A/N – Well this is my gift to you all: the Christmas one-shot of the year! Hope you like it! It’s pretty long, so if you like that, you’re welcome, and if you don’t…sorry!

Oh, and it doesn’t follow HBP, and it’s rated PG for some mild swearing. Right, enjoy!

- - - - -

To Make a Malfoy Festive

Christmas had arrived at Hogwarts.

Snow blanketed the grounds like the fluffiest, whitest clouds, and icicles hung from every surface, sparkling like diamonds. Inside holly, garland, and great, red velvet ribbons graced the doorways of every hall and room, and towering Christmas trees with thick branches stood sentinel in every corner, dazzling and twinkling with enchanted fairy lights of every color. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla and peppermint and fresh-baked cookies floated on the air, and carols played softly all through the castle.

Ginny took it all in as she waltzed down to supper to the tune of “Winter Wonderland,” humming along with a content smile as she twirled through the Great Hall’s huge oak doors, happily oblivious to the stares of classmates. Her vivid red hair had bright green ribbons braided into it, her robes discarded for the evening in favor of dark green trousers and a bright red turtleneck sweater. Silver bell earrings tinkled cheerily near her jaw, and even her eyes bore the lightest dusting of emerald glitter, the only make-up she wore.

Luna, already accustomed to the stares attracted by her own appearance — a complete Mrs. Clause costume — waved her over.

Ginny skipped to the Ravenclaw table and winked at her friend. “Love the ensemble, Luna.”

Luna fingered her hat and smiled. “Thanks. You’re looking quite festive yourself.”

“You think?” Ginny turned a theatrical circle to show herself off before plopping down. “Good. That’s what I was going for.” She piled up her plate, but before she started eating, she took one last look around the elaborately decorated Hall, breathing in the smells deeply and giving a happy sigh.

Luna giggled quietly into her hand.

Ginny swallowed the bite she just took and looked at her curiously. “What?”

“It’s just that you really love the holidays, don’t you? I mean, you really love them.”

Ginny had to smile as she nodded, allowing her eyes to drink in the decorations once again, listening as “Winter Wonderland” concluded and “Let it Snow!” started playing. “I really do. It’s such an amazing time of year.”

Luna nodded. “It is. It’s such a shame some people just can’t see that.”

“Definitely,” Ginny agreed. “But that’s all right. I’ve never met anyone that I couldn’t get into the Christmas spirit.” She grinned cheekily. “I get it from my mum. She can make a convert of anyone.”

Luna seemed to consider that a moment. “That’s probably pretty close to true. You are quite enthusiastic when it comes to the hols.”

Ginny’s jaw stopped moving mid-chew, then she remembered herself and finished swallowing, carefully lying down her fork as she turned to face Luna better. “Close to true? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well…face it, Ginny. Some people just will never be Christmas people.”

Ginny pulled her shoulders back proudly. “I take offense to that, I’ll have you know. Anyone, and I mean anyone, can appreciate Christmastime if the right person shows him how.”

Luna shook her head, little wisps of blond hair flying around beneath her Father Christmas hat. “I don’t know. Don’t take it personally, it’s got nothing to do with you or anything, but like I said, some people just aren’t the ‘of good cheer’ type.”

Ginny crossed her arms. “I’m telling you, I’ll have anyone hanging stockings and singing carols before you can say ‘Happy Christmas.’ Pick any old grinch in this room.”

“All right. Malfoy.”

Ginny blinked. “What?”

“Draco Malfoy. You said pick any old grinch, and I picked him.”

Ginny looked over to the Slytherin table, easily spotting Malfoy’s platinum head in the sea of green where he sat quietly zapping the ornaments off the miniature Christmas trees on the table, wearing a satisfied smirk. Dread bubbled up in her, and she started to regret her boasting.

“You know, when I said pick anyone, I didn’t mean it literally….”

Luna smiled knowingly. “That’s okay. I mean, if you don’t think you can do it…”

Ginny felt the words like a stab to her pride and drew herself up. “I didn’t say I couldn’t do it. I just don’t want to.”

“Right,” Luna said sarcastically. “But you could.”

“Of course,” Ginny affirmed airily before scooping a big bite of potatoes into her mouth.

“But I don’t understand,” Luna complained innocently. “If you could do it, why wouldn’t you want to? Aren’t you supposed to spread Christmas cheer?”

“Yes, but this is Malfoy. That’s a whole different story.”

“Hmmm,” Luna hummed skeptically. “I don’t know. I think you’re just scared. I think you know that not even your mum could bite Malfoy with the Christmas bug.”

Ginny glared at the girl, then looked over at Malfoy again, who was sneering nastily at Goyle…or maybe Crabbe. She never could tell them apart. Steeling her resolve, she turned determinedly back to Luna. “Name your conditions.”

Luna thought for a moment. “Well…we’ve got to have some sort of proof, else we’ll be forever debating whether you really did it or not.” She frowned a moment, then broke into a smug grin. “I know. He has put up the star. Willingly, of course.”

Ginny felt her stomach drop. Ever year Hagrid (with the help of some of the staff and their magic) put up a truly mammoth Christmas tree out in front of the castle. It easily soared three stories high, branches thick and full and so green some swore they really were made of emeralds. Hagrid would decorate it with glittering ornaments, many of the ones like gingerbread men, toy soldiers, and angels animated so that they sang carols and danced when someone passed by, and one of the staff would cast the spell for the glimmering fairy lights.

