Author’s Note: Written for Lyndsie’s holiday fic competition. Edited slightly from the original.

If it had been anyone else, he would have laughed in their face with a cutting remark or two and told them to shove off. But instead of being inside with a nice strong drink or two, he was trudging through the blasted cold and piles of snow that had yet to be shovelled away from the cobblestone streets.

Grumbling, he shoved his hands into his pockets, and kicked a bit of snow in front of him.

“Hey!” a very familiar voice cried out and Draco looked up to see garish red hair accompanying a very indignant expression. He raised an eyebrow and smirked, seeing that the powdered snow had landed all over the bottom of Weasley’s robes. Perhaps today was looking up after all.

She placed a hand on her hip. “You could at least say you’re sorry.”

“My mother taught me not to lie.”

The corner of Weasley’s mouth twitched. “Did she also teach you to kick snow on some poor unsuspecting soul?”

“At least it wasn’t yellow.”

She rolled her eyes but there seemed amused. “Thank Merlin for small favours. What are you doing out here anyways? I thought you had minions to run errands for you.”

“Competence is hard to come by these days.” Draco noted the sparkle in her eyes, and the flush of her cheeks as she stood beneath the lamppost with several shopping bags. She was probably last minute Christmas shopping. “Must admit I’m surprised you had any money to spare on non-second hand stores. Potter’s charity I take it? Come to think of it, surprised you buy any presents at all. That usually requires friends to buy them for,” he added, shoving his hands in his pockets, it was bloody cold after all, before continuing to walk towards the store.

She didn’t rise to the bait, to his disappointment. “Wait! You didn’t answer my question.” She rushed to catch up to him.

He smirked but kept walking, mentally noted that her persistence won out over good sense. “Yes, that usually implies one does not want to answer it.” He hadn’t planned for any interactions with the peasants today, but exceptions could always be made. Mother always encouraged charity to the less fortunate after all … and it had been days since he had ruined anyone’s mood…

Her gasp interrupted his thoughts. “The only store this way is for…” She paused a moment, her eyes widening. “You are buying a Christmas tree?” She laughed.

Draco folded his arms and narrowed his eyes, suspicion colouring his voice as she walked faster to keep up with him. “Your point?”

“Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said quickly. She grabbed his arm and he sharply turned to look at her. A sheepish expression crossed her face.

“Sorry, I was only trying to get you to slow down.”

He said nothing but apparently had made her uncomfortable as she blushed and looked away from his gaze. “Most people don’t voluntarily touch me.”

“Why?”

Was she really that naïve? Her curious eyes told him, yes, she was that naïve. “Attempted murderer ring a bell?” He half-expected her to skitter away just like all the others, but to his surprise she waved it off.

“Oh, that.”

“What? I have to be elevated to convicted murderer to scare you?”

“Yup,” she said with a smile.

He was taken back for a moment and the thought that she was pretty cross his mind. As well as the thought that she was incredibly stupid.

“Look, if we never move on from the war then we’d be perpetually miserable. It’s not to say that I haven’t forgotten the things you’ve done, but I think you’re not as big of an arse as you want people to believe.”

Draco scoffed at that. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Where’s Pothead? I’m sure he’s missing his puppy by now.”

“How would I know where he is?”

“You are his stalker, are you not?”

“Ex,” she laughed. “In more ways than one.” She spun around, inadvertently catching him with a little bit of the snow that had been on her robes. Irritated, he frowned at her, but as usual it didn’t seem to disturb her in the slightest. “I don’t see anyone around. Looks like just you and me,” she said. A mischievous smile crossed her face and he tensed wondering if he should be afraid of being alone with her. Before he realised what she was doing, she looped her free arm through his.

He stiffened, but she acted like it was nothing out of the ordinary. “Paws off, Weasel. Tolerance does not equal acceptance.”

She ignored him. “Why, thank you, Draco,” she gushed. “I’m so touched I’ve reached your tolerance level.” She laughed.

His mouth twitched. “That’s more than most.”

“I should be ever so flattered then. I suppose that means you have no choice but to let me help you pick out your tree, as you’re feeling so … magnanimous and all.” Her eyes danced and he had the sense she was one of those annoying little Christmas people. Nothing would dampen their mood as long as the holidays were around.

Draco let out a deep sigh. “Instead of Pothead, they should have just sent you to face the Dark Lord. You could have annoyed him to death,” he said.

“Hey, you might actually offend me one of these times.”

“If one should be so lucky,” he murmured.

