Winter had the last laugh that Christmas, as the train could not get into the station, and so the students were snowed in. Hermione had tried to explain that the Floo network could only take a certain amount of people, and so only essential trips were being made, but Ron and Harry just looked at her blankly.

It was a full school, and the informal atmosphere was fun as all the students wore their own clothes and just enjoyed being around their friends without lessons getting in the way. On Christmas morning, the excitement became unbearable as students woke to piles of presents. The owls had worked overtime over the last week delivering through the blizzards.

Ginny carried her little pile of presents into the common room wearing her pyjamas and dragging her quilt, all the animals on it in a high state of excitement. The Ginny and Ron dogs were playing in the snow that had mysteriously fallen in the quilt. Hermione was carefully writing down who gave her what and then made her way over the scattered presents and wrapping paper to give Ginny a hug. The painting had been finished with Draco's helpful advice, and Ginny had framed it. The flaws that had been glaring were now toned down, and Hermione was almost in tears.

'Thank you so much, Ginny, it's just beautiful!'

Ginny blushed and tugged at her new jumper. This year Mrs Weasley had opted for bright jewel colours, and hers was a sapphire blue. Hermione was feeling awkward but proud in her first Weasley jumper, a beautiful rich red that complimented the gold and copper highlights in her hair. The girls sat by the fire, happy just to be in each other's company and watch people stream in and out of the dorms, yelling thanks and squealing over presents given and received.

They heard rather than saw their friends hurtle out of the dorms and instinctively braced as both Harry and Ron ran towards the cosy sofa.

'I can't believe you guys bought us tickets to the Quidditch League Final!' squealed Harry in a very girly manner.

Ron just gaped in an unattractive fashion and wordlessly tried to convey his immense gratitude by expansive hand gestures. Finally giving up on language, he started to kiss Hermione, leaving Harry and Ginny rigid with embarrassment. Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the engrossed couple and out of the portrait hole, where Ginny started to giggle.

'I've never seen anything like that! That was disgusting! A sister should never have to watch her brother snog someone!' Harry nodded then glanced down at their still intertwined hands. Ginny followed his eyes down and abruptly jerked her hand away.

'Um, yeah, remind me not to give him a nice Christmas present again,' she said, trying to cover the awkward silence. Harry tried not to show the disappointment on his face, and then took her hand again, earnestly looking into her eyes. As his emerald eyes met hers, a frisson of excitement ran through her body. She quelled it. This was the remnants of her crush, not the renewal of it.

'Ginny, you are so beautiful, and every time I see you I want to … to … kiss you.' He spoke out boldly then broke eye contact, waiting for a response. At that exact moment, a school owl swooped low over their heads and dropped a package into Ginny's hands.

Harry looked at it. 'That's unusual, they normally only deliver at breakfast.'

Ginny stared at it. 'I can't imagine what that could be, I've had all my presents from Mum and Dad, and all my brothers.' Forgetting about the declaration of admiration from Harry, she opened the little package to reveal a pair of ruby gloves, missing the fingertips. A note lay on top.

These might be useful for drawing in the winter.

It was unsigned, written in an unknown hand.

Ginny stroked the soft fabric and thought, Harry may say he likes me, but yet again, he gave me chocolate frogs for Christmas. Someone really thought about this gift.

Harry stared at the note. 'You draw, Ginny? I never realised you were artistic.'

That was it – that was the moment Ginny finally let go of her crush forever. Could anyone truly be so unperceptive? Even Malfoy had said she had talent, had given her a compliment wrapped up in layers of insults, had helped her with the picture for Hermione.

She gasped. She had put two and two together and made one tall blond Slytherin with more money than sense.

Harry, of course, was still oblivious to any drama, and, bored of one measly pair of gloves, reverted back to his stumbling assertion of undying love.

'So … I … really like you and want to take you out.' He paused then added, 'We could go to Madam Puddifoot's if you like?' Ginny grimaced, which thankfully Harry missed as he was watching his shuffling feet and waiting for a reply.

'Thank you for asking me, and I'm really flattered, but …' She stalled, her mind frantically running through every excuse: I'm gay … with Luna? I'm dating Colin, who is not longer gay? I fancy someone else … that could work. Neville? No, even Harry wouldn't believe that. Dean? Nope, can't encourage him …

Her mind whirled as the silence elongated, and Harry's shuffling feet started to look a bit like an Irish jig.

'I fancy Draco,' she blurted out, her ears not quite believing what her mouth had just said. She had meant to say Seamus, and yet, her disobedient thoughts had escaped, and her subconscious had admitted a crush her brain hadn't been fully aware of. A crush she had just announced to one of her friends who happened to be said crush's adversary in every competition. This was not going to end well.

Ginny flushed bright scarlet and added, 'Of course he's evil and nasty and not very good looking and really awful at Quidditch.'

Harry was incapable of speech, so Ginny took the opportunity and ran.

The halls were thankfully empty; everyone else must have been at breakfast. Ginny ran and ran, stirring up comments from the portraits varying from concerned remarks from motherly looking women to Sir Cadogan's chivalrous offers to 'take care of the blackguard.'

