Of Moonbeams and Miracles

Of Moonbeams and Miracles

Moonlight filtered down through the slight dusting of clouds, creating veins of pale radiance on the snow beneath. The wind was quiet, now and then whispering through the nearby grove, gently caressing the night air with gentle hands. Perhaps it was the serene perfection of the land, the undisturbed silence, but as she sat there clutching her knees to her chest, unmoving, she looked almost part of it, like some guardian watching over her divine creation.

Footsteps cut through the night air, sounding harsh and cruel in the silence. Cresting the hill, he sat beside her, neither of them looking at the other, a lesson of perfect indifference. Finally, sighing, he reached out for her hand, grabbing it quickly as she tried to haul away. He looked at her fiercely, and when she wouldn't meet his eyes he brought a hand to her chin and turned her towards him.

"Look at me, Gin," he said and she slowly brought her brown eyes up to his gray.

She shook slightly at what she saw there and then cast her eyes down once more.

"Why are you here?" she whispered.

He shook his head in disbelief.

"You honestly don't know?"

"Draco, I told you, you and I never happened... you said this could be over. You said you'd let me go."

"A Malfoy doesn't give away what belongs to him," he told her coldly and she looked up at him angrily.

"Is that what I am? A possession?"

He squeezed her hand tightly.

"Maybe it's you who won't let me go," he said, and her lip quivered as she shook her head.

"No, Draco... Malfoy-"

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"What we had was a good time, nothing more. You know that. God knows you've had enough flings and one night stands to understand that there's no strings, no emotions attached. That's all that's to it."

She forced her face to show no emotion, to be as impassively cold as his own. His pale face drained of what little color it had and he raised his hand. She flinched as she expected him to slap her but he clenched it and punched the snow instead.

"Damn you, you little bitch!" he swore, and she could feel the tears building.

She pushed them away violently; everything depended on her showing as little emotion as possible. She looked at him coldly.

"Drop the act, Malfoy," she said. "For you it was just good sex."

The look he gave her would have frozen fire.

"Don't be sure it was even that much," he told her scathingly, wrenching his hand from hers and getting up so quickly that he knocked her over.

After he had gone she sat there shivering, chilled to her very heart. She had done the right thing, she knew that. The two of them were never meant to be. But then, why did she suddenly feel so empty?

It had been nearly two weeks ago, in this very same spot, that she had first tempted fate.

It was late, but she couldn't sleep, and looking out her window she realized it was snowing. Smiling, she grabbed a sweater out of her trunk and, as quietly as possible, made her way down to the Great Hall and out the front doors. The winter scene that greeted her was breathtaking. It was nearly Christmas, and the trees on the lawn were decorated in all the colors of the four different houses, shining and twinkling beautifully in the velvet darkness. Their lights splashed a multitude of color on the ivory snow, greens and reds, yellows and blues dancing and swirling hand in hand. In a rush of spontaneity she discarded her sweater, pulling her wand out of her pocket and muttering a quick warming spell before kicking off her boots and frolicking bare-footed through the fresh powder. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, letting the snowflakes fall and melt on her tongue, spreading her arms wide to welcome the first of winter.

Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of the doors creaking open, and she paused, fearing a teacher, or worse, Filch. But it was not the stooped, grizzled form of the caretaker that crept out of the castle, but the tall, proud form of Draco Malfoy. Which was, of course, far far worse.

She could feel the trademark Weasley blush creeping up her neck as his steely gaze looked her up and down, taking in her bare feet, pajama pants and revealing tank top that she reserved only for sleeping in. He, on the other hand, was perfectly unruffled, his black robes immaculate, his entire appearance bordering perfection down to his very last silvery lock. Ginny sighed and shook her head, marveling at her ability to find herself in the most embarrassing situations possible.

She met his gaze, waiting for the scathing mark that was sure to come, but instead he merely smirked and strode past her, not sparing her another glance. She stared after him, indignant at being completely ignored.

"Hey!" she called angrily, forgetting her attire and striding resolutely after him.

He paid no heed to her and made his way steadily down to the lake, pausing once he reached a giant oak that stood immobile and serene on the edge of it. He sat before it, leaning his back against it and closing his eyes. Ginny glared at his obvious indifference to her, crossing her arms under her breasts, unsure exactly as to why she was so annoyed. She was just so sick of being ignored, and right then, she didn't care that it was Draco Malfoy, whom she had no time for anyways, who was doing the ignoring.

