Author's Note: This little fic was written for Charlie in the DG Forum's 2018 Secret Santa Exchange! Charlie's three-word prompt is posted at the end of the fic.

I ended up writing this fic in the Clean Slate universe – i.e., it is compliant with my fic Clean Slate, which I wrote for the D/G Fic Exchange this past summer. (Clean Slate is, er, not yet posted to my own account yet, but I believe you can still read it on the DG Forum's account.) It is not necessary to have read Clean Slate to read this fic, of course.

This fic was also inspired by the song "Christmas Without You" by OneRepublic.

It was Christmas Eve, and it was freezing, and Ginny lay in her bed, wide awake and totally alone.

She should have been exhausted. She'd spent the whole day doing last-minute shopping, before heading over to Bill and Fleur's for dinner in the evening. And then, even once she got home, she'd stayed up another several hours, wrapping what seemed like a million presents.

She should have been exhausted. She had been exhausted, while she'd been wrapping all those presents. But even so, now that she was finally in bed, warm and comfortable, nestled beneath three quilts—she couldn't sleep.

Because even though she was warm, here, on her side of the bed, the other side of the bed was cold. Cold and empty.

She shifted sideways, until she lay in the middle of the bed. So there was no her side or his side.

But that didn't help. Now the bed just felt too big around her.

Ginny sighed. Usually, she loved this time of year. Usually, she loved Christmas. She should have been happy today, shopping around Hogsmeade with Hermione and Luna. Wrapping presents by the fireside while listening to the warbling voice of Celestina Warbeck on the wireless (which she kind of hated, yet for nostalgia's sake she found herself tuning in every year, even when she wasn't at Burrow). Spending time at Shell Cottage, sipping hot cocoa and playing with little Victoire and listening to Fleur bemoan that she still hadn't been able to find the doll Victoire wanted for Christmas. (It was the exclusive 2004 Miss Priss Witch doll, made by the Blue Brick Wizards' Toymakers in Belgium, of which only a hundred were released every year. Bill had even tried reaching out to old Curse Breaker friends to see if they could find one while traveling abroad for work, but to no avail.)

All these things, she should have enjoyed. Spending time with family and friends, searching for the perfect gifts, preparing to exchange them tomorrow. And a small part of her did.

But the largest part of her just felt hollow inside. Because she was doing it all without Draco.

He and Harry had gone out of the country two weeks ago, hunting down a new lead in Budapest, a new lead on some of the criminals who'd been operating that big Muggle trafficking ring six months ago—the ones who had escaped the raid Draco had (sort of) orchestrated. The only reason Ginny hadn't gone with them was because she had been on assignment elsewhere at the time, and they didn't have time to wait for her.

Then Harry had returned a week ago—without Draco. And he'd been rather vague on why. All he'd said was that Draco had more work to do, over in eastern Europe, and that he would be fine, and he'd be back soon.

And then, three days later, Ginny had received an owl from Draco, with an incredibly short, frustrating, utterly unsatisfactory update. All the letter said was, "Might not be home for Christmas."

Not home for Christmas.

The words echoed inside Ginny. Inside her hollowed-out heart.

She knew he had important work to do. They both did; it was the life they'd chosen. It was just that, in the last six months—in the time they'd been together—more often than not, that work kept them apart from each other during times that Ginny really, really wanted to spend together.

Draco had missed her birthday because he was out of the country, hunting down another lead. Ginny had to cancel their plans to go on a Nordic cruise—their first holiday together as a couple—because of a tip-off on a big case she'd been working on. Then—again because of work—she'd missed Harry and Luna's engagement party (a fact which Draco had not let her forget, as he'd been stuck at the party alone, "with a bunch of Gryffindors and do-gooders," as he'd put it).

Of course, intentionally or not, he'd paid her back for that by completely failing to show up for Pansy Parkinson's Christmas party, the first weekend in December, because he'd been "held up." Actually held up—supposedly, he'd been cornered by a couple of former Death Eaters who had nearly killed him, but Ginny still wasn't sure she believed it. Well, all right, it was probably true, but still. She'd had to endure Parkinson's snide comments about her relationship with Draco, by herself, for three hours.

She would have much rather been cornered by old Death Eaters.

So after all that—after losing out on so much time together, so many special occasions—Ginny had really been looking forward to spending Christmas together. To finally, finally, being able to share some time off together.

But once again, it wasn't going to happen. She was going to be alone on Christmas. Well, surrounded by all her family, which was far from alone, but…she would feel alone.

Because the one person she really wanted wouldn't be there.

