Warded Ginny set the empty teacup down on the table at which she ate breakfast for seventeen years. Pushing her chair away, she stood up and gave her mother a hug. "Thanks for the tea," she whispered in her mother's ear. Molly gave her daughter a comforting pat on the back. "I'm glad that we're friends again," she said by way of reply. "Me too, mum," Ginny said. "Me too." She stepped out of her mother's arms and crossed the kitchen, stopping to lift her winter cloak from its resting place on the chair next to the door. She pulled it around her shoulders in an elegant gesture, the heavy velvet settling comfortably about her. She removed her leather gloves from one pocket and pulled them on, and then picked up the basket that had lain hidden under the folds of velvet. "Will you be here for dinner on Sunday, dear?" Molly queried as Ginny's hand closed around the doorknob. "Of course." Ginny gave a small wave, then turned the knob and stepped out into the early December air. The chill of midwinter had not yet approached, but it was cool enough that she was grateful for the weight of the cloak about her shoulders. Stepping off the porch, she crossed the yard and walked through the paddock in which Weasleys played Quidditch, to enter the protective stand of trees on the other side. She'd Apparated out to the Burrow, not to have tea with her mother, but for these trees. She stopped at the first pine she encountered in her walk, and after a moment's examination determined that the tree was healthy enough to donate some of its greens to her cause. Grasping one small branch in her hand, she withdrew her wand from her robes with the other, and cast a severing charm. She then waved her wand over the sprig of pine loose in her hand, and mumbled "Conservo Vitalis" before dropping the pine into the basket at her feet. Ginny repeated this process for some time, moving among the trees that had given her shade and refuge from brothers seeking a target for their torments. She removed the odd bit of green here and there, and charmed it to retain its life's essence much longer than usual. When she dropped the last bit of green onto the top of the pile, she knelt down and scooped the basket up into her arms. With a last wave of her wand, the girl and her greens had Apparated home. ~*~ Fifteen minutes later, Ginny was sitting on the staircase in the foyer of her townhouse. Her first priority, upon returning home, was to brew a pot of tea; sure she'd had a spot with her mother, but that had been an hour ago, with the intervening time spent outside gathering greens. Her hands wrapped around the mug, soaking up its warmth, she could then consider the task at hand. She brought the basket to the top of the stairs, picked up the sprig of pine that rested on top of the pile of greens, and applied a medium-strength Sticking Charm to it before pressing it onto the handrail. She didn't want to have to return fallen greens to their places on the rail; at the same time, she remembered the struggle with Sirius Black's mum's portrait, and was hesitant to make the charm too strong. She continued in this pattern; taking a bit of green, charming it, and placing it on the handrail. About halfway down the staircase, she realized that the charm that ensured longer-living greens was guaranteed to leave a sticky, sappy mess all over the banister. Still, she told herself, better one cleaning job in January than having to go out to the Burrow to harvest more greens every week because the original batch couldn't hold its needles. When she reached the bottom of the stairway, she stopped to look up at her handiwork, and decided it was good. She took one final peek into her basket, to verify that it was empty, and was started to discover one bit of green looking back up at her. She reached a hand and drew it out to examine it. Green leaves with wicked points, and red berries. Holly? I don't remember taking any holly. She ran a finger gently along the edge of one leaf, feeling its razor-thin edge and sharp points as she remembered what she'd learned in the classes of Professors Sprout and Snape. A winter plant associated with the cycle of death and renewal, often found in infinitesimal amounts in sleep-related potions. The presence of its natural defences made it a popular symbol of wards, of protection. A slight shiver coursed up her spine as she remembered its significance. She was almost certain that she had not cut this bit of holly. It was possible, of course, that it had fallen into her basket accidentally, but she thought that as unlikely as her cutting it herself. If something .. somebody? .. wanted her to take this piece of holly, who was she to argue? She performed one final Sticking Charm, and then tucked it into the cluster of pine at the end of the railing. Its red berries shone up at her from its nest of greens. Wherever the holly had come from, it was a perfect fit. Ginny picked up the now-empty basket and mug. She headed for her kitchen to put them away without another thought to the small mystery sitting at the bottom of her stairway. Seen "Tonks, a word." Ginny had been sitting in the small classroom in the very basement of the Ministry of Magic, discussing the complexities of shielding against various types of hexes and other Dark spells with her fellow Auror Studies' first-years and their instructor for this segment. As Tonks had opened her mouth to address a question that Ginny had posed her, the classroom door swung open so violently it slammed against the wall, startling everyone in the room. Ginny turned her head to discover Mad-Eye Moody standing in the doorway, looking more severe than usual. "Of course," Tonks replied. She stood up, and as she moved towards the door bumped one leg up against an errant desk, which in turn caused her to trip. Ginny exchanged knowing glances with her fellow future Aurors as Tonks picked herself up, brushed off her knees, and said "I'm fine," to no one in particular. She moved out into the hallway, closing the classroom door behind her. Ginny had just finished wishing for one of her brothers' Extendable Ears when Tonks flung the door open in the same manner that Moody had done moments ago. "I'm afraid that class is over for the time being. We've an emergency situation brewing, and all of the full-fledged Aurors have been called away." "Is there anything we can do to help?" Ginny asked quickly, but Moody waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing that you should be exposed to yet, girl." Moody's tone was gruff. He knew exactly what sort of shenanigans the Weasley girl was capable of, and knew that in her half-trained state she was nothing more than a liability. "The best way for you to help is to stay here at the Ministry, and work on your studies." Tonks nodded enthusiastically. "You can use my desk upstairs to catch up on your reading, since I don't know how long I'll be and someone else'll need the classroom soon. I'd take you back upstairs myself, but we're needed. I'll send word just as soon as I can." With that, Ginny and her classmates found themselves staring at an empty doorway. "I guess that's that, then," Ginny said. She gathered her study materials into her arms, and waited for Christy Brocklehurst and Alexander Durden to collect their own items before abandoning their cozy classroom to head for the elevator. Once in the lift, Ginny took a moment to smooth her robes. While red was decidedly not a Weasley-friendly colour, she got a particular thrill out of shrugging the red robes marking her as an employee of Auror Headquarters around her shoulders each morning as she readied for work. Of the forty students in her year at Hogwarts, only three had received letters from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She was the most self-assured of her tiny group. Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that she'd known all of their instructors - Moody, Tonks, and Shacklebolt - for years before she'd begun working at the Ministry. Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that even if she hadn't been Head Girl, her marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts had easily been the highest of her year, far outstripping those of her classmates and almost reaching the standard set by Harry and Neville the previous year. Perhaps it had everything to do with the fact that the moment she'd moved out of the Burrow, she had stopped thinking of herself as "the littlest Weasley" and started thinking of herself as her own person, and discovered that Ginny Weasley was someone that she liked a great deal. "Level two," the lift said pleasantly, breaking Ginny out of her reverie. "Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services." The lift door slid open, and Ginny, followed by Brocklehurst, Durden, and several Interdepartmental Memos, made her way down the hall and through the heavy oak doors that opened up into the open-concept cubicle area that made up the majority of Level 2. Even if Auror Headquarters hadn't occupied the space closest to the doors, Ginny would have seen them standing together - the tall blond boy and the medium-height sandy-brown-haired boy, looking disinterestedly over their classmate's shoulder. ~*~ The second-year Auror Studies students had been interrupted in the middle of their session on countercurses for mind-control hexes. Neville, finding the Auror Studies courses as intense and taxing as he'd imagine a day-long DA meeting in the Room of Requirement, had welcomed the break. Lisa Turpin, former Ravenclaw, had shrugged, planning to use the extra time to study. Only Draco was seriously put off by the interruption. If he was expected to learn these types of skills, he needed to be able to practice them against a competent teacher. No matter how much Pansy liked Longbottom, Draco had seen too many melted cauldrons to be able to trust his abilities completely. The three second-years, mildly curious as to the source of their class's disruption, had decided to do some basic information-gathering. Lisa had found a copy of that morning's Daily Prophet, and the two boys were reading over her shoulder. He heard the doors open with a muffled bang, and looked up, ready to channel his irritation into a mild rant. It was the first-year class. Virginia Weasley led the two others, who'd also attended Hogwarts but who'd never distinguished themselves enough to warrant the notice of a Malfoy, through the heavy oak doors as though she were the leader of a small army. He hadn't seen her in some time. The separation between the different classes of Auror Studies students was so great that he never caught a glimpse of her at the Ministry; the last time he'd been in the same room with her was when the Order had called a meeting at Grimmauld Place at the end of August, nearly four months ago. Something was different about her. It was nothing so drastic as a change in appearance; she still had the same Weasley hair, although it might have darkened a shade or two in the months that had distanced everyone from the summer sun. She wore it up now, as befitted a student of Auroring, but that wasn't enough of a change to warrant the curious confusion he was experiencing now. Ginny glanced in their direction just as Neville said excitedly, "Oi, Ginny!" She graced Longbottom with a smile, then turned to her classmates, who made their way to his cousin's cubicle after exchanging a few quiet words. "Nev, Lisa .. Malfoy," she said in reply. It hit him like a fourteen-stone Seeker on an international standard broom. From somewhere, she'd gained self-assurance - the follower of the Golden Gryff Trio he'd met in Flourish and Blotts at twelve had turned into a woman that others followed without hesitation at twenty. Her posture, her comportment, and her expression radiated confidence and ease. Unbidden, he remembered one of his last moments as a Hogwarts student. After an entire school year of being - if not friends, then at the very least civil to one another, he, Pansy, and Blaise had been privy to one of the last weekly confrontations between Ginny and her brother. He didn't even remember what had caused the row; he remembered was the way she'd looked as