"I was talking to you," she grated, and he opened his eyes lazily.

"Were you?" he asked, smirking at her and closing his eyes once again.

She growled, her chocolate eyes flashing in anger.

"Damn it, Malfoy, don't you dare ignore me! I'm so sick of everyone just over looking me, Ron's little sister, not worth the time of day. I mean, here I am, in barely more then my skivvies, and I am a girl, and I'm not completely ugly, am I? And you just walk right past and not even notice-"

She stopped in mid rant, suddenly realizing what she was saying, and whom she was saying it to, completely mortified.

Draco, on the other hand, was looking at her in interest, a slight smile tugging the corners of his usually sneering mouth. He stood up and Ginny found herself suddenly frozen to the spot.

His experienced fingers trailed lightly down her cheek, her neck, and then her collarbone, and she shivered slightly.

"Why Weasley," he began, perverse amusement glittering in his steely iris', "I didn't know you had such passion."

She glared at him, knocking his hand away.

"Fuck off, Malfoy."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Fuck off? Perhaps I misunderstood you. I thought only moments ago you were clearly wanting me to fuck you."

She glared at him, cursing herself mentally. What the hell had she been thinking?

"A momentary lapse of sanity on my behalf," she said coolly. "Don't worry, it won't happen again."

"A pity," he replied, gazing at her one last time before turning away.

Ginny Weasley was ever prone to rash impulses, especially when she was upset, confused, and uncomfortable. Which possibly could explain why, with determined resolution that surprised even herself, she reached out and spun Draco around to face her, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips firmly to his. In the moment of confusion that followed Ginny paused to think what the hell she was doing, but before she could finish the thought Draco had composed himself and she found she had no brain power to spare for anything except the sensation of his lips against hers and his tongue gently urging it's way into her mouth. He was smooth, and Ginny found herself maneuvered so that her back was to the oak tree, her front pressed firmly against his chest.

He trailed his lips slowly along her neck, nipping her ear and taking pleasure from her quick intake of breath as he did. He was beginning to enjoy himself, smoothing his hands along her slender form when she suddenly shoved him forcefully away from her. She was breathing heavily, looking more then a little disheveled, and he smirked as he admired his work. He didn't have time for a witty remark, however, because at that moment she gave him a waspish glare and stomped away, pausing only to collect her boots and sweater before vanishing through the great oak doors.

Ginny smiled a wistful smile as she remembered, temporarily forgetting her present problems as she leaned back in the snow and spread her arms and legs back and forth. Snow angels. She had many memories of them... of her mum first showing her the simple beauty of the act, of her grandmother telling her the legend of their significance. Of she and her brothers all running out into the first snowfall, all lining up and then falling gently backwards to make an entire snowy heaven of them. She paused as she another memory came back to her, a more painful one, and she attempted to push it away. She had done what she knew she had to, and she couldn't afford to relive it all. She had to forget; otherwise the hurt and guilt would tear her apart.

She closed her eyes and willed her mind blank, but images of that night kept surfacing in her mind. She tried to push them away, but it was if her mind wouldn't let her forget, wouldn't let it just lie. She shivered slightly as she felt the building of tears, and pushed them determinedly away. She would not cry over him. She was stronger then this.

"What the hell are you doing, Weasley?"

It was two nights later, and Ginny was lying spread eagle in the snow, letting the pastel moonlight wash over her in soft waves of splendor. Closing her eyes in annoyance at her intruder, she sighed before sitting up to gaze at the object of her aggravation.

"I know you didn't have much a childhood, Malfoy, but surely you've heard of a snow angel before," she said icily.

He returned her frosty glare.

"So sorry," he sneered. "I merely assumed you were trying to feel more at home. Is it true that your entire family sleeps on the ground, in one room?"

Her eyes flashed in anger, but as she saw the expression on his face realization suddenly dawned on her.

"Oh my god! You've never heard of a snow angel before, have you?" she asked, her eyes shining in amusement.

Some distant emotion glimmered in his eyes, but before she could place it he had composed himself once more and sneered at her.

"I'm sure it's quite amusing to lie in the snow wet and cold," he said. "But then, I suppose you're used to it, living in poverty as you do."

