A/N: My absolute favorite non-traditional Christmas song is Trans-Siberian Orchestra's The Snow Came Down. So when I thought about a Christmas Hinny fic - since I haven't really done one - I thought of this song. Here's the story I spun out of it. :) Muggle AU, Harry/Ginny fluff story, (there's a happy ending!)

It's snowing when he arrives at Kings Cross Station, wet heavy flakes that melt as soon as they touch the pavement. Harry takes that as a good omen. She loves snow. Maybe this will work out for them tonight. Maybe.

He pulls his jacket collar close around his neck and buys his ticket, hearing the warning whistle blow. It's busier than he thought it would be on Christmas Eve, but he still finds empty cars when he boards the train. The line isn't used often, running the outskirt towns and rural communities, but the railway maintains it and tonight Harry is extremely grateful they do.

He chooses a seat in an empty car and sits next to the window. The train blows its last whistle and shudders forward. The London lights are bright and they blur as the train gains speed. Harry rests his head against the back of the seat and tries to convince himself that he has no expectations. He tries to tell himself that he's just taking a holiday ride through the countryside. But no matter how much he tells himself she won't be there, he can't help but hope that she will be.

It had been stupid really, how it all started. He was given a special assignment nearly two months ago and had needed to go undercover. He'd told Ginny - like an idiot he now realizes - that she'd be safer in her childhood home. She worked from home anyway; it wouldn't be any different for her to write at the Burrow than at their flat. Ginny had laughed at him; told him he was being crazy. Harry had become insistent; told her to stop being stubborn and be reasonable. Then at some point, they started yelling at each other. Harry could still feel the ache in his chest as their parting words echoed in his mind.

"Tell me honestly that you don't want me here, Harry!"

"Gin, I want you safe!"

"I'm perfectly safe here!"

"Gin, please," Harry fisted a hand in his hair.

"Tell me to leave," Ginny's voice was deadly quiet.

"Please just go to your parents' house till I'm finished with this assignment."

She had stared at him with those big brown eyes and Harry could see unshed tears glistening in her eyes. She pulled her coat and bag off their hooks and headed for the door.

"Goodbye, Harry," and she quietly shut the door.

He called once but chickened out before someone answered. How could he explain to Molly or Arthur what he'd done if they'd even hand Ginny the phone? How could he explain it to Ginny?

Harry sighs as the lights of another small town arrive and fade as the train races forward. He should have gone after her the minute the door closed. He should have fixed this then. But he can't bear the thought of something happening to her because of his job. He loves being a detective; he loves feeling like he's making their part of the world safer and better. But he's terrified of some of the stories the veterans tell - stories of criminals going after detectives' wives, children, parents, and friends. He can't bear to think of someone hurting Ginny because of him. He would never be able to forgive himself for it.

But he'll never forgive himself if he's screwed this up either.

Harry briefly wishes he had chosen to sit in a train car that had people in it. Maybe talking to someone who's going home in time for Christmas would help distract him from the aching feeling in his chest that he's not going find anyone at the station, let alone Ginny. This is the last train of the night. He'll spend Christmas Eve at the station if she isn't there. But it somehow seems better to spend Christmas Eve at the station than to spend it alone in what he hopes is still their flat. Ginny's all he has left now that his parents have passed - if he even still has her.

He tries to focus on the dark landscape, and how beautiful it is when he catches glimpses of snow blanketing their surroundings. Harry pulls a hand through his hair and checks his watch. He's nearly there. He had called the Burrow from work but there had been no answer, and Molly still hasn't deleted her messages to make room for new ones on the family's answering machine. When it was time to leave, he'd made up his mind and went straight for King's Cross. She doesn't know he's coming. She isn't going to be there.

That's what he keeps telling himself.

But as he looks up at the dark sky and the falling snow, Harry wishes. He wishes she'll want him to show up for Christmas as much as he wants to be there. He wishes she'll somehow know that he's coming. That maybe she'll be there and maybe she'll forgive him for being an idiot and for hurting her because he's just so freaking scared of losing the last damn good thing in his life. He wishes they can try this again. Because if she tells him no he'll be haunted for the rest of his life by that look in her eyes and the quiet level tone of her voice as the door clicked close.

Harry braces himself as the train begins to slow. He pulls his work bag over his shoulder and tries to breathe. He's about to find out if his Christmas wish is going to pan out for him and he feels some sort of mix between nauseous and determined to see it through.

The train slows to a stop, the car park is too far away to see if there are cars in it, but Harry's breath is stuck in his throat because he saw footsteps in the snow to the main entrance of the station. Could they possibly, maybe, be Ginny's?