she'd defended her position, righteous indignation brightening her eyes and enlivening her facial features. And he remembered thinking, as clearly as he remembered what he'd had for breakfast, that he'd been saved, saved from falling for her by her last name. The trick only worked once, it appeared. Either that, or her last name, her blood-traitor father, the five generally over-protective brothers and especially the one he hated only slightly less than he hated the Boy Who Lived To Torment Him, was no longer sufficient to offset the unconscious charms of a pretty, smart, spirited young woman who'd offered him goodwill when nearly everyone else in the circle would have offered him a kick in the arse. He was absolutely certain that all of this was easily readable on his face, and he considered how to escape to a secure location that would allow him to consider his position. Yes, yes, Slytherins went after what they wanted, but they also didn't compromise their position. And in the harsh light of unbidden realization, he felt extremely compromised. He fought a sharp breath as Ginny moved to stand between himself and Longbottom and a sigh of relief at her next words, spoken quietly, without hesitation. "Do you know what the emergency situation is?" She hadn't seen. Longbottom lowered his voice to match Ginny's. "No, Shacklebolt didn't tell us a thing. All he did was tell us to come upstairs until he returned or sent word." "We got approximately the same story from Tonks." The two former Housemates spent a couple of minutes speculating about the nature of the emergency before realizing that without any bit of amplifying information, any guess was equally likely, and that speculation was really an exercise in wasting time. "So you were reviewing basic shielding charms?" Longbottom asked. "I'd be happy to help you practice, if you like." Ginny smiled, and dropped one hand to touch Longbottom's forearm. "I appreciate the offer, Nev, but Tonks suggested we catch up on our reading. We should probably do that." Draco heard the echo of his earlier thought in Ginny's voice, and he couldn't stop the barely-breathed chuckle that only someone next to him would hear. The someone next to him did hear, and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye before turning around and retreating to Tonks' desk, where the rest of the first-years waited. After a minute or two, he risked a glance over to where she sat, only to discover that she regarded him with a surrepititious gaze full of appraisal. Perhaps she had seen, after all. Confidence The traditional fragrant greens and bright lights were what Ginny loved best about the holidays. She'd been so inspired by her success with her decoration of the hallway that she'd returned to the Burrow to collect more greens, and she'd strewn them, and a fair amount of fairy lights, liberally around her bedroom to create a haven where she could go to relax. She might have gone a little overboard, however. The idea of enjoying her haven had encouraged the procurement of a bottle of elderflower wine, and she'd spent the Friday night before Christmas sequestered in her bedroom with that wine and her favourite romance novel. It hadn't been her intention to empty the bottle, and yet she'd knocked back glass after glass, unconsciously reveling in the warm, fuzzy haze the wine provided and the escapism that the novel encouraged. She'd woken in a sweat, her arms and legs tangled in her bedsheets, the hair framing her face plastered to her forehead, and the fragments of a dream - pale hands brushing over the skin of her upper thighs and soft lips demanding and possessive against her own in the faint light - crowding any chance of rational thought out of her mind. She struggled to sit up, her shakiness tangible evidence of the dream's effect upon her, and regarded the clock with frustration. It was only seven in the morning; normally she would go back to sleep for another couple of hours, seeing as she wasn't expected to meet Hermione in the Leaky Cauldron until noon, but she acknowledged the danger in letting her emotions indulge in dreams such as the one that awaited her just past the veil of unconsciousness. She pushed her hair away from her forehead and swung her legs out of bed, concentrating on the feeling of the cold floor against her warm toes in an attempt to clear her head. If she went down to Diagon Alley early, she'd have time to do a little Christmas shopping before she met Hermione. Getting out of the house as soon as possible would be the best thing, she decided. ~*~ Ginny was standing outside Eeylop's Owl Emporium just after nine in the morning, when a hand brushed her arm, dragging her mind from its lengthy contemplation of buying treats for Hedwig and Pig. She turned, and was pleasantly surprised to discover Neville standing at her right elbow, his grandmother directly behind him. "Good morning, Neville, Mrs. Longbottom," she said cheerily, treating Neville's redoubtable Gran to a personable smile. "Miss Weasley. How nice to see you again." Mrs. Longbottom nodded in Ginny's direction, and turned to her grandson. "I have business to attend to at Gringott's this morning, but I'm sure you'd rather spend an hour with your friend than sitting in the bank with your grandmother." "If I'm needed," Neville began, but his Gran waved the comment aside. "It's not strictly necessary, and I know you've been so busy with your studies that you haven't had time to spend with your friends." Her face filled with obvious pride that Neville had followed in the footsteps of his parents. "I'll find you once I'm done arguing with the goblins." Without another word, she turned and pressed into the throng of people filling Diagon Alley, making her way towards Gringott's Wizarding Bank. "I was just about to do a little bit of Christmas shopping before I meet Hermione at the Cauldron for lunch. Care to join me?" Neville held out his arm in a gesture that made Ginny think of the Yule Ball in her third year. She rested her hand in the crook of his elbow as he said, "Lead on, fair lady." A thought presented itself in Ginny's mind as the pair ducked into Quality Quidditch Supplies to consider gifts for Ron and Harry. It blossomed into a small plot as she and Neville visited the stationer's shop for a new set of quills for her father, and Flourish and Blotts, where she picked up several different books as potential gifts for Hermione before deciding at the register that Hermione spent enough time with books at the Ministry five days a week, and that she might not be happy to see another looking up from her giftwrapping. Neville and Ginny were almost to the door when she hesitated for just a moment, her expressive eyes sweeping up the stairs and across the loft. He stopped to look at her, a glimmer of light concern in his eyes. The girl standing next to him wasn't the self-assured Ginny Weasley that had begun to assert herself in his seventh year. Do it now, she told herself resolutely. "Neville, can I ask you a question?" He chuckled. "Of course you can." "In confidence?" That one phrase stopped him, and he regarded her with an analytical sense learned in three years of Defense Association meetings and honed by eighteen months' Auror training. Ginny wore a more serious expression than he'd seen on her face since the night that Sirius Black died; something was clearly bothering her. "Let's go for a walk, Ginny." She took his arm once again and they left the warm confines of the bookstore; as they proceeded past Gringotts towards the quieter end of Diagon Alley, he addressed the last question she'd asked him, his voice modulated so that it reached only her ears. "You've kept my own confidences, Ginny Weasley - Merlin, I hold you directly responsible for the continued success of my relationship with Pansy. I'd hope you'd know that I would certainly do the same for you." He patted the hand on his arm, and she looked up at him with an expression of gratitude. "I just needed to make sure." She returned to her thoughts and didn't say another word, which started to worry her companion. What problem could be causing such distress? Had she another falling-out with her family? Was she struggling in Auror Studies? He hadn't heard that she was seeing anyone currently, but perhaps she was having boyfriend problems? Or Merlin forbid, she was .. As Neville's mind took him to topics he'd rather not discuss with one of his closest female friends, she finally asked the question she'd been sitting on since meeting him in front of Eeylop's. "What's it like .. you know, working with him?" For a moment, Neville was extremely confused. His first thought that by him she was referring to Kingsley Shacklebolt, the second-years' primary instructor, but the question would make no sense, as through Ginny's involvement in the Order of the Phoenix she would know Shacklebolt as well as anyone else. And then it hit him. Him, Draco Malfoy. He turned to look at Ginny, and her lowered eyes and slightly-blushed cheeks told him that his second guess was correct. "You're the only person I know that I can trust to answer that question," she continued. "And I need to know." "Oh, Ginny." Neville's voice was light, and she raised her head to look at him for a long moment. She'd clearly been expecting some form of shock or derision; he covered her hand in a comforting manner and smiled. "How easily you forget who my girlfriend is," he said in way of reply to her expression. "Pansy and Malfoy have been friends since before he got his first real broom, for Merlin's sake." He stopped to glance in a store window. "As to the information you seek, I can say that it hasn't been nearly as hard as I feared on my first day of Auror training. Imagine, if you will, me walking into the classroom and discovering him there! I was ready to turn right around and go back home, but thoughts of Gran's displeasure marched me right in there to take a seat." Ginny chuckled; so encouraged, Neville continued. "I don't know the reason why, of course, us not being friends, but he really has matured since he left school. I haven't seen him act truly malicious since we started training - oh, don't get me wrong. He's still Malfoy, with the same arrogance, sarcasm, cynicism and smirk. And I think he still doesn't trust me to not make a huge fumbling mess of things." She swallowed hard, remembering the glances she and Malfoy had exchanged the previous week at the Ministry. "But the differences are noticeable. A couple of days ago, Shacklebolt had us working with the Department of Experimental Charms on one of the items they pulled out of that raid they went on that got so fouled up; of course we ended up working with Hermione. And do you know, I didn't hear him use that foul term for the Muggleborn that he was so fond of in school, not once. Of course, he was still incredibly irritated about having to work with her - " "Well, she's still a know-it-all, and Gryff to boot," Ginny added impishly, and Neville grinned. "Exactly." His face softened. "You like him, don't you?" A fierce blush spread across her cheeks. "I'd catch hell from my family if I did." "Well, they're not going to find out from me," he replied. "Ginny, you're old enough now to decide for yourself in all respects, no matter what Ron thinks." She looked up to meet his eyes and saw Mrs. Longbottom striding gracefully toward them. "My errand took longer than expected," Neville's Gran explained, as Ginny checked her watch and saw that it was nearing eleven. "I trust you had a nice chat?" "Indeed we did, Mrs. Longbottom," Ginny answered. She gave Neville's arm a slight squeeze before dropping her hand. "I need to find Hermione a Christmas gift before I meet her for lunch at noon." "Well, then, I'll leave you to such important business." Neville brushed a brotherly kiss across her cheek. "Drop me an owl? Maybe we can finish our conversation over lunch this week." Ginny nodded, and watched him walk back towards the Cauldron with his grandmother. She turned in the opposite direction, stopping to gaze in each storefront, her heart inexplicably lighter. Invitation Lucius Malfoy regarded his wife with a look of tired irritation. "You