Entertaining a notion, like entertaining a baby cousin or entertaining a pack of hyenas, is a dangerous thing to refuse to do. If you refuse to entertain a notion—which is just a fancy way of saying that you refuse to think about a certain idea—you have to be much braver than someone who is merely facing some bloodthirsty animals...because nobody knows what an idea will do when it goes off to entertain itself. Particularly if the idea comes from a writer crazed with Christmas cheer.
This writer, who isn't Rowling, or Lemony Snicket, whose books she loves so much that she 'borrowed' the words to the first half of this disclaimer directly from The Vile Village, was very much afraid of what her notion of Draco and Ginny might do if not written down promptly and posted. They might elope, or start snogging in the Great Hall, ruining the plotline of A Tale of Two Matchmakers, the story in which their romance does not become known until after Easter holiday. :D A Series of Unfortunate Events, indeed! Disaster averted, I bid you Happy Christmas!
Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair (England), where we lay our scene.
Romeo and Juliet, Prologue
The Malfoy and Weasley households were alike in dignity early Christmas morning. They both lacked anything resembling poise and decorum.
In Devon, the large and colourful family residing in the shabby but homey abode named The Burrow was each in their cosy beds. The Weasleys had stayed up past midnight, shooting off fireworks and opening presents, and now were enjoying a lie in. In a room on the top floor decorated with Chudley Canon posters, a redheaded sixth year and his black-haired best mate were both dreaming of girls as they lay on their beds. Ron smiled in his sleep, while Harry frowned.
On the floor below them, Bill's long hair spread across his pillow in a way that would have made Fleur sigh, and across the hall, Charlie shifted restlessly as he dreamed of dragons. Next door, the twins simultaneously turned on their sides in their bunks. Someone had sprinkled itching powder on the sheets the day before, but that did not bother the intrepid pair. They had spent the last few years developing immunity to itching powder, amongst other things.
Arthur and Molly's bedroom was directly beneath the twins. In earlier years, the proximity had helped the parents foil many of Fred and George's attempts to leave during the night to make mischief. Now, the mother of the active brood was sleepily considering leaving her warm bed to go downstairs and make coffee. Her husband's warm body and exploring hands caused Molly to remain abed a good while longer.
On the opposite end of the hallway from her parents, Ginny was smiling in her sleep. She was dreaming that Draco was kissing every freckle on her body.
Deep in the Wiltshire countryside, the ancestral abode of the Malfoy family was silent as a mausoleum and almost as chilly. In the Master Suite, Narcissa lay sprawled out on the massive bed. The mirrored walls reflected her mussed hair and half-dressed state. She and her best friend 'Eddy' had toasted each other's health, beauty, wit, and brilliant taste in fashion and shoes until they'd emptied several bottles of 'champers' and had to be assisted to bed by the house-elf, Drinky.
Lucius was unable to join the festivities as he was currently making life hell for his jailers in Azkaban prison. His wife was dreaming that she had gone to visit and ruined her favourite pair of Jimmy Choos stepping in the filth of her husband's cell. Snorting, Narcissa muttered, "Selfish bastard, good thing I've never visited," and curled her upper lip—then drooled.
In the room next door, Edina Zabini lay passed out, drunkenly snoring.
Down in the family lounge, distinguished from the other lounges by being a trifle smaller and containing a magnificently decorated Christmas tree, Draco rose from one of the sofas and went upstairs, muttering to himself, "Happy Christmas."
After he showered and dressed, he felt recovered from the drinking he and Blaise had done the previous night. Coolly, Draco assessed his reflection in the mirror. Platinum hair, grey eyes, face and body of a god—they all remained unchanged. Only his attire differed from normal.
Frowning, Draco tried to remember the last time he had worn a colour other than black, white, grey, or green. He couldn't. Evaluating the red jumper currently showing his muscular frame to advantage, the boy smirked at his image. He was red hot. Thinking of Red, he strolled over to his bedside table and removed a small, square mirror with a woman's face engraved on the back.
Melusine Mirrors were used to keep lovers in contact over any distance, and if he and Ginny had not been able to talk to each other every day using them, who knew what he would've done. Probably stormed the rickety castle and demanded to see the princess. What fun fighting five dragons and their jackass friend would have been.
Draco sat on the edge of his bed and said with a smile, "Ginny."
Immediately, the surface of the mirror began to swirl. In a few minutes, a freckle-faced girl with tousled red hair smiled back at him.
"Happy Christmas, Draco. What time is it?"
"Time for my Christmas kisses."
All traces of drowsiness vanished from the girl's face. In its place was a sultry look that made him grin inwardly. Giving her the patented Malfoy 'I'm gonna get you good' stare, he said, "How long will it take for you to get to your father's workshop?"
