The Wishes
Harry Potter was having a good evening.
For one thing, it was Christmas Eve. For another, he was spending it at the
Burrow with his best friends, Ron and Hermione, and all of the Weasleys. He
couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun. The feeling of being
included in a happy, loving family wrapped around his heart like a warm cocoon.
The multi-colored Christmas tree lights
twinkled off the dark glass of the windows and reflected in rainbow patters over
the ceiling of the Weasleys' sitting room. The air was full of wonderful smells:
the crisp tang of hot cider, the faint spice of gingerbread, the sweetness of
the sugar cookies that he, Ron, and Hermione had spent the afternoon decorating.
Ron had used the frosting and sprinkles to write rude words across several of
the confections, and the three of them had a time of it eating them all before
Mrs. Weasley could spot her son's handiwork.
The sitting room echoed with laughter, and
wrapping paper flew through the air. It was a Weasley family tradition to open
their gifts on Christmas Eve; they were having a free-for-all. The sounds of
tearing paper mingled with exclamations of surprise and thanks, making for a
generally boisterous scene. Harry had expected gifts from Ron and Hermione, and
a sweater from Ron's mother, but he had been surprised to see a sizeable pile of
packages under the tree for him. Every Weasley had given him something, even
Bill and Charlie who both lived abroad and didn't know him very well. Most of
the gifts had to do with Quidditch, and he was very pleased with all of them.
Harry had never received any real gifts from the Dursleys, and he sensed that
Ron's family was trying to make up for that by spoiling him a bit. He
appreciated the gesture.
He reached for the last present in his
pile; one covered in shiny red wrapping with a simple "To Harry From Ginny"
scrawled across the label. Harry ripped the paper off, revealing a plain white
box. Inside, he found three plastic balls and a book emblazoned Juggling for
Beginners. Juggling? Harry thought in surprise, looking over at Ginny. She
had just opened a sweater from her mother and was pulling it on. She had somehow
managed to tangle the sleeves and Fred and George worked together to free her.
Finally, her head popped free from the neck-hole. Ginny's cheeks were flushed,
and she was laughing so hard tears were running down her face. Her red-gold hair
flew about her head in a shining halo of static. She smoothed it down and,
watching her fingers shift through the strands, Harry wondered briefly how her
hair felt; at the moment it seemed almost like a living thing. Then, to his
surprise, she looked up at him and said, "Harry found the coin!"
"The…what?" he asked.
"Hey, not fair!" George exclaimed. "I've
never found the coin."
"On your plate, Harry," Ron said.
Harry looked down at the plate of
gingerbread that balanced on his knees. A bronze Knut stuck out of one of the
slices. "Is it good to find the coin?" he asked, slightly embarrassed at his
ignorance of wizarding traditions.
Fred and George gave identically
enthusiastic nods. Fred said, "It means you get a wish."
Harry thought this was a tradition he
liked. "There was this broom last time I was in Quality Quidditch Supplies—"
"Don't tell us!" Bill exclaimed. "If you
tell your wish it won't come true."
Harry fished the Knut out of the bread.
"Do the wishes really come true then? Or is it just superstition?"
"Of course they come true," Mrs. Weasley
said, refilling his mug of cider. "The first wish you made after you got the
slice of gingerbread will come true before the sun comes up. I hope it was a
good one, dear."
Harry frowned, trying to remember if he'd
made any wishes. Did wanting to touch Ginny's hair count? He wasn't sure how
that would ever come about. Just then, Bill and Charlie pulled open a Christmas
Cracker, releasing a cloud of dust that turned their hair bright green. Fred and
George cackled wickedly. "It's our latest invention," George explained. "We
needed guinea pigs." The brothers looked so funny with green hair, eyebrows, and
even eyelashes that Harry promptly forgot about finding the coin.
* * * * *
Harry stared at the ceiling, listening to
Ron's deep breathing. His friend had dropped off almost as soon as the lights
were out, but Harry was having trouble sleeping. It was nothing unusual; he'd
resigned himself to the insomnia. It was the boredom of lying in bed with
nothing to do but think that got to him. Harry thought a glass of water might
help, so he got out of bed and quietly crept out the door.
On his way to the kitchen, Harry passed
the door to the siting room. It stood slightly ajar, and a cheerful golden glow
shone out into the hallway. He poked his head into the room, wondering that
everyone had gone to bed and left the fire burning. Right away, though, he
noticed Ginny silhouetted against the light. She sat in front of the fire, the
color of her hair very nearly the same gold-red color of the flames in the
hearth. "It's a bit late to be up, isn't it?" he asked.
She turned around, startled, but smiled
when she saw who it was. "Are you kidding? This house is hardly ever quiet. It'd
be a shame to waste the silence by sleeping through it."
Harry made his way across the room. "I
didn't know that you're a night owl."
"There's a lot you don't know about me,"
she said mildly, fiddling with something.
Harry sat down next to her and saw with
surprise that Ginny held a long handled fork and was using it to toast
marshmallows. "Um, Gin," he offered tentatively, "your food is on fire."
"Of course it is," she said, pulling the
marshmallow out of the flames and letting it burn. "That's when they're best."