She elbowed him in response and laughed at his disgruntled expression. It was a completely uninhibited sound. Something he hadn’t really heard since before the war. There were too many unpleasant memories for people to forget for even a moment. His mother. She used to smile whenever Father or he was in the room, but now. Well, even the wilful ignorance she had employed during Father’s ‘business meetings’ wasn’t able to serve her well now that Father was gone. Most of the time, she only spoke a few words. Customary greetings, enough to keep up proper decorum when they had visitors. Until last night, when she had sighed and wistfully mentioned the live Christmas trees they had decorated together as a family. Afterwards, they had always hired a professional to embellish the manor to be the best one out of all their acquaintances. Fairies’ lights in the halls, holly with enchanted snow in the windowsills, and all the fireplaces burning with pinecones. This year the manor was barren. No lights, or enchanted snow, and certainly no trees in the foyer. He knew it pained his mother that very few people would associate with them now, including their decorator.

Which brought him to his current state, sacrificing his well-being in this blizzard with a Weasel dangling off his arm. His mother had better appreciate this. He was beginning to realise that this particular weasel was hard to offend and perhaps it was time for a … tactical re-evaluation. There would be more opportunities, and she was beginning to annoy him. His plan was backfiring. “I’m sure there are free hand-outs I wouldn’t dare keep you from.”

“If you’re talking about dinner. Yes, I have a dinner date later tonight with my mother, who makes the best shepherd’s pie, and bangers and mash, and …” Her voice sounded wistful, and she seemed to shake herself out of reminiscing of peasants’ food. “Then there’s going to be her fudge that she only makes during the holidays for dessert. But you aren’t getting rid of me that easily,” she said in an amused tone. “We’ll pick out your tree – say, who’s it for anyways?”

Before he could answer, a man’s voice sounded in the distance. “Oi, Ginny!”

“Oh shite. I completely forgot.” She gave Draco an apologetic look. “I was supposed to meet with Ron.”

An idea struck him and, as she attempted to pull her arm back, he tightened his, keeping their arms interlocked. For good measure, he placed his other hand on top of hers in what looked like an endearing gesture.

Weasley tugged her arm again but was no match for his strength. “What? Ron’s about to-” A look of horror and understanding crossed her face.

Draco smirked.

He could tell when Weasley King recognised who his sister was with as his ears turned red then purple even from this distance. He leaned over, pausing for a moment as he savoured her discomfort. “Don’t start what you can’t finish,” he murmured. He composed himself as Weasley King finally caught up to them.

“Ginny! What are you doing here with this…this-” Ron rushed up to them, snow plodding out in front of him as he skittered to a stop before them. He pointed a finger at Draco.

“Any day now, Weasley.” Years of practice let him school his expression as Weasley got angrier and angrier. He was beginning to understand and maybe even like this Christmas spirit thing after all.

His face turned an angry shade of purplish-red and he sputtered out the first thing that came to his mind, “Heathen!”

Draco raised an eyebrow then and pointedly looked at Weasley’s unkempt appearance. The laces in his boots had come undone, his hair a dishevelled mess, and his obviously hand knit jumper wrinkled.

He let Ginny, who had been constantly trying to tug her arm out, pull away then.

“Ron,” she said nervously, putting her hands in front of her in a placating gesture. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Draco took the opportunity to shoot her a hurt look.

“I thought we talked about this, darling. I thought you were ready to tell your family about us.”

Weasley’s mouth dropped open and he spun his shocked eyes on Ginny. “The ferret? Really, Ginny?”

“No! Ron, that’s a load of rubbish! He’s trying to rile you up!” She stepped closer to her brother, but he had taken a step back from her in horror. Draco revelled in the scowl she sent his way.

“After a wonderful year together, this is how you treat me? I was looking forward to your mother’s famous shepherd’s pie…”

“THIS was your announcement at dinner tonight?”

“NO!” Ginny said.

Oh this couldn’t have gone any better than if he had planned it. Draco could see why people liked Christmas. Families all in one place to annoy. Prodding and poking at each of them to see who could be provoked into fighting with another family member.

“No use denying it now,” he said, wrapping his arm around Ginny, who tried to shove it off. He held on tightly though and her small frame was no match.

“I- …wow.” Weasley shook his head at her. “I hope you know what you’re doing. I’m telling Mum about this.”

He Apparated and Draco dropped his arm around Ginny.

She shoved him. “You prat! Thanks a lot. Now I’m going to have all of them hounding me about you.” She glared at him. “I’d better go fix this before it gets out of hand.”

