‘For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
Whiter than new snow on a raven’s back.’
William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
Ginny hears knocking on the door. The knocking is loud, insistent.
Ginny is curled up by the fire, reading by the flickering flames and the colored lights of the Christmas tree. Her face is close to the tree. She loves its smell, fresh and green and alive. She sighs, gets to her feet, and goes to answer the door.
“Hello, Ginny,” grins Harry. Ginny sighs again.
“Did you have to knock so loudly?” she asks.
“Er…yes!” says Harry, still grinning. Ginny finds it hard not to grin back. Harry is thin: his face is pale. There are dark shadows under his eyes. His hair is dirty and matted. But his smile is infectious, nevertheless.
“I shouldn’t let you in,” says Ginny. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“I know that,” says Harry. “But we both know you’re going to let me in anyway.”
They stare at each other for a moment. Then Ginny opens the door wider, and stands back to let Harry in. She makes a small noise of frustration at her own weakness as she does so. Harry walks into the house, and down the hallway to the living room. Ginny follows him. She watches as his eyes flicker around the room, taking in the fire, the Christmas tree, the cards hanging from the walls and the paper chains from the ceiling. His eyes come to rest on the large pile of gifts under the tree, each encased in brightly colored wrapping paper.
“That’s a lot of gifts,” he comments.
“Yes,” says Ginny stiffly. There is a silence, broken only by the crackling logs.
“I guess Draco likes to spoil you,” says Harry.
“Yes,” says Ginny, even more stiffly. There is another silence. The crackling of the logs is beginning to sound deafening to Ginny.
“Harry,” she blurts out suddenly, “you’ve no right to complain about Draco.” Harry turns to look at her, his green eyes gazing into hers. “You were the one who broke up with me,” continues Ginny. “You said that we couldn’t be together anymore. It was unreasonable to expect me not to find someone else. And don’t tell me it’s just because it’s Draco, and he’s your worst enemy. Because he’s not anymore. He came back to our side, even before the war was over. He’s changed completely. He’s…”
Her voice tails off, but she stares at Harry determinedly. He stares back. She can see the firelight reflected in his eyes.
“Ginny,” he says quietly, “I never said a word about Draco.”
Ginny lowers her gaze. Suddenly, she can no longer look him in the eye. Instead, she bustles over to the Christmas tree. She bends down, and extracts a small package wrapped in bright red paper. She walks back over to Harry, and thrusts it into his hands. “Merry Christmas,” she mumbles.
With slow, fumbling fingers Harry unwraps the package and pulls out a pair of red woolen gloves.
“I made them myself,” says Ginny. “I noticed you didn’t have any last time you came.” After a moment, she adds, “I had to hide the red wool from Draco. He doesn’t like red. He likes everything to be green…” She flushes, as though she may have said too much.
Harry pulls the gloves onto his hands. The wool feels soft against his skin. “Thank you,” he whispers.
After a moment, Ginny says, “You’d better go now, Harry. Draco will be home soon, and if he finds you here, he won’t be pleased.”
“I thought you said that Draco had changed now. That there should be no enmity between us,” says Harry.
“Please, Harry,” pleads Ginny.
When Ginny opens the door to let Harry out, the air is bitingly cold, and a few white flakes are beginning to flutter down from the gray sky.
“It’s starting to snow,” says Harry. He walks down the steps and out into the street. He holds out his arms and twirls around, laughing. The flakes are falling thicker and faster. Harry turns to look at Ginny. His pale cheeks are pink and rosy now. The new white snowflakes are settling in his hair, contrasting sharply with its raven black color. “Come on!” he shouts.
Ginny hesitates momentarily. Then she runs down the steps to join Harry. They caper around in the snow like children.
Harry stops when he feels something heavier than a snowflake land on his shoulder. He turns his head to look at it. “A leaf!” he says, looking up at the bare branches of the tree above him. “I thought they’d all fallen by now.” He lifts it from his shoulder and inspects it carefully. Ginny watches him suddenly cup his hands around it protectively. He walks over to her, looking excited.
“Look,” he says, raising one hand slightly. “Look at that snowflake. Did you ever see one so perfect?” Ginny looks at the snowflake. It is small, white, and glistening, with six delicate points. She looks at it resting on the withered brown leaf, with the bright red wool of Harry’s glove beneath it.
“Here,” says Harry, holding it out to her. “It’s my gift to you.” Without a word, Ginny takes it and clasps it in her own hands. She is shivering now. “You’d better get inside,” says Harry. “You’re cold.” He leans close to her, and kisses her cheek. “Merry Christmas,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you a better gift.”
He walks away down the street. Ginny stays where she is, watching him. At the corner, he turns and waves. His gray, tatty clothes and dark hair are almost blending in with the night sky, but his red-gloved hand is clearly visible through the falling snow as he waves. He disappears around the corner.
Ginny turns and climbs the steps to her house. She returns to the brightly lit living room. She sits on the sofa and stares at the fire. It is nearly dying out now, but she makes no move to add another log from the pile by the wall.
A minute or so later, she hears the front door open. Someone comes noisily along the hallway into the living room. Ginny makes no move to greet Draco as he enters the room, shaking the snow out of his blond hair. “I just saw Potter,” he says. “He was here, wasn’t he?” Ginny doesn’t reply. “Wasn’t he?” presses Draco.
“He came to say Merry Christmas,” says Ginny, still gazing into the fire. “There’s no crime in that, is there?”
Draco snorts impatiently. “He comes here all the time, Gin, and you know it’s for more than just wishing you a Merry Christmas and a bloody Happy New Year. Can’t you just tell him that you’re with me now?”
“I did tell him,” says Ginny quietly. Draco doesn’t seem to have heard. He is still brushing the snow from his hair.
“Jeez, it’s bloody horrible out there,” he says. “Hang on, I need to get a towel.” He leaves the room, and returns a few moments later rubbing his hair with a small green towel. “What were you saying?” he asks. Then he looks at Ginny more closely. “You’re soaking!” he exclaims. “What were you doing outside?” He removes the towel from his own head and bends over Ginny to rub her hair. “What’s that in your hand?” he asks.
“Something Harry gave me,” says Ginny.
“What?” says Draco sharply. Ginny slowly uncurls her fingers to reveal the crumpled leaf lying on her palm. There is a small wet patch where the snowflake had been a few minutes earlier.
Draco throws back his head and laughs. “A leaf,” he gasps. “He gave you a leaf for Christmas!”
“Don’t laugh,” says Ginny irritably. “You know he lost everything in the war.” She adds so softly that Draco can’t hear, “Everything and everyone.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Ginny,” says Draco, kissing her. “It’s just that I can’t believe that he comes here to see you, probably thinking that he’s still deserving of you, that he’s worthy of you, when that’s all he can give you. Compared to what I can give you.” He gestures around the cozy room and towards the huge pile of gifts under the tree. Ginny looks at them. The colors of their paper suddenly seem so bright that they sear her eyes.
“You see what I mean?” asks Draco, kissing her again and looking at her expectantly.
“Yes,” whispers Ginny. “I can see.”