His remarks rolled right over her, however, because she was too busy puzzling over the possibility that it had been embarrassment reflected in his eyes just moments ago.

"I could teach you if you like," she said on impulse, and immediately regretted it as he snorted disdainfully and turned his back to her.

Sighing, she leaned back on her hands and took in his profile, the straightness of his back, the proud tilt of his chin, the way his hair glistened softly in the moonlight. Her gaze was thoughtful as she wondered what he was thinking, and indeed, what he had been thinking the other night. It was strange that things weren't awkward between them, but then, she supposed, it's not like their relationship was anything other then loathing and insults anyways. She pondered this for a moment, let her mind slide back to the sensation of his lips, his tongue, his hands, and shivered slightly. Why did she suddenly feel the need to be in his arms once more? Shaking her head in bewilderment, she chalked it up to being far too deprived... what else could make her want Draco Malfoy? He turned suddenly, catching her misty gaze and smirking.

"Can't keep your eyes off me, Weasley? I know I'm devilishly handsome, but you're becoming quite creepy."

She sighed once more and collapsed back in the snow, unwilling to start this again with him. To be truthful, she was afraid as to where it might lead. She lay there for a moment, silence resonating around her, and she wondered briefly if he had gone back inside. A soft crunch to her right dispelled such thoughts and she glanced over at him.

"What are their purpose?" he asked hesitantly, surprising her.

"Their purpose? Well, I don't suppose they really have a purpose... my grandmother told me a legend once. She said that when moonlight strikes a snow angel, a real angel takes its place and protects the creator, lending them love and strength."

She paused, realizing what she had said and how stupid it must have sounded to the ears of a Malfoy. He merely looked at her.

"Do you believe that?"

He had surprised her once again. What was going on?

"I've never really thought about it. I think it's a beautiful story but... well, it's not about whether you believe it or not. It's... well, I don't know exactly. I'd like to think it's true."

He nodded, accepting this, and lay back slowly in the snow. She gaped at him, astounded at seeing him so... well, so un-Malfoyish. His face was relaxed and she allowed herself to notice that without its usual sneer or smirk he was quite striking. He glanced at her, eyebrows raised.

"Well?"
"Well what?" she returned his acerbic tone.

"I'm not lying here in the snow for my amusement," he snapped, and it was her turn to raise her brows.

"Well that's your problem then, isn't it? Have you ever done anything that hasn't had a set purpose, that doesn't result in some sort of personal gain? Sometimes-"

She was cut off in mid rant as he rolled towards her, propping himself above her with his hands.

"You talk far to much, Weasley," he growled, and she glared defiantly at him with fiery eyes.

"It's not my fault that none of your puppet 'friends' back talk you, even when you're being an insufferable prat," she countered.

She could feel his eyes burning her skin, and she suddenly felt extremely nervous. She licked her lips, immediately regretting it as it drew his eyes to her mouth.

"So, erm, snow angels," she stuttered, but his eyes didn't leave her lips.

"Snow angels," he muttered distractedly.

She shivered at the intensity of his gaze, her pulse racing frantically. She was going to explode if they stayed like this any longer. As if reading her thoughts, he suddenly rolled off of her and kept his gaze trained on the sky above them. She sighed, whether in relief or disappointment she didn't know, but didn't question him when he rose abruptly and stalked back to the castle.

Squinching her eyes shut she smothered a scream at her confusion. What was happening! Why, in the great name of Merlin, was Malfoy making her feel like this? Sure, he was a good kisser, but so what?

Back in the present, Ginny Weasley had her head buried in her hands as she tried to stop the flow of painful memories. Her effort was futile, however. Her Pandora's Box had been opened and the only way to close it was to relive every wonderful, painful moment.

Ginny had chosen the secluded spot carefully, not wanting to be disturbed or bothered by a certain silver haired Slytherin yet again. It was on the very edge of the Forbidden Forest, a small clearing fringed by icicled trees and a gentle wind. She lay in the middle, watching the lazy path of snowflakes through half-lidded eyes. How long she lay there she didn't know, but her warming charm had started to wear off and her clothes were starting to soak through before she decided that it was probably time to go. A strange emotion clenched her heart... was that disappointment? Sighing in confusion at the inner workings of her what must be highly disturbed mind, she wandered slowly through flurry of white, cursing herself for leaving her wand on her bedside table so that she couldn't renew the charm. She had boots on this time, but little else, her cotton pajama pants soaked through, the bottoms caked with snow, her t-shirt in much the same condition.