know how much I loathe the usual holiday bustle, Cissa, and we were up late last night as well. Certainly you are able to visit the Parkinsons tonight without me?" "Darling, this is not some idle social call, it is a holiday party." Narcissa treated her husband to a look of frustration. "We accepted this invitation ages ago.." "You accepted the invitation ages ago.." ".. and to dishonour it would be shameful." Lucius returned to his disinterested perusal of the morning's Daily Prophet without further discussion on the matter of holiday parties. He loved his wife with a passion normally reserved for hormone-infested seventeen-year-olds, but he'd made plans with Zabini the elder, and he cherished thoughts of a quiet evening in his library, sitting by the fire and discussing political strategies and intrigues, not floral decorations, the latest shameful loss of face and mothering techniques. Narcissa scowled lightly at the back page of the paper facing her, just as footsteps in the hall announced the arrival of their son in Malfoy Manor's formal dining room. She turned to greet him, a sunny expression replacing the scowl. "Good morning, sweeting." "Good morning, Mother," he replied, bending to kiss the cheek angled toward him. "Father." "Draco," said the irritated voice behind the paper, by way of reply. "Well, we're all in a wonderful mood this morning," Draco muttered, as he took his usual seat at the long table, exactly half-way between his mother and father. He didn't notice his mother's contemplative glance as he poured his tea and took a scone from the platter directly in front of him. "What exciting plans have you for the day?" Narcissa asked her son, a smile that could almost be called predatory spreading across her face. ~*~ Draco took one last glance in the mirror, brushing the lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead back into place. His black dress robes hung in elegant lines from strong shoulders, contrasting against his pale skin and white-blond hair. "Stunning, as always, dear," the mirror cooed at him. "Flatterer," he mumbled automatically, his mind far away from the fact that he was speaking to an inanimate object. His conniving, wheedling mother had talked him into attending the Parkinsons' holiday party; normally, he wouldn't be so apprehensive about it, but it was likely that Pansy would have invited a number of her friends to the function to ensure tolerable company. Certainly she would have invited a certain redheaded friend, one that the thought of being in the same room with his parents, of all people, gave him a distinctly uneasy feeling. He stared at himself for a moment in the mirror, wondering where that particular thought had come from, and then squared his shoulders before turning away from his reflection and leaving to meet his mother in the foyer. Whatever happened at this party, he was going to make sure it worked to his full advantage. He was, after all, a Malfoy. His mother was waiting for him, dressed in flowing light blue robes, one perfectly-manicured hand resting on the banister. She smiled up at him as he walked down the stairs. "Ready to go, sweeting?" she asked. "I've already bid your father a pleasant evening, so we can leave whenever you're ready." "I'm ready now," he replied. Narcissa pulled the Portkey she'd arranged for the evening from its box, and tucked her arm through her son's, transporting them directly from their own home to that of the Parkinsons. They had barely arrived when they were pounced upon by their hostess. "Narcissa! Draco! How very lovely to see you," effused Melusine Parkinson, as she descended upon Narcissa, kissing the air in the general vicinity of her cheek. "Though I was expecting to see your charming husband tonight - I hope he's well?" "He's fine, thank you," Narcissa replied. "Sadly, business required his presence elsewhere, so I found a charming young man to take his place as my date this evening." She patted her son's arm, and he gave her a small smile. "Well, I'm sure he doesn't wish to listen to the prattle of old women all night. Draco, you'll find my daughter and some of your school friends in the sitting room. You remember where it is, of course?" "Indeed. Thank you, Mrs Parkinson." His mother slipped her hand from his arm, and smiled indulgently at him. "I'll be fine. Go see your friends, sweeting." Draco walked through halls he'd been familiar with for several years, since he and Pansy had attended the same private day school for young children with magical abilities. Even with the meddling of both children's parents - who had images of Draco and Pansy at the altar burned into their minds at the moment of their first fight in the sandbox - Draco and Pansy had become fast friends. "Draco!" Pansy noticed the moment he walked into the sitting room, and treated him to a grand smile. The boy she was sitting with stood and turned to him, a grin on his own face. "Malfoy. Looks like you got drawn into mother-escort duty too," Blaise Zabini drawled. "Your father and mine are probably ensconced with a fifth of something devastating, and thanking their good fortune that their wives were so easily pawned off on their sons." "No doubt, Zabini," Draco replied, as he looked around the room. Next to Zabini's place on the sofa sat Millicent Bulstrode, who looked less than spectacular in a dress that didn't suit her, but whose face was radiant as she and Zabini exchanged glances filled with .. well. When the hell had that happened? Pushing uncomfortable thoughts of attachments out of his mind, he turned to look about the rest of the room. Across from Blaise and Millicent sat Emma Dobbs and Celia Warrington, both of whom had just returned home on hols from Hogwarts. Since Draco, Pansy and Zabini's own escape from that beloved institution, both Emma and Celia had grown into polished young women who seemed perfectly happy to sip tea and chat on Mrs Parkinson's settee. Pansy patted the cushion next to her on the sofa. "Join us, Draco," she invited. "We're contemplating the next rise of the Dark." "Oh are you, now?" he replied, his tone slightly amused as he arranged his robes before sinking elegantly into the cushions. Pansy, as quick as she'd proven herself in her final year of school (three NEWT qualifications - Transfiguration, Herbology and Potions - on top of the seven OWLs she'd earned in fifth year), didn't normally speak of Wizarding politics in any company, much less in a semi-public, polite setting. "Not really," Zabini admitted. "We're just trying to look busy so those old vultures don't descend on us. They're in a matchmaking mood tonight." Draco narrowed his eyes at Pansy, slightly alarmed. It all made sense now - his mother's insistence that he attend this party, finding himself in the cozy sitting room he remembered, in the company of four eligible young women and the young man no one had expected to attend. It was one thing to pretend to listen to your mother's incessant comments about finding a nice girl to date when you weren't incredibly particular about the beautiful pureblood hanging from your arm. It was an entirely different matter when you had your own ideas of whom you'd like to date, and they didn't include any of the young women your mother would choose from the crowds of girls at a debutante ball. He thought it strange that the girl next to him didn't look panicked at all. Pansy had been almost as vehemently opposed to the idea of their marriage as he had, a thought which had given him a measure of moral support when his mother would get some flowery notions in her head. Yet she sat beside him now, calm, collected, entirely too serene. Pansy saw the question in his eyes, and gave him the smirk that she'd bloody stolen from him as a seven-year-old. "I'm not worrying," she informed him, "because Mother knows about Neville, and I threatened to elope with him and live as a Muggle if she tried to force a man of her choosing down my throat." "Inspired," Draco murmured. "She knows about Longbottom?" Pansy gave him a little grin. "They've not met, yet, but I had to tell Mother because I've been invited into the company of Neville's distinctly frightening grandmother for dinner on Christmas. I figured that if I survived dinner with Mrs. Longbottom, then we could contemplate him meeting my parents." ~*~ The young people sat in the sitting room for nearly three hours. Pansy occasionally sent gently pointed comments in Draco's direction, attempting to discern the cause of the look he'd given her when Blaise had mentioned matchmaking; Draco would brush them artfully aside without providing the tiniest clue. In between exchanges, the Hogwarts graduates pressed their younger friends for news about their alma mater - the goings-on in Slytherin House, if Dumbledore was as preferential to the Gryffs as ever, who held the Quidditch Cup. Every time an adult would have cause to pass by the entry to the sitting room, their ears would be greeted by happy chatter or laughter and they'd smile, unaware of the true dynamics of the group sitting by the fire. It wasn't until Emma's mother came to collect her daughter that the group realized how late the hour had grown. Knowing that his mother could easily sit with her cronies until one in the morning, Draco resolved to extract her at the earliest possible opportunity. Pansy, sensing this, excused herself to accompany him to the solarium, where her parents and their friends were holding court. As soon as they were sufficiently distanced from the sitting room, Pansy pounced. "So you're not going to tell me what that look was about, are you?" "Indeed not. You want someone to extort secrets from, go to Longbottom." His tone was sharp, but the smirk on his face was softer than the cutting version he reserved for most Gryffindors. "Alas, Neville has no more secrets for me to extort, I've learned them all," she replied playfully. "What, and you haven't dropped him yet?" "Sick-making as it might be, I seem to have grown fond of him." "Pansy Parkinson, soft on a Gryffindor. You should be removed from the rolls of Slytherin House, I swear." At this remark, Pansy put one hand on Draco's arm, stopping his forward movement. "Oh, speaking of Gryffindors.." He froze the neutral expression on his face. "Yes?" "I got an owl from Ginny the other day, inviting me over to her place on Christmas Eve. I spoke with Blaise when he arrived this evening, and he's going to come with me. You should join us." "And why would I wish to do that?" His voice was quiet. "Oh, come now. She was my school friend, and our Potions partner seventh year. Certainly you can put your dislike for Gryffindors aside for a couple of hours on Christmas, for Merlin's sake, and enjoy some polite conversation." This wasn't the first he'd heard of Miss Ginny Weasley's Christmas Eve invitation. He'd seen the carefully-scripted parchment tacked up on the bulletin board at Auror Headquarters, and wondered how he might attend without drawing undue attention to himself. Pansy had just given him that means, gift-wrapped and dropped in his lap. Not that he'd show any of it, not with her already suspicious of the look he'd been unable to hide earlier. He smirked. "Just for you, Pans, I'll do it." ~*~ "So. Was your evening an unqualified success, beloved?" Upon their return to the Manor, Draco had proceeded directly to his own suite, to contemplate the concerns of a boy of nineteen. Narcissa had found her husband in his library reading, his long white-blond hair untied and falling softly about his face. He'd looked up as she entered the room, and inquired about her evening, the smirk on his face distinctly seductive. A versatile expression, that Malfoy smirk. "Decidedly. I had a marvelous time catching up with Melusine, and at the very end of the evening I encountered our son having what appeared to be a clandestine conversation with her daughter." Narcissa rested upon the arm of Lucius' chair, and idly brushed his hair away from his face. His expression turned predatory for the briefest of moments, before he reached up to pull his wife into his lap. There would be time to contemplate further his son's marriage to the Parkinson girl .. tomorrow.