The final touch, though, would not be added until the last day of school. After supper the evening before everyone went home, the whole school gathered out around the tree and one volunteer from among the students would fly up on his or her broom and place a gold star, glowing blindingly bright, on top. Most students considered putting up the star an honor, but the Slytherins, Malfoy in particular, scoffed at the ritual. They wouldn’t even attend at all if Dumbledore didn’t force them, and no self-respecting Slytherin would even consider volunteering for the job.

“You’re kidding, right?” Ginny tried hopefully.

Luna smiled and shook her head. “Sorry, but no. You have until we go home for the hols. That’s three days.”

Ginny bit her lip, casting one last doubtful glance towards the Slytherin table. Three days to turn Malfoy from a scrooge into this year’s “star volunteer.” It would be a Christmas miracle, all right.

“Well?” Luna prompted.

“Done.” Ginny stuck out her hand, and Luna took it, a mysterious smile on her lips.

- - - - -

Draco dragged his feet all the way down to breakfast, doing his best to ignore the incessant music and garish colors all over the place and that cinnamon smell burning his nostrils every time he stepped out of the common room. He shivered from a fresh blast of cold air, tugging his cloak tighter around his shoulders and glaring at the girl who caused it when she came in from outside.

The Great Hall itself was even worse. Fairy lights blinding him and nearly inciting a seizure everywhere he turned, ridiculous music playing louder than out in the halls, and prickly little evergreen plants on every conceivable surface. Not to mention he had to endure all the “good cheer” of the students in other houses.

Quickly veering towards his own table, he was decidedly grateful for his House. True, the members were imbeciles sometimes, but at least they chose not to partake in the rest of the school’s insufferable merrymaking.

Blaise Zabini looked up when Draco sat down and smirked. “You look like hell, mate.”

“Thank you ever so much,” he answered dryly, scooping scrambled eggs onto his plate. “And you look like you haven’t been able to find a comb for days.”

Blaise ran a hand through his messy tangle of black curls. “Really? Excellent.”

Draco arched an eyebrow as he shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

“Women love that mussed-up look,” Blaise explained.

Draco rolled his eyes and was about to inform him that no amount of tangled hair would help him in that department when a very pathetic looking owl swooped down towards the table.

He snorted at the creature’s labored attempts. “Wonder what poor sod’s getting that miserable excuse for a bird. I certainly would never associate with someone who owned the thing.”

The owl faltered a moment, but regained its momentum and continued on down the table. To Draco’s horror, it seemed headed straight for him, and sure enough, it dropped an envelope right onto his eggs as it flew by.

Blaise chuckled. “What poor sod indeed,” he quipped.

Draco glared at him. “It must be a mistake.” He picked up the envelope and turned it over in his hands. His hope collapsed when he read, written in a neat cursive hand, Draco Malfoy.

Blaise must have read the expression on his face because he asked with mock innocence, “So…was it a mistake?”

“Just shut it,” Draco snapped. He ripped the envelope open, reached inside, and pulled out a candy cane, a green ribbon tied around it with a small note attached.

“Well that’s…different,” Blaise commented, clearly trying very hard not to laugh at Draco’s incredulity.

“Who would send me a bloody candy cane by owl? By that owl?”

“Read the note,” Blaise suggested.

Draco turned it over and read aloud, “‘If you want to see something that will take your breath away, be at the edge of the Forbidden Forest at eight tonight. Don’t be late, and don’t let anyone catch you!’” He frowned and turned it over a few more times. “No name.”

Blaise reached over and plucked the envelope from Draco’s other hand. “Not on here, either,” he announced after a quick inspection. He looked up at Draco, smiling wickedly. “Somebody’s got a secret admirer.”

“Somebody with an owl like that?” Draco made a face. “No, thank you.”

Blaise chuckled, but just then a louder burst of laughter drowned him out. Draco looked over irritably to the Gryffindor table, but his expression instantly softened when he located the source.

Ginny Weasley had her head thrown back in mirth, that long scarlet hair, darker now that she was older, free and trailing down her back. Today she’d charmed little emerald jewels into it, sparkling in the light when she moved. Since it was morning she still wore her school robes, but a small red bow rested on her finger like a ring, and twin candy canes hung from her ears. He glanced down at the candy cane in his hand, wondering at the coincidence.

When she recovered a little and lifted her head, wiping tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes, he almost swore she looked right at him. He practically fell off the bench when her gaze seemed to move to the candy cane in his hand then back up to him, and she winked, actually winked, still wearing a wide smile. Draco was positive his jaw had to be somewhere around his feet.

Catching on to something by now, Blaise followed the direction of Draco’s disbelieving stare and sighed. “When are you going to give in and just bloody talk to the girl? The past two years you always had next year to fall back on, but this is our Seventh year, mate. You’re running out of time.”

Draco snapped his mouth shut, tearing his gaze away from Ginny. Ever since that damned Bat Bogey Hex Fifth year he couldn’t stop watching her. At first he blamed it on hate, but when all of his fantasies for revenge kept ending in her in his arms, kissing him with a passion to match the fire in her hair, he started to wonder. But in all that time, she had either ignored him or cursed him. Until now.