Thankfully, her broom was outside in the broom shed, and she took a side entrance out towards the snowy field to avoid being spotted. This sort of behaviour was not tolerated at Hogwarts, but on this clear snowy day with no onlookers, she did not worry about the teachers – they would all be enjoying themselves in the Great Hall. No doubt Dumbledore would be making a bizarre but inspired speech by now, and McGonagall might have even smiled in a prim manner.

The quiet sanctity settled around her like a cloak, and she pulled on her new gloves, smiling anew at her unexpected present. She couldn't believe she had said such a thing to Harry. It was going to cause absolute chaos!

Ginny could not normally be described as insensitive, but there were times when she managed to blurt something inappropriate out, such as the time she had unintentionally insulted Lavender's hair. How was she to know that it was supposed to be that colour and not a nasty accident with a backfired charm as she'd initially thought?

Still musing about how to undo the damage she'd done, she unlocked the broom shed on autopilot, found her broom, and leapt gracefully into the air. When you needed to think, there was no better place to be than on a broom.

Harry had stood frozen in position for a good five minutes before he had managed to get up enough impetus to move. Draco Malfoy. Now that was an unexpected turn up for the books. He stormed down to the dungeons to find the ferret and, on the way, bumped into a certain blonde googly eyed Ravenclaw.

'Harry! How are you?' she said, seeing the rage frozen into his face.

He relaxed slightly and then, realising Luna and Ginny's relationship, said abruptly, 'That bastard Malfoy has somehow got to Ginny. Do you know whether she seriously likes him?'

Luna dreamily answered, 'Well, I don't know, Harry, but it's Christmas day. Maybe you should pound him another time. It's very bad for the Christmas spirit to beat people up.'

Sev dangled off her shoulder and jumped onto Harry's head. The kitten had grown, but as he settled down, it looked like Harry had merely forgotten to comb his hair. One lazy paw dangled by his ear, and a gentle purr emanated through his skull.

Unbeknownst to Harry, his posture had softened, and he smiled at Luna.

'Does he always do this?'

Luna giggled. 'No, he must like you. Don't move fast, though, or he'll fall off!' She grabbed his arm and steered him towards the Great Hall. As she looked upwards, she could have sworn the kitten's left eye closed in an unmistakable wink.

'Her,' said Blaise as he pointed at a Hufflepuff.

'Mudblood, and a Hufflepuff, and to be honest a complete dog,' replied Draco.

'As if you would lie to save her feelings. Her.'

'Face like a smacked arse, and a bitch to boot.'

Blaise was enjoying this. He decided to up the game.

'Hermione Granger.'

'Not bad looking, just an overachieving Mudblood. A little on the tall side, too bossy, and hangs around with The Boy Who Won't Fucking Die.'

'Ron Weasley.'

'A man.'

'Luna Lovegood.'

'You won't catch me out with that one! We all know you've laid claim to her, but at least she's a pureblood.'

Blaise smirked. He had just seen the finale to the game approach the Gryffindor table looking windswept, a pink glow lighting her cheeks.

'Her.' He pointed.

'Nose too long, Weasley freckles, too kind for her own good.' Draco looked her up and down. 'A pureblood, good figure, nice teeth, no unfortunate habits or disfigurements,' he continued, then stole a sideways look at Blaise. 'But all in all, related to blood traitors and has six very large brothers. Even the Weasel King has broadened out. Good job the only person with worse co-ordination is Longbottom!'

While covert glances were being shot from Harry to Draco, from Draco to Ginny, and from Luna to all of the former, Ginny sat eating an enormous pile of sausages, bacon, eggs and beans, blissfully unaware of the tension becoming apparent in the room. She was having a lovely chat with Hermione about Muggle art galleries, and jokingly telling Dean that she had heard that West Ham had ordered Firebolts from Diagon Alley.

Harry stared at Draco. He couldn't see the attraction at all!

Malfoy isn't bad looking, he grudgingly thought. I mean, he's not exactly 'The Slytherin Sex God' or anything ridiculous like that. But he's nothing special. Why would she even look at someone who is that mean? Maybe it's the bad boy thing.

Harry had lived with Muggles, and although he was rarely allowed to watch the television, it was clearly visible from the kitchen where he often prepared meals for the Dursleys. He was aware that nice girls liked bad boys because of the danger and possibly something to do with black leather. He himself had never owned anything like that, but that obviously wasn't his role to play. People would laugh at Harry if he bought a motorbike or tried to be mysterious and distant, especially Fred and George.

He cringed at the thought and bought himself back to the conversation going on around him. Ginny was telling the others about her plans for the study group in the New Year. Apparently, Dumbledore had said that the older and more advanced members could start to have special theory talks from Professor McGonagall about becoming Animagi, and if they were really dedicated, then there might even be a chance to register officially.

'Of course, a lot of people just can't do it. Professor McGonagall is quoted in the book that Luna and I looked at, and she said that for her, it felt absolutely natural. There is a theory that the closer you feel to your soul animal, the easier the transition, never mind how capable you are with a wand.'

