In the Bleak Midwinter

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"Ginny? Ginny!" Hermione's high, clear voice carried through the thick wooden dormitory door. A moment later, she knocked three times. "Are you awake?"

Ginny sat up in her bed, blinking blearily. "I am now," she grumbled, but quietly enough so that the other girl could not hear. "Come in," Ginny called, her voice louder this time.

Hermione burst through the door and practically galloped into the room. As she leapt onto Ginny's four-poster, Ginny realized that the older Gryffindor was still wearing her nightgown, a pink bathrobe, and slippers.

Ginny stared. Hermione had not even been this jumpy and excited on Christmas morning. What had induced this un-Hermione-like reaction? But Ginny knew that Hermione would reveal her secret eventually. Instead, Ginny asked, "What time is it?"

"Time to go play in the snow!" Hermione bounced over to the window and threw open the curtains, revealing that the Hogwarts landscape had been blanketed in a fresh foot of snow overnight. Large, sticky snowflakes still floated down on the cold December breeze.

Play in the snow?! Hermione had really gone off her rocker. Knowing that more questions would only get senseless answers, Ginny slid out from under her warm covers and crossed the room to check the clock.

"Six thirty?!" Ginny rounded on Hermione, crossing her arms.

Hermione could tell that the youngest Weasley wanted an explanation. She grinned sheepishly, sitting back down on the edge of Ginny's bed. "You know that New Year's Masque?"

Do I ever, Ginny thought, and she smiled to herself. But aloud, she replied, "Sure."

"Well..." Hermione was wringing her hands in her lap. "I've been asked."

It took all of Ginny's self-restraint not to shout, "Me too, me too!" Her smile widened as she raced over to Hermione's side, thumping back on the bed. "Who was it?" Ginny asked eagerly, her tiredness gone.

Hermione looked up at her with wide eyes, biting her lower lip shyly. She mumbled something, her cheeks red.

"Say what?" Ginny asked, unable to hear Hermione's unintelligible murmuring.

"Ron did."

Ginny mouth dropped open. She blinked. Then she let out a giant whoop of glee and starting dancing about the room.

"Ginny!" Hermione said, laughing. "Ginny, calm down!"

But Ginny ignored her. Finally, breathless, she collapsed on the bed. "I can't believe it," she gasped. "I can't believe he actually did it."

Hermione was beaming, her face very red now. "Well, he didn't really do it. Harry did. But Ron was standing right there, blushing as red as rose petals, and when I said yes, I looked right at him. Then he made this choking noise, and tried to say something..." Hermione laughed. "It's rather funny now, actually. Harry was trying not to laugh then, I could tell."

Ginny hugged a pillow. "And? Did you do anything?"

"Do... anything? You mean, like...?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Come on, Hermione, you're sixteen. You can say the word 'kiss.'"

"No, of course we didn't kiss."

"Did he hug you?"

"No... but we sat together on the couch, and once..."

Ginny leaned toward her. "Yes?"

Hermione buried her face in a pillow. Ginny barely heard her mumble, "He put my hair behind my ear."

"Ahhh!" Ginny cried. It would be endlessly fun to tease her brother and Hermione now... in fact, she could hardly wait to begin. "Is he downstairs?"

Hermione peaked over the pillow and shrugged. "I don't know, I came straight here to tell you when I woke up."

Ginny smiled mischievously. "Let's go check." She was beginning to put on her cloak - her current substitute for a worn-out bathrobe - when Hermione stopped her.

"Wait, Ginny, I have to ask you something. Do you think - do you think Harry's angry?"

Ginny froze and turned back to face the girl. "Harry? Angry?" She gave the worried-looking Hermione a comforting smile. "He's probably just as relieved as I am."

Hermione looked confused. "Relieved?"

Ginny patted Hermione's shoulder. "You see, Hermione... everyone knows that you like Ron and that Ron likes you. It's you two who've taken the longest time to find out. Now that you have admitted it, everyone will be able to relax." Ginny grinned wryly. "We won't have to put up with your cluelessness anymore."

Hermione smiled back, obviously soothed. "Good. If I thought for one second that it'd ruin our friendship..." her voice trailed off. She shook her head. "Nevermind. Thanks, Ginny. I really appreciate it."

Ginny finished clasping her cloak and stepped into some slippers. "No problem, Hermione." The redhead was halfway out the door when Hermione called her back. She swung around. "Yeah?"

"If you ever need someone to talk to," Hermione reminded her, "you're more than welcome to come find me. I'll listen, I promise. And... I won't tell Ron."

Ginny stared at her, trying to keep an innocent face. Inside, she felt rather guilty. After all, just the night before, she'd agreed to go with none other than Draco Malfoy to the New Year's Masque. Though neither of them were sure what this meant - were they a "couple?" Did they... like each other? Or could they even love each other? The concept was a foreign one; neither had known what to think or feel about the situation. Draco had simply walked Ginny back to Gryffindor tower, and before he'd left her for the evening, they'd agreed not to tell anyone.

"But what about Smith? He'll surely tell someone," Ginny had asked.

Draco had merely shrugged. "I'll talk to him tomorrow. Fortunately, there aren't many students left in his house for him to tell."

Then Ginny had smiled; Draco's fleeting smile had shone back at her, and the evening was over.

