"Big Bones. Sez she has big bones," Hagrid grunted, walking past his hut in a dazed sort of way. How could he have been so wrong about Madam Maxime? He crashed through the woods, feet headed in the direction they always turned when he needed a friend. To the Three Broomsticks Pub. To Ivy Ollivander.

"Jus' one look an' yeh'd know it were more'n big bones," he continued grousing. But Madam Maxime had been like a dream to him. Elegant, beautiful, and LARGE. He thought she'd understand how it felt to be different, thought she'd experienced the same sort of prejudices he had all his life. But she'd denied it at the Yule Ball. Flat out called him a liar to his face. 'How dare you?' she'd asked him. How dare he point out the truth?

She wasn't like Ivy at all. Ivy laughed at every one of his jokes. Even the bad ones. She made him stoat sandwiches and let him win their card games. Told him stories about giants who were heros. Knowing he'd chosen Maxime over Ivy for the Yule Ball made him heartsick. Knowing he'd done his best to push Ivy at Charlie Weasley, just to ease his conscience, only made him feel worse.

"Yeh bin stupid," he told himself, as he reached the stream. Crossing it in one great step, he continued up the bank. Ivy's house was dark. That could only mean she was helping Rosmerta at the pub. He changed course, heading down High Street, mouth already watering for a tankard of Rosie's mulled mead. That was just what he needed. An ice cold drink and some of Ivy's conversation. Maybe he'd ask her over to the hut for dinner. Maybe a nice private Christmas party of their own.

"She wouldn' say no," he encouraged himself. "She'd never...."

He stopped in front of the pub, but it was closed. And dark, and silent. A sheet of parchment tacked to the door fluttered in the wind. Climbing the steps, Hagrid peered at the lettering.

"Gone to London for Christmas," it said. It was hand signed by Rosmerta and Ivy, and a "Happy Christmas!" had been added at the end, in Ivy's handwriting. Hagrid smoothed over her name with one huge finger.

"Gone," he whispered. He remembered her telling him about the trip, and how she didn't really want to go. "She'd eh stayed here if yeh'd asked her ter the Ball instead of Big Bones Maxime." He sank down on the pub's top step, cursing himself for letting Ivy get away.

Hogsmeade sat quiet and peaceful, glittering like a an enchanted snow globe. He surveyed the scene for a moment, wrestling with himself. In his heart of hearts, he knew Ivy loved him, and in all honesty, he loved her, too. It scared him to admit it. He'd spent a lot of years content as a bachelor. But every now and then, when he looked in Ivy's eyes, he could imagine himself letting go of that life. Imagine coming home after a long day to her open arms. To those sea-green eyes and the freckles that danced across her up-turned nose.

Sitting in front of the Three Broomsticks, Hagrid shuddered, rubbing his face with both of his hands. That feeling of falling from a hippogriff's back swept through him again, as he stood to his feet. The sky was beginning to lighten. It was time to go home. As he descended the steps an owl hooted softly above him. It dropped its delivery, a rolled up Daily Prophet. Hagrid bent and picked up the newspaper. Tucking it under his arm, he headed home, encouraged that Ivy'd be back soon. He could almost see her look of outrage when he'd tell her about Maxime.

"Big bones," he muttered. "Can yeh imagine?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good Morning!" Remus Lupin exclaimed, sliding into a seat at his kitchen table. "And Happy Christmas!" Rose came in right behind him, hair tousled, wrapped up in one of Lupin's worn robes. Both of them stopped short when they encountered Ivy, already dressed for travel.

"Where are you going?" Rose asked, pouring a steamy cup of tea and handing it to Lupin.

"I have to go home," she stated, passing them Lupin's copy of the Daily Prophet. "I made all the arrangements while you were asleep."

Remus opened up the paper and Rose read over his shoulder.

"Can you believe that?" Ivy asked, adding another lump of sugar to her tea, oblivious to the four she'd already put there. "Rita Skeeter has spread lies about Hagrid all over the newspaper. She practically comes right out and calls him a monster. He's not going to take this well. That's why I have to go home. My Great-Grandfather sent me a train ticket. I don't mean to ruin the holidays...."

"It's all right, Ivy," Remus told her, looking up from the parchment. "Don't worry about that."