Hermione looked at Ginny in admiration. 'I'm glad you are interested in knowledge for knowledge's sake, Ginny. The boys simply don't care about learning at all!'

Ron choked on his tea.

'Excuse me, Hermione!' he said, still spluttering. 'Just because we don't memorise what date the ceiling of the Great Hall was put in doesn't mean we are not interested in Animagi and interesting things like that!'

The food disappeared abruptly off the table and everyone stood and started to drift away from the table. A discrete signal from Luna encouraged Ginny to take her leave of the others and make her way to the Room of Requirement.

Having exchanged gifts and news, Luna and Ginny sat on their comfortable chairs and discussed Ginny's new problem.

'I hate to say I told you so, Ginny, but I knew Harry would do this!' giggled Luna. 'What I didn't expect is that you would announce that you fancied Draco!'

Ginny flushed slightly. 'I just think he's pretty,' she said coyly. Snapping back into her normal manner, she briskly tried to change the subject. 'So, what animal do you think I would turn into?'

'We will discuss the former at greater length later, Ginevra.' Luna seemed to be channelling McGonagall. In fact, it was such an uncanny resemblance that Ginny flinched slightly. 'However, I was thinking about Animagi again last night. Do you think you have a particular affinity with any animal?'

'I like all animals, really. I'd hate to be a slug or anything like that, though! What if you were an underwater animal? Surely you wouldn't be able to change on land?' questioned Ginny.

'It's very unusual for anyone without a lifelong affinity with the sea to have an Animagi form which is aquatic,' said Luna. 'I think you're too fiery to have a fish form, though. What is your Patronus again?'

'Harry thought it was a doe, but I think it's a horse. I suppose there is only one way to demonstrate.' She cast her Patronus, and a silvery shape dashed out of her wand and cantered around the room. It settled gently and blew gently out of its ethereal nostrils.

'Definitely a horse,' commented Luna. 'Wishful thinking on Harry's behalf, I must admit.'

Later on that evening, Luna bumped into Blaise. She and Ginny had had a long and detailed talk about her boy issues, had decided that something was definitely up with the Slytherins, and had also decided that Draco was the mysterious present giver. What had not been decided on was a plan of action, but Luna was taking matters into her own hands.

As she meandered round the corner of the dungeon and met Blaise's beautiful eyes, she did admit to herself that she had an ulterior motive as well. Her smile became dreamier than ever, and the tall Slytherin's mouth widened in response. He abruptly wiped the smile off his face, grabbed her arm in a fierce-looking pincer lock, and dragged her down the corridor. Luna wondered to herself how he managed to be so gentle while appearing to treat her like dirt; certainly, the others in the dungeons looked satisfied at his disdainful treatment of her. He pushed her into an abandoned classroom and locked the door behind them.

'Well, well, Miss Lovegood, what brings a Raven into the Snake's pit?' he asked, a twinkle in his eye underlying the sinister tone of his voice.

'A certain Lion wanted to thank the Dragon for a present,' she lied. No doubt Ginny would thank Draco in her own time, but there was more going on here than just a secret admiration for artistic talent.

Blaise looked shocked. 'The idiot,' he muttered. 'Does he not realise what is at stake here?' Luna's sharp eyes and wit caught the nuances others would miss.

'Blaise, if I ask you a question about your loyalties, would you answer it honestly?'

'Please do not ask, Luna. Then I will not have to lie.'

If there had been windows or peepholes into the classroom, any onlookers would have been met with a shocking sight. The slight, blonde-haired Ravenclaw rose up on her toes and gently brushed her lips ever so softly against the tall, dark-haired boy's lips. His hands went out to hers, and their lips met again, ever so chastely.

Meanwhile in the castle, an owl was carrying its last special delivery for the night. It flew to the dungeons rather awkwardly and, in a foul mood, dropped the slender package on Draco's head. Excusing himself from the curious stares of his peers, he wandered into his dorm and opened the package. The paper fell open to show a framed drawing. It was unmistakable in style and in subject matter: he and Blaise, sitting next to each other looking as if they were jockeying for position in a good natured fashion. He released a breath he hadn't even realised he had been holding.

Ah, so that was how she saw him. He saw obstinacy, fierce pride, loyalty, and kindness. It was signed simply G.

Elsewhere on this beautiful winter's morning, a dark plot was being formed. Cheer and goodwill were exchanged for evil thoughts and evil deeds. Voldemort was rising, and this time, he would use whatever and whoever he needed to. A masked man stood before him, his mask not sufficient to conceal his identity as silver hair flowed around it. All the others, identifiable by posture, a quirk of habit, or physical features, surrounded their sinister master and the supplicant.

A sentence, eloquent, sinuous, and obsequious, flowed from the supplicant's mouth. It was rejected by a hiss spread around the followers. Another followed, less practiced. He stumbled over the words. He looked up into the dread face of his master and waited with bated breath. A slow nod followed, and he breathed out, relieved. The ordeal was not over; after all, failed attempts were punishable by death, torture, and worse. For now, he and his Death Eaters must defeat Dumbledore and that blasted boy.