Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Door #22

I don't really do Christmas presents. Buying them, I mean. I get a few for select people such as my parents and whichever of my classmates I decide to honour that year. I receive plenty though. Various relatives I've never heard of and friends of my parents grace me with gifts as a way of currying favour - though I'm never sure whether it's mine or Father's they're after - just to persuade me to look a little kindly in the direction of some female member of their family. My Housemates also bestow me with garishly wrapped parcels as a way of attracting my attention, either for the same reason as the friends and relations or just because to have acceptance as a member of my inner circle would make them a cut above the rest. It's all pointless, of course; a Malfoy cannot be bought. Well, not with material things anyway.

So how did I find myself in the exact same situation? I sat on my bed and stared at the package on my dresser. The silver paper sparkled under the gentle glow of the torches and I gently reached forward to smooth out a crease. A few tweaks of the ribbon with delicate fingers and my perfectionist nature was momentarily satisfied. Now all I had to do was find the right moment to present it.

I hoped that the intended recipient would understand the nature in which it was given. It was more than just a simple gift; it was an indication of an emotion currently hidden but one I felt I was ready to reveal. There was so much at stake that the mere thought threatened to make me break out in a nervous sweat. I rubbed my hands on my thighs to combat this. I knew that I could either sit here and wait forever for the perfect moment to come to me, or I could take hold of my future with both hands and go looking for it. With characteristic decisiveness, I took the package and strode out of the room.

I didn't have to search too hard; I seemed to know exactly where they'd be. From my vantage point in the doorway, I studied the line of a slender throat, the curve of soft pink lips and the sparkle of clear eyes. I drifted over to join the crowd which seemed to just melt away leaving just the two of us alone, standing face to face.

My mouth was dry, my heart hammering painfully in my chest. I licked my lips and swallowed hard, not meeting those eyes.

"Hello." My voice sounded painfully weak and thin. Not knowing what to say, I simply held out the gift with hands that appeared steady though I was sure I could feel them shaking. I dared to risk a glance up at those brilliant eyes and saw them flick down to the present and then back up to meet mine. I was used to presenting an outwardly controlled expression at all times and my training stood me in good stead now, though I had never had to concentrate so hard to maintain it before.

Seconds ticked by. I took a slow long deep breath, feeling it rattle in my throat as I waited for the response, for any response. Then a slow flush of emotion suffused those pale cheeks, eyes softened into a smile and those delectable pink lips revealed white teeth as they replied.

"Hello."