Then Blaise’s words finally registered, and he shoved the curiosity to the back of his mind for later examination. “I think I should try more potions,” Draco told Blaise.

Blaise groaned. “You’ve tried every ‘antidote’ you could find, plus your own concoctions.” He laughed. “Remember that week you spent mooning over Millicent because of one of those?”

Draco scowled. “Don’t remind me.”

“Look, the point is you’re not cursed, or bewitched, or anything else.” Blaise smirked. “What you’ve got is a real case attraction, my friend.”

Draco stabbed angrily at his eggs. “But she’s a Weasley.”

“And an attractive one at that.”

Draco snapped narrowed eyes up from his plate.

Blaise raised his hands defensively. “Down boy. Don’t worry, I prefer blondes.”

Draco shoved his plate away. “I have to get out of here. All this Christmas-y stuff is giving me a headache.”

Blaise raised a knowing eyebrow. “Whatever you say, mate. Funny, though. You don’t seem to mind holiday decorations when they’re on her….”

Draco grumbled something incoherent under his breath, stalking out of the room to the sound of Blaise’s laughter.

All through classes Draco’s attention was torn between Ginny’s unusual behavior at breakfast and the mysterious candy cane. He finally decided to pretend breakfast never happened, else he would drive himself mad, and about the candy cane he still couldn’t decide. Should he follow the note’s instructions and wait by the Forbidden Forest at eight? What if it was a trap? He debated it all the rest of the day, all through supper, and during dessert finally decided to ignore the stupid message. He wasn’t that curious.

That was why later that night, at eight o’clock to be exact, he still couldn’t fathom why he was standing out by the forest, freezing his arse off in the snow despite his warmest sweater and heaviest cloak. He pulled out that stupid candy cane and started eating it, just beginning to consider going back in when a small figure, bundled up in an oversized cloak and scarf, appeared out of the light fall of snow.

The dark and the flurries obscured his view at first, so he couldn’t identify the stranger until he, or rather she, walked right up to him. When he did, he wanted to pinch himself because standing before him was, “Weasley?”

She smiled a little timidly. “Hullo, Malfoy. Nice night.”

He blinked. This had to be a dream. Or a joke. Or something. “You sent this?” He held up the half-eaten candy cane.

She smiled again. “Looks that way, doesn’t it? Is it good?”

He stared at her for a minute. The girl had gone insane. “Err…I suppose, yeah. I mean, it’s a candy cane….” And now he’d gone insane too. Well, actually that happened fifth year, when his fixation with her began.

“Good.” She shivered, shrugged her cloak a little closer, then waved him along as she walked past him towards the forest. “Come on, then.”

He didn’t move. “Weasley, what the hell is going on?”

She turned back, eyes innocent as ever. “What do you mean?”

He raised his eyebrows. “This is just a tiny bit unusual, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Her smile surfaced again. “Well, yeah. What’s your point?”

Oh lord, he sure could pick ‘em. “Explanations would be nice, for starters.”

“I want to show you something,” she stated simply. “And obviously you’re curious because you’re here, so let’s get going already. It’s a bit of a walk.”

Then she moved off, leaving Draco dumbstruck in the snow as he watched her melt into the woods. Only when she was almost out of sight did his brain finally kick back into gear, and he ran after her. When he approached she just acknowledged his presence with a nod and kept going, and Draco couldn’t help but pinch his arm. Just to make sure.

She wasn’t lying about it being a bit of a walk. It felt like ages before she stopped, and his limbs all tingled in that frozen, practically numb way.

Voice soft, she murmured, “It’s just through here.” Then she proceeded to walk right into a very solid-looking, incredibly massive tree trunk.

He blinked, staring for a couple seconds. All right, this had to be a dream. Now he was positive. He should just plop down right here in the snow and wait to wake up.

But then her head popped back through, the rest of her body apparently somewhere in the tree, and she urged, “Hurry up, it’s cold.” Then she disappeared again.

“No kidding,” he muttered. Then, deciding if this was a dream anyway there was no reason not to follow, he faced the tree, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and prepared to slam face front into a tree.

Instead he felt a whoosh of cool air almost like water, only much lighter, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself in the midst of a scene that truly did take his breath away.

They stood in what looked like an ice palace, all shining and glimmering in shades of white and blue. A Christmas tree only slightly smaller than the one in front of the castle dominated the room, draped in silver tinsel and topped with a silver star. Ice sculptures in the shape of angels stood guard around the borders, but the most impressive sculpture had a place front and center. It was a massive depiction of the nativity, carved with such detail that he could make out the dimples on baby Jesus’s cheeks.

It was all so glorious and blinding and beautiful, the silver and blue in the walls flowing like the colors in a soap bubble, that he couldn’t find words for a moment.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Ginny breathed at his elbow.

He nodded, then remembering himself, cleared his throat and said, “I mean, it’s all right.”

She ignored him. “I come here every year. The forest sprites make it, I think. Maybe with the centaurs’ help. I don’t know, I just found it on accident my first year, and ever since it’s a tradition. And it’s always just as gorgeous.”

He let himself take it all in just a moment longer, then looked down at her. “Why did you bring me here?”

She shrugged. “I thought you might appreciate it.”

“Why?”

“Well…you’re not the most…festive person. I thought maybe if you saw a different side of Christmas, simple instead of so…gaudy….”

He looked at her suspiciously. “Are you telling me you’re trying to get me to like Christmas?”

