It's Christmas time at the Burrow and all the Weasleys are celebrating, and playing host to a not so unexpected guest.
Categories: Completed Short Stories Characters:
Arthur Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Molly Weasley, Other Characters, Ron Weasley
HBP and belowEra:
Drama, Humor, RomanceWarnings:
May 08, 2014 Updated:
May 08, 2014
This fic was written for the 2014 D/G Fic Exchange. The usual disclaimers apply (I am not JKR, nor do I pretend to be).
1. Christmas Cookies by Pan
Here is the original prompt:
Briefly describe what you'd like to receive in your fic:
The tone/mood of the fic: Fluffy and happy. Yup. I am requesting fluff.
An element/line of dialogue/object you would specifically like in your fic: Bonus points if The Princess Bride shows up, also if you can work "Winter Wonderland" into it. And a ton of Weasley family.
Preferred rating of the fic you want: SN/DN
More canon, or more AU? Canon, please.
Deal Breakers (anything you don't want?): Horror, really sad stuff. Tragedy, character death, none of that warning stuff, please.
It was Christmas Eve at the Burrow, Ginny’s favorite time of year. The Weasleys had been decorating the house all day: hanging wreaths and garlands, wrapping presents, and trimming the tree. The whole house smelled like gingerbread. Mrs. Weasley had been in the kitchen for most of the afternoon baking cookies and pies for Christmas day. The Burrow glowed with candlelight and faint music emanated from the old radio. It was late, most everyone had gone home or upstairs to bed. Ginny sat at the kitchen table, sipping a mug of hot cocoa and admiring the pile of sugar cookies that she had just finished icing. Ginny thought the cookies needed something else, so she opened the baking cabinet and gathered a few packages of Bertie Botts’ Every Flavor Beans, Fizzing Whizbees, and Sugar Straws, making sure to avoid the shelf of untested Wheezes her brothers had discarded. Just as she was turning back to face the cookies, she heard a door open and light footsteps coming down the stairs. Thinking that it was just one of her brothers coming for a glass of water, Ginny spread out the packages on the table. She was just opening the second box of whizbees when the footsteps stopped. Ginny looked up and promptly spilled the whizbees all over the floor.
“Oh, I did know anyone was still awake,” said Draco Malfoy.
“They’re not,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “I forgot you were… here,” she finished lamely.
“I just came for some water.”
“Right. Well, ok.”
He gave her an odd look, crossed to where the glasses were kept and plucked one off the shelf. Clearly he knew where everything was in the small kitchen and was about to fill up the glass when his eyes landed on the remains of Ginny’s hot cocoa.
“You made cocoa?” He asked.
“Yes.” She paused. “Do you want some?”
Before he could respond, Ginny poured the last bit of cocoa from the pot on the stove into a mug and handed it to Draco. Then she reached into her back pocket and pulled out her wand. Draco took a step back. Ginny laughed.
“I was just going to warm it up. It’s gone cold.”
He held out the mug toward her; she tapped her wand on the rim and warmth spread through the drink.
“Thanks,” he said. “Why are you still awake?”
“I’m decorating cookies. It’s better at night because it’s quiet and there’s space to breathe.”
“Oh. Well, I just came down for water, so I’ll just…” he started.
“Do you want to help me? It’s fun.”
He knew she was just trying to be nice, but the truth was he couldn’t sleep upstairs with the entire Weasley clan snoring up a storm. He also couldn’t stand sharing a room, with Ron Weasley no less. So, he decided to stay. He sat down at the end of the table farthest from her. She sat back down and picked up a cookie shaped like a unicorn. Then she selected a few of the candies, ignoring those that ended up on the floor, and pressed them into the soft icing. She set the unicorn cookie aside and looked up at him, holding his gaze for too long. He felt warm, even though the fire had died. Ginny smiled and then picked up the plate of cookies and the packages of candies and moved to sit next to him. She divided the cookies into two piles and said “You can decorate those,” nodding toward the pile in front of him.
The next cookie she picked up was a phoenix, and she repeated the process of pressing candy into the icing and setting the cookie aside. He looked down at his pile and selected an owl shaped cookie and the box of Every Flavor Beans and began arranging the beans as if they were feathers on the owl until the entire cookie was covered. When he looked up, Ginny had already set aside five cookies and was staring at him, trying to suppress a giggle.
“What?” Malfoy asked.
“Nothing,” Ginny said, trying to hide her amusement. “It’s just, it doesn’t have to be perfect – they are going to be eaten tomorrow anyway.”
“Then why do you even do this?” he replied, motioning to the open packages of candy strewn across the table.
Ginny had stopped laughing and was looking at Malfoy intently, trying to make something of his facial expression or body language that would tell her more about why he had stayed to help her. After a brief silence, in which Ginny pretended to be thinking about the question Malfoy had asked her, she decided to answer plainly, “Because I like to.”
And then, after an even longer silence, Malfoy asked, “What else do you like?”
