Author's Note: This is a short little Christmas present I wrote for a friend last year. Her penname's Lady of the Lilacs, and she's got an enormous talent for expressing herself, but she's convinced she can't write. Go and yell at her to write something! Please review. )

Of Snowfights and Skating
By Christelle

Ginny walked out into the frigid air of late December and was immediately forced to dodge a snowball. Ron's grinning face peeked out at her from behind an evergreen, and she could hear Hermione's giggles from behind it. Glaring good-naturedly, she leaned down and packed some snow into a sphere and, walking innocently around the evergreen, hurled it straight into the trio's midst. Then she turned and dashed away before they could retaliate.

But there was a patter of running feet behind her and she glanced back to see Ron chasing her determinedly. Apparently, he hadn't been hit with the worst of the blast.

She heard a grunt and she looked back to see Ron stumble over a tree root. A flailing hand caught her around the ankle and she fell, too, sprawling in the snow. Laughing, she disentangled herself from her brother and sat up.

Hermione was trotting over, Harry a few paces behind. "Are you all right?" she asked, her face flushed.

"Yes," said Ginny, even though she knew the question was more directed at Ron.

She leaned on her elbows in the snow, brushing the cold substance out of her eyes. The skaters on the lake caught her eye, and she watched them, idly tugging a curl of fiery hair. They twirled and swirled and whirled across the lake's surface, some more gracefully than others.

"Hermione," Ginny said suddenly.

Hermione looked up from helping Ron to his feet. "Yes?"

"Do you know how to do that?" she asked, pointing.

"Ice skate? Of course!" said Hermione, leaping up and seizing Ginny's hand. "Come on, I'll show you. It's fun!"

Taking out her wand, she called, "Accio ice skates!"

They waited.

"You'll have to give it a minute," said Hermione. "They were at the bottom of my trunk."

At last, the skates came whizzing through the air, neatly slicing some needles off of a pine tree on the way. Hermione caught them by the laces and dragged Ginny to the edge of the lake.

"Here, put them on," she said, thrusting the skates at Ginny.

An hour and a hundred bruises later, Ginny felt relatively confident that she was capable of staying upright on the godawful things.

"Man was not meant to walk on ice!" she screeched, wobbling.

"Maybe not, but woman was," Hermione said cheerfully. "Anyway, you're not walking, you're skating. You look great."

"It's kind of fun, though," Ginny admitted.

"Of course it is!"

The lunch bell rang, and Hermione glanced toward the castle.

"It's all right," said Ginny, reading the older girl's thoughts. "I'm okay, you can go in to lunch. I'll be along in a minute."

Hermione nodded gratefully and started the long trek back to the castle. Ginny glided along, wobbling a bit, feeling insanely proud every time she rounded a turn or escaped some imperfection in the ice.

If she'd had the slightest idea what the Winter Olympics were, she'd probably have been envisioning herself gold medalist of figure skating. But she didn't, so she wasn't. Still, she felt there ought to be an audience of some sort and began to feel quite sorry that she'd given her only spectator leave to run off to lunch.

She wasn't aware that she had another, more intent watcher. He was standing hidden in the bushes, and the green of his scarf acted as camoflague against the green bushes.

Draco was fed up with watching her bloody ice skate around the bloody lake. He was tired of watching her at all, sick to death of his damned Weasley-loving hormones, fatigued with life in general.

He had sent Crabbe and Goyle away, informing them that this was a covert operation. Since the only word they'd understood of the phrase was "a", the hulking Slytherins had wandered off to do whatever it was they did when they weren't acting as bodyguards.

His eyes narrowed as she skated past. He'd had enough of skulking in the shadows and spying on the bird. Time to swagger out and thump some true Malfoy additude into the atmosphere and hope that it drove away the irritating soft emotions with which he was unfortunately forced to deal.

He strode around the bushes while her back was turned, making it look as though he'd just come from the castle. Then he waited, arms folded over his chest, until she turned again.

She gave a start when she saw him, and she very nearly lost her balance. Arms windmilling, feet braced, she regained her composure and looked at him, chin thrust out defiantly.

"That is a lovely trick," Draco said, sneering. "Do you have any other Mudblood talents, little girl?"

Ginny was silent for a moment. Then she said, "Why do you call them that? They're people, just like us."

"Just like you, perhaps," Draco said absent-mindedly as he stepped out onto the ice. His feet slipped, but he kept walking.

"Just like you, too," argued Ginny. "How can you really think blood matters?"

"Because it does," he answered shortly. He reached out and tugged a lock of red hair. "What is it with you people and bloody red hair," he said, not really asking a question.

Without warning, he slipped and fell, grabbing Ginny by the waist on the way down in an effort to save himself. They landed hard on the ice, sprawled in a confusing tangle of arms, legs, and... other things.

Draco could feel the heat rising to his face as his mind processed what had just taken place. Him, falling! Dragging a Weasley down with him! Wondering how to pretend he'd meant to do that, he sat up, hoping the dratted girl wouldn't notice his blush.

When he caught sight of her, he stopped worrying she would notice the blush. The blush itself, in fact, ceased to be a problem, as the blood drained out of his face. She was lying horribly still, her hair spread beneath her head like a pillow.

Terrified and trying not to show it, he reached out and prodded her shoulder. "Weasley—get up, Weasley, we all know you're just pretending..."

His voice died away, leaving the silence to blanket out as was its wont.

"Oh, shit," Draco muttered. "God, Ginny, please wake up."

He let himself fall back on the ice, staring at the whirl of clouds overhead. Next to him, Ginny opened her eyes and looked at him.

"You know," she said, "that's the first time I've ever heard you say 'please'. Come to think of it, the first time you've said my name, too."

"For Christ's sake, you little bitch," Draco snarled, rolling on top of her and pinning her arms to her sides. His face was flushed again, with anger this time.

Ginny grinned at him, apparently unaware that the boy was ready to kill. Taking him completely by surprise, she wriggled out of his grip and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing his mouth down to hers.

"Bloody hell," spluttered the Slytherin when the kiss broke. "Bloody hell. What'd you do that for?"

"I'm a girl," Ginny began, "who does lots of things on impulse..."