Summary: Christmas Eve should never be spent alone. Draco/Ginny.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Two

Hogsmeade was picturesque as usual. The thatched cottages and houses all covered in crisp white snow. Stars glittered overhead. Lamp posts shed light along the roadside. Windows were adorned with blinking colored lights. Wreaths hung from the doors, bells tinkled in the background, and merry laughter echoed into the night. It was the evening before the twenty-fifth of December: Christmas Eve.

A lone figure wandered through the village. His head was bent against the cool winter breeze. He appeared to be in no haste. He slowly ambled towards the dimly-lit pub at the corner. The name Hog's Head was painted in dreary green letters above the door. The paint was beginning to fade. The door was ajar. The strong smell of alcohol leaked outside.

The pub was only barely full. He took a seat near the back, half-hidden in the shadows. His drink was served only seconds after his entry: a bottle of Odgen's Old Firewhisky. The bartender nodded at him. "Enjoy your night Mr. Malfoy."

The name struck a chord and memories of long ago made a sudden appearance in her brain. No wonder he looked so disturbingly familiar. She had seen him cross the village and was quite surprised when they had the same destination. She had not meant to eavesdrop, but there was no avoiding it when her usual spot was near the back as well – a table away from his.

Against her better judgment, she transferred to a chair behind him. "Eight years seems like an eternity, doesn't it?" She spoke carefully, keeping her eyes trained in front of her. In her peripheral vision, she could see him stiffen and glance in her direction.

"Ginny Weasley."

There was no disdain in his voice. There was only…monotony.

"What are you doing here?"

The question was so painstakingly normal that Ginny almost forgot who she was talking to. She arched an eyebrow and allowed herself to fully face him. She was stunned at what she saw. Gone was the devilish glint in his eyes, gone was the infamous smirk, gone was the derision that he used to unswervingly aim at her. What was left was dull grey eyes and cheekbones that could cut glass. His skin was pale as a ghost.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"

He released a low laugh. "This is where the lonely people come. You are the last person I would expect to see sitting alone at the back of pub on Christmas Eve."

She blinked. "Is that an insult or a compliment?"

"I suggest you would take that as the latter." He murmured. He started to turn his back on her. But the questions were so numerous in Ginny's mind that she found herself blurting out:

"What happened to you?"

What happened to me?

"Nothing happened. That's what." His voice came out a bit sharper than he intended. But the truth hurt. And what he just said was nothing but the truth. Eight years since the war. Eight motherfucking years. What he had strived so hard for to save was gone. His parents were dead. He, on the other hand, was pardoned for his sins. It was the most cruel punishment. He spent the next few years of his life isolating himself. Tending to business behind locked doors. Venturing out only if absolutely necessary – business, women, alcohol. They were all the same. Tedious, insufficient, dull.

Eight years came and went in a blur of black and white. No color. Nothing.

Except for now.

There was so much red in front of him. It was blinding. And emotion. A million of them moving across her face as swiftly as shadows: Curiosity, sadness, sympathy, compassion?

He expected her to prod, to nag him until he gave her answers; instead:

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

Most people would deny why. Why they went to a dingy pub in the middle of Christmas Eve with only misery as company. Why they would ask their former arch nemesis out for a walk on a freezing night. But Ginny wasn't most people. She knew why.

She was lonely.

She waited for his answer. If he said no, then so be it. She would return to her Butterbeer and move five tables away…

"Alright."

It was half past eleven. Thirty more minutes till the clock struck twelve. And then it would be really Christmas. Five to eight years ago, she would have found herself at the Burrow, eating her mother's famous pumpkin pie and opening presents by the fireplace, laughing and teasing with her siblings. Two to four years ago, she would have found herself at a small cottage, celebrating with Harry, making love until the sun rose to greet them.

There was a stab of pain in her chest. But it wasn't as severe than the last time she thought about him. Time healed all wounds, after all. She was on her way there. Soon she'd be back at the Burrow, enjoying Christmas with her family. For now, she needed time alone.

Or perhaps not...

"You never did answer my question."

They were walking slowly. The snow had stopped falling. There were few people left outside.

"What question?"

"What you were doing in Hog's Head."

She smiled sadly. "Like you said: it's where the lonely people come."

He could see the desolation in her eyes. There was a story there. But he knew it wasn't his place to ask. She had given him his privacy and refrained from asking any more questions about his personal life. He supposed he should do the same. But for some strange reason, he felt – intrigued.

He found his eyes traveling towards her left hand. She was wearing gloves.

She caught him. She shook her head silently.

"Not anymore."

Not anymore.

He knew what that implied.

They came to a stop in front of the clock tower. It was almost twelve.

"Some things are just simply…not meant to be."

His voice cracked. She could hear the anguish in between his words. There was not a doubt in the world that the man standing right beside her had gone through hell and back, and was broken along the way. But she wondered why he hadn't…healed. Eight years was a long time. But then again, she knew nothing about him. She did not know what nightmares welcomed him when he went to sleep, what demons chased him every single day.

She wondered if he had any friends.

A giggling couple passed by. The guy had his arm wrapped around his girlfriend, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. The pure and unadulterated love that surrounded them was intense. The girl shrieked and laughed, pointing upward. A Vanishing Mistletoe appeared above them. They kissed.

Two minutes till Christmas.

The clock began to toll.

"Happy Christmas!" The couple called out to them as they passed by. Their smiles were so contagious that he found himself returning them with a small smile of his own. It was a long time since he had smiled a genuine smile. It was rare moments such as these when he really wondered: maybe, just maybe, he still had a chance of finding happiness.

Maybe.

Ginny gasped and emitted an amused chuckle. He stared at her. "What?"

"The mistletoe." She pointed above her.

There it was, hovering five inches above them, waiting.

For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy was at a loss on what to do.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

He stared at her, gazed into her blue eyes. They were twinkling with amusement.

"Kiss me." She whispered.

He did.

And then there were two less lonely people in the world.

End

A/N: The holidays are here! Review!