"Maybe I should go with you," Rose added hotly. "This woman has gotten totally out of hand. What a load of rubbish." She went on to quote from the article. "'An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to terrify the students in his care....' 'Hagrid has maimed several pupils....' This is outrageous!"

Tears leaked from the corner of Ivy's eyes. "It'll devastate Hagrid. I have to go home."

"Of course you do, Ivy," Remus agreed. "When does your train leave? Rose and I will take you to the station."

Ivy passed him her ticket. "I still have a few things to pack. And the Christmas present I bought for Hagrid is at the shop for special engraving."

"I'll send an owl to see if it's ready," Rose assured her. "And when you get home you tell Hagrid that I love him, too. And nobody who knows him will believe a word of this... this garbage."

Ivy managed a smile. "I will."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon arrival at Hogsmeade station, Ivy headed straight for Hogwarts and Hagrid's hut. Arms full of gifts she'd bought for Christmas, she could barely drag her suitcase up the hill. Finally, in exasperation, she gave up, leaving it leaning against Hogwart's wrought-iron gate. Thus freed, she could suddenly walk a lot faster. The snow-laden sky was beginning to darken as she marched across the grounds, past the gigantic Beauxbatons carriage, and up Hagrid's front step.

"Hagrid!" She pounded on the door, but got no answer. "Let me in," she insisted, descending the steps to walk around back. She hammered on this door too, getting no reply save Fang scratching and whining at the door.

"I came all the way back from London to talk to you," she all but shouted at a crack in the door. "I've been on the train all day. And I have every intention of staying right where I am till you open... THIS... DOOR!"

Her pleadings were met with no response.

Ivy brushed some of the snow off the top step and sat down.

"I brought you a present!" she hollered, but still got nothing. The sky turned ever darker. Night brought a chill wind with it. The temperature dropped and Ivy's teeth began to chatter. Every 30 minutes or so she'd stand to her feet and bang on the door.

"Hagrid..." Ivy whined, going for a new tactic. "I'm freezing. Would you please let me in? Just for a minute. I need to warm up." She slid into a sitting position against the door, carefully arranging the Christmas presents on her lap. Her breath drifted in white puffs toward the moon.

The temperature dropped as the wind blew harder, and sleep slowly overtook her. She might have frozen to death right there on Hagrid's back step, except that sometime after midnight he pulled open the door. He reached outside, grabbing her by the scruff of the neck and pulling her in where it was warm.

Ivy gasped in surprise, blinking snowflakes off her eyelashes, and standing stiffly to her feet. There was no feeling left in her toes or fingers, but she managed to pick her packages up off the floor.

"Cold...." she spoke through stiffly clattering teeth. "It's... cold... out there." Dropping her load on the table, she turned to Hagrid.

She'd expected him to be hurt deeply by the things Rita Skeeter had written. She even half-expected to find him drunk, or drinking. But she never expected the dead, hollow look in his eyes, the lack of color in his usually ruddy complexion. His hair stuck out in mass tangles, and when Ivy reached out to him, the giant pulled away. He turned from her without a word, slumping into his chair by the fireplace.

"Hagrid...?" Ivy managed, crossing the room to stand in front of the fire. "I was going to ask if you were alright, but...." She dropped to her knees before him, and it became evident that he hadn't bathed in a while. His clothes were dirty, and his shirt stank of whatever he'd been drinking. Ivy's eyes welled up with tears.

"Have you eaten?" she whispered. "Can I get you anything?"

"No," he replied, scowling. "Don' need nuthin' from you, 'er anybody else."

"I... I brought you some Christmas presents. From me and Rose and Remus Lupin. And Rose told me to tell you that she loves you. And that nobody believes what that Skeeter woman wrote about you in the paper."

Hagrid continued to stare into his fire. Every now and then a tear would leak from his eye, slipping silently down his cheek to pool in his beard.

"I love you, too," Ivy continued. "And that's why I'm here."

Hagrid turned to look at her, one eyebrow raised.

"Came ter see the freak, did yeh? The monster what's been maimin' all the kids up at Hogwarts?"

Ivy blinked, determined not to let his gruff exterior push her away.

"I came to see my friend," she whispered.

Hagrid closed his eyes and turned away.

