A light smell of cinnamon hung in the air at Flourish & Blott's, originating from the ornaments that decorated the Christmas tree in the middle of the store: Cinnamon sticks put together to form intricate stars. Harry paused to look at the tree, warmth rushing through him after coming in from the cold, so welcoming that he almost forgot why he was here.

He inhaled the mixed scents of cinnamon and pine needles, closed his eyes for a moment - and felt someone shoving him forward. Trying not to fall into the Christmas tree he stretched his arms out, fighting for balance, leaning backwards and found himself caught in somebody's arms instead. They wrapped around him with yet another scent, one he couldn't quite place, but that was surprisingly pleasant, reminding him faintly of wood burning down in a fireplace.

"Potter."

Harry inhaled sharply upon hearing the voice. He hesitated - just for one second - before freeing himself out of Draco's arms. He turned around. Draco didn't smile but there was an amused glint in his eyes.

"Watch your steps," Draco said. "You're not the only one here, you know."

"Someone pushed me!" Harry answered. It wasn't what he had intended to say, simply the first thing that came to his mind. He tried to recall the image of Draco as he had last seen him - during the trials - with dark rings under his eyes, pale and uncertain and as if one word alone would have been enough to break him. He seemed to be doing better now, although there was still some reserve in his posture. Draco folded his arms across his chest and took a step back.

"Malfoy," Harry said. "You look..."

"Stunning?" Draco suggested.

"I was going for better, actually. Compared to... when I last saw you."

He forced himself not to bring up the trials and Draco acknowledged his decision with a brief nod. There were things - moments - that occupied a place in Harry's mind and that maybe, at some point, he would like to make sense of. One of them was a feeling that had started when he was a witness during Draco's trial: The urge to help him, grab him and pull him back to his feet and silently hoping he wouldn't break.

"Thanks for that speech," Draco said now and they both knew he was refering to Harry's witness statement, one part of why Draco had been exonerated. "For who did you forget to buy a gift?"

Harry blinked at the change of topic.

"What makes you think that?"

"Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and you're spending time in a book store. Everyone of those people is looking for last minute gifts. That's what the 23rd is for. So who is it? Granger?"

"No," Harry said. Draco was right however - he was in search of a christmas present. "What about you then?"

"There's one person left on my list," Draco answered. "I would have thought you had all your packages already neatly wrapped underneath the christmas tree."

"Well, this one has to be perfect." Which was making his quest infinitely more difficult. It couldn't just be any gift, it had to mean something - Ginny would expect it to.

"So it's for Weasley," Draco concluded. "You're still together."

"Again," Harry corrected automatically. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"We were broken up during the war. Now..." Harry interrupted himself for two reasons. The first was that Draco didn't need to know the story and the second that Harry wasn't able to define what Ginny and he were 'now' or what he wanted them to be. Ginny was normality. Being with her again marked the end of the storm because it was the obvious thing to do - to go back to the way they were before.

"Now?" Draco repeated.

"Now I will find her a gift." Harry looked past Draco at the tables filled with books. Some of the new publications covered the war, suggesting that maybe going back wasn't entirely possible. They could still pretend.

"I'll help with yours if you help with mine," Draco said as he followed Harry to one of the tables. "So what is she into?"

"I don't know. Quidditch." Harry picked up one of the books and studied the cover. You-Know-Who Has Fallen it read.

"Those are everywhere now, aren't they?" Draco stood close behind him now, looking at the book across Harry's shoulder. "How do they write them so fast anyways?" He grabbed the book out of Harry's hands and threw it back onto the table as if its pages had been dipped in poison. He walked around the table, his eyes darting across the covers, then to the next table where he finally chose another book to hold it out to Harry.

"What about this one? The Most Memorable Moments in Quidditch Worldcup History?"

Harry accepted the book, his fingers brushing lightly against Draco's.

He knew it wasn't quite the perfect gift, but Ginny would like it nontheless. Maybe something he would give her as a friend.

"Not good enough?" Draco asked.

"It's fine, I... I just really don't know... it'll be fine," he assured himself as much as Draco. What he had felt for Ginny when he had first kissed her was going to come back. How could the war have made it all go away? If it had been strong enough.

"So what would be your perfect gift?" Draco said. "Obviously nothing on the war."

Harry frowned.

"Why?"

"Out of curiosity," Draco answered, leaning closer to Harry. "I would tell you mine, but it's a secret."

Harry found the smile on Draco's lips highly intriguing. There was something promising about it, something that had Harry holding his breath.

"Nothing on the war," Harry repeated, whispering. "Anything that'll take me away from that."

Draco looked into his eyes then and Harry thought that maybe normality was overrated.

"Are you going to buy that?" Draco asked and dropped his gaze to the book in Harry's hands before stepping back. Harry couldn't help but feel disappointed by the sudden lack of Draco in his reach.

"Sure." Harry nodded, taking a deep breath. A gift for Ginny - that's what he came here for after all. He tightened his grip around the book. A short line had formed at the counter. Harry looked back at Draco while he was waiting. Draco was still there, searching through the books as if nothing happened. Maybe it hadn't and Harry was imagining something that wasn't truly there. He sighed, payed for Ginny's gift and turned to leave.

He hesitated at the entrance, just long enough so that Draco caught up with him.

"I think I found it," he told Harry.

"Found what?"

"The last gift on my list. Weren't you listenting earlier? I just came up with the idea - it's brilliant, really. I've been thinking for days about this one because it has to be a good one and you gave me the perfect idea, so thanks for that." Draco was ranting, the smile back on his lips. "You see I want this person to know that they mean something to me, so it can't just be anything. Seriously, thank you for the inspiration, Potter."

Harry pressed his lips together and nodded. So he had been imagining things - Draco already had someone. Then again, so did he, Harry reminded himself.

"Not a problem," Harry managed to say.

Harry watched Ginny unwrap the gift he bought her, the one she gave him resting in his lap. He finally reached down to open it when Ginny studied the backcover of the Quidditch book. There was a book inside the gift from Ginny as well - one on Auror training that wasn't more meaningful than what he had given to her. They looked at each other. She was the first to start laughing.

"This isn't working, is it?" she asked. Harry knew then that he wasn't the only one failing at going back. He smiled at Ginny.

"Probably not."

"I like it though," she said, holding up the book. "I was trying to get you something personal and I absolutely failed. Sorry for that."

"Don't be," Harry answered. Molly's voice called them both to the kitchen. Ginny reached for his hand.

"Let's not tell them until after Christmas," she said before getting to her feet and heading toward the rest of her family. Harry was about to follow her when he heard the noise of an owl's beak knocking against the window. He opened it to allow the animal inside. The envelope secured to its leg had his name on it.

There was a christmas card inside, with a ticket for a performance of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night attched to it - a muggle performance as Harry realised, not even in the vicinity of Diagon Alley. A few lines were written underneath: We probably can't escape the reminders of the war for good, but we can still get away from them for a day.

The card wasn't signed, but Harry didn't need to see the name to know who it was from. There it was, his possibility, and it brought a smile to his lips.

Draco wasn't normality and he certainly didn't stand for restoring something that Harry thought he had before the war. He stood for moving forward and maybe it was time to do so.