He snickered. He hadn’t had this much fun in a while and was reluctant to let her leave. Who knew who he could annoy next with her as bait? “What about the tree?”

“Do it yourself, you pillock,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest. “Now you’ve finished having your spot of fun at another’s expense-”

“Mother will be so disappointed. Heartbroken, I dare say. Her first Christmas without her husband, and now no tree…”

She gasped and shot him a dirty look. “That’s low, Draco, even for you,” she groused. “You are carrying my bags, then.”

He was about to refuse, as such tasks were beneath him, when he caught sight of a lacy little thing peeping out from one of the tissues in a bag. Grabbing them before she realised her mistake, he quickly pulled it out. “Why, Weasley, I had no idea you shopped at Nimue’s Naughty Knickers.”

She placed a hand on her hip and to her credit she maintained her composure despite her blush. “It’s a … it’s a gift! … For Hermione!”

“Why, Weasley,” he said slyly, “I had no idea she was your type. Whatever will Weasel King say?” Much to his delight, the redness on her face spread down to her chest. He wondered exactly how far down it went. “Though really, Weasley, if you’re going to lie, you’ll need to do better than that pitiful attempt. “

“If you’re done now, the trees are over this way.”

He gloated at how cross she looked but unfortunately had to go back to the task at hand. He could see row upon row of Christmas trees and Tiny Tim’s Tall Trees’ sign up ahead, with the ugliest decorations he had ever seen on the tree in the front. It probably didn’t help that some of the ornaments were of Pothead. Draco entertained the idea of purchasing some for target practice later. They approached the first row of trees and Draco shrugged. “I don’t see how hard it can be. I’ll just pick the first green thing that catches my fancy. A tree is a tree-”

She gasped and stared at him with wide eyes. “Heresy! They are NOT all the same. How can you say that?”

“Does it really matter which one I get?”

Her incredulous expression suggested yes, yes it really did matter.

“Alright, alright, no need to get your knickers in a twist.” Adding with a sly smile, “Though what a nice set of knickers they are.”

She shook her head. “You’re such a boy.” She motioned him over to a set of trees that had caught her eye underneath the enchanted snowflake display. It seemed like overkill to him since they already had their shop set up outdoors, but what did he know?

“What do you think of this one?” she said.

It looked exactly the same as the other ten trees that surrounded it. He nodded towards the assistant standing by, indicating that was the one he wanted it. The heavy pine scent was getting to him, as was the Weird Sister’s Christmas album being played on repeat. He’d heard more than enough of it at home to recognise the terrible warbling. “Send the bill through post,” he told the elf with a Santa hat. “Have it delivered to Malfoy manor.”

“Wait! You can’t just pick that one – you didn’t even look at it!” she protested.

“You did, though. Why do the work myself when I can get someone else to do it for me?” There was no sense in doing double the work. He didn’t understand, but chalked it up to Weasley logic.

She growled at him. “You’re supposed to look at all the trees, think about a type that would fit your house or flat and then find the best one.” She crossed her arms, looking quite put out. She sighed. “Baby steps, I suppose.”

“I need to be getting back to my mother. If you’ll excuse me, Weasley.” He nodded curtly at her, returning her bags.

She gave him a small smile, waving a goodbye at him. “Until next time.”

“I hope not,” Draco muttered low enough so that it would seem accidental, though he had every intention of her hearing it.

She laughed, catching onto his game. “Prat. Bye, Draco.” Her steps were light as she hummed a song he recognised was also from the Weird Sisters. Strangely, he didn’t seem to mind the tune as much this time.

His wand in hand, he waited a moment, watching her leave. There was something definitely wrong with her. Not right in the head, but … interesting.

It was then that he saw Weasley pass by the tree in the front. A much larger figure rudely bumped into her, causing her to fall towards the tree. She fell into its base, ugly ornaments and all, but that wasn’t the worst of it. It started to topple towards her and she held out one hand in alarm. He could see her other was frantically trying to reach for her own wand.

He ran towards her firing spells at the tree, but didn’t make it in time. It crashed on top of her. Draco frantically searched. “Weasley!” His voice was gruff. “Weasley!” Panic flushed through him.

A small voice replied. “Ginny.”

“What?” Pushing aside the branches, he reached towards the voice.

She coughed, and he pulled her out. Thankfully, she seemed largely unhurt. “My name’s Ginny.”