She was starting to shiver, and her teeth chattered ceaselessly. She knew that if she didn't get back to the castle soon she was going to freeze to death. But damn, since when was it so bloody far!? She paused as she thought she saw a form not far ahead of her, and then with determined strength hurried towards it. Her eyes went wide when she saw who it was, but she was far to cold to harbor any thoughts besides her need for warmth.

"M-Malfoy?" she chattered, rubbing her arms furiously against the cold.

He glanced at her and raised a brow before pulling out his want and muttering a quick charm. The warmth hit her solidly and she collapsed to the ground at the beauty of it.

"Thanks," she breathed.

He nodded, his eyes not leaving her petite form, and she blushed as she realized that her clothing was clinging to her in wet folds. Something flickered deep in the depthless gray of his gaze, and she shivered. Warmth spread through her body, and she knew that it was no longer from the heating charm. She got slowly to her feet and stepped slowly towards him, longing to reach out and touch him. She paused, but he wasn't sneering or smirking or walking away, and that gave her the confidence to take another step, and then another, until finally crossing that point of no return.

She looked up at him and waited, her pulse racing at being so close to him, not daring herself to actually touch him. He seemed to be warring with himself, his eyes focused on her but with an unreadable look. Maybe she was making a mistake, maybe-

"What are you doing, Weasley?" he asked her, his voice low and husky with want, effectively cutting off her tirade of thoughts.

"I don't know," she admitted, her brain fuzzy as he leaned in closer.

It wasn't like the first time. That had been quick and spontaneous and she hadn't had time to fully let herself feel the anticipation. She could feel her stomach float up into her throat as he but a hand to her cheek, her heart hammering wildly as he bent to brush his lips with hers. She moaned softly as he turned to lick his tongue up the side of her neck, shivering under the heat of his touch. Suddenly he pressed himself to her urgently, assaulting her mouth with his tongue and lips, his hands wandering and this time she didn't stop him. She needed this, needed him.

That had been the beginning. Her mind raced back over the past two weeks, floating through the memories.

She and Draco, sitting under the moonlight and probing gently into each others worlds, talking and discovering, creating a friendship.

She and Draco, dancing quietly in a winter wonderland, their joined footprints the only marks on the perfect, otherwise untouched snow.

Draco, making her moan and pant and want more.

She, doing the same to him, and smiling wickedly at him afterwards.

Draco, so cold and distant and unmoving.

She, so determined to break through his walls, and smiling when she finally did.

She cried out, but she couldn't stop the flood of memories that threatened to drown her. She had confided in him, told him of her fears and her hopes and her dreams, and in exchange he had opened himself up to her.

She collapsed back into the snow, exhausted by her own inner chaos and knowledge. Why was it so hard? He had awoken something inside of her that she hadn't even known had existed and now she was afraid that she would loose that forever. She glanced up at the night sky, her gaze focused on the shard of light that cut through the unfathomable darkness.

It was fitting that it should end under the watchful eye of the moon. It seemed to be the constant in their relationship, the one thing that never changed, unvarying and consistent amid their turmoil of shifting emotions. Even now, when everything had fallen apart, the moon shone brilliant and steady, reminding her of what had been and what could never be again. She sighed and hugged her knees to herself, rocking slowly back and forth. She had always been fascinated with the night, the serene darkness marred only by the distant diamonds that were the stars and the pale brilliance that was the moon. It seemed to her that anything could happen in the dark, any boundary crossed and any path taken. Maybe it was because she was such a child of the sun, a child of light, that she found the tranquil dusk so mysterious and intriguing. Her flaming curls and sunny aura allowed for no mistaking to whom she belonged, but even so, the night had taken her under its wing, nurtured her and made her it's own.

She paused to ponder this a moment. Was that why she was so drawn to Draco? He clearly belonged to the moon. Everything from his pale coloring to his impervious, mysterious aura dubbed him so. She sighed again. She had always looked on the moon as her friend, a silent partner in her nightly adventures, guarding her secrets well. Had she trusted Draco in the same way? Had she been justified in doing what she had done? She shook her head fiercely. There was no room for doubt. She had done the right thing. They could never be together, weren't meant to be together.