“I just think if you gave it a chance…”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Spare me. I hate this holiday. That’s not going to change.”

She frowned. “But…why?”

“The music is obnoxious, the decorations are just as bad, it’s cold, people start acting like idiots with their moronic ‘good will towards men’ bit.” He ticked off the points on his fingers. “I just can’t stand it.”

“Even seeing this side of Christmas?” she tried hopefully. “It’s quiet, it’s simple, but it’s still so…”

“Cold,” Draco finished, annoyed and grumpy now. Ignoring the voice in his head shouting that he was ruining a perfectly good opportunity, the one that sounded suspiciously like Blaise, he turned around and stalked back out the way he came. He didn’t pause as the scenery switched back to the forest and his booted feet had to start trudging through snow again. Ginny followed almost right away.

“Malfoy, wait!”

He didn’t wait, but when she caught up, he asked, “Why would you want to bother in the first place?”

She sighed. “I just do, all right? Where are you going?”

He glanced down at her. “Where does it look like? Back to the castle.”

“Can’t we even talk?”

“Weasley, you might as well just give it up. You’re not going to convince me.”

But nevertheless she spent the entire trek back to the castle pestering him about why he didn’t like bloody Christmas. It just figured — he’d spent the past two years obsessing over this girl, and now here she was, talking to him like he never imagined would happen, and it was about a subject that made him want to spew. Afraid he would say something he’d regret later, he opted to keep his mouth firmly shut the entire time, something that clearly frustrated the girl.

When they stepped into the Entrance Hall she finally lost her patience and shouted, “You’re such a grinch, Malfoy!”

He turned to her and snapped, “Look, Weasley, Christmas is all love and joy and charity and friends and family. Does any of that sound very Slytherin-ish to you?”

“No,” she admitted grudgingly.

“Exactly. The only good part is the expensive presents our parents get us so that they don’t feel like they need to actually spend time with us, and since you obviously don’t have the money for that, you might as well just stop annoying me!”

Then he spun off and stormed towards the dungeons, but as soon as he was out of sight and calmed down he stopped, letting his head fall back against the stone with a crack. That was exactly the sort of thing he knew he would regret saying. Why did he have to open his bloody mouth?

Hell, the smart thing would have just been to go along with the whole Christmas thing, make her happy, and maybe get in a snog if he played his cards right. It’s not like he wanted to marry her or anything. After two years he could finally admit he was really attracted to her, but that didn’t mean it was anything more than lust. Maybe if he just got her out of his system…but no, he’d gone and ruined any chance of that.

He tossed and turned all that night, and the next day his mood hung over him so black that even Blaise chose not to comment. He was stomping off up to supper when a house elf suddenly cracked into existence in front of him.

He let out a yelp and skidded to a halt, practically falling flat on his arse in the process. Peering down at the thing, he said in disbelief, “Dobby?”

“Master Malfoy,” Dobby squeaked out, bowing repeatedly and looking positively terrified. “So good to see you again.” Draco knew that was a lie, but didn’t comment. “But no time to catch up! Master must follow Dobby.”

“What are you talking about?”

But the elf didn’t answer, just grabbed at his pant leg and started tugging him away from the Great Hall.

“Oi! What are you doing?” Draco protested, trying to swat the creature away. “These trousers are brand new.”

Dobby just shook his head, making his ears flop back and forth. “Dobby isn’t allowed to tell, Master Malfoy. Dobby just must bring young master to the surprise.”

“Surprise?”

But Dobby only shook his head again, and curious, Draco let himself be led. They stopped in front of the kitchens, and when they walked inside, the most delicious smells Draco could imagine assaulted him, and his mouth began to water. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

Dobby led him quietly forward, and there waiting at a table set for two sat Ginny, wearing a simple green dress with silver trim that hugged her in all the right places. Draco decided that for a Gryffindor, Ginny Weasley looked very, very good in green.

She smiled. “Hi…umm, Draco. I made us supper.” She leaned over and lifted the silver covering off first his plate and then her own. The smells washed over him again, ham, roasted potatoes, steamed vegetables in butter, fresh-baked rolls and more. “I did it all myself, from scratch. It’s everything my family usually has on Christmas.”

Draco tore himself out of a trance with the delicious food and narrowed his eyes. “Not this again.”

“Look, I just want a chance to talk to you. Now I guarantee you this food is good, and you don’t have to look at the Great Hall’s decorations while you eat. All you have to do is listen to me. Sound like a fair enough trade?”

Draco decided she made a good argument and sat down. He took his first bite and only just resisted closing his eyes from the heavenly taste of it. Maybe he would marry her after all, if she would just cook food like this every night.

“So have you always had something against Christmas, or is it only just recently?”

He shrugged, swallowing down a bite of the best potatoes he’d ever tasted. “As long as I can remember. We don’t really celebrate it at home, except the presents like I said.” He winced a little at the reminder of those words, and hurried on, “I don’t see why it’s so important to you.”

She sighed and pushed her vegetables around her plate. “I just feel so good this time of year.” She lifted her eyes to his, warm and honey brown as they seemed to focus only on him, making him momentarily forget the food as an entirely different sort of hunger overtook him. “Is it so bad that I want you to feel that too?” she asked, voice soft and compelling.