"(Ginny's hot chocolate) was made from a recipe that had been passed down through generations of Weasleys (at least, according to her mum). Anyone who had ever tasted it agreed: It was the richest, creamiest, most delicious hot chocolate they'd ever had." - Sarea Okelani, Balm

From her small kitchen, Ginny heard the clock in the living room strike ten.

It was Christmas Eve. She had already seen the visitors that she'd truly expected to drop by her townhouse when she'd issued the invitation. And yet, she was in the kitchen, making another pot of the legendary Weasley hot chocolate, in the hopes that there would be one more knock on the door.

And, she thought to herself as she stirred another piece of Honeydukes' chocolate into the pot on the stove, if I'm still alone at midnight, I'll sit by the fire and drink the whole damn thing myself.

Weasley family tradition dictated the large family dinner that they had held every Christmas day since Ginny could remember. When she'd moved out of the Burrow and into the East London townhouse upon taking the position in Auror Headquarters at the Ministry of Magic, she'd determined to start her own Christmas tradition. She'd tacked up a notice at the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters, spoken to her colleagues at work, and owled all of her Hogwarts friends, inviting all to come by and share chocolate and conversation on Christmas Eve.

Her eldest brothers, Charlie and Bill, had stopped by early on with their girlfriends and were her first Christmas visitors. Precisely at five, Fred and George had Apparated over from the WWW, and had threatened to make a mess of her home while discussing animatedly their newest line of pranks. Percy had owled at 5:45, apologizing for being unable to visit .. with Percy, everything was an emergency that required him to stay late at work. And at 6:30, her parents had arrived on her doorstep, with her brother Ron in tow.

That visit had been blissfully short. Ginny pushed thoughts of it from her mind, and remembered her subsequent guests with much greater happiness.

At seven, a bunch of her colleagues had arrived. She had been honoured by their visit; having Kingsley, Remus, Tonks, and Moody sitting around her dining room table made her feel less like an impostor and more like a valued member of the Order of the Phoenix. They didn't speak of Order affairs, of course, and they didn't stay long; but the sense of belonging that their visit bestowed upon her was one of the best gifts she'd take away from this Christmas.

Her school friends had begun to arrive at eight, and had arrived in a steady stream for an hour and a half. At one memorable point in time, she had Colin and Dennis Creevey, Luna Lovegood, Hannah Abbott, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnigan all tucked into her tiny den, sitting in front of the fireplace, holding mugs of chocolate and howling with laughter over memory books and reminiscences.

Of course, Christmas was a busy time of year, and everyone had other places they needed to be. Ginny hadn't expected for her house to be as empty at 10 PM as it had been at 2 PM, but she understood.

She stirred the pot of chocolate, and determined that it was done. She turned down the heat and started walking back to the den when the knock announced the arrival of someone at her door. In the moment that she stood frozen to the spot, she realized that the hopes which had forced her to make that last pot of chocolate hadn't been very high at all.

She forced herself to take one step down the hallway, one step closer to the door. After that first step, the next was easier, and the third easier yet. She reached the door and paused, one hand on the doorknob, before summoning her Gryffindor bravery and opening it.

Three people stood on her doorstep, but she had only time to grin at the first one before she'd been pulled into a hug that spoke of good friendship that could count the time since its last visit in years.

"Hey, Parkinson."

"Merry Christmas, Weasley."

Ginny pulled Pansy into the hallway, allowing her two companions escape from the chill December air, and closed the door behind them. She accepted a kiss on the cheek from Blaise Zabini, and felt for the briefest of moments the touch of a hand at her elbow.

The hand that was attached to the same body carrying the pair of grey eyes that she'd hoped very much but not really expected to see in her home that Christmas Eve.

Ginny refused to think about that, too, as she gestured down the hallway to the den at the end. "Please, make yourself at home," she said. "I'll join you momentarily." She walked into the kitchen and put four clean mugs and the pot of chocolate on the tray that had been carrying mugs and chocolate all evening. As she reached for its handles, she noticed that her hands were shaking slightly.

All right. I admit that his presence makes me feel like an ickle firstie caught sneaking down to the kitchens by the Head Boy. I do not have time to sit here and be nervous; I have houseguests, and a duty to bring them chocolate.

She resolutely lifted the tray from its position on the counter and headed for the den.

~*~

"I was expecting you to bring Neville," Ginny said thoughtfully from her cozy perch as she sipped at her chocolate. She'd settled gracefully into the armchair next to the fireplace, and tucked both feet under her.

"He sends his regards," Pansy replied. "He had some .. family duties to attend to this evening, and didn't feel up to being cheery."

Ginny could imagine what those family duties entailed; she remembered seeing him at St Mungo's with his parents, the Christmas of her fourth year at Hogwarts. Had she been in his shoes, she wasn't sure that she would be up for socializing either. "Let him know he was missed," she said, smiling slightly.

"Of course. I'm having dinner with him and his redoubtable Gran tomorrow; I'll be sure to pass along the message."

Ginny laughed. "Good luck with that."

"Thanks. I'm going to need it, I think." Pansy drank from her own chocolate. "So which of our extended circle of schoolmates stopped by this evening?"

"No one to concern yourself with, really .. mostly Gryffs. The Creeveys, Dean, Seamus, Luna, and Hannah."

"Hannah the Hufflepuff?" Blaise snorted. "Didn't you hold her responsible for the incident that caused so much trouble our last year?"

Ginny grinned widely. "Yeah, but I decided that she was okay when she took me aside a couple days afterward and told me, using your exact words Pans, that MacMillan was a pretentious bastard who didn't get knocked off his complacency nearly enough." She took another sip of chocolate. "Besides, I didn't have to invite her - she's engaged to Dean, so she arrived with him."

"Thomas and Abbott. Now there's a pairing I would never have imagined myself - it might have given me nightmares." Ginny's heart gave an erratic thump as Draco's voice reached her ears, and she pushed the less-potent Ginny Weasley smirk onto her face before she brought her eyes to look in his direction.

Pansy's next question saved Ginny - she was in serious danger of being unable to pull her eyes away from the tall blond across from her. "What, the Siamese triplets didn't show?"