The sun and the moon. Did you ever see them together in the sky? They each had their own roles; their own responsibilities and they did them independently. They complimented each other, but they reigned over two completely different worlds and if they were ever brought together under one sky the results would be disastrous.

She hadn't wanted it to happen. They had both needed it, of course, needed each other in some perverse way, but she hadn't planned on falling so hard, or indeed, even at all. What could it mean for her to fall for a Malfoy? Nothing but pain and suffering, she was sure. It wasn't as if she loved him, or ever could have for that matter. No, the whole thing was purely physical and it was better for them both that she had broken it off. A tear threatened to spill down her cheek, and for the first time that night she couldn't stop the flow that followed. Because, even as she thought it, she knew it was a lie. She cared more for him then she would admit, and that was what scared her. She wasn't willing to allow him to rip her apart, shred her soul with his dragon hands. The only way she could protect herself, and he, was to pretend that it had meant nothing.

She got up slowly, wiping a last tear from her eye as she did. She glanced up at the moon and bowed her head. So many things would end - had ended- tonight, and she shook at the enormity of the change. Two weeks ago she had been seeking something, something to hold on to, to give her new hope and new light. She had found it in the strangest of places, and as she looked up at the moon she felt as if the sliver of light was mocking her, glowing steadily in the darkness. It had given her a present, a part of itself, and she had thrown it back ungratefully.

"I didn't have a choice," she whispered brokenly, turning to go back inside.

She paused as an indentation in the snow caught her eye. Walking slowly over to it she gasped and fell to her knees to inspect the creation. It was a snow angel, perfectly formed with no sign of footprints anywhere around it, illuminated softly by iridescent moonbeams. Burying her head in her hands, she sobbed heavily, choking slightly as she felt a light hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she saw above her the most beautiful being she had ever laid eyes on. He was tall, his palely glowing skin unblemished, his hair long, pure white and shining. His face was creased into a smile, showing perfect teeth, but it was his eyes that struck her the most. Their color was almost inscrutable, a pallet of soft grays and blues, but buried deep in those near colorless iris' was such wisdom and love and power that Ginny's breath caught in her throat.

"Is this anyway for a lovely lady such as yourself to spend Christmas Eve?" he asked, his voice resonating with warmth and strength.

She felt her tears dry as she tried to find her voice to answer.

"It doesn't feel very much like Christmas to me," she whispered.

He helped her to her feet, his eyes twinkling as he regarded her.

"But it is Christmas, dear one, a time for miracles and happiness."

"I don't know if I can believe in either right now," she replied, shaking her head sadly.

He gathered her in a warm embrace and she immediately felt safe and loved.

"This is what he feels when he's with you," he whispered in her ear and her eyes widened in surprise. There was no mistaking to whom he was referring. "You draw excitement and mystery from him, and he draws safety and acceptance from you. You needn't be afraid, Ginny. His intentions are good; he needs you just as you need him and he is willing to forgive if you are willing to forget. Now, run child, let angels guide your path. This is Christmas, and maybe you yourself can make a miracle happen tonight."

He kissed her forehead gently and whispered a word in her ear. She smiled at him, finally understanding what she had to do. Turning from him, she headed towards the castle, and when she glanced behind her he was gone, the snow angel shining brightly and showing only one set of footprints leading away. Her own. Shaking her head in wonder, she turned to face the task set before her.

She ran harder then she ever had before in her life, ran with strength born from a miracle, ran with love and truth and acceptance. She dashed past a disgruntled Filch, ignoring his shrieks and threats, darted past the angry outbursts from paintings that she had woken and didn't stop until she had reached the large statue that she knew to conceal the dormitories of the Head Boy. She sucked in a deep breath, muttered the password that he had given her, and stepped inside. Draco was seated with his back to her, but as he heard the statue open he stood and turned to see who had entered. Ginny gave him a watery smile before walking over to him, standing on her tippy toes and kissing him gently. He regarded her coldly for a minute before his walls collapsed and he gathered her fiercely into his arms.

"Merry Christmas, Draco."

"Merry Christmas, Ginny."

Far above Hogwarts, the moon shone brightly, the only witness to the miracles that took place at the magical time of Christmas.