He swallowed, wishing he dared to just get up, pull her to her feet, and snog her senseless. Instead, reasoning prevailed and he thought to ask, “But that’s what I don’t understand. Why me of all people? You hate me.”

She took a bit of ham, he guessed in order to stall as she formulated an answer, then after she finished chewing answered, “Well, it is Christmas. All sorts of unexpected and unlikely things happen this time of year.” She smiled at him. “Maybe even a truce between a Weasley and a Malfoy.”

Draco didn’t know how to answer that, so he busied himself with buttering a roll. Ginny picked up the conversation then, telling him stories of her childhood and making fun of her brothers. The latter was something Draco could add to all too easily, and soon his impression of Ron had her reduced to tears she laughed so hard.

Surprisingly, she refrained from harassing him about his lack of holiday cheer the rest of the meal, only bringing up Christmas when she recounted entertaining stories of the ones past. He could see the happiness in her eyes as she told him, and listening to those tales and eating the amazing feast that she apparently ate every year around this time, he actually started to feel the smallest twinges of jealousy. He even almost, almost wished he had fond Christmas memories of his own to share.

Before he could dwell on it and either grow depressed or angry, Ginny threw down her napkin, clapped her hands together, and said, “Right! You have to help me with dessert now.” She smiled brilliantly, clearly excited. “This is one of my all-time favorite Christmas traditions. Usually you do it earlier and eat them as snacks since you have pumpkin pie for dessert, but I figured we would do it this way tonight.”

“What?” he asked, getting a bad feeling about this.

She bounced over to the icebox and pulled out a big bowl filled with something white and lumpy. “Sugar cookies!”

He wrinkled his nose and walked over, poking at the substance. “I hate to break it to you, Weasley, but that blob isn’t like any sugar cookie I’ve seen.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “You’ve never seen cookie dough before?”

“Oh,” he said, feeling rather silly now. “That’s dough.”

She stared at him for a long, awkward moment. “Oh my gosh…you’re serious, aren’t you? You’ve never seen the cookie dough before. You’ve never baked cookies? Never ever?”

He looked away uncomfortably. “That’s what house elves are for,” he mumbled.

“Oh, Draco,” she shook her head. “That’s just depressing. Well, no worries! I’ll show you how it’s done. With sugar cookies you have to chill the dough first, so that’s why I made it up ahead of time, but at least you’ll get to experience the rest. This is the fun part anyway.”

He crossed his arms, eyebrows lifting as she bustled cheerily past him to a counter nearby. “You want me to bake cookies with you?”

She rolled up her sleeves. “What? Not secure in your manhood, Mr. Malfoy?”

He snorted. “Trust me, Weasley. I’m plenty secure.”

“Great! Grab the flour. It’s in that round container over there.” She pointed.

Wondering how Ginny Weasley managed to rope him, Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin, into baking Christmas cookies, he hauled the heavy flour over to her.

Pulling up her sleeves, Ginny popped off the top to the flour and dumped a considerable amount right onto the counter.

“Umm, Weasley? Didn’t you forget something? Like, a bowl for instance.”

She smiled. “This is to roll the dough out on, Draco. Otherwise it’ll stick.”

For the second time that evening he felt incredibly stupid, so he resolved from then on to trust her obviously superior culinary skills and keep his mouth shut no matter what crazy things she did. She showed him how to roll out the dough so that it was even and wouldn’t stick, and then he helped her cut out the different shapes with cookie cutters and add the sprinkles.

When she put the first batch into the oven, she checked a clock and said, “Right, that’s got to bake about five minutes.” Then she pulled out a small hunk of raw dough and handed it to him before taking one for herself.

Draco stared at it. “What’s this for?”

Ginny giggled. “You really are clueless. It’s to eat.”

“Raw?”

“Of course. A lot of people actually prefer it this way. Myself, I can’t decide which way I like better…so I just have both.” She grinned and popped her piece into her mouth.

Draco sniffed at the little ball uncertainly, then tentatively, dropped it into his mouth. His eyes lit up. “This is fantastic,” he couldn’t help but admit.

She smiled, so pleased it actually made a warmth spread through him to know he caused it. “Told you. Have some more if you want.”

He did, and then Ginny announced the first batch should be just about finished. When the oven door opened, Draco couldn’t resist but walk closer. Ginny elbowed him playfully as she walked towards the counter with them. “You’re as bad as my brothers.”

That convinced him to back off a little. Ginny set them down and right away scooped up two with a spatula, handing one to him. “Quick, eat it while it’s still hot from the oven,” she told him, taking a bite of her own. Needing no convincing, he ate his, a Christmas tree shaped one with green sprinkles, in two bites. Ginny laughed and said, “Now you’re really as bad as my brothers.”

He smirked and grabbed another. Just like her supper, these cookies had to be the absolute best he’d ever had.

Having stopped after two (“Got to watch my girlish figure, you know,” she’d joked), Ginny set about rolling out the next batch and getting them in the oven while Draco munched from the first.

After he was fit to bursting, long since having lost count of how many he’d eaten, Draco leaned back against the counter and asked, “So, what was the point of all this really, Weasley? What’s your game?”

Ginny looked up from where she was rolling out the last batch of cookie dough, and Draco had to use every ounce of control not to smile at the streak of flour going from her nose to her ear. “I think you’re giving me too much credit. I’m a Gryffindor, remember? We don’t scheme.”