He said nothing to that but helped her up. Also strangely, he didn’t feel the urge to wash his hands of Weasley germs like he used to. Perhaps he was coming down with something.

She brushed herself off, pulling pine needles from her hair, as the manager came over to apologize. Ginny waved him off, and the man set the tree back into place. Draco crushed the remains of one the Pothead ornament under his boot. Completely accidental of course.

“You alright?”

“Yes, thanks, but you owe me a consolation lunch.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I was not the one that pushed you into that tree. And if I had I would definitely not be buying you lunch afterwards. If anything it’s Pothead’s fault.”

She cocked her head at him. “How do you figure that? If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been here,” she said, smiling and her tone teasing. She turned her head around to look at the back of her robes, dusting off any stray tree parts.

Draco pulled the now broken Potter figurine from the ground and shoved it at her.

Ginny started laughing. “It was worth a shot. Charity and Christmas and all.” She winked at him.

If he wasn’t mistaken, she was teasing him, if not outright flirting with him. She was pretty. But there was always a catch. “What’s your angle?” he asked sharply.

“Fish and chips mostly. A spot of decent company second. I haven’t had this much fun in ages.”

“Getting hit by a tree is your idea of fun, Weasley? I knew you were mad but-”

“Ginny,” she corrected.

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Fine, Ginny.”

“Please?” she asked.

No. Definitely not. But his mouth decided on something else. “Fine.”

“Really?” Her face burst into a wide smile.

He started to retract his offer, but it was almost as if she knew him.

“Don’t answer that. Let’s go then! I know this great place.” She reached for his arm again, but this time he was ready for it.

He evaded her grubby little paws and smirked at her expression. “Ah ah ah, Weasl-Ginny.” He corrected himself before she could.

She quickly darted for his arm again, but he was faster. “I was a seeker remember?”

“Ginny!” Another, familiar and annoying voice that had irritated him for years interrupted them from the other side of the cobblestone streets. He would know that voice anywhere.

Ginny squinted, peering towards the sound, but the snow had picked up. She couldn’t quite make out the person. “Harry?” she muttered to herself. She frowned. “Ron had to have sent him.”

Another idea popped into Draco’s head, and a smirk crossed his face. “Ginny.”

She turned to him. “Yes?”

Draco pointed up, and timed his next move just as he heard Potter closing in on them. “Mistletoe.”

Ginny realised his game and started to put her hands up. “Oh no, you-”

He crushed her petite frame to his and bent down to kiss her. Originally, it had been a sacrifice for the greater good of irritating Potter, but her warm mouth tasted of peppermint. She was soft and pliable in his arms, and it wasn’t half bad. She even kissed him back before her senses got the better of her and she pulled back.

“Really, Draco?” She sighed. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” A wicked gleam entered her eyes and she added, “But then again I thought you would have been a better kisser.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, but didn’t have the chance to retort. Potter came alongside them.

“Ginny!” Harry said in shock. “Ron told me, but I didn’t believe it. Malfoy? Really?”

“Oh stuff it, Harry. It’s none of your business. I’ll date whomever I’d like.” Giving him a hug, she waved him off. “I’ll see you at dinner, and if you really want to, you can give me the ‘you don’t know what you’re doing’ speech then. While you’re here, you should get Mum something; she loves the little candles sold from the shop on the corner.” She pointed and gave Potter a shove that, unfortunately, was friendly.

She pulled Draco along, leaving a flabbergasted Potter behind.

“Not bad, Weas-Ginny. I personally would have thrown an insult or two in there, but not bad for an amateur.” They strolled along passing several shops with the snow falling all around them. He could see the fish and chips place not too far up ahead.

“Well, we all have things we need to work on. I think I’m doing perfectly alright if the thing I need to improve the most is my insults.” She smirked. “If I needed to improve snogging however…”

“About that,” he said, narrowing his eyes. Never had anyone complained about his kissing skills before. There was something wrong with her.

She laughed after glancing at him. “Oh, Draco, you silly boy.” She moved in front of him, stopping him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her eyes were glittering again and he found himself captivated by her happiness. She kissed him of her own volition this time, slowly, softly, and he found it was better than the first time. Less rushed, more pleasant. Warming him up like his favourite cup of chocolate.

He blinked at her when she pulled back, not quite sure what to make of the mix of feelings. He fell back on the training his mum had given him and offered his arm to her.

He was rewarded with a beaming smile.

“Happy Christmas, Draco.”

It was shaping up to be a very happy Christmas indeed.