Of Cranky Malfoys and Meddlesome Redheads

“No, Ginny. Absolutely, unequivocally, categorically no.”

Ginny scowled at her useless, good-for-nothing boyfriend. “What are you reading, a thesaurus?”

Draco rolled his eyes in a decidedly understated manner, still looking perfectly cool as he turned the page of his novel and ignored her childish comment. Frustrated, Ginny kicked the leg of the chaise he sat upon, thanking Merlin she’d decided to don her sturdy Quidditch boots in an all-too-common fit of rebellion - she probably would have broken her toes, otherwise.

He eyed her footwear with amusement. “Please don’t break any more furniture. You know how troublesome it is to find pieces that match the decor.”

Ginny cringed at his half-threat. Draco had very specific rules when it came to the furnishings of Malfoy Manor, foremost that he would not, under any circumstances, simply repair damaged furniture; apparently Malfoys were above such things, and the mere prospect would have his grandfather rolling in his grave. Ginny had learnt this the hard way when she’d accidentally broken a side table in the cyan room, and Draco had consequently dragged her across Europe for a week looking for the most suitable replacement.

Ginny had been more than a little envious of the old side table’s swift demise before the week was out.

“I don’t understand what the big deal is, Draco.” She waved her hand about the immaculate room. “Those poor house elves wait on us hand and foot, and all I want to do is show them how much we appreciate it.”

“Ginny,” he said her name firmly, still gazing down at his stupid book. “It’s their job to wait on us; they like doing it. I think letting them continue to do it shows appreciation enough.”

“You - you insipid git! How can you be so cold hearted?” She glared down at him, an awful feeling creeping up the back of her throat. “House elves aren’t animals, Draco. They have feelings.”

“That’s exactly my point.” He let the book rest open in his lap, leveling his gaze at her. “House elves aren’t given things. They do what they’re supposed to do, and they’re happy about it.”

Of course, she’d had this argument with him a number of times over the last few weeks leading up to Christmas, but now that Christmas Eve was almost upon them she was beginning to think that she wasn’t just fighting for the house elves any more. “Why should they be happy about it, Draco? Why can’t we do something nice for them for a change?”

Draco frowned. “It’s just not done, Ginny.”

“Well, you know what is done? Us.” She spun on her foot and stormed from the room.

“Ginny?” Draco’s voice was hesitant, and she heard him slowly get up and follow her from the room. “What do you mean?”

“I think it’s perfectly obvious,” she said over her shoulder, storming down the hall towards the main foyer.

He caught up to her easily, grasping her wrist to stop her, and she let him. “You can’t be serious,” he said, looking mildly perplexed.

“I’m deadly serious.”

“Look,” Draco took her other wrist in hand, gently rubbing the backs of them in a comforting manner, and she looked at him hopefully. “I know you want to do things your way, but you don’t understand -”

That tiny modicum of comfort vanished, and Ginny snatched her hands away. “I understand perfectly, Draco; I understand tradition and expectations, but I wish more than anything that you would understand what this means to me.” Clearly unwilling to budge on the topic, he stared at her in silence, and she scowled. “Fine, I get it. Goodbye, Draco.”

With that, she turned on her heel and left.

Draco didn’t try to stop her this time.

-

Draco stood in the northern parlour, staring broodingly out of the full length windows overlooking the gardens. The manor’s sprawling grounds were covered in a thick blanket of snow, and he could still see the lopsided snow-goblins Ginny had built the other day. Right before she’d left him.

This was her favourite room in the manor, and Draco knew she preferred to spend most of her time here even though the light was terrible in the winter and it was close to impossible to keep warm because of the windows. Draco rarely spent time with her here; Draco hated the cold.

Ginny had decorated it especially for their first Christmas living together in the Manor, right down to the two lonesome-looking stockings hanging side by side above the fireplace, and Draco had only allowed it so long as her decorations matched the gold decor - not that they did in the slightest, though she seemed to think it looked wonderful.

Draco had to admit, there was a certain charm about the room. With the fireplace lit and the snow glistening against the frosted glass, the room looked warm and festive. Everything about it reminded him of Ginny, which would explain why Draco still had a crick in his neck after falling asleep on the plush sofa where she preferred to sit. Again.

“Master?” came a timid voice behind him, and Draco turned his head slightly to see Minky, his head house elf, gently rest his tray of afternoon tea on the coffee table. He knew Minky had served three generations of Malfoys, but she was so small and gentle that he often thought of her more like a child. He nodded, indicating she should speak.

“When will Mistress Ginny be coming home?” she asked in her shaky, high-pitched voice. “Mistress Ginny asked Minky to help her with a project and Minky is almost done.”