He's on his feet and out the door, stepping onto the crisp white snow, eyes trained on the door to the station. It seems to take an eternity to walk the few yards from the platform to the dimly lit building. He can't bear to look back at the footsteps for fear that he imagined them; that they'll slip through his fingers if he doesn't trust that those footsteps are actually there. He rests his gloved hand on the door and wishes one more time that the woman he loves is on the other side before taking a deep breath and swinging it open.

His eyes take a moment to adjust to the light, and then they find her. Ginny's standing just feet away from him, her jacket still on, hair sparkling with the snowflakes melting across it, and Harry thinks for a moment he might fall to his knees. He can't seem to utter anything intelligible as he takes her in, worried she's only a dream, that he'll awake on the train any minute and she'll slip through his grasp again.

"Hi," is all he can finally muster to say and she stares back at him. Harry wants to believe that her staring is because she's as floored as he is that they're together, that somehow they knew the other would be here.

She opens her mouth and shuts it again, looking at him like he might vanish before her eyes. Harry can't take it any longer and he moves slowly, but purposefully towards her. It's only a few feet, but it feels like miles. At last, he's standing in front of her, removing his gloves and with trepidation he reaches for her, desperate to know it's really her, that she's not a dream.

Her breath catches audibly as his hand makes contact with hers, and Harry's heart seems to fly at feeling her skin on his.

"Gin," her name escapes his lips sounding like a hushed prayer. He's got so much to say, so much to fix, but all he can do is drink in the sight of her because she's holy water and he's been wandering in the desert alone for two months.

"You're here," Ginny whispers, staring up into his eyes. Her voice seems to pull him back to reality and suddenly he can't seem to stop himself from apologizing for everything.

"Gin, Gin I'm so sorry! I was scared and I let that get in the way of us and I somehow convinced myself that I was protecting you and was some sacrificing hero. But the moment you walked out I knew I'd fucked up. I knew I should have gone after you right then. I just, Hell, Gin I just couldn't bear it if anything happened to you because of my job. But if I don't have you in my life then none of that matters. I need you, Ginny."

Harry takes a breath, realizing that he's rambling, and tries to slow down.

"Harry," Ginny weaves her fingers with his. "I know what the risks of being with you are. And while the old timers and the BBC like to talk about the times when criminals go after family members, you do know it's not nearly as frequent as you fear it is, right?"

Harry sighs and hangs his head. "You're right, I just," he bites back the threatening tears and looks back up at her. "Gin, you're all I have left."

She closes the distance between them and Harry swears that every part of him she touches as she snakes her arms around his neck ignites with a fire that's been snuffed since she walked out their door. He meets her halfway, hands gripping her waist with a fierceness that surprises him.

"Then don't push me away, you great prat!" Her voice is strong but quiet as she looks up at him, her face barely inches from his.

"I won't do it again, Gin." He whispers before dropping his lips to kiss her.

Their lips touch and it's like he's taking his first real breath after nearly drowning. Their kiss quickly becomes desperate. There's a rush that seems to grip Harry as he slides his tongue across Ginny's lower lip and she sighs into him, parting her lips. Harry's sure any passerby would see electricity sparking around them because he can feel it in the air as they cling to each other and each breathes the other in.

Harry almost expects to see the sun high in the sky when they finally pull back just enough to breathe.

Ginny runs a still slightly cold hand along his cheek and smiles up at him. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too," Harry leans in, placing a slow kiss on her lips, "And I'm so sorry for all of this."

"I'm sorry too," Ginny sighs into him. "I could have been more understanding instead of goading you. And honestly, I should have known better. Your parents have only been gone a couple years; I should have realized where you were coming from. I should have talked you down."

Harry kisses her, cutting off any further apologizing. "None of that matters now if we can put it behind us."

Ginny nods and smiles against him, "All I've wanted for Christmas is us back."

"Me too," Harry can feel his heart soaring in his chest at her words. And he does the only thing he can think of to let Ginny know what he's feeling, kissing her in a display of passion that seems to grip both of them. It's Ginny who pulls away but not before several moments of snogging him with equal fervor to his own.

"We should get going," she twirls her fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck. "Mum will get worried if I'm not home soon."

Harry chuckles before nodding, "Think she'll mind adding another guest for Christmas dinner?"

Ginny scoffs, "My mother adores feeding people, she'll be thrilled."

Harry pulls her hand into his and kisses it. "You'll come home tomorrow then?"

Ginny kisses him, chaste but slow. "I'm not ever leaving again."

Harry is pretty sure that he looks like a love-struck fool, but given that he is, it's fitting that he looks the part. He wraps his arm around Ginny's waist and kisses her again because he's been devoid of her lips for so long he wonders how he survived it.

They walk away from the station together on this Christmas Eve. It's snowing, coming down in big flakes now and covering the ground. Harry climbs into the Weasley's car with Ginny and smiles. She likes snow. It's a good omen; they're going to be just fine.