A/N: The first prompt in this 12 Days of Shipmas is "Christmas Gifts." Thank you, LittleRose13Writes, for this great idea!
Harry was sweating. Despite the snow, despite the brisk wind that whipped through the Hogsmeade buildings, he was sweating. Nerves, probably, he thought to himself, and he took a deep breath. There was truly nothing to worry about. He wasn't doing anything wrong, wasn't doing anything strange.
Ordering a gift was nothing out of the ordinary. Just because this happened to be a gift for a girl Harry cared about very much didn't mean anything, because the girl was not his girlfriend, so this wasn't a serious gift. It was a casual gift, a friendship gift, an ordinary gift. Harry smirked to himself. Oh, so very extraordinarily ordinary.
He pushed his way into the post office and wished, not for the first time today, that he had his Invisibility Cloak with him, but currently the Cloak was tucked away in his trunk. Oh well. Harry maneuvered around a witch carrying several large parcels and finally reached the front counter.
"Can I help you?" asked a bored-looking wizard. His uniform was rumpled, and Harry did not envy the bloke his job.
"Er, yes," said Harry. "I need to place a special order."
In the Gryffindor Common Room, late in the evening after Slughorn's party, Harry stared at the fire. Draco and Snape were up to something, Ron and Hermione were still not speaking to each other, and… he frowned. And Ginny was still out with Dean.
Harry shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with the directions his thoughts were going. He had heard Dean and Ginny arguing earlier in the day, and while a little part of him had leapt with hope, a bigger part of him ached at the idea that Ginny was unhappy. As much as Harry would like Ginny to move on from Dean, he knew that break-ups were painful. Ron's avoidance of Lavender was emphasizing this truth to him more and more each day.
Harry glanced down at the gift resting on the arm of his chair. It was poorly wrapped, but only in comparison to Hermione's skills. When next to Ron's gifts, Harry's wrapping job was a job well done.
In the light of the fire, the shiny wrapping paper reflected back at him. Harry sighed. He wondered if he was making too big of a deal out of nothing, but then he thought about Ginny's triumphant shout whenever she scored a Quidditch goal, and the butterflies in his stomach told him that he was doing the right thing.
The portrait hole opened abruptly, slamming against the opposite wall. Harry spun around to see Ginny storm into the common room and a disgruntled Dean following her. Ginny did not seem to notice Harry as she stomped over to the chair next to him. She flung herself down into the chair, crossed her arms over her chest, and glowered at the fire. Harry tried to press himself into his chair while not moving a muscle.
Dean had followed Ginny partway to the circle of chairs, but stopped. "Ginny, please," he said in a low voice, and Harry wished - again - that he had his Invisibility Cloak. Not that he wanted to stay for this discussion, but he definitely did not want to be noticed right now.
"Go away, Dean," Ginny said dully. She did not look away from the fire. Harry watched her carefully. She was not crying. She did not seem to show any feeling except exhaustion.
"But I-" Dean tried, but Ginny cut him off.
"Just go away, please." Still she did not look at Dean.
Harry listened, without turning his head, as Dean sighed and departed for the dormitories.
The two of them sat quietly for a minute, although Harry wondered if Ginny knew there were two of them. He tried his best not to fidget, and he tried to calculate how late he was willing to stay up if Ginny never went to bed.
Harry was startled out of his reverie as Ginny heaved a sigh. "Alright, Harry, I won't bite," she muttered moodily. He looked at her. Her eyes are shut, but there was a bit of a smile teasing at her lips. Harry blinked before he stared too long at her mouth.
"Er, how are you?" he asked stupidly, mentally kicking himself as soon as the words escape him.
Thankfully, Ginny ignored his stupid question. "What are you doing up so late?" she asked, opening her eyes and turning towards him.
Harry held his breath for a moment. "I was waiting for you," he said quietly, then waited for her reaction.
"Because Ron was too cowardly to wait for himself?" she asked, getting angry again. "That hypocritical pra-"
"No, not because of Ron," Harry interrupted her. She stopped talking and looked at him, eyebrows raised in question.
Harry summoned all his Gryffindor courage and said, "I have something for you. A gift, a Christmas gift. Here," and he picked up the gift at his side, stood, and reached to hand it to her.
She stood too and took the gift without comment, fingers tracing over the wrapping that now, in her hands, looked quite shabby. Harry noticed that she was smiling to herself.
"You can open it now," he blurted, wanting both to see her reaction and to run away.
She grinned at him, a true smile that made her eyes sparkle and her cheeks flush, and Harry could not help himself from grinning back.
"I know it's early," he heard himself saying, "but I thought you might like to open this with a little privacy, and I wanted to explain...well, you'll see."
"Privacy, hmm?" Ginny winked at him. "What kind of a gift is this, Harry?"
Harry felt his face turn red. "Oh! It's not, um, I mean, I didn't, er," he stammered, and Ginny burst out laughing.
"Oh, Harry, your face!" she cackled, and despite his embarrassment, Harry found himself laughing too.
"Oh, just open it already," he urged, eager to turn the attention back to her.
She smiled at him again - Harry felt the force of that smile down to his toes - and began unwrapping. As the wrapping fell away, Ginny slowed her movements. She turned the book over in her hands.
"Harry?" she asked uncertainly, and Harry stepped closer to her.
"I know you've had a bad experience with journals, so I ordered this one from a Muggle shop. There's nothing magical about it at all, not a thing, and here-" he gently opened the leather binding "-is a Muggle pen. No inkwells, no wands, just plain old pen and pape-" Harry stopped talking as the breath was squeezed out of him; Ginny had flung her arms around his waist and burrowed her head in the crook of his neck.
"Thank you," she whispered, and Harry caught his breath and gingerly wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He thought perhaps Ginny might be crying, or at least tearing up, but he couldn't tell with how her voice was muffled by his robes. He shut his eyes and savored the feel of her, just for a moment, and then they both stepped back at the same time.
"You're welcome, Gin," he said quietly. "Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas, Harry," Ginny replied, and before Harry knew what was happening, she was standing on tiptoe and kissing his cheek.
He blinked, surprised, and then Ginny was gone, disappearing up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. He stood still for another moment, rubbing his cheek and replaying the last few moments in his head. Happy Christmas, indeed.