Ginny ran her finger around the rim of her mug. "My brother was kind enough to attend. Or, rather, my parents dragged him, kicking and screaming, up the walk. Nice way of him to behave, considering that he's been avoiding me since the screaming match we got into at Kings' Cross in June."

Everyone in the room knew that Ron and Ginny's relationship had been extremely strained since the explosive screaming match in the Great Hall at the beginning of her sixth year, still referred to in some circles as the War of the Weasleys. It had taken Ginny three weeks to calm down enough to apologize to her brother for her lack of self-control in that episode - not apologizing for speaking the truth that Ron hadn't wanted to hear. For a year and a half after that, small battles were fought on a weekly basis, and they had some spectacularly large ones - chief among them caused by Ginny's gesture of goodwill to Draco when they were initiated into the Order of the Phoenix.

The one that threatened to split the family in two, however, had been the Kings' Cross fiasco. The day had been sunny and warm, a good omen for the future of the newest fully-trained wizards and witches to come out of Hogwarts. The entire Weasley family, as well as Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry, Hermione, Seamus, Dean, Neville, Pansy, and Blaise waited at the station to greet Ginny, and to carry her off to the Burrow for a surprise party.

All had gone well until Charlie had asked his little sister, as he swept her up into a grand hug, what she intended to do with her life now that she was done with school.

Ron and Mrs. Weasley had attempted to disabuse Ginny of the notion that she would ever be allowed to take the Auror Studies course, and nearly exploded when Ginny retorted that it was too late for that, because she'd already accepted the offer from the Ministry. When, after Ron had insulted his sister several times, she fled the station, it had been Tonks and Pansy that had followed.

They'd calmed her down, filling her ears with reminders that she was of age and perfectly capable of making her own career choices. Once she'd washed her face and restored her hair to order, Ginny had returned to the Burrow, to discover that the division ran straight down the middle of the Weasley family. Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Bill, Charlie, and Harry thought that Ginny had no business attempting to become an Auror; Mr. Weasley, Percy, Fred, George, and Hermione thought that if the Ministry had full faith in Ginny's abilities - and after all, wasn't Ginny the Weasley family's only Hogwarts Head Girl? - that she deserved the chance to try.

Ginny had arrived in the middle of this glorious row. After screaming for silence, she thanked her family members for their concern, reminded them of her status as an adult witch, and remained firm on her decision to attempt Auror Studies. She swept up the stairs to her childhood bedroom; by the time her hand touched the doorknob, she was resolved to find her own flat at the earliest opportunity.

In the month between Ginny's homecoming and the day she moved into her townhouse, she had managed to regain the good graces of her mother. After several owls between Egypt, Romania, and the Burrow Ginny had brought Bill and Charlie around to the idea that their little sister was a much more capable witch than they'd originally given her credit for.

But on the day that Ginny took possession of her townhouse, empty yet alive with the possibilities of making it a reflection of her own spirit and vitality, thoughts of what Ron had said to her on the platform at Kings' Cross still brought hostile tears of anger and sorrow to her eyes. On the few instances she'd encountered her brother since, the anger just wouldn't be pushed aside .. meaning that for the first time in eighteen years, Ginny and Ron Weasley had gone nearly six months without speaking.

"He's an idiot," Pansy stated in no uncertain terms.

"It does raise a question, though, Ginny," Blaise said, looking honestly confused. "When we left school, you were determined to sit the Mastery exam for Potions and considering teaching. How did you end up in the Auror Studies program?"

Ginny poured herself another mug of chocolate before turning to answer his question. "I hadn't even thought of the possibility of becoming an Auror until I got the owl from the Ministry, informing me of my eligibility. I wasn't sold on the idea of teaching, though, and there was nothing stopping me from sitting the Mastery exam and becoming an Auror both."

When it was evident that she wasn't going to say any more, Pansy grinned. "Oh, come on, Weasley. Tell him what you told me."

"Very well. I did it because my parents have been treating me like glass since I started school, and that when they found out they'd throw a fit. I wanted to show them that I was made of stronger stuff than they'd imagined."

"You were expecting the uproar."

"Yes."

"You entered Auror Studies with the express goal of enraging your family." Blaise whistled in admiration. "It makes sense, though. What other motivation could you possibly have, with your bodyguard brothers?"

The smile on her face froze, and he knew he'd said something wrong.

"What is it, Ginny?" Pansy asked with concern.

Ginny shook her head. This wasn't the time, her mind screamed, and she scrambled for a plausible cover. "You assign my brothers entirely too much familial affection," she said, a lightness in her voice that didn't reach her heart. "I assure you, in the majority of cases the best that can be ascribed to them is enlightened self-interest."

Laughs greeted this remark, and she felt as though she'd earned a slight reprieve. The holiday of light and friendship and laughter was not the time to be discussing Dark secrets and despair, not when some idle, insignificant Tuesday would serve just as well.

A real smile blossomed across her face. "So. It's been ages since I've seen you, Pans. What have you been up to?"

~*~

Ginny looked up at the clock, to discover that sometime between Pansy discussing her work in procurement for the Diagon Alley Apothecary and Blaise going on excitedly about his position in the Department of Magical Transportation, the hours had slipped away. Christmas Eve turned into very early Christmas morning with only quiet conversation for fanfare.

She'd known it was late, because her mind was finding itself on tangential trains of thought more and more frequently. She was still amazed, however, at how easy it had been to sit around her small fireplace and talk for hours of subjects that seemed awfully grown-up.

She'd gotten lost in thought about how Pansy Parkinson, Princess of Slytherin House, had ended up seeing Neville Longbottom of all people. When she'd found out, after their class had left Hogwarts, that Pansy and Neville had turned a common affinity for Herbology into a clandestine meeting on their last Hogsmeade weekend and regular, if infrequent, dates in Wizarding London after finishing school, Ginny expected that at some point the differences between Neville's and Pansy's personalities would come into conflict, and bring about an end to their relationship.

The fact that Neville was introducing Pansy to Gran Longbottom the next day revealed the error of her thinking.

And then there was the conundrum that was Draco Malfoy sitting in her den.

In a plot that issued directly from the sneaky, Slytherin part of her brain, she'd conceived of this little Christmas Eve gathering .. inviting all of her family, friends, and colleagues in, just to see who was really interested. Of course, there was the small complication that he'd arrived with Pansy and Zabini; it was entirely possible that he'd originally planned to stay away, but was cajoled into coming. "She was my school friend and your Potions groupmate," Ginny could hear Pansy saying in her imagination, "certainly you can spend a couple of hours in polite conversation."

The plot was so carefully crafted, but with no definite conclusion. It began with the mystery that was Draco Malfoy, and ended the same exact way.

Ginny could have spent hours wondering what it all meant. The fact that he had, even considering any simpering her friend had done, accepted the invitation she'd extended when it would have been so easy for him to make a polite excuse. The meaning of the looks he'd given her that day at the Ministry, just a couple of weeks before. Her newly-discovered inability to wrench her eyes away from him of her own accord.

She was rescued from that ungracious lapse of hostess protocol by an exclamation from Zabini. "Merlin, it's almost one in the morning."

"Ginny," Pansy said, standing up in the manner of someone who was extremely comfortable and would rather stay where she was than move. "As much as I could easily stay another couple hours and play catch-up, I really shouldn't. Neville will be calling for me early, and I don't want to make the wrong impression on his Gran."

"It's okay, Pans," she replied quietly. "It's late. I'll get your cloaks." Ginny padded out to the hall closet, and by the time she'd taken Pansy's cloak off its hanger and turned around, the rest of their small party had followed.

"You'll have to owl me when you get back from Mrs. Longbottom's," she said to Pansy. Her guest took the lush, forest green velvet from her hands and she turned back to the closet to find Zabini's cloak. "I admit to being insanely curious to hear how you fare at dinner."

Pansy's tired chatter about meeting Neville's Gran kept Ginny's attention as she handed Blaise his cloak, and returned to the closet once more. "Perhaps in the next couple of weekends we can get together for lunch," Pansy suggested.

"I'd like that," Ginny replied quietly, at the exact moment that long, graceful fingers brushed her own as their master reached for his cloak. She knew that her brain was responding to Pansy. The erratic little thump her heart gave was a response of an entirely different kind.

She needed to know - know whether or not the touch was intentional, whether or not his presence indicated the possibility of ... well, she wasn't sure exactly what, whether or not the little glances that had passed between them at Auror Headquarters had meant anything at all. Part of her entertained briefly the thought of gracefully pulling him aside and asking him for a few moments of his time, until she realized that it was late, she was tired, and the chances of her making a right mess of things were greater than half.

She knew that sending an owl after she'd had time to sleep (and plenty of opportunity to revise her message to perfection) was the safer option. It conflicted directly with the part of her heart that reminded her that if she were really concerned with safe options, she would be engaged to someone sweet, utterly Gryff, and as exciting as mashed potatoes ... the Colin Creevey type, and not infatuated with Draco Malfoy. She'd spent enough time at the edges of the seventh-year Slytherin social circle to know that Draco rarely gave first chances, much less second ones.