Draco turned back to the window, expression grim. “Mistress Ginny won’t be coming home again, Minky.”

“Why not?” she asked him.

“Mistress Ginny refuses to do things the way Malfoys do them.”

Minky seemed confused. “Begging your pardon Master Draco, but Mistress Ginny is a Weasley, not a Malfoy.”

He gave a nod of agreement. Ginny was a Weasley, and he knew without a doubt that that would never change. In fact, he liked that she was a Weasley, far more than he cared to admit.

Draco thought about Ginny becoming a ‘Malfoy’, and he wasn’t sure he liked the idea; he loved his parents, but they could be the epitome of a cool and distant Malfoy nearly as well as Ginny was soft and warm and welcoming. After what felt like a lifetime of being just like them, Draco loved those things about Ginny almost as much as he liked that she gave him everything she had without remorse.

“What project were the two of you working on?” he asked.

“Minky was not supposed to tell Master Draco - Mistress Ginny said it was a surprise for Master Draco because Master Draco is so cranky all the time.”

He scowled at that. “I am not cranky.” Minky’s eyes bugged at his obvious ire, and he had to force himself to relax. “Show me the surprise.”

“Mistress Ginny made Minky promise --”

“Mistress Ginny isn’t coming back, Minky. Show me.”

Reluctantly, the house elf shuffled over and touched her fingertips to his, as high as she could reach, and apparated them away.

Draco blinked in surprise. They were in the grand ballroom at the manor, but everything seemed to be made from ice; the floor was glistening like a skating rink, piles of snow forming here and there, and the mirrors lining the walls were frosted along their gilded edges. He could see his breath steaming in front of him, but amazingly he wasn’t a bit cold despite the fact he was wearing his indoor robes. Glancing up, he could see a light flurry of snowflakes slowly falling from the ceiling, which had been enchanted similarly to the Great Hall at Hogwarts. “What is this?”

Minky skidded slowly across the ice in front of him, over to a small dining table where a candlelit dinner had been set for two. “Mistress Ginny knows Master Draco doesn’t like to spend Christmas at the Burrow, and she knows Master Draco doesn’t like the cold, so Mistress Ginny wanted to give you a surprise to say thank you. Minky has been working very hard to give Master Draco the perfect present.”

Draco’s chest felt tight, even as the tiny box he’d been carrying in his pocket for the last few weeks felt as though it was going to pull him through the floor.

“Minky thinks Master Draco should bring Mistress Ginny back. Minky likes Mistress Ginny a lot more than the other mean witches Master Draco brings home,” She paused, thoughtful. “Mistress Ginny always says thank you and she can move her face.”

Damn it, Merlin.

-

Ginny sat in her old shoe box of a bedroom, chin resting in her hands as she stared at the tattered old Quidditch and Witch Weekly posters covering the peeling wallpaper.

Letting out a long sigh, she flopped back on the bed.

“Knock, knock.” Her mother entered the room, taking a seat in the rickety rocking chair by Ginny’s window, a tray of tea coming to rest mid-air between them.

“I don’t feel like tea right now, Mum,” Ginny said, throwing an arm over her eyes.

“Nonsense,” Molly told her, and Ginny heard the chink of her mother’s worn china as she poured the tea. “I made your favourite scones.”

Ginny lifted her arm and sat up. “Really?”

“Really.” Molly handed Ginny a steaming mug and began to spread her home made jam and cream over the freshly made scones. “Now, are you ready to tell me why you’re home?”

“What, I can’t come visit my parents for Christmas?” Ginny asked blithely as she blew on the hot tea.

“You told me you would be at Draco’s house this Christmas.” Ginny always had to stifle a laugh when her mother referred to Malfoy Manor as a ‘house’, but Molly refused to call it anything but. “We weren’t expecting to see you until Christmas day.”

“Plans change,” Ginny said with a shrug, then began hoeing into the scones.

“Don’t you play that game with me, Ginevra Weasley. What did he do?”

Ginny felt a small surge of protectiveness, just as she always did when people accused Draco of something. “Mum, why do you always assume that he did something wrong?”

“Because he’s a Malfoy and a man,” Molly got that look in her eye, the one that said she meant no-nonsense. “Tell me.”

Ginny sighed. “It’s ridiculous,” she began, sipping her tea. “We had an argument. I wanted to give the house elves gifts for Christmas, just something little to show how much we appreciated their hard work, and he wouldn’t have a bar of it. Draco wouldn’t even discuss it; he gave me a flat-out ‘no’ and expected that to be the end of things.”