This took Ginny by surprise, because Malfoy had never asked her about herself. It was always about him: he was selfish and conceited and didn’t care about what other people liked to do or how they felt. It was one of the reasons why he was here, at the Burrow, in the first place.
Ginny felt her cheeks getting warm; a blush was spreading slowly down her neck. Malfoy didn’t seem to notice. In fact, as soon as he had asked her what she liked, he had looked down, to stare into his mug of cocoa. Maybe he decided that he shouldn’t have said it, or maybe he didn’t want to hear the answer. But Ginny was braver than she was last year at school and so when she leaned across the table and cupped his chin in her hands, he was a bit startled. But then she kissed him and before he could form a complete and logical thought he was kissing her back. It felt familiar: her long hair tangled in his fingers, her arms around his neck. He pulled her closer, so that she slid off her chair and into his lap. She knew he had given himself up to the Order for protection, but she was shocked when the Order chose the Burrow as his safe house. And now he was here, in her home, and it was like they were still at school, sneaking snogs in empty corridors and abandoned classrooms.
The next morning Ginny padded downstairs in her fluffy Christmas slippers. She had thought about getting dressed, but the Weasleys always did Christmas morning in pajamas. As soon as she walked into the kitchen, she knew she had made the right decision. All of her brothers, their girlfriends, Harry, and her parents were milling about in bathrobes, flannel plaid pjs and slippers in various combinations of red and green. Fleur was looking rather sour about the whole affair, although her pajamas were the least aggressive of the lot – red, floor-length, satin nightdress and dressing gown. However, once Malfoy entered the kitchen, it was clear that he had not gotten the memo about wearing his pajamas, not that he would have conformed to Weasley tradition. Malfoy was wearing black dress slacks, a white button down and dark green velvet suit jacket. Ginny’s breath caught in her throat as their eyes met. Their moment was abruptly interrupted by Fred.
“Good to know Malfoy’s pajamas have a stick up their arse, too.”
“Language, Fred!” admonished Mrs. Weasley.
And just as she said it, a red and white wizard’s hat popped into being on Malfoy’s head. He glanced at Ginny, who nodded toward George, then winked and Malfoy decided the hat could stay on his perfectly coiffed head of hair.
After breakfast, the Weasleys gathered around the tree to exchange gifts. Ginny had knitted hats for her brothers and scarves for Fleur, Hermione, and Angelina. Harry and Ron gave predictably Quidditch themed gifts and everyone received a book from Hermione. Mrs. Weasley had outdone herself this year and the trademark Weasley sweaters were more elaborate than ever. Charlie’s sweater had an embroidered dragon on the front, while Ron’s was in garish Chudley Cannon’s orange. Mrs. Weasley had even knitted a sweater for Malfoy. It was dark blue, and had a very small M on the left breast. It was made out of a softer and finer material than the sweaters for the rest of the family.
“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I wasn’t able to get anything for anyone since I’ve been here.”
“That’s quite alright, Draco,” Mrs. Weasley said.
After all the presents had been unwrapped and most of family had moved back into the kitchen to set the table for the Christmas feast, Draco and Ginny remained in the living room. As the soft hum of the radio played Celestina Warbeck’s rendition of “Winter Wonderland,” Ginny and Draco sat next to each other on the floor, leaning against the wall, in silence. They held hands; their fingers intertwined and their heads touching. Ginny sat up straight when she heard the front door open and Mrs. Weasley welcome Lupin and Tonks.
“Ginny,” Mrs. Weasley called.
Ginny slowly stood, pulling Draco up with her.
“We should join everyone,” she whispered.
“Wait,” he said, as he pulled her flush against him.
“Wait,” he repeated, his voice a whisper.
Their eyes met and this time Draco initiated the kiss. He pressed her against the wall, his hands moving from her hips to her arse to her lower back and finally settling under her shirt. Ginny’s hands fisted in his velvet jacket pulling on the lapels to bring him closer to her.
“Ginny!” Mrs. Weasley’s voice rang out again.
The couple quickly broke apart. Ginny, knowing that if they waited much longer her mother would come to get them herself, dragged Draco into the kitchen. As soon as they crossed the threshold, they dropped hands.
The table was crowded with platters of ham, roast beef, and turkey, steaming bowls of roasted potatoes, boats of gravy, Yorkshire pudding, chestnut stuffing, hot rolls, Christmas pudding, treacle tart, and three kinds of pie. In order to accommodate all of the food and all the guests, every table in the house was brought into the kitchen and then arranged end to end to form one long banquet table. Mismatched chairs surrounded the tables, making enough room for everyone to sit around the piles of food. By the time Ginny and Draco entered the room, most of the family was already seated. Ginny sat next to Hermione, while Draco found an empty seat next to Bill that faced Ginny.
Neither Ginny nor Draco ate very much. They were too busy sharing memories and thoughts of one another to be very hungry. Every few minutes, they would catch the other’s eye and get lost for a moment, only to remember where they were and how dangerous it might be to give away their secret (especially given that they were surrounded by almost all the Weasleys and half of the Order of the Phoenix). Both Ginny and Draco were relieved when dinner finally came to a close and the table was cleared. Just as Ginny was about to excuse herself, Harry put a hand on her shoulder and asked quietly, “Can I have a word? In the hall.”