“Maybe they don’t,” Draco allowed, “but you’re different. We both know that, so why don’t you just tell me your angle?”

A slow, amused smile spread over her face. She picked up a cookie cutter and pressed it into the dough. “You said everything about Christmas didn’t mesh with Slytherins. Love, good will, family and friends, all that.”

“Yes.”

“So I got to thinking, and I realized you were wrong.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That so.”

She nodded, wiping at her face with the back of her hand and spreading the smear of flour further. “Food. A lot of Christmas traditions are all about food — ham, turkey, candy canes, fudge, gingerbread,” she grinned, “sugar cookies. If nothing else, even a hardcore Slytherin like yourself can admit that the food is the absolute best at Christmastime.”

Draco opened his mouth to debate that, just for the sake of argument, but remembering all the heavenly fare now sitting comfortably in his belly, he found he couldn’t bring himself to disagree.

While Draco was still trying to formulate some way to refute her, Ginny added, “Besides, we had fun, didn’t we?”

She picked up the last tray of cookies and carried them over to where he stood by the oven. He watched her every step, the way the green fabric of her dress moved over her body, the light swing of her thick hair, and the expectant, almost hopeful look in her honey brown eyes. She bent over to put the cookies in, and when she straightened back up she stood so close he could smell the vanilla and cinnamon of her. Oddly enough, cinnamon from her didn’t bother him at all.

Not thinking, he lifted up his hand and gently wiped away the streak of flour on her cheek with his thumb. He let his hand rest near the base of her jaw and answered quietly, “Yeah. I guess we did.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed but oddly unafraid, and he held his breath, waiting for some sign that she would allow a kiss. Just when he was mustering up the nerve to do it, sign or no sign, she laughed nervously and pulled away. He cursed mentally, wishing he’d just taken his opportunity when it was there.

Ginny went about the task of cleaning everything up, managing to keep a smooth flow of small talk going as she did, and when the cookies were done she wrapped all the leftover up and handed them to him. “Here, you take these. Mum and I will be making loads more when I go home, so I don’t need them.”

He accepted, feeling their fingers brush as he did. Then she offered him one last smile, gave his arm an awkward squeeze of farewell that nevertheless spiked his pulse for a second, and she turned to leave.

Just before she stepped through the door, Draco mustered up his courage and called, “Weasley!” She looked back, and he hesitated a beat before forcing himself to say, “You should wear my colors more often. They suit you.”

She smiled, inclining her head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And then she left. Draco looked down at the plate of covered cookies in his hands, a small smile appearing on his own lips. He walked back to his own dormitory that night thinking that maybe there was just the slightest chance that Christmas wasn’t such a terrible thing to celebrate after all. If the right person showed you how.

The next morning he woke up feeling refreshed and optimistic, something quite singular for him as he was most definitely not a morning person. He even whistled along with “Jingle Bells” as he walked to breakfast before he realized what he was doing and stopped, looking around quickly to see if anyone heard.

He sat in his usual place across from Blaise, offering the boy a pleasant, “Good morning.”

Blaise looked at him quizzically. “What, no morning grunt of acknowledgment? Something must be horribly wrong.”

Draco rolled his eyes, stabbing two pancakes and plopping them onto his plate. He couldn’t help but wonder what Ginny’s pancakes tasted like, and if he would ever have the chance to wake up with her and find out. “Can’t I just be in a good mood?”

Blaise seemed to think about it. “This early?” He shook his head. “No, no I don’t think so.”

Draco tried to hold back his smile (it would only encourage him), but couldn’t help but let it show faintly. “Well, this morning I am.” He glanced at Blaise’s look of incredulity. “Why shouldn’t I be? There’s no classes today, I got to sleep in, and after that stupid ‘putting up the star’ ceremony, we’re going home for the hols. What’s there to be upset about?”

“Nothing, but you’re usually very good at finding things to be angry about when I can’t see any.”

Draco just shrugged and poured a generous amount of syrup over his pancakes. He either ignored or side-stepped all further attempts from Blaise to get information, and left the Hall without having zapped a single ornament off a single miniature tree. He was just walking through the Entrance Hall when Ginny burst through the door, hair tied back by a fat green ribbon but still wild, cheeks flushed from cold and excitement and eyes bright with laughter.

“Draco! I’m so glad I found you!”

He blinked. “What?”

“Come on!” She ran forward and snatched his hand, taking off at a run back outside and dragging him with her.

“Where are we going?” he yelled over the rush of freezing wind.

“Snowball fight!” she called back happily.

He just had time to register the words when she dropped his hand, still running, bent over to scoop up a handful of snow and turned around to pelt it at him, hitting him square in the chest.

He looked down in disbelief, only lifting his gaze again when he heard her laughing.

“You should see the look on your face,” she gasped out.

He narrowed his eyes and bent over to scoop up a snowball of his own, hurling it right into her arm. She jumped in shock, and now he laughed. “It probably looks a lot like yours,” he retorted.

Ginny whipped another at him so fast he didn’t have time to follow it before it hit him in the shoulder, and then she was running, pony tail streaming out behind her like a ribbon of flame. He chased after her, and as they got further from the school and more students started popping up, he realized this was a school-wide snowball war, complete with sides. It looked mostly house-against-house, but since he was probably the only Slytherin there, he just fell in with whoever looked like they were winning at the time.