"The friend who taught me I was brave enough to ride a hippogriff." Ivy said, standing to her feet. "The friend who lets me get away with beating him at cards. The friend who dragged me off the street to protect me from dementors. You know..." she continued, dragging a cauldron over to the fireplace and adding some water for stew. "Rubeus Hagrid? Keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts?"

"Yeh shouldn't be here," Hagrid muttered. "Don't waste yer time on me. Go back ter whatever yeh were doin' b'fore yeh read the paper."

"I can't do that," she replied, smiling as she rummaged through his vegetable bin. "My friend might need me."

"A'right then. If this is yer mercy mission... ter help some ruddy helpless mindless monster, then gimme a drink."

"Is that how you want to handle this?" Ivy asked, climbing into a chair to pull a row of sausages from its hook on the ceiling. "Bury your feelings in a tankard of ale? How long do you think you can hide there?"

Slapping his hands on his thighs, Hagrid sighed and stood to his feet, crossing the room to throw open the door.

"If yeh don' like it, yeh can always leave."

"I'm not leaving!" Ivy said, her chin jutting out defiantly. Swirls of snow were blown inside by a great gust of wind, and once again she started to shiver. "And you can't make me. You can't push me away with ugly words. It took me all night to get in here. I'm not going anywhere, now.

"Forget about Rita Skeeter, Hagrid. Throw what she wrote in the fireplace and watch it burn, just like all the other trash that gets burned there. Concentrate on what's true. You're not a monster. You're a wonderful, kind, caring person and... and..." She wavered, physically aching to tell him how much she loved him, but afraid to burden him further.

"So many people love you."

Hagrid only grunted, filling his tankard and bringing it to his lips.

Ivy watched him consume mass quantities of ale, temping him with food, with the presents she'd brought, anything she could think of to get his mind off the Skeeter article. All to no avail.

Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, Hagrid began to sob. He buried his face in his over-sized handkerchief, throwing himself across the kitchen table. Ivy stared. She'd never dealt with torment this deep, sadness this bitter. She didn't know if going to him would bring more comfort, or giving him space. But it wasn't in her nature to stand by when someone she loved was hurting, so after a few false starts, she finally approached him.

"Hagrid?" she murmured, laying a hand on his heaving shoulder. He shivered a little, but didn't push her away. Encouraged, she stepped closer and closer, until, throwing caution to the wind, she flung her arms across his shoulders. Pressing her cheek against him, she blinked back tears of her own.

"It isn't true," Ivy whispered. "You mustn't believe it. Nobody else does. They all see straight through that Skeeter woman. She's nothing but a liar, Hagrid. You're a good person...." On and on she murmured words of encouragement, holding on to him as tightly as she could. For a long time, Hagrid didn't act as though he knew she was there. He didn't respond to her whispers or her touch. But slowly... ever so slowly, he sat up in his chair, rubbing his face with his now-sopping handkerchief.

"Tho't Maxime were enough trouble fer one man ter handle," he croaked. "Never saw the Skeeter thing comin'. Don' think I can take too much more."

"You don't have to take it," Ivy insisted. "None of it's true. Rita Skeeter's a liar. All your friends already know that."

Hagrid wasn't listening. "Big bones," he muttered, reaching once again for his tankard. "There summat wrong with havin' big bones, Ivy?" He looked at her with bleary eyes. "Reckon I know that one. It's a shame ter be a giant. Even half giant. You wouldn't know how that feels though. Yeh got ever'thin' goin' yer way. Nothin' ter hide. Nothin' ter be ashamed of."

Ivy gave a bitter laugh. "Are you sure?"

Then it was Hagrid's turn to laugh. The broken, hollow sound of it made Ivy's blood run cold. She stood to her feet, turning away to hide the sadness on her face. Picking up the package she'd brought him from London, she set it on the table in front of him.

"Happy Christmas."

Hagrid stared at the blue and silver embossed paper.

"It ain't gonna work," he muttered, pushing the package away. "Yeh ain' gonna distract me. Now I know that ever'body hates me. They all think I'm an evil monster -"

Ivy slapped her hand down on the table so hard it sent a shock of pain all the way up her shoulder. "Everybody doesn't hate you," she insisted. "Nobody but Rita Skeeter thinks you're a monster. You don't know everything, you know. There are some people around here who would love nothing more than to tell you just exactly how much you mean to them. Some people would like nothing better than to just stay here. Just be... with you...." She stopped herself, running a trembling hand through her hair. Taking his hand in her own, she picked it up and dropped it onto the silver wrapping.