Ginny pulled one of three pillows out from under her head, trying to get more comfortable. The longer she lay in bed, the more uncomfortable she felt. Maybe she should just get up and do something, take a relaxing bath or read a book or—

Bang.

Ginny bolted upright.

What was that?

She sat completely still, listening intently. As an Auror, Ginny had always been cautious, but living with Draco, working with Draco, these past six months, had probably tipped her over into outright paranoia. He was certainly paranoid as hell, but then, that was to be expected when a bunch of criminals you'd turned on wanted you dead.

Still, she couldn't sleep anyway…she should go downstairs, see what might have caused that noise…or maybe she'd just imagined it—

Another bang.

"Damn it," Ginny whispered, throwing back her quilts. She rose to her feet, quickly but silently, and snatched up her wand from the bedside table. Slowly—hoping it wouldn't creak—she pulled the door open.

The short corridor outside—which was really just a landing, not an actual corridor—was dark and quiet and still. Ginny eased out onto it, holding her wand before her. The floor was icy beneath her feet, but Ginny ignored that as she paused at the top of the stairs, cocking her head to listen. She didn't hear another bang, but there was something else…

Footsteps. Footsteps, downstairs, on the hardwood floors. She was sure of it.

Ginny padded down the curving staircase, her bare feet making no sound. She skipped the bottom step, remembering that it always creaked. At the bottom of the stairs, she stood, facing the small kitchen. She didn't dare light her wand for fear of giving herself away, but by the pearly light of the moon, shining through the narrow, glazed windows lining the top of the opposite wall, she could see the kitchen was empty. She darted a glance to her left, into the dining room beyond the kitchen, but it looked empty, too. Nothing but still shadows, glooming up the room.

The sound of more footsteps—louder and clearer now—snagged her attention at once. Coming from around the corner, on her right, in the den, where the Christmas tree was. As Ginny tightened her grip on her wand, she heard a sort of scuffing sound, followed by a thud and a low mutter. As if whoever it was had just tripped.

Steeling herself, Ginny raised her wand and threw herself around the corner.

She glimpsed a figure, draped in darkness at the far end of the room, near the cold, dead fireplace. The intruder started to turn to face her, but Ginny didn't give him the chance to before she waved her wand, shooting a nonverbal Binding Spell at him.

Or at least, that was what she meant to do. But, well, she was very tired, even if she hadn't been able to sleep, and she'd spent her last hours before bed wrapping countless gifts, and, so—she realized belatedly—she used the wrong spell.

Instead of conjuring thick ropes to bind the intruder, bright, glittery red and gold ribbons sprang from the end of her wand and snaked themselves around him.

It worked just as well. With a shout, the intruder toppled to the ground, arms and legs bound tightly by the ribbons.

"Right," Ginny said furiously, "now just what—"

"Ginny," the intruder interrupted her, sounding incredibly peeved, "what in Merlin's bloody name are you doing?"

Ginny's eyes widened.

She recognized that voice.

With another wave of her wand, she lit the lamps in the rooms.

And found Draco lying on the ground before her, bound in red and gold ribbon, trussed up like a Christmas gift.

"Draco!" Ginny squealed. "What the—what are you doing here?"

"I thought I was coming home," he snapped. His voice was muffled and a little nasally, because he'd fallen on his side and rolled onto his front, so half his face was plastered against the floor. "You know, for Christmas?"

"You said you weren't going to be home for Christmas!" Ginny shot back. Her shock and dismay were quickly evaporating, and in their place, annoyance rose in her like a tidal wave. No matter how long they'd been together, Draco tended to have that effect on her. "And what are you doing, sneaking in here in the middle of the night!"

"I was trying not to wake you."

"Well, I already was awake!"

"Obviously."

"And for an Auror, you don't sneak very well," she added snidely. "You made a hell of a lot of noise."

"Well, it was dark," he retorted, in a most aggrieved tone, "and you left all these boxes lying around—"

"They're called Christmas presents, you dope!"

Draco squirmed a little. He looked like he was trying to roll onto his back, but he only made it halfway and then rolled back, flat on his face. With a little groan, he said, "I don't suppose you could, you know, untie me?"

Ginny snickered. "Unwrap you, you mean."

Draco tilted his head, peering down at the ribbons around him. "What is that about, anyway?"

"Never mind." Ginny sighed and marched over to him, half-raising her wand to sever the ribbons. But then she stopped and paused, looming over him. Now—in addition to annoyance—sheer elation and relief washed over her as it hit home. He was actually here—he was home—and that dizzying whirlwind of emotion, all mixed together, sparked a hint of mischievousness in her. Using the ball of her foot against his shoulder, she tipped him over onto his back.