But not matter which team he joined he was on the lookout for Ginny, and she him judging by how often he felt the sting of her blows. He felt one hit the back of his head at one point and spun around to find her giggling. She waved and blew him a kiss, then took off at a sprint. He followed closely behind, scooping up more snow as he went, and he almost got within decent range when she suddenly shrieked and went down, disappearing over the side of a hill neither of them had noticed.

He tried to skid to a halt, but the snow was too slick here, practically hardened to ice, and he too went careening over the edge, rolling all the way down the hill on a soft blanket of snow.

He landed with an “oomph” on top of something soft, and shaking the snow out of his hair, he raised himself up on his elbows to find himself staring directly into Ginny’s eyes. Or, he would have been anyway, if she wasn’t laughing so hard that she had them closed, little tears streaking from the corners.

“Oh my gosh,” she gasped into bouts of giggles. “I completely forgot that hill was there.”

Under normal circumstances he would have agreed, or at least said something vaguely snarky, but right now he was lying on the ground on top of Ginny Weasley, the damp silk of her hair lying under his hands and her body pressed tight to his, and his brain seemed to stop functioning. The one clear thought in his head was that her lips, so red and inviting just then, would probably taste far better than anything she could cook.

He even started to lean down, but then Ginny gave his chest a shove. “Get off, I can’t breathe you great brute,” she teased.

Finally breaking out of his trance, realizing what he was just about to do, he quickly rolled off of her, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. Beside him, Ginny rolled up and shook the snow out of her pony tail. “Well, that was fun.”

He snorted. “Yeah, you bet. Now I’m cold and wet. Wetter, anyway. I think there’s snow inside my shirt.”

She laughed. “Come on, I have an idea.”

He followed her as she climbed to her feet, trooping back towards the castle. Inside they climbed up the stairs, and then climbed some more…and then some more. It finally struck Draco where she was leading him.

“Your taking me to Gryffindor?” he demanded incredulously.

“No one will be there,” she said, unconcerned. “They’re all outside still. We’ll have the whole common room to ourselves.”

He started to tell her that there was no way he was stepping foot inside the bloody Gryffindor common room, but then he thought about having Ginny all to himself in a private room and decided maybe just this once he would make an exception.

She whispered the password so he couldn’t hear and led him inside. She told him to wait while she ran off, reappearing a moment later to toss him a pair of trousers and a sweater that probably belonged to her brother, then she kept right on and disappeared through a different door. He just finished changing when she walked back down the steps, dressed in a green long sleeve shirt and matching flannel pajama bottoms with little silver reindeer sporting red noses that actually glowed.

“Festive to the end,” he commented dryly.

She grinned. “At least I didn’t give you Harry’s Christmas tree pajamas to wear.” She mock-pouted and spun around for him. “Besides, I thought you would appreciate the color choice. You did say it suited me, after all.”

He smiled and stepped close. “It does that.”

She winked at him as she’d done three mornings ago, then stepped back and walked over to the corner of the room where a huge thermos sat on a small wooden table. Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair. She wasn’t making things easy on a bloke, that was for sure. She returned with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, perfect dollops of whip cream on both.

“Over here.” She walked towards the fireplace that was already roaring and sat down in an armchair, motioning for him to do likewise opposite her.

He did, taking a sip and sighing contentedly. Music was playing lightly in the background, and unlike his common room Gryffindor was decked out in all manner of decorations, but for once neither bothered him all that much. They drank in silence for a long time, simply enjoying the moment and the crackle of the fire, then Ginny suddenly announced, “I love this song.” Draco, who wasn’t really paying attention, cocked his head and identified “White Christmas” playing slow and mellow.

She put down her mug and jumped to her feet, beckoning to Draco. “Dance with me?”

He blinked. “You’re kidding.”

“Please?”

He shook his head, but he wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to be close to her, so he set down his hot chocolate and walked slowly over to her. He presented her with an elaborate bow to which she curtsied primly, then he took her hand and pulled her close, resting his free hand low on her hip. He could feel her curves fitting to his body as they swayed lazily across the floor, could smell the vanilla of her hair and the cinnamon of her skin, could even make out the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He moved his hand to wrap his arm about her waist, holding her even closer, and decided he’d never felt happier.

She laid her head against his chest, sighing contentedly. “So your family really doesn’t have any traditions?” she asked sleepily.

He hesitated a moment, unsure if what he was about to do was pushing it, but decided to risk it and rested his lips on the top of her head and that smooth hair. “Not really.”

“Hmmm. Well, at least you got to do some of my traditions, right?”

He smiled a little. “Right.” She lifted up her head then, so he stepped back and spun her away once, neatly pulling her back into his arms and enjoying the sound of her laughter as he did.

When they got back into their slow rhythm again, Ginny murmured, “So do you still hate Christmas?”

He hesitated, but thinking back on the short time he’d spent with this girl dancing so slowly in his arms now, remembering her laughter and the joy surrounding her all the time, he knew none of it would have been possible if not for Christmas. Wasn’t it Ginny herself who’d said “all sorts of unexpected and unlikely things happen this time of year”? And so if he were honest with himself, he had to admit, “No, actually, I don’t think I do. Not anymore.”

He could feel her smile against his chest, and he was sure if he could see it that it would dazzle him. “Good. You really only missed out one major tradition.”

“What’s that?”