Ginny was determined not to need a second chance. She would send the owl.

She saw her guests out, knowing no more than she had when the evening started, yet feeling more calm for having a plan. She'd gathered all of the mugs from the den and returned them to the kitchen, and extinguished all but one light in the hallway. She had her foot on the bottom stair, headed towards her bedroom and a well-earned rest when there was one more knock on her door.

Without thinking, she crossed the hall, whispered the words that brought down the wards, and swung it open. She wasn't entirely sure exactly who'd she'd expected to see standing there, but the plan that she'd so recently crafted and stowed in a comforting, warm place in her brain would never have allowed her to hope that it might be Draco on the other side of the door.

Shows how much it knew, anyway. "Forget something, Malfoy?" she said in a conversational tone as she made a welcoming gesture with her free arm.

"That's what Parkinson and Zabini think," he replied as he brushed past her, only to stop in the middle of the hallway. She'd barely had enough time to close the door behind him - decidedly not enough time to ask what he'd meant by his reply - before he'd lowered his head and pressed soft, warm lips against her own. Her eyes fluttered closed against the onslaught of emotion such a simple thing had loosed - unexpected warmth and tenderness and in the back of her mind a tiny voice repeating a chance, a chance, a chance..

"Forgotten something, I think not." He lifted her chin with one finger, raising her gaze to meet his own. "I haven't been able to get you out of my head since the day you and your little army of firsties walked through the damn doors at the Ministry two weeks ago."

She was drowning in pools of molten silver, intoxicated by his confession. Before he could say another word, or her logic and reasoning could warn her off, she had put her arms around his neck, and pulled him within reach of her own kiss.

Hers was demanding and passionate instead of questioning and gentle. She kissed him with all the fervor of the schoolgirl crush she'd nursed through weeks of working together, with all of the wistfulness of months where he wouldn't leave her memory. The passion of countless dreams filled with his image rose in her, and all the giddy hopefulness of innocent touches and accidental meetings, and the hopefulness and joy of an invitation extended to all when the only one that really mattered was the one she was kissing.

She could sense his surprise at her reaction, and for the briefest of moments felt a wave of self-doubt rise in her stomach. It vanished the moment she felt him relax into her kiss, and a curious little warmth begin to radiate in her chest as his arms came up to gather her closer.

It was like she'd been freed from a cage of her own making, like she'd been earth-bound all her life and had finally learned that she had wings. Her heart soared in exhilarating liberty, beating at the same jubilant pace as his. His lips parted hers and she let out an involuntary moan.

She'd not intended to let him take the upper hand, and yet it was utter perfection, the touch of his tongue tracing her upper lip, the pressure of his arm - Seeker's arms, the unbidden thought floated into her conscious, serving only to increase the awareness of her senses - encircling her shoulders, pulling her closer to him than she'd ever let herself imagine. She thrilled repeatedly at the touch of his fingers tracing gentle patterns across the fabric of her jumper. She raised one hand to tangle her fingers in the fine, white-blond hair at the nape of his neck, and slipped the other under the winter cloak he still wore to wrap her arm around his waist.

Ginny could have stood in her hallway for hours, entangled with the young man who had been unreachable until the moment he'd bridged the gap between his world and hers with a brush of lips. As it is, she couldn't be certain how long the kiss had lasted at the moment Draco pulled away slightly, his breaths uneven, to lay his cheek against her forehead.

"Gin," he breathed. Not Virginia, the name he'd called her since their initiation into the Order. Not even Ginny, the name she'd been called by her circle of family and close friends since the moment of her birth. She'd never liked being called Gin .. not until she'd heard it fall from the lips of this gorgeous young man who'd said it as though he had only one breath to spare, and by Merlin's blood, he was going to spend it on her.

She knew that she would think of kisses and touches, the intoxicating and heady feelings that had welled from some secret corner of her soul, every time she heard it for the rest of her life.

"Mmmm?" she murmured by way of reply. She was entirely too comfortable to do anything except for marvel quietly at the feeling of his touch.

"As much as I enjoyed that, I was expected at home some time ago."

Ginny nodded, and pulled her hands away from their warm resting spots to cross her arms over her chest, but at the last moment Draco captured her hands in both of his own. Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, "Some day, you WILL tell me just where that came from."

"Maybe," Ginny said, her eyes sparkling with the barely-suppressed excitement that was flooding through her. She moved to the door and held it open for him, a tiny, secretive smile crossing her lips despite her best efforts to restrain it. "It all depends on whether I remember about it some day."

His lips quirked before they brushed against hers one last time. "Do try to remember." He stepped across the threshold to disappear into the blackness of early morning, but not before looking at her with an absolutely devastating expression and saying, "Thanks for the chocolate."

The sun rose Christmas morning, in exactly the same manner it had risen every day since time immemorial. It rose over a world that had changed slowly over the centuries, and a Wizarding world that had changed even more slowly over time.

It rose over a very changed Ginny Weasley. The difference between her rising on the morning of Christmas Eve and her rising Christmas morning was the difference between night and day .. black and white .. Gryffindor and Slytherin. The day before, the sun had peeked in her curtains, and she'd groaned and pulled her pillows over her head.

Christmas had begun, under cover of night's darkness, with a breathtaking kiss .. from Draco. As Ginny stretched her limbs under the comforting weight of her duvet, she treated her ceiling to a sunny smile. She could feel her brain turning to treacle and oozing out from her ears at the way this made her feel, and oh Merlin, she just didn't care.

After all that had gone before, she deserved to be this happy.

~*~

The cacophony of sound Ginny met when she walked through the front door of the Burrow could have knocked her over. From the sounds of things, all six of her brothers, plus assorted girlfriends, fiancees, and wives had gathered in the living room of the home they'd shared in their childhood, and every one of them had noticed her arrival.

"Wait, wait," she yelled as she was tackled by no fewer than three tall redheads. "Let me set this down," indicating the bag of gifts she'd brought with her, "before you oafs crush your damn Christmas presents."

"Ginny! You really shouldn't use such language -" she heard Percy from the couch, only to be interrupted by the oafs in question.

"Presents?" chorused Fred and George. They poked about in the bag while their sister was lifted off her feet by her third "assailant".

"Let's see if I can give you a proper hug," Charlie said as he squeezed his little sister fondly, "without causing a family rift this time."

"The name Weasley is always synonomous with 'chaos'," Ginny sighed as she hugged her brother tightly in return. He set her down so that she could attempt to greet their parents before being accosted by the remainder of the people in the house. "Where's Mum?"

"In the kitchen, last I checked," Charlie replied.

"Thanks." Ginny headed in that direction, only to be intercepted by Bill and Fleur half-way to the door. She accepted a kiss on the cheek from her brother and a tight hug from her sister-in-law, while their two-year-old daughter Elise wrapped her arms around her Aunt Ginny's (or, as Elise would screech, A-tee Dinny) knees. It was only when Ginny picked Elise up and settled her on her hip that she was allowed to continue to the kitchen unimpeded.

And it was only when she crossed the threshold between the kitchen and living room that she realized that the only brother not to greet her at all had been Ron.

Refusing to think about it, she moved to greet her mother with a kiss. "Happy Christmas, Mum."

"Happy Christmas, dear."

~*~

Ginny rejoined her siblings in the living room after speaking with her parents. Finding all of the available seats taken, she elected to sit cross-legged in the middle of the floor. Elise immediately toddled over to claim rights of ownership; she sat down squarely on her aunt's legs, and reclined her head against her aunt's shoulders. One hand's thumb in her mouth and the other hand clutching the stuffed dragon her Unca Jarvey gave her for Christmas the previous year, Elise was perfectly comfortable.

The beloved auntie smiled - she was more than happy to serve as a chair for her first niece. She looked down at Elise's little face, her breath ruffling her niece's white-blond hair. Her hand automatically moved to smooth it back down; as her fingers coaxed the soft strands back into place, she couldn't push away the remembrance of another's hair in her fingers.

She looked up to answer the question Percy had directed at her, the barest hint of pink in her cheeks.

"How are you enjoying Auror Studies, Ginny?"

"I'm enjoying work very much. My classmates seem to be competent, and I like all the instructors." She would like all the instructors, as they were members of the Order.

"What have they been teaching you?"

"At this point, just the very basics. Right now we're in the middle of a unit that's basically a very advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts - up until last week we'd been learning about the theory behind defending against hexes and Dark spells, now we're actually practicing advanced shield charms, and rumour has it that starting in February we're going to be working on non-magical but still thoroughly practical means of defense."

Everyone in the room looked quite impressed, except for the sullen redhead in the corner. "So how do you like working with the Amazing Bouncing Ferret?" Ron asked in a clipped tone.

