Ginny sat unhappily at the kitchen table of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.  Hogwarts had not allowed its few students to remain at the school over the Christmas break but Ginny could not go home for the holidays.  The war was going poorly and all the Weasleys that were of age were too busy with the Order to participate in the usual festivities.  So, instead of spending Christmas at the Burrow, Ginny was forced to stay in this horribly depressing old house alone.  Well, nearly alone.  There was one other person living at Number 12 – Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy’s inability to kill Dumbledore the previous summer had made it impossible for him to return to the Death Eaters.  In fear for his life, he’d turned to the Order of the Phoenix for help and for the last several months he’d been in hiding here.  Ginny avoided him as much as was possible when two people shared a residence.  The first few days had been tolerable but it was Christmas Eve and Ginny was terribly homesick.

With a sniffle, the ginger-haired girl thought of Christmases past, of tree trimming and the knobby mittens her mum knitted each year.  Distractedly she swirled the pumpkin juice in her glass that any other year would have been eggnog and a tear rolled slowly down her cheek.

“Are you crying, Weasley?”

Ginny hastily wiped the dampness from her face before looking up to see Malfoy standing on the other side of the table.  She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard him enter the kitchen.

“What’s it to you, Malfoy?” she snapped.

The seventeen year old cocked his head to one side and smirked at her blandly.

“First Christmas away from home?” he asked.

She searched his face for any trace of malice.  To her surprise, she found none.  “The first I’ve spent alone.  I’ve stayed at school for the hols before but Ron was always there too.  Don’t you miss being home?”

Draco walked to the window and looked out into the falling snow.  The moonlight reflected off his white-blonde hair making it shimmer like tinsel.  He shrugged, “Christmas was a pretty formal affair at the Manor; fancy parties, important guests.  Not much to miss.  It’s different for you, I guess.”

Closing her eyes, Ginny pictured Christmas at the Burrow in her mind.  “Very.  On Christmas Eve we all sit around the living room playing games and talking.  Bill and Charlie enchant the nutcracker soldiers and set them battling each other until Mum gets shirty with them.  Christmas morning Fred and George wake up before everyone else and go caroling from room to room until we’re all out of bed.  Then we open presents and Mum starts cooking.  I usually make the Christmas pudding…” 

Suddenly embarrassed by her wistful tone, Ginny stopped.  The words had tumbled out of their own accord and she wondered why she was sharing so much with a boy she’d always disliked.  She glanced at him surreptitiously and saw that Malfoy was looking at her softly, a half smile playing on his lips.

He moved to get a drink for himself.  “I can see why you’d miss it,” he said quietly, “It must be quite disappointing to be stuck here with me.”  Before Ginny could respond, Malfoy bid her goodnight and went up to his room.  She sat for a few more minutes thinking over their conversation, then followed his example and went to bed.

The next morning she was awakened by a rich tenor voice coming from the other side of her door.

“Here we come a-wassailing
Among the leaves so green,
Here we come a-wand'ring
So fair to be seen.
Love and joy come to you,
And to you your wassail, too,
And God bless you, and send you
A Happy New Year,
And God send you a Happy New Year.”

Quickly she jumped from the bed and flung her door open.  In the hallway Draco stood dressed in his pajamas, singing robustly.  She couldn’t help but laugh at the bizarre scene.  When he’d finished the song, he looked at her expectantly.

“Did I do it right?” he asked, “Like your brothers would have done?”

With tears welling in her eyes Ginny threw her arms around the blond boy.  His hands stroked her back gently and he brushed her cheek with his own.  He held her for a long moment.  When she pulled away she was smiling despite the damp trails leading from her eyes.

“Just right,” she said, taking his hand, “It was just right.”