“Decorating a tree. The ones at Hogwarts are already done, but I still get to decorate mine when I go home. It’s a shame you won’t get to have that. It would have made everything perfect.”

He shrugged. “That’s all right. I don’t mind.”

“But it’s just not right,” she insisted. “That’s the best tradition of all.” She was quiet then, but as the song concluded she pulled back, an excited glint to her eye. “I know!”

He had a feeling he was going to regret it, but he asked anyway, “What?”

“You could put up the star!”

He stared at her for a moment, then doubled over in laughter. “You’re kidding! Me put up the star?”

She frowned. “Well, it’s not the same as decorating the whole tree, but at least it would be close.”

“Ginny, I’ll admit I can stand Christmas, but are you mad? I mean, that’s really just asking too much, don’t you think?”

She looked at him, eyes no longer warm and happy, but not angry either. Just disappointed and a little sad. “All right. I wouldn’t want you to do it if you don’t really want to. I just…” she shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Look,” he said, feeling a little guilty by the obvious defeat in her voice, “I’m sorry, but I just can’t do that. Why don’t we just forget about it and finish our hot chocolate?”

Ginny looked over at the fireplace and sighed, muttering something that sounded vaguely like “should’ve known,” then she turned to him and said, “No, I think you better go. It’s getting late and they might come back any time now.”

Draco felt all his hopes crash down around him, and he spent a long moment just standing there, unable to comprehend how everything had gone from perfect to so terribly, terribly wrong so quickly. Then anger started churning through his veins, anger at her for being so impossible, for caring so much about bloody pointless traditions. How could she honestly expect this of him, anyway? He would be a laughing stock! He’d never show his face again!

“Fine,” he gritted out. “I’ll go.” Then without another word, he pivoted stiffly on his heel and stomped off through the portrait hole.

Suddenly the Christmas music in the hallway got on his nerves again, the cinnamon burned his nose just like before, and he still couldn’t bear the site of the garish holiday decorations. He spent the rest of the day holed up in his blessedly neutral common room, growling at anyone stupid enough to come near.

So close. He’d been so close. And the most pathetic, disgusting, infuriating part of it all — he already missed her.

By the time he trudged out to watch the star go up, only because Dumbledore required every student attend, he didn’t think he had ever felt so miserable. He was one of the last to arrive, but he still spotted Ginny easily in the crowd, her crimson strands and the fat green ribbon holding it easy to pick out. She was talking to that Looney Lovegood girl, her arms wrapped around her against the chill and a slightly unhappy look on her face, though she did a valiant job of trying to hide it behind fake smiles. But even from here he could tell that they never reached her eyes.

It made him sick to know that he did that to her. He remembered her honest laughter, the sincerity of her smiles before and how good she felt against him and how good he’d felt around her. He remembered too how pleased she got every time he admitted one more thing about Christmas he could stand, and just like that he knew how he could make her smiles real again.

So when Dumbledore held up the brilliantly shining gold star and called for a volunteer, he didn’t give himself a chance to think about what he did next. He didn’t let himself contemplate how he would be teased and made fun of, or how he would never live it down. All he let himself consider was the look on Ginny’s face.

“I’ll do it,” he called, stepping forward through the crowd. A collective gasp rose from most of the students, more than a few sniggers from his own house, but he ignored them all. He didn’t even dare look at Ginny. If he were to keep his nerve, he could handle no distractions.

Dumbledore gazed at him with that infuriating twinkle in his eyes. “Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasant surprise.” He held out a broom. “Please, I would be happy to see you perform the task.”

Taking a breath, Draco took the broom and then the star. He flew quickly to the top of the monstrous tree, noting irritably that it was even colder this high up, and that the star hurt his eyes and made it hard to see, but he managed to find the right spot and secure it in place anyway. His stomach felt a little sick thinking about the kind of torture he would have to take from his housemates for this, but it was all worth it when he touched back down again and saw Ginny waiting for him with a breath-taking smile. A sincere one that reached all the way to warm, happy eyes.

“You did it,” she stated.

He nodded. “I did.”

She smiled and looked down, then lifted her face back up to him. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He walked up to her and shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad. Didn’t I tell you that Christmas was tolerable after all?”

She grinned. “I suppose you did.”

“But you were wrong about one thing.”

She looked at him, puzzled. “What?”

“You said decorating the tree was the best tradition of all. It’s not.”

She raised her eyebrows, the corners of her mouth quirking. “So what is, since you’re such an expert on Christmas?”

He pointed up. “Mistletoe.” Then he leaned down and kissed her, managing to gather her close to his chest without breaking contact. He kissed her long and slow and sweet, feeling his blood sing when she sighed into his mouth and returned his efforts double. And he was right — her lips did taste better than anything she could cook.

When he finally pulled back, she kept her eyes closed for a long moment and he couldn’t resist leaning down to kiss each eyelid in turn. After he straightened up, her eyes fluttered open and she smiled. Then she looked up above their heads and scrunched up her eyebrows in confusion.

“Draco…there’s no mistletoe.”

He smirked. “I know.”

- - - - -

A/N – Well I hope I didn’t send anyone into fluff-overload haha. I just couldn’t resist — personally, I think Christmas stories should be so fluffy you can bounce on ‘em lol, so hopefully you feel the same.

Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays to everyone who doesn’t celebrate Christmas!