What an unusual, exciting, contrary, magical evening it had been.

"Sure, Hermione," Ginny said finally, trying to sound light. "Thanks."

And she hurried from the dormitory, anxious to avoid more awkward silence.

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When Ginny arrived in the common room to tease Ron, she realized that she'd been beaten to it. Harry was laughing, and Ron was about as red as the flickering fire in front of them. She stalked over, grinning, and sat down beside her brother on the couch.

"Well... I have it on good authority that you've finally made the move, Ron," she said.

He scowled at her. "Shove off, Gin."

She mock-glared right back. "Ron," she said loudly, "how come you're allowed to shout at me when I get a boyfriend, but I can't even take the mickey?"

"He's not my boyfriend," Hermione said calmly, her voice even though her cheeks were slightly red. "He's only asked me to the Masque."

Ron was staring at her. "Well... if I... what if I... do I have to..." he stuttered incoherently, speaking to a spot on the carpet.

"I think he's trying to ask you," Ginny translated slyly, "if you want to be his girlfriend, too?"

Hermione turned pink, bit her lip shyly, and murmured, "Yeah."

Both Harry and Ginny burst into fits of laughter. Ron stared at Hermione, shocked. She smiled nervously at him from her chair. Then, suddenly, Ron stood up from the couch and crossed to her side, his brow etched with determination. In one surprisingly smooth movement, he bent and kissed her on the lips.

Harry and Ginny stopped laughing, their eyes wide, but no one was as surprised as Hermione. When Ron finally broke away, bright red but looking a bit pleased with himself, she gave a gasp of surprise and stared at him breathlessly, her mouth slightly open.

"Ron," said Harry finally, breaking the long silence and causing Hermione to jump, "I think that's the bravest thing you've ever done, and that includes McGonagall's chess set."

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Ginny could hardly wait for breakfast to arrive. Even the thought of looking across a huge hall at Draco made her feel jumpy. Fortunately, Ron and Hermione were too wrapped up in the morning's events to notice anything out of the ordinary, and Harry was busy taking the mickey. None of them protested when she entered the Great Hall and took a seat by herself toward the end of the Gryffindor table, trying to look around without anyone noticing where she was staring.

She spotted him right away, of course. His silver-white head was bent over his plate; she could just see the hair on the nape of his neck. Her fingers tingled, wanting to run themselves through it...

Ginny caught herself staring and looked sharply down at her plate. Can you be any more obvious? What if he notices? What if realizes that you... you...

Ginny put a stop to her thought before it could finish itself. She did not want to utter that word - aloud or in her mind - when dealing with Draco Malfoy. She was determined to pretend that she didn't feel it, that it didn't exist in her heart, least of all for him. What if it wasn't the same for Draco? What if he didn't...

"Merlin!" she growled, stabbing a kipper viciously to relieve her anger. "Can't I just stop thinking about it?!"

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Ginny would never have admitted it, least of all to herself, but secretly she would give anything to know that Draco was thinking about the exact same thing at that moment. In fact, he was staring at her in the exact same way that she had been looking at him a moment before. His granite eyes soaked in her appearance: a halo of hair as red as Cabernet Sauvignon; big, soft brown eyes hidden under long lashes; a long, curved neck framed by downward sloping shoulders...

"For the love of Salazar," Blaise Zabini drawled next to him, "stop ogling."

Draco turned his gaze to his fellow Slytherin, although the look in his eyes was very different than that with which he'd been regarding Ginny. "Do you blame me for looking at her? You would if you were in my shoes."

"I don't plan to be in anyone's shoes when I look at Ginny Weasley. In fact," Blaise said with a self-satisfied smirk, "I don't plan to be wearing anything at all."

Only Draco's eyes revealed the inward struggle that was taking place; fortunately for Blaise, his mind won, and he managed not to punch the other boy in the stomach. "Ginny's a lucky girl, then -" Blaise's smirk widened at Draco's words "- because Slytherins' plans always fail."

The sly smile fell off Blaise's lips. "You're a Slytherin, too," he growled, "so be prepared to give up your plans with her."

Draco stood up smoothly, knowing that Blaise's anger meant he was admitting defeat. "You see," he explained regally, "I'm the exception." Then he stalked away, leaving Blaise fuming.

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Ginny watched him sweep from the room, her eyes following him as sharply as a cat's follow a mouse. Luckily, no one was watching her, or they would have seen the burning desire to pounce on him as well.

She finally turned back to her food when the doors shut behind him, but she realized she wasn't really hungry. She was too hung up on thoughts of Draco; what did he mean?

She glanced down the table at Ron and Hermione, half expecting to see them feeding each other. Instead, they were merely sitting next to each other, Hermione chatting vividly to Harry and Ron chewing heartily beside her. As Ginny watched, Hermione's hand met Ron's when they reached for the same pitcher, and the two of them shared a smile.

Ginny sighed. They were in love. It was the kind of love you always imagined for yourself; the kind of love you talked about in hushed whispers at night in the dormitory; the kind of love you had dreams about when you were fourteen. She could see that love in Hermione's smile, in Ron's gentle eyes.

Ginny realized something then, looking at them. It came quite suddenly, but she knew in an instant that it was true, and that knowledge was both beautiful and terrifying.

She knew that that same love lit her gaze whenever she saw at Draco.

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