"Harry, you're butchering those carrots," Ginny said the next morning, taking the knife from him. The cold stopped at the frosty windowpanes, but the winter sunlight filled the kitchen of the Burrow.

"I thought that was the general idea," said Harry, massaging his aching neck and squinting as he watched her finish the last two carrots with ease.

"Obviously you've never seen mum when she has house guests, then," said Ginny, sweeping the last of her perfectly sliced carrots into a green ceramic bowl. She flashed a smile at him and wiped her hands on her jeans.

"Technically I am a house guest," said Harry, grinning back. It was so easy to fall back into an effortless routine with Ginny, even though they had different friends at Hogwarts.

"I think that she counts you as family now, so you don't matter any more" Ginny responded with mock-seriousness. "Dean's the top of the totem pole now," she said, crossing the kitchen to where Dean was sitting, reading the Daily Prophet. Mrs. Weasley had been popping in from time to time to ensure that he wasn't lifting a finger, something that Ron had commented on jealously until Mrs. Weasley informed him that, if he didn't want to do work, he could go back to Hogwarts straight away with just a pinch of floo powder. Ron hadn't said anything, but Harry had the distinct impression that his best friend would rather belch slugs again than miss Christmas supper at the Burrow. It was shaping up to be quite the dinner, Harry noted as he glanced around the kitchen, which was crammed with colorful bowls of food in various states of preparation. Harry turned around from the food and immediately wished he hadn't, for Dean and Ginny were sharing a kiss at the kitchen table.

"Oi! Ginny, you've got something on your mouth," said Fred Weasley, turning the corner into the kitchen with George, his identical twin.

"Yeah, just there," said George, indicating his mouth. Dean and Ginny broke apart.

"What do you two want, then?" asked Ginny, irritated.

"Besides a pretty girl and a bottle of firewhiskey?" asked Fred, stroking his chin.

"We just wondered if anyone needed anything from town,"

"Seeing as you lot are all stuck here, what with you being younglings,"

"And with Harry having a bunch of blokes wanting to do him in." Ginny frowned, pondering.

"Bring back some butterbeer," she said. "We'll need it after mum's done critiquing our vegetable cutting. Speaking of, how did you two get out of helping again?"

"I think that mum has finally acknowledged that having us out of the house is far more helpful than having us in it," said George ruefully. "Ah well, we'll get over it somehow. And where is ickle Ronniekins?" he asked, looking around.

"He and mum are de-gnoming the garden again," Ginny said.

"Ah, his favorite," said George, cracking a smile. "Ready Fred?"

"Ready, George." And with that they disapparated with a crack. Dean yawned and stretched, setting down the Daily Prophet.

"Are you sure that I can't help?" asked Dean, glancing around for Mrs. Weasley. Harry had to give him credit for trying, but he knew from experience that Mrs. Weasley had an uncanny habit of turning up whenever one of her rules was being disobeyed.

"I think we're almost done," said Ginny, glancing around. She opened her mouth to say something else, but was cut short by a throaty voice that called from down the hall.

"'Arry!"

"Damn," murmured Ginny, slipping out the back door. Dean looked nonplussed as Fleur Delacour swept into the room, seeming to glow subtly with the same winter sunlight that filled the kitchen.

"'Arry! Eet 'as been a long time!" she said, kissing his cheek. Harry decided that it would be pointless to remind her that he had been at the Burrow with her only months ago, and was saved from this anyways, as Fleur had just noticed Dean.

"And zis must be Dean," she crooned, and Harry took a sip of water to stop himself from laughing at the expression on Dean's face. "Bill tells me zat you are little Ginevra's lover!" Harry made a funny gurgling noise as he choked on a bit of his water, but Fleur ignored him. "Zat girl 'as a temper, but zis is not a bad thing. She could be French! I 'ave always said zis." Dean gaped, openmouthed.

"Er…yeah, she's really great," he said, glancing at Harry with raised eyebrows.

"—And zis is good news for my little sister, Gabrielle, for she 'as always liked you, 'Arry, but we thought zat you and Ginevra were togezzer!" She laughed and tossed back her silvery hair, oblivious to the fact that the atmosphere in the room had become very awkward. "Well, I must go and assist Molly with ze bedclothes," she said with distaste. "I just wanted to see you, 'Arry! And of course it ees a pleasure to meet you too, Dean. I will tell Gabrielle zis good news!" And with an airy wave, she vanished down the corridor again. Dean turned to Harry.

"I think I've figured out why Ginny disappeared," he said, chuckling weakly. Harry grimaced. The awkwardness had not flounced out of the room with Fleur, and, seeking a distraction, he turned back to the counter, seized a tomato, and began to slice it.

"Harry?" said Dean, with the air of someone testing the waters. Harry paused, took a breath, and turned towards him. They both spoke at once.

"Look, there's nothing goin—"

"Ginny told me about Malfoy—"

They both paused.

"Sorry, you go," said Dean.

"No, no, I was going to tell you about Malfoy, too," said Harry, breathing again. This was not, of course, what he had been about to say, but there was no reason for Dean to know that. Dean continued.

"Yeah, she told me about him. And I was wondering….you don't reckon he'd actually hurt her, do you?" When Harry didn't answer immediately, he continued. "I mean, I know it's just Malfoy, but he's gotten nastier and nastier every month this year, and I heard Seamus say that you reckon it was Malfoy who gave Katie Bell that cursed necklace." He broke off, looking worried. As much as Harry wanted to tell Dean that Ginny could take care of herself and that he should shove off, he couldn't bring himself to. He sighed.

"I don't know," he said, running his hand through his hair and leaning on the counter. "I mean, you're right, it's Malfoy, but I've got a bad feeling about him. I think he's in deeper with Voldemort—sorry—than the Order wants to think. It's perfect, right? No one suspects him because it's just Malfoy." Dean looked worried.

"What…you think he's a Death Eater or something?" he asked. Harry couldn't make out his tone, but he figured, given Ron and Hermione's reactions, that it was probably skepticism.

"Look, I know it sounds mental," he started, but Dean cut him off.

"No, actually, it sort of makes sense. Malfoy's gotten worse with his threats, people are being cursed right under Dumbledore's nose, it has to be someone no one honestly suspects, right? He's always been a foul git, but I reckon everyone's pegged him as the badge-making, heckling type and not the—"

"Seriously evil wizard type, yeah," said Harry, turning back to the tomato.

"Ginny's coming back," said Dean quietly, looking out the window, where Ginny could indeed be seen making her way across the snow-dusted ground. Dean cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Uh…Harry," he said, looking at the table very intently. "There….there isn't anything between you and Ginny, is there?" Harry froze, willing himself not to turn the color of the tomato in front of him.

"Never," he said, not meeting Dean's eyes. He hoped that this answer would suffice, and it seemed to, for Dean nodded his head. Harry had meant it in the past tense, but now, he thought, as he tried to slice the tomato as evenly as possible, it sounded rather like a blunt finality.

—

AN: Thank you for the lovely reviews! The next chapter will be longer, and there will be more happening in it, and more humor as well.