There was a knock on the door, and Charlie sprang to answer it as Ginny composed an answer. She'd resolved to put aside the misunderstanding with her brother, if at all possible, for Christmas, and she forced away all of the irritation that had welled up at hearing the shortness in his voice. "The first-year and second-year classes never work together," she said with a one-shouldered shrug. "I've crossed paths with him exactly once since July. You'd be better off asking Neville for an answer to that question."

"Asking Neville for an answer to what question?" the object of their conversation asked cheerfully from the doorway. Ginny looked over her shoulder, and the now-dozing niece resting on it, to see him and Pansy standing at the door. She grinned at her friends, surprised by the unexpected visit, and gave Fleur a glance. Elise's mum took her sleeping child so that Ginny could get up and greet her visitors.

Neville was carrying a well-wrapped bundle, so he settled for giving her a kiss on the cheek before she and Pansy hugged. "Happy Christmas! I certainly wasn't expecting to see you two today."

Neville looked over at Pansy briefly before returning his gaze to Ginny. "We're on our way to Gran's for dinner, but I wanted to stop by and leave this off for you; I didn't know if you would be here yet." He handed the gift to her before continuing, "So who's asking me what?"

"I asked my sister what it was like to work with the Amazing Bouncing Ferret," Ron said with a grin, clearly expecting .. something, Ginny wasn't quite sure what.

Pansy raised one eyebrow in interest. "Why Weasel, I never knew you thought Draco 'amazing' .. I'm sure he didn't either. I'll have to let him know, next time I see him."

Ron narrowed his eyes at her. Clearing his throat, Neville attempted to subtly defuse the situation by answering the question. "Well, of course Ginny wouldn't know what it's like to work with Malfoy, because first-year and second-year don't share any courses at all."

Haha, Ginny thought, vindication.

"He's actually grown up quite a bit," Neville continued. "Very serious about Auror Studies, knows his stuff. While he's not everyone's best friend," and at this, Pansy gave a laugh, "it hasn't been the hell I'm sure you're imagining it to be."

Ron looked affronted. This wasn't the answer he'd been expecting at all.

"Oh Merlin. If we don't get going soon, we're going to be late." Neville looked distinctly nervous, and Pansy patted his arm. "Ginny - enjoy your present. And don't forget, we still need to do lunch." She smiled and nodded, and held the door for her two friends as her brothers and their assorted ladies wished them a Happy Christmas.

Once her friends had Disapparated away, Ginny returned to her still-warm spot on the floor, holding her gift from Neville in her lap. With all of the goodbyes, Elise had woken; seeing the bundle of tissue in her A-tee's hands, she squirmed out of her mum's arms and toddled over to the Christmas tree in the corner of the room. "Present!" she exclaimed loudly.

"What a good idea!" Nana Molly said from the doorway. "Let's do presents before we sit down to dinner."

In the resulting chaos that followed, Ginny took a moment to open her gift from Neville. The heavy paper wrapping and cushioning tissue fell away to reveal a small potted ivy, green and healthy. She had always appreciated the living gifts that were Neville's specialty in school, and which she'd received from time to time since their trip to the Yule Ball in her third year. She had the sneaking suspicion that there was something more to this one.

She took her wand from the pocket of her pants specially tailored for it, and tapped it to the blank card tied to the pot. Flowing script revealed itself for a few moments before fading back to empty parchment.

Dear Ginny,

I send this gift to you in light of the conversation we had on Saturday morning. Ivy in general represents fidelity, friendship, and affection .. ivy as a houseplant represents personal happiness.

Which is what I hope for you.

Happy Christmas,
Neville.

Ginny understood his meaning perfectly.

~*~

An hour and a half later, the living room was covered in paper and ribbons and happy smiles.

Ginny looked over her share of the Christmas loot, reasonably pleased. From her parents came the usual jumper (this year in teal), a new set of quills - the exact same set that Ginny had purchased for her father, over which they shared a chuckle - and some colourful inks; from Bill, Fleur, and Elise came a leather bag for work; from Charlie, a pair of dragonhide gloves. Percy and his girlfriend Natalie gave his sister a lovely silver filigree pin for her to wear with her winter cloak.

From Fred, George, Angelina and Alicia she received a gorgeous set of emerald-green dress robes that, upon first glance, looked to be the perfect size. (Ginny guessed to herself that Angelina and Alicia had been the selectors of this gift, while her brothers had been the financial backers of that particular shopping expedition.) Hermione had pulled her rank at the Ministry to get Ginny a copy of Most Potente Potions - certain that it would be useful to Ginny's study for the Potions Mastery exam - and Ron had given her the usual selection of Chocolate Frogs.

She smiled as Elise ran by with her dragon in one hand and what appeared to be her favourite gift from this Christmas, a miniature toy Nimbus that was the gift of the twins to their niece. While she was Bill and Fleur's child, earliest signs indicated that she would be following in her Unca Jarvey's footsteps.

Molly clapped her hands together. "Dinner!" she called. With a wave of her wand, she set the magically-enlarged table as a horde of assorted Weasleys surrounded it. There was much commotion as brothers, girlfriends, and wives jockeyed for position around the table.

Ginny had hoped to find herself sitting next to Hermione, so that she might have a word with her about Ron. Six months of not speaking had been more than enough; an enormous prat though he might be, he was her brother, and the animosity of their former argument had finally faded from her mind, eased along somewhat by the fact that she'd succeeded where he'd doubted - in Auror Studies, in living on her own - in everything that mattered to her.

Ron, of course, was the same hard-headed, hot-headed brother she'd known since he began at school. Healing their relationship was going to require a lot more than Ginny's confession that she was ready to end the feud. It was going to require a neutral voice of logic and reason.

In short, she needed Hermione.

The Hermione that had found herself standing between Ron and Percy at the Christmas table.

Well, so much for that. Ginny put aside her plan and moved to take the empty seat next to Charlie. As he passed her their mother's best mashed potatoes, all thoughts of prat brothers fled from her mind.

Ginny filled her plate - turkey, stuffing, the aforementioned potatoes, and a serving of some traditional French dish Fleur had brought that Ginny couldn't pronounce but which still smelled delicious anyway - while she listened to the happy chatter surrounding her.

There was so much going on at the busy table. Percy complimenting Hermione's dress, the one she'd bought when she and Ginny had slipped out of the Leaky Cauldron the previous weekend for some shopping in Muggle London. Elise chattering on at the top of her lungs while Bill attempted to keep her in her chair and Fleur attempted to get some dinner into her mouth. The twins discussing the plan for their newest line of Wheezes. Her own conversation with Charlie about his work with the newest dragon on the reserve she'd been privileged to visit during the summer before seventh year.

The comment was very nearly lost amongst it all, but it was spoken at just the right pitch to reach Ginny's ears. "I wonder what Neville is thinking, dating Parkinson of all people," Ron said to Hermione in a caustic tone.

Hermione shot Ginny a glance. Ginny, to her credit, looked as though she was attempting to swallow the demon that was determined to escape her lips. "There is nothing. Wrong. With Pansy," she said quietly and deliberately.

"Let's extoll her virtues, shall we?" Ron replied nastily. "She's Slytherin. She's ugly. And she's friends with the bloody ferret."

"Oh, and because she's friends with Malfoy means that she's earned a double helping of your Christmas vitriol? I'll be sure to make note of that, for future reference."

Ron stared at his sister across the table. "You're not saying that you're actually friends with the sodding bastard."

Ginny flushed. She knew exactly what her now-crimson cheeks would intimate to Ron, and it couldn't have happened at a worse time. "I'm saying that I reserve the right to choose who my friends are!" she hissed in reply.

His jaw dropped. "You are, aren't you. You're bloody up to something with Draco bloody Malfoy."

"Not that it's any of your business, because it isn't, but I'm not. But if I decide I want to shag Draco Malfoy while hanging upside down from a chandelier in the Merlin Entertainment Hall at the Ministry, then I damn well will."

"You'll want to use the third chandelier from the front," Percy interjected. As heads whirled in his direction and eyes focused incredulously on their family's most upstanding citizen, he shrugged. "It's got the strongest support."

Ginny and Ron stared in horrified silence at Percy for a moment longer than the rest of the family, before returning to the matter at hand. "Don't you dare take that for some sort of twisted permission," Ron began.

"I don't need permission. I am fully-schooled AND of age, which means I say who my friends are, I say who warms my bed, and there is not a damned thing you or anyone else in the world can do about it."

Ron turned an unattractive maroon shade. "No member of my family is going to consort with a Malfoy."

"Go ahead and kick me out, then," Ginny replied furiously. She was far too angry at her brother to realize that she'd as good as made the confession that she'd hoped to avoid, at least until there was more to be upset about than one kiss on Christmas Eve.

Ron opened his mouth to reply, to utter words that the Weasley family had not heard uttered amongst themselves in years .. when Molly banged her fist on the table. It echoed like a thunderclap through the house, and sent silverware and dishes jumping in all directions.

"That .. is .. ENOUGH," she growled into the startled silence. "Ronald Weasley, your sister, as hard as it may be to believe, is a grown woman. We may not like the choices she makes, but she is free to make them, and we must accept that. She's your sister, not some random younger person to lord over. And up to the point you got a broom up your backside, you loved her very much. If you do not start showing her some love and respect now, I'll turn you over my knee like the baby you're behaving like. "

"MUM!" Ron was horrified.

