out.

Ginny sat at the vacant Gryffindor table and meditated on her task for a while. She pondered the Enchanted Ceiling and its large columns, perfect for hanging things. Her brothers had once turned an entire corridor into a bog. She hoped their blood ran through her veins so that she could turn the Great Hall into a winter wonderland.

*

At four a.m., Ginny was still hanging garlands. She had already charmed the snow to fall harder and faster. Now an ankle-deep layer of warm, fluffy snow covered the floor and a snowman stood by each of the four long tables, wearing the house’s own scarf and mittens. The Christmas trees were decked with snow but since it was warm snow, the fairies were content to keep shining in their branches. Ginny was pleased she had made friends with them early on, for she could not have hung all the garlands and icicles without them.

Every now and again, Ginny poked her head out of the doors to check for Filch or Mrs. Norris. They never came. She was sure the fairies had something to do with that as well. Once a few house elves had popped their heads out from the kitchen. But they squealed and giggled and were content to leave Ginny to her work.

She was up on a ladder, hanging sprigs of mistletoe when she heard footsteps in the corridor. There wasn’t time for her to dive beneath a snow bank or even get down from her ladder. The Great Hall’s door swung wide open and for a split-second Ginny thought Filch was finally going to get to hang a Weasley by their thumbs. But it wasn’t Filch who emerged from the hallway, it was Draco Malfoy. Even worse.

Ginny knew that Prefects patrolled the corridors at night. She feared that Ron might catch her and tell Mum. Or Hermione would and scold her for breaking rules, as if Hermione never broke school rules. This was even worse. There was no one she wanted to see less than Draco Malfoy—no one who had less Christmas spirit to understand the nature of her task. She threw a miffed look at the fairies. Why hadn’t they alerted her in time?

Draco paused to take in the scene. There was snow in the Great Hall. Fairy light twinkled from every corner of the room. Icicles hung from every beam. And there was Ginny Weasley, in her pajamas, atop a ladder hanging sprigs of mistletoe.

“Is this the only way you can get someone to kiss you, Weasley?” he sneered.

Ginny pushed an irritating strand of flaming red hair out of her face angrily. She hadn’t expected him to understand. He was probably already thinking of all the points he’d take from Gryffindor.

“For your information,” she replied huffily as she climbed down from the ladder. “Mistletoe was associated with the Winter Solstice long before Christianity. But you don’t take Muggle Studies so I wouldn’t expect you to know that.”

His eyes narrowed. “Just what exactly do you think you’re doing? Besides being out of bed at night, roaming around the castle without permission, doing unapproved magic, and interrupting my rounds?”

The fairies shrieked and flashed their lights angrily at him, which made Ginny feel a bit better. What a Scrooge, she thought.

“It’s Christmas, Malfoy. Everyone is depressed and I’m trying to brighten their spirits. Take points from Gryffindor if you must but I’m not going to spend another breakfast watching everyone else mope.”

With that she climbed up the ladder and resumed hanging the mistletoe. For a moment she thought he was going to shout at her. Then she thought he’d turn on his heel and fetch Professor Snape. But he didn’t. He moved closer to where she was working and asked, “What’s mistletoe got to do with Christmas spirit if it’s not for kissing under then?”

Ginny looked over at the fairies, they had quieted down, she wondered what he was playing at but figured the longer he stayed there then the longer she had to work. “The Norse believed in the Goddess Frigga, who was the goddess of love and destiny. Back then the Winter Solstice was also the New Year, the time when new destinies could begin. One New Year she labored and gave birth to the Sun God, Baldur. She could see the future and she saw the painful death of her son.

“Even though she was a goddess she couldn’t change the fate of her child. She pleaded with all the gods and creatures not to harm her son. But the trickster, Loki, used a poisonous plant—Mistletoe—as an arrow and tricked Baldur’s brother, Hodor, the God of Darkness, into shooting the Sun God.

“Without the Sun God the world was dark constantly. Frigga cried and cried until her tears became frozen white berries on the mistletoe. Every god attempted to raise Baldur from the dead but in the end it was Frigga herself who had the power to raise him up and restore light to the world.

“From then on the meaning of the plant was changed to represent the love that conquered death and darkness.”

Draco was silent following her tale for which Ginny was grateful. It allowed her to finish her work in peace. As she finished, she looked around and her handy work and was pleased. She hoped it would give the student body at least one moment when they were not thinking about the war.

She hopped down from her perch and faced Draco squarely. “Christmas is about the coming of light,” she whispered. “Whether you believe that’s a god or longer days, it doesn’t matter. Change is coming.”

He stared at her, unmoving. She noticed for the first time that his eyes were gray—not the gray of a storm like she had thought—but like the gray that fills the sky just before the sun breaks over the horizon. She felt a tickle in her stomach and wished he would say something, take points from Gryffinfor, do something—anything.

Then he did do something and she was ever so glad that he did. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. They were cold due to the chill in the castle at night but as they touched hers, she felt warmth that started there and radiated outward until it filled her completely. While she had been so concerned with making everyone else forget, it had made her remember. And for just one moment, she ceased to think at all.

As they broke apart Ginny’s mind flashed back to earlier that evening. I might have to kill him one day, she thought. Or he me. She looked up into his gray eyes and whispered. “Your destiny can change.”

“I think it already has,” he answered.

She watched as he stared around with new eyes at the fallen snow and the twinkling lights of the happy fairies and she knew that Christmas would be a joyous occasion again this year.