"Open this," she demanded. "And you'll see that there is someone who believes in you."

Hagrid stared at her, open-mouthed, his fingers picking absently at the paper. In his alcohol-induced haze, he wasn't quite sure if Ivy was saying what he thought she was saying. Her eyes blazed at him, and he had to drop his gaze, ripping the package open with a vengeance.

Under the wrapping was a miniature model of Stonehenge, the mysterious rock grouping that Ivy called Estonehenge, or Dance of the Giants. He tried to read the engraving on the base, but couldn't get his eyes to focus.

"It says, 'The dance that saved an island from evil began with one giant step.'" Ivy told him. "The other side says 'Dance of The Giants.' Do you remember the story I told you about Estonehenge? About the little giant, Shim? How he sacrificed himself for his friends, and got his wish? To be big?" She waited for him to respond, but he remained silent, lurching to his feet and toppling dangerously in Ivy's direction.

"I don' deserve a frien' like you, Ivy," he slurred, tilting against her. "Nobody's stuck by me like you have. Nobody else cares."

Ivy flung her arms toward him, attempting to stop him from crushing her as he stumbled. Pulling on his arms with all her might, she got his body turned toward the bed. He lost his balance then, grabbing onto Ivy as he felt himself tipping. Then they were falling backward, and Ivy found herself pinned beneath Hagrid. A sharp pain flashed across her back as they landed, their fall broken by the quilt-covered bed.

It took a few seconds for Ivy to realize what had happened. She was trapped underneath him, but not unpleasantly. The feather mattress beneath them encapsulated Ivy, saving her from the bulk of Hagrid's weight. She could wriggle free if she tried hard enough, but for a while she was content to stay where she was. She reached out and caressed his blotchy cheek, shaking her head as he began to snore in her face.

"Damn, Hagrid," she muttered. "You sure know how to flatter a girl." She pulled her arms free, wrapping them around his neck. Before she realized it, she was kissing his cheeks, tasting the salt of his tears on her lips. Tears of her own welled up behind her tightly closed eyelids, as she wished for the power to make his pain disappear.

Something in her kisses must have stirred him. His eyes opened, and as their eyes locked, Ivy knew that he knew how she loved him. She loosened her grip, watching as his cheeks reddened, and he rolled off her.

"Ivy..." he murmured . "I di'nt mean...."

"Please don't apologize," she whispered. "Not for needing a friend."

"Friends," he continued thickly. "Who're my friends? Who is it tha's gonna stan' b'side me when Dumbledore sacks me an'... I ain't go a job no more... 'r a place ter stay?" Even as he spoke his eyelids got heavy. Heavier than they'd ever been. "You, Ivy? Will yeh be there when the ale wears off, an' all I can think of is what tha' Skeeter woman wrote?"

"I'll be here," Ivy murmured, reaching out to stroke a strand of his hair.

"Promise?" his voice trailed away and he began snoring softly even before she could manage an answer.

"I swear."

She crawled to the end of the bed and wrestled off his boots, then reached across his middle to undo his silver belt buckle. Her hands slid down his chest, where they rose and fell with his snoring. Kneeling beside him, there on his bed, she reached a trembling hand out to smooth his furrowed brow. The hand lingered, fingers gently brushing back his hair. Then she slid down beside him, throwing her arm across his chest and using his shoulder for a pillow.

"I'd stay here forever, if only you'd ask me," she told his sleeping form. "I love you."

She closed her eyes, pretending with all her might that she belonged here. That Hagrid had asked her to share his house and his bed. But it didn't work. No matter how hard she tried, she knew she wouldn't be here if he hadn't passed out cold. The fact that Hagrid no longer even knew she was there bore into Ivy like the bite of a cold steel drill. She rolled over on the bed, turning her back to him and staring out the window. Her movement must have registered his sleep, for Hagrid rolled over, curling up on his side. Whispering her name, he threw his arm around her, pulling her close so she fit neatly against him. Ivy smiled a little and reached for his hand, pressing her palm into his as though it belonged there. Hagrid's fingers flexed over her own, and she sighed. Maybe this wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind when she'd imagined sleeping with Hagrid, but for now, she was home, and she decided not to complain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~