"I'll do it, too, so don't test me." Ginny fought valiantly but couldn't keep a smirk from crossing her face as she stared into her potatoes. "And as for YOU, Ginny ... just because you're having a fight with Ron does not give you free reign to disrespect this family. I will not tolerate such language as was heard issuing from your mouth, not now, not ever. And the next time you have an argument with any part of this family, you will not simply ignore our existence to avoid the issue. Don't think I'm giving you preferential treatment - I reserve the right to smack your arse as well."

Ginny raised defiant eyes, but turned back to her potatoes at the stern look on her mother's face. "Yes, Mum," she said sullenly.

Molly turned eagle eyes on the rest of the table; with the exception of Elise, who was waving a spoonful of mashed potato around, all were sitting very quietly, should the matriarch decide to address any other family issues. "Well? Eat!"

Brother and sister glanced at each other across the table as chatter and the clink of silver against plate broke the uneasy silence.

~*~

"Can we talk?"

The remnants of Christmas dinner had been cleared away, the twins (with Alicia and Angelina to help or supervise, as they saw fit) had washed and put away the dishes, and a large portion of the family had succumbed to post-prandial narcolepsy, napping in any location where a soft surface could be found. Ginny thought it was the perfect time to corner Ron into resolving their differences, once and for all.

"But .. Fred was talking about Quidditch .."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Fred was talking about Quidditch. Now he's on the couch, wrapped around Angelina like a set of dress robes, fast asleep. I don't think he's going to be playing Quidditch anytime soon." She gave her brother a searching look. "Of course, if you want to put this off for another six months, maybe we can just kill each other in the fallout next time, and put the entire family out of our misery."

"No .. that wouldn't do." Grabbing her wrist, he pulled his sister into the kitchen and shutting the door behind them. Ginny sat at the table, Ron stood by the counter, and for a moment, both were silent.

"I was only -"

"Look, I -" The siblings started stammering at each other simultaneously, then cut off again at almost the same time. Ginny gave Ron a small smile and said, "You go first."

Ron, looking distinctly uncomfortable, cleared his throat. Now that he had his sister's full attention, he wasn't exactly sure where to start or what to say or how to fix it. "Look, Ginny. I feel awful about blowing this whole thing out of proportion. I .. I just worry about you, is all."

"You have a very peculiar way of showing it," she said quietly.

"I know, I know. It's just that I look at you and I see the little girl you were in your first year .. I want to keep you safe, I want what's best for you."

Ron looked thoroughly miserable now; she'd heard a tinge of guilt in his voice, and Ginny couldn't stand it. Getting up from her chair at the table, she crossed the room to where he leaned against the sink and forced her way past the arms crossed over his chest into a hug. "I appreciate that, you know," she said simply. "Contrary to belief, I do like being cared about."

Thus encouraged, Ron continued. "I couldn't bear the thought of you putting yourself in danger. You know .. well, better than I do that Dark wizards are serious business, and that even though You-Know-Who is gone another will inevitably rise to take his place."

"Ron, part of the reason I decided to take the Ministry up on its offer was the .. unique knowledge I possess. I'd like to see that no one else get that kind of experience."

"I won't lose my sister for some sort of noble cause," he said sharply.

"Ron, it's what I have to do. I didn't go into Auror Studies just to upset you and Mum and the rest of the family. I need to do this." Ginny looked up at her brother with a serious expression. "Can you respect that?"

Ron looked at her for a long moment. "As long as you promise to be careful."

She squeezed her brother tightly. "I'll do my very best."

"All right then." He cleared his throat. "Er, Ginny?"

She pulled away, to notice that Ron's face had flushed again, that deep red that was almost painful to look at. "What?"

"Are you .. are you really .. shagging that ruddy ferret?"

There it was again, that damnable blush, spreading unbidden across her cheeks. "It's not any of your business, Ron. But no. Not yet, anyway."

"Not ... yet?" The last word was a squeak.

"Yes. Not yet. And that's all I'm going to say to you on the matter."

Ron winced, as though this development caused him bodily pain. "I .. eurgh. Ginny, you know what kind of arse he was at school. Please be careful."

She knew he wasn't just talking about resurgent Dark wizards.

She could either be irritated that he didn't trust in her ability to take care of herself, or she could be flattered that he cared that much for her. She elected to believe the latter. "I will be."

Here, before her, was the brother she remembered, the brother that sheltered her from Molly's wrath, who'd snuck extra biscuits from the jar for her, who'd fended off the twins for her in their most boisterous moments. She threw her arms about his waist to give him another hug. "I love you, you great irritating prat."

Suddenly, there was a loud sniffle, and Molly burst into the room, tears flowing freely. As she caught her two youngest in a wet hug, the siblings looked over to the kitchen door, to see most of their family assembled in the doorway, obviously caught in their eavesdropping.

"Ow, Fred! That was my FOOT, you graceless sod!" Natalie's voice came from somewhere in the middle of the crowd.

"Hey! I'm Fred.."

~*~

"A-tee Dinny! Story!"

After the fight that was decidedly not a Weasley Christmas tradition, and the pickup Quidditch game, the Wizard crackers, the hot wassail, and the slightly out-of-tune carols modified by the twins and sung around the living room fireplace that were Weasley Christmas traditions, Ginny faced the hardest task she'd been presented with on this day, even taking into account making up a six-month feud with her brother.

Putting Elise to bed.

She wondered just what caused Bill's sudden coughing fit when the tiny girl had grabbed her Christmas gift from Hermione, Q is for Quidditch: A Wee Witch and Wizard's ABC, climbed into Ginny's lap, and refused to climb down. When Fleur attempted to retrieve her child from her sister-in-law, Elise clenched Ginny's jumper in her tiny fists and shrieked at the top of her lungs.

"Time for bed, I think," Fleur had sighed. So Ginny, Fleur, Hermione, and Molly climbed the stairs, hoping that if they made bath and storytime a team effort, Mademoiselle Elise would submit without too much fuss.

It didn't quite happen that way.

First she refused to sit in the tub. Then she refused to let anyone - even A-tee Dinny, Patron Saint of Cute Nieces - get near her with the shampoo. Nana Molly procured a rubber diricawl that had been one of Ginny's own bath toys, which appeased the tiny tyrant just enough to give her mother, nana and aunt enough time to get her clean. It was discovered later to have a nasty side effect: once she had something with which to keep occupied, she refused to get out of the water. Fleur had to resort to levitating Elise out of the bath and into the bath towel draped over Ginny's arms.

Her mum had more success with getting her dressed in pyjamas, especially when the pyjamas were made out of a cute green dragon-print flannel. So garbed, Elise was lured into the bed in which Ginny had slept for so many years by the sight of her A-tee with her new book. She demanded her stuffed dragon, popped her thumb into her mouth, and had given into sleep before Ginny had reached "K is for kneazle".

Ginny sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, looking at her little niece burrowed under the pink flowered duvet and thinking on everything that had transpired at dinner. Some part of her mind had registered the sounds of people exiting the room; she didn't realize that she wasn't alone until she felt the hand on her shoulder.

She jumped, startled, and bit down on her lip to keep from making a noise that would wake the baby. She turned to discover Hermione standing over her, a curious sort of expression on her face. "Can I have a word?" she whispered.

Ginny nodded and set Q is for Quidditch down on the duvet next to Elise. Rising as gently as possible, she and Hermione moved to the next quietest location in the house - the very top of the stairwell, outside the door to the attic.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, once they were seated.

Her companion brushed an invisible speck of dust off her trousers before speaking. "I've been thinking about the discussion at dinner. Ginny, you never mentioned anything about Malfoy to me before. When did this happen?"

"Hermione, I would have mentioned it to you, if I thought there were anything worth mentioning. I blushed at an inopportune moment, and Ron blew it out of proportion." Ginny rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands before running her fingers through her hair. Suddenly, she was very, very tired .. tired of the questioning looks, tired of the concerned expressions, tired of explaining herself.

"So there's really nothing between you and Malfoy."

"There's really nothing between us. There's no relationship, no secret understanding, no hidden passions. We've shared a couple of looks and one kiss. That's it."

Hermione's voice was full of disbelief. "You risked death and disinheritance for one kiss?"

"It was a good kiss," Ginny said with a smirk that reminded Hermione of the subject of that day's troubles. "And I'll be perfectly honest with you, Hermione. I have every intention of finding out whether there's a chance for the rest of it. Maybe not involving a chandelier at the Ministry - which reminds me, I need to have a word with Percy about that - but if the quality of the kiss was any indicator ..."

"Merlin save me," Hermione breathed. She didn't need a NEWT in Divination to forsee that her friend's newly-discovered penchant for Draco Malfoy would be the cause of many heated discussions and worrisome moments in the future.

For the happiness that glimmered in Ginny's eyes, though, it might all be worth it.