Ginny nodded and followed Harry into the hall, which adjoined the living room where they had opened presents that morning, and the staircase. Harry turned to face Ginny and continued to speak in a low voice when he said, “Listen, I know you and Malfoy had some sort of thing last year and I just wanted to remind you that even though he came to the Order for help, it does not all of a sudden make him a good person.”
Ginny didn’t hear the last part since she was having such a difficult time trying to work out how Harry new about her and Draco – at school, no less. Her face conveyed all of this as her eyes went wide and her lips parted slightly, leaving her looking a bit like a fish.
“Don’t worry, nobody else knows, but I thought someone should say something, er, give you brotherly advice.”
“How did you…?” she began.
“I was suspicious of Malfoy all last year, with good reason, I might add, and so I kept some tabs on him.”
Just then, Draco Malfoy himself strode into the hallway. He saw Ginny first and gave her a soft look. When he saw Harry, his face became hard, but before he could say anything, Harry gave Ginny a meaningful look and brushed past Malfoy to re-enter the dining room.
“What does Scarhead have to say?”
“Don’t be like that. Harry just, well, he’s Harry, so he…” she trailed off.
Draco threw Ginny a curious look.
“He knows about us,” she finally finished.
“What about us?” Draco said, feigning confusion as his eyebrows knitted together. Ginny smirked at his expression.
“I think he recognized your meticulous cookie decorations and must have guessed…” she trailed off again as Draco rolled his eyes and leaned in for a kiss. Ginny pressed both of her palms flat on his chest to keep him a few inches from her. She glanced over his shoulder towards the dining room and kitchen, where voices could be heard and dishes clattered as they were washed and put away.
“Not here,” she whispered. Draco was not discouraged and he grabbed Ginny’s hand and pulled her down the hallway to the front door and into the garden.
“Merlin! It’s freezing out here,” she cried.
Draco maneuvered them to be hidden from the view of the house by a few large shrubs and two trees. Ginny found herself backed into the trunk of one of these trees, flush against Draco, whose body heat was keeping her relatively warm.
“Will you write me?” he asked suddenly, brushing her ear with his mouth as he said it.
“What?” Ginny said, surprised by the question, but too focused on his hot breath on her face and neck to process it properly.
“When you go back to Hogwarts, will you write to me?” he rephrased, his lips still centimeters from her ear.
“Do you want me to?” asked Ginny, trying to mimic Draco’s seductive tone.
Rather than answering, Draco began kissing her neck. Ginny’s head fell back against the tree trunk and her legs threatened to stop bearing her weight. Ginny’s hands, of their own accord she was sure, tangled in Draco’s hair. It was always like this. She was at his mercy and he held all the cards. It was one of the reasons she had stopped seeing him in the first place. But now that he was at the Burrow, it was like she was losing her mind all over again. Drowning in him.
“Fine,” Ginny breathed. “I’ll write to you.”
Draco stepped back, but only so that their bodies weren’t quite touching.
“Good,” he said, loving how easily they fell back together again.
Ginny looked down at the ground briefly, thinking maybe distance was what they needed to really communicate with one another. Because when she was around him, well, they didn’t do a lot of talking. She looked up at him through her lashes, and trying to regain a semblance of control, she winked, and slid out from between him and the tree on her way back to the house.
January came in a flurry of wet snowflakes and soon it was time for Ginny to return to school. Harry, Ron and Hermione had left the day after Christmas to continue the mission Dumbledore had left them. Ginny was dreading the school term already. In the fall, she had gotten in trouble numerous times with the Carrows and she wasn’t looking forward to spending any more time in the castle. Draco and Ginny had only been able to sneak a few moments alone since Order members were always coming through and Mrs. Weasley assigned Ginny to clean the house before they arrived and after they left. Aside from the unexpected guests, often coming to question Draco, the Burrow was relatively quiet after the Christmas crowd left. Ginny missed everyone already, but Draco was happy to experience once again the peace he had become accustomed to in the preceding months.
Mrs. Weasley took Ginny to King's Cross Station on the morning of January 2nd. Ginny hugged her mother and boarded the train. She walked down the center aisle, hoping to find a compartment that contained some of her friends. She found Neville sitting alone and opened the sliding door to join him. He beamed at her and she smiled back, sitting down across from him.
“How was your Christmas?” He asked.
“Good. It was nice to see everyone,” she replied, although she was referring to one person in particular. Not wanting to get Neville talking, Ginny fixed her gaze on the station platform outside the window and leaned her forehead against the pane – thinking about Draco.
Draco stayed at the Burrow on January 2nd, unable to leave its protection for any length of time. He caught himself staring at the clock in the room he slept in as it struck 11am. As soon as it chimed, Draco let himself fall back onto the bed, his legs dangling over the end. And just like that she was gone again, and he was alone.
Although this fic was written to stand alone, I am not opposed to continuing the story; let me know what you think.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.