Christmas at Hogwarts was lonely. Ginny was used to noise and commotion and too many people in too small a space. She was used to plum puddings and stockings overflowing with cheap presents.

Well, she had the plum pudding, she supposed, as she sat in the Hall with the other misfits and leftovers who had nowhere else to go. She didn't know any of them and none of them spoke to her. They were all lost in their own solitude, a dozen people alone in the same room.

She didn't expect any message or gifts or treats. Her mum had sent a box for her to open and it had contained this year's sweater. At least it was a dull grey instead of the usual maroon and gold; she supposed that was something. Her mum was trying even if she couldn't bring herself to use Slytherin green. She didn't expect anything else, so when the owl flew in and dropped a package at her elbow she almost jumped. She waited until she was back in her room to open it and almost squealed when she pulled out seven little boxes, all wrapped in green paper and tied in silver bows. I wanted to make sure you had packages to open, read the note in the package. They're all pretty stupid, though. See you soon. D.

She untied the ribbons slowly, trying to drag out the pleasure of getting presents from a boy and pulled out a chocolate frog, a book she suspected his mother had recommended, a set of exploding snap cards, a tiny stuffed dragon that flapped its wings, some Bertie Bott every-flavour beans, a practice Snitch, and a bracelet of cheap glass beads. She popped one of the beans in her mouth and opened her diary to tell Tom.

Merry Christmas, he said and didn't even admonish her for being excited Draco Malfoy had given her a bunch of little gifts. She asked him about his Christmases as a child and he just said he didn't want to talk about it, that tales of the orphanage were too grim to burden her with, and to tell him more about the presents she'd gotten. She put her fingers on his words and wished, not for the first time, that Tom was a real person.

He was real of course, but he was a book, not company. She missed talking to people. She was used to always having people around, whether it was a large family in a small house of a dorm room filled with girls, even if they were girls she didn't like and who didn't like her. The silence of Hogwarts at the holidays unnerved her. She missed having Tom's voice in her head. Anything was better than this oppressive silence.

Draco Malfoy broke that the next day when he swooped in, dropped a bundle of things to the floor, and flung himself down next to her in the common room. "Missed me?" he asked with a smug grin that made her laugh even as she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him until he squeaked.

"Thank you, you big git," she said. "The presents were brilliant."

"I've got a better one," he said, "but you have to promise not to tell."

"On Merlin's grave," she said, then squealed when he got up, rummaged through his pile of stuff, and produced a cake box with a half-eaten chocolate pudding hidden inside it.

"I made off with it," he said. "Best treat ever."

They ate, and then they bundled up and flew, staying low to the ground until they were out of sight of the castle lest someone decide to enforce the rule about first years not having brooms or going flying. They'd yet to get caught but a smart person didn't get too confident about rule breaking. By the time they'd run out of breath and settled to the ground, using a long-abandoned shed as a windbreak, their faces were flushed with the cold. Draco leaned his broom up against the stones of the wall and bit his lip as he looked at her. Ginny felt suddenly nervous and, despite the chill, could feel her palms begin to sweat as the ever-so-slightly older boy who'd come back to spend the holiday with her so she wouldn't have to be alone cleared his throat. She wished she could ask Tom what to do.

"Was it lonely?" he asked. "I mean, being here?"

"Yeah," she said. She leaned against the wall in an attempt to look nonchalant and unflustered and only succeeded in feeling even more chilled as the cold from the ancient stones soaked though her cloak and into her skin.

Was Tom ever cold, she wondered. Was it cold inside a diary? Was he lonely when she didn't talk to him? Did he dream? Did he miss friends from him own time?

"Next holiday you could come home with me," Draco offered. "My mum said it would be okay. She said it was wrong for your family to let you stay here by yourself. That that wasn't the sort of thing purebloods do." He shuffled his feet in the snow and as he kicked the white powder around she couldn't help but notice his boots were the kind of leather that was expensive. "My mum can be a little… she has opinions, you know? About what people are supposed to do and who they're supposed to like and stuff." Ginny nodded. Her mum had opinions too. She was used to mothers with opinions. She was even used to mothers who took in strays. It was just that her mum took in Harry Potter and Draco's mum was going to take in... her.

Draco was still talking. "But she's great, you know. Really great."

Ginny shivered in the snow and nodded. Draco licked his lips and then moved closer and took her mittened hand in his. "You're pretty great too," he said. "Has Blaise... are you two…?"

"No," Ginny said. She was definitely flustered now and really really wished she could talk to Tom. "We're just… I mean, I don't know, I guess. He walks me to class a lot but…." She bit her lip and then said, "But you're the one who sent me presents and came back to spent the holiday with me."

Draco nodded and then sniffled a bit in the cold. He seemed at a loss for how to proceed and Ginny could almost hear the exasperated, warm voice of her best friend say, Just kiss him before you freeze out here.

So she did. He almost jumped when she brushed her lips against his and then was transformed into a living swagger. His lips felt rough, chapped she supposed from the winter, and she bumped her nose against his. "Maybe we could go back inside," she said. "I'm cold."

What did you think? Tom asked her later, amused as usual.

It was cold, she wrote back. And wet. And kind of gross.

It gets better, he promised but when she asked for details he refused to elaborate.

. . . . . . . . . .

A/N - Thank you so much to Ibuzzo and turbulenthandholding, who make me a better writer via their feedback.