Draco stared up at her, a strand of hair covering one of his eyes. The eye that was visible held a glimmer of that paranoia that constantly plagued him. "Er—what are you doing?" he asked. "Untie me, already!"

Ginny said, in a pleasant, even voice, "Maybe I like you like this."

"What, wrapped up like a Christmas present?" Draco's voice rang with sarcasm. "Maybe you'd like to put a bow on my head as well!"

"I don't know about that." Ginny narrowed her eyes. "But I do have some frosting left over from baking cookies yesterday. That could be interesting."

"It would be a lot more interesting if I could move!"

"What kept you so long, anyway?" Ginny demanded. "Harry was back a week ago, and he wouldn't tell me anything! Just that you still had work to do, whatever that means. So where have you been? What have you been doing?"

Draco glared up at her. "You're not going to untie me until I tell you, are you?"

"You know me so well."

Draco sighed, a long, loud, overly dramatic sigh. "It's no big secret, anyway, and Potter probably didn't tell you anything because he didn't know the details. I, er, didn't want him to know what I was up to," he added in a mutter."

A flicker of alarm broke through Ginny's fun. "Why? Because you were doing something he wouldn't approve of?"

"No, because I didn't want him having a go at me." Draco squirmed again, frustration flashing through his eyes. "I went through four different countries, digging up all my old smuggling contacts—the ones that I knew wouldn't kill me, I mean—looking for that."

He tipped his head in a nod, indicating something behind Ginny. She turned, following his line of sight, and spotted a brown paper parcel sitting under the tree—a parcel she hadn't wrapped.

Curious, Ginny bent to pick it up. "Is it a present?"

"Not for you," was his reply. "Go on, open it. It needs to be properly wrapped, anyway."

Shooting him a look of deep suspicion, Ginny tore the parcel open.

Inside was the exclusive 2004 Miss Priss Witch doll, made by Blue Brick Wizards' Toymakers in Belgium.

"Oh, my god," Ginny breathed. "Where the hell did you find this? Even Bill couldn't find it, and he used up all his old contacts too!"

"Yes, well." Draco coughed, though his tone was rather smug. "My contacts go a little deeper than his do—"

Ginny whirled on him so fast that her hair whipped her in the face. "Did you do something illegal to get this doll?"

Despite his ridiculous position on the floor, Draco smirked. "The important thing is, I got it."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Did you do this for Victoire, or just to show up every other person in my family?"

"Not to show them up!" Draco protested, squirming again. He grimaced as he wriggled his arms within his glittery constraints. "Win them over, maybe—I mean, look, most of them still don't like me—"

A surge of warmth rose through Ginny, spreading to the tips of her toes—and filling that empty hole in her heart, that hollowed-out place she'd had ever since she'd received his note a few days ago. She set the doll aside and stepped towards him, and found she couldn't repress the smile that sprang to her lips. "And here I thought this would be a good opportunity to teach Victoire that you can't get everything you want, not even at Christmas."

"That's stupid," Draco scoffed. "Everyone should get what they want at Christmas."

Ginny waved her wand, severing the ribbons binding around him. Draco winced a little, shrugging back a shoulder and rubbing his arm as he slowly sat up.

"Well," Ginny said softly, "I know I did."

Draco snapped his head up and met her gaze. The look that stole into his gray eyes was devilish. "Are you sure about that? You got everything you want for Christmas?"

"Well." Ginny cocked her head playfully, holding out a hand to help him up. "Maybe once I go get that leftover frosting from the kitchen…"

A slow smile spread across Draco's face. "I was thinking the same thing."

Ginny laughed, but when Draco took her hand, he yanked her down to the ground with him, and she fell into his lap, her laughter vanishing at once. She opened her mouth to admonish him, but before she could, he sealed his mouth over hers in a breathless kiss that set her heart racing.

As Ginny wrapped her cupped a hand behind his neck, leaning into the warmth of his arms, his chest, she felt his kiss melting away all the time they'd missed together, as if none of it really mattered. It didn't matter, not now that he was here, with her, for Christmas.

When the kiss finally ended, Ginny sucked in a breath and whispered, "Merry Christmas, Malfoy."

"Merry Christmas, Weasley," Draco whispered back to her. "Now, about that frosting…"

THE END

End Note: Charlie's prompt was "frosted, ribbons, doll." Charlie, I hope you enjoyed this, and thank you for the super fun prompt!

For anyone wondering about the future of Clean Slate, I will be posting it to my own account soon. For more on my plans for that fic, check out my latest post at my fic journal on livejournal - username is rainywinters.