It seemed that she knew just how long to let it go before blowing it out. Hot
marshmallow oozed out of the black, flaky skin. She held the fork out to Harry
in offering, and he shook his head. "Trust me," she said with a grin.
He pulled the treat off the prongs of the
fork and stuck it in his mouth. The burnt surface was crispy and slightly
bitter, but the marshmallow underneath positively melted in his mouth. It was
delicious. Ginny had already stuck another on the end of her fork and was doing
her best to catch it on fire. She took one look at his face and said, "Told you
so."
He would've grinned, but his mouth was
full of sweet goo. Finally, when he had managed to swallow most of it, he asked
the question that had been on his mind all evening. "A juggling set?"
She licked her fingers clean of sugary
residue. "Do you like it?"
"It's…different."
"Learning to juggle builds up hand-eye
coordination, so I thought it might come in handy for Quidditch."
Harry raised his eyebrows. "What are you
trying to say?" he asked, amused.
She blew the second marshmallow out and,
with a wry smile, told him, "That was my point in its entirety, actually. Plus,
if you can juggle you'll have no trouble finding work as a clown."
He laughed at that. "Thanks, I think."
"Job skills are very important," Ginny
said. "I'm just looking out for your best interests." Even though she wore a
straight face, Harry detected the wicked sparkle in her eyes that showed she was
teasing him. His eyes wandered over her profile, her nose that turned up
slightly at the end, her full lips, and her pale skin dusted with golden
freckles, glowing in the firelight.
"Hang on," he told her. "You have an
eyelash." He reached out his hand and trailed it across Ginny's cheekbone,
catching the lash on the pad of his index finger. How could anyone have skin
that soft?
Ginny stilled at his touch. When he broke
contact she asked, "Did you get it?" Her voice caught on the words, and she
hoped he hadn't noticed.
"Yup." He held his finger in front of her
mouth. "Make a wish." Ginny shut her eyes, wished, and then blew. The lash
disappeared. "Well done," Harry said. "I hope it comes true."
Ginny looked up at him, admiring the way
the firelight smoothed along his skin and sparkled in his green eyes. "Do you
really?"
"Of course," he answered, distracted again
by her hair. The red and gold threads twisted around each other, swirling about
her shoulders.
They were the only ones awake in the whole
house, sitting on the floor together in front of a roaring fire on Christmas
Eve. The potential for romance didn't get much higher than that, Ginny thought.
She eyed his face and decided she'd kick herself forever if she didn't at least
try. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission. With that, she stretched up
and dropped a kiss on his cheek.
Except that she didn't get his cheek.
Harry turned his head right at the wrong (or was it right?) moment and she found
her lips pressed against his. Harry's eyes widened in surprise, and then they
dropped closed as he tentatively moved his mouth against hers. Ginny was as
shocked as he was; she was sure she'd wake up any moment. But as much as kissing
Harry was something she'd daydreamed about for years, this was truly happening.
Her foot was asleep from sitting on the floor, her neck was tilted at an awkward
angle, and Harry's lips were sweet, and slightly sticky from the marshmallow.
This was nothing at all like she'd imagined it would be. It was a hundred times
better.
Harry reached up and slowly ran his
fingers through her hair. He let the strands shift and fall over his hand, doing
it simply for the pleasure of touch, as though he wanted to memorize the texture
and feel of a single lock. Ginny shivered, and Harry gently ended the kiss. "Are
you okay?" he asked, flushing slightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"No!" she exclaimed. At his horrified
statement, she laughed. "I mean, no, I'm okay."
Harry was confused. "So no meaning yes?"
"Yes meaning yes. I'm more than okay."
Ginny blushed as soon as the words were out of her mouth. That had been
obvious.
Harry smiled down into her eyes. "Thanks
for the juggling set."
"If you ever need any help with it, you
know where to find me."
"You know how to juggle?"
She tilted her head and gave him a look
that spoke volumes. "Like I said, there's a lot you don't know about me." They
sat in awkward silence for a moment, and then Ginny cleared her throat and
asked, "Has your coin wish come true yet?"
Harry's eyes wandered to his hand, which
was still buried in her hair, and he nodded slowly.
She gave him a hopeful look. "So now you
can tell what it was."
He cleared his throat nervously. "I was
looking at your hair earlier and…"
"My hair?"
He nodded, wishing he could erase the
flush from his cheeks. "I was wondering what it felt like, and, um…" He had to
get off this subject. "What about your eyelash wish?"
"No. I only made it a few minutes ago,
though. I have high hopes."
Harry's heart sped up at the look she gave
him, all innocent provocation. "What was it?"
Ginny shook her head. "It's really not
that important."
"Come on," he said. "I told you mine."
"I'm never going to live this down," she
told him, "but I was sort of hoping to get you underneath the mistletoe."
Harry blinked in surprise. "But you just…I
mean, we just…"
Ginny's lips curved up in a rueful smile.
"I kissed you, which was not quite what I'd wished for. But it's close and, like
I said, I'm optimistic."
What did that mean? Did she want him to
kiss her? There was only one way to find out, Harry figured, and so he used the
hand that wasn't tangled in her hair to tip up her chin.
"Happy Christmas, Harry," she whispered
against his mouth.
"Happy Christmas," he returned, feeling
very warm, and very happy indeed.
A/N: Thanks to Danette for beta-ing. She's super.