“Well,” Molly said grudgingly, attempting to be reasonable. “You know how those old families feel about that kind of thing, Ginny.”

“I know, I know. It wasn’t like I wanted to give them clothing, or anything; just something small as a thank you, like some sweets or a box of chocolates. And the argument dragged out for so long, I don’t even think that’s what I was arguing about by the end of it.”

“What were you arguing about?”

Ginny fell back on the bed with a bounce. “I don’t know. I suppose I just pushed him because I wanted a compromise. Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong there at all.”

There was a slow creak as Molly moved from the chair to the bed, then pulled her daughter into a fierce hug. “You know you’ll always belong here, sweetheart.”

“I know, Mum. I’m just being silly.” She let her head rest on Molly’s shoulder for a moment, then sighed and returned to her tea. “I miss him, but I can’t go back. He won’t understand why I was upset in the first place if I do.”

“There, there.” Molly smoothed Ginny’s hair back. “Men don’t understand these things, Gin; sometimes they need a nudge in the right direction. Though Draco might just need a harder nudge than usual.”

Ginny snorted. Yeah, right, she thought to herself glumly, taking another jam and cream covered scone.

Just as she brought the delicious cake to her lips, there was a loud crack and something landed on the bed, bouncing Ginny and Molly so hard that tea sloshed everywhere and her scone fell into her lap with a wet smack.

“Merlin’s beard!” she cried loudly, attempting to salvage the sticky mess, to no avail. Irritated that her delicious treat had been ruined, she turned around to see what the disruption was.

Minky hopped off the bed, looking horrified at the mess she had made. “Mistress Ginny! Minky is so sorry --”

“It’s fine, Minky,” Ginny hurried to placate the elf, who looked like she was a word from banging her head against the wall. “Mum, this is Minky, the head house elf at Malfoy Manor. Minky, what are you doing here?”

The house elf had busied herself cleaning up the mess. “Master Draco says it’s an emergency,” she said, her high pitched voice cracking slightly, and Ginny’s heart faltered. “Master Draco needs Mistress Ginny desperately --”

Ginny didn’t need to be told twice; still covered in the remnants of her scone, she ran downstairs before the elf had finished speaking, grabbed some floo powder from the mantle of the fireplace, and a moment later she was standing in the entrance hall at Malfoy Manor.

“Draco?” She called, turning about on the spot, but before she’d made it full circle another house elf, Donner, appeared at her side.

“Donner will take you to Master Malfoy,” he told her, latching onto her sleeve, and apparated her with a pop.

Ginny blinked in confusion. She was in the ballroom, which had been totally transformed into the stunning winter wonderland she had hoped for - but even better than what she’d planned. The furnishings of the gold room - christmas decorations and all - had been moved to the middle of the ballroom, lamps of every shape and size floating above, and their christmas tree glistened as snow gently gathered along it’s branches. In the centre was the roaring fireplace, where no less than fifteen christmas stockings had been crammed onto the mantle.

The whole thing was so beautiful she felt tears in her eyes

“There’s a stocking for every house elf,” A voice said from behind her, and she turned to see Draco standing behind her, wearing the red and gold jumper her mother had knitted for him last year - the one that had been gathering dust on a shelf ever since. He gestured behind him, where her table for two had been swapped for Malfoy Manor’s formal dining table. “I thought we could share Christmas dinner with them tonight.”

“Draco,” she began breathlessly, then stopped, unsure what to say.

He came closer, and she had to stop herself from reaching for him. “Do you like it?”

She couldn’t help her tiny smile. “Well, you sort of stole my gift for you,” Draco gave an unrepentant shrug, and she laughed. “It’s better than anything I imagined. I love it.”

“Good, because I love it too,” he reached out, his fingertips gently brushing her hair behind her ear. “But it’s not your Christmas gift,” Draco said, then got down on one knee, pulling a small, velvet box from his pocket.

Ginny clapped both hands across her mouth, eyes wide. “Draco!” She exclaimed, blinking back tears.

“I love you, Ginevra Weasley. I will stand by you through good and bad because you are everything I ever needed, and I want to share the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Of course I will,” she told him with a big sniff, her left hand shaking as he gently lifted it between them and slid the glittering, square cut diamond onto her ring finger. “You are such a cliche,” she couldn’t help but add with a watery smile.

“You’re the one crying,” he replied as he stood and pulled her in close, then kissed her until her knees went weak. Draco frowned, pulling away slightly to look down his front where the crotch of his pants had been thoroughly covered with the remnants of her scone. “You visit the Burrow for two days and you come back looking like you slept in the garbage.”

“Sod off,” she told him, still sniffing as tears ran down her face; Ginny Weasley had never been happier.