Ginny wondered if her boyfriend knew she had slept with the mirror clutched in her hand, waiting for it to warm and let her know he was on the other end. It had taken her awhile to respond to his call because the thing had dropped out of her fingers during the night and fallen down beneath the covers. The faint warm feeling by her hip had made her scramble, tossing covers to find her precious mirror.
Good thing the mirror only showed faces. Her room was now a wreck. Draco was smirking over her staring at him instead of answering. He was so sexy. It was unfair to every other boy on the planet.
Ginny giggled, realising this was the first time she had ever been happy life was unfair. "Give me twenty minutes. I have to dress and sneak out the back door. Luckily for us, no one's up yet."
"I'll be waiting."
Footsteps echoing in the silent corridors, Draco sauntered downstairs to the fireplace in the library. He didn't much care for the dark wood and paintings of ancestors whose eyes followed him, but it was connected to the Floo Network.
He ignored the mutterings of the paintings as he pulled on a long, black dragon hide coat and matching gloves. Draco picked up the picnic basket a house-elf had left on the desk as requested, stepped onto the hearth and spoke his destination before tossing the powder that would transport him to Ginny.
Walking out of the lopsided fireplace in Arthur Weasley's workshop, Draco waved his wand and conjured a fire to warm the chilly space. He grimaced in distaste as he looked around the cluttered shop. Father weasel was a bloody pack rat.
Draco decided they would have their breakfast in front of the fire. It was the only clear space. He had just finished unpacking the hamper when the door opened and Ginny stepped in, looking like Christmas. With her red hair, stretchy white top and soft green poncho, she was so beautiful he stared.
Closing the door of the shop, Ginny noticed the fire, the blanket with china plates and crystal flutes and all sorts of things that looked too elegant to eat. Her eyes widened at the sight of Draco's jumper. Dropping to her knees beside him, she whispered, "You wore your least favourite colour for me?"
Silvery eyes glanced away, then met hers as he admitted, "You said you'd love to see me in it, so...it's Christmas, right?"
She swayed against him, melding that perfect mouth to his. He allowed her to control the kiss, feeling his heart beating faster. A sweet tension tightened every muscle as her body pressed his down upon the blanket. Slender fingers slid into his hair, holding him close. Their tongues and legs tangled together.
Ginny felt Draco's warm hands slide beneath her poncho, caress their way up her back and then glide into her hair. Long, clever fingers smoothed the fiery strands, rubbing and circling in ways that made other body parts insanely jealous.
Leaving her mouth, his lips trailed across her cheek to her ear, where he made her shiver by breathing hotly, "I love your hair."
Dazed brown eyes opened, stared into rain-cloud grey. She smiled. "I love your hair too."
The warmth of Draco's smile reflected the warm glow that spread throughout his body. He wanted to ask her what else she loved, but he didn't want to rush her, push her for something that should come naturally. It was enough for now that she had left her warm bed, her family, to be with him on Christmas morning.
Draco sat up and reached for a bottle, popping the cork, filling a flute, and handed it to his girl. Pouring a glass for himself, he touched his flute to hers and smiled. "Happy Christmas"
Ginny softly returned 'Happy Christmas' and took a sip. It was champagne!
The adorably smirking boy sitting next to her drawled, "Afraid I'll get you drunk and try to take advantage?"
Bright hair shook. She was too busy thinking about taking advantage of him. She touched his cheek, "No. I trust you." Her smile widened at the miraculous sight before her. An arrogant, self-confident Malfoy was looking shyly pleased. Her stomach somersaulted. Her heart skipped a beat, and then pounded so hard she wondered why he couldn't hear it.
Ginny wanted so badly to tell him how she felt. Instead, she leaned forward and brushed his lips in the most tender, loving kiss she had ever given. It was enough for now that he had left his best mate, his home, to be with her on Christmas morning. One day soon, when the time was right, she would tell him. The look in his eyes gave her hope that...
"I'm starving. How about we eat some of this before you have to go sneak back to your hovel...er, house."
Ginny narrowed her eyes. "You mean before you have to go back to rattling around that mausoleum of yours?" Draco laughed, and the sound made her world merry and bright.
"Yeah, that too."
His Christmas angel giggled and reached for a large, ripe strawberry. Pale pink lips enjoyed the fruit in a way that might earn her coal and switches from Father Christmas, but put her at the top of Draco's nice list.
Gently taking her hand, he brought her sticky fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. The look on her face was almost as satisfying as the feeling of her warm, soft body pressing his back down onto the blanket again. Meeting her hungry mouth, Draco decided he didn't need food. He would rather make a meal of Christmas kisses.
A/N: It truly is better to give than receive, so if this little ficlet's put you in the holiday mood, give me the gift of a Review! (and God bless readers, every one, even if you don't. ♥ )