A/N: I'm late, I know! Very sorry about that… So this is supposed to be a Christmas fic. Just one-shot, and no sequel or prequel is coming up (Well, that might change if I get some inspiration, but I'm pretty satisfied with just this).

It's a Draco/Ginny, as usual… I tried to make a kind of angst / romance switch in the story. I hope I succeeded… Please tell me what you thought of it!  Review! XP

Disclaimer: Everything is… ahem borrowed from JK Rowling's fabulous books. The market is inspired from the Christmas market in Aachen (Germany), which I visited a couple of weeks ago.

Merry Christmas and a Happy Newyear!

Enjoy!

And there they stood, all 20 of them huddled together in front of the Dome, an astonishing reunion of red-heads, with the exception of a few. Any wizard or witch would have recognised the lot, but to muggles, they were nothing more than a happy family celebrating this beautiful Christmas-eve.

The group moved chattering and laughing towards a brightly lit and richly decorated market. One of them gasped in awe at the sight of the multitude of stands, red and green and yellow bulbs illuminating radiant people's faces. An orchestra was playing the merriest carols they could think of, and the children shrieked as they recognised the joyous melody.

One of the children, a beaming girl of five, with long, unruly carrot hair, tugged enthusiastically at her father's sleeve. The man, barely disguising his amusement, nodded towards his brothers and sisters, his nieces and nephews, his parents. They all silently agreed with him and moved forth, warning the children not to get lost in the crowd, despite their useless tries to hide their own glee. All of them, arm in arm, hand in hand, plunged into the multitude.

All of them, but one.

This one, a very special one, stayed behind. Her warm, chestnut eyes surveyed the Christmas market with painful melancholy. The reddish aubrun mane hung loosely around her shoulder blades, matching the beige of her knee-length coat. Her hands, now nervously searching some reassurance and restlessly entwining, were protected from the cold by brown leather gloves. She breathed in and out, trying to stabilise the rush of emotions caused by a torment of memories speeding through her head.

A few hours ago, Ginny Weasley had been an almost carefree young woman, happy to spend the day with her beloved ones. Almost carefree. There was always a hole in her soul, even though no one - except herself and one close relative - was aware of its existence. It was a hole difficult, if not impossible, to fill, and she unconsciously knew, although she persuaded herself of the contrary, that it would grow bigger and bigger, until she could ignore it no more.

A few hours ago, this young woman with a brilliant future ahead of her, several devotees yearning for her touch, and the most supportive family in the history of witches and wizards, had felt a rush of dread wash over her. What had just been a merry proposal, had turned into a deadly stab. She hadn't said a word, though. She couldn't.

And there she stood, facing her deepest fears, the one thing she had buried long ago, when trying to run from aching memories. Not that this market was frightening, far from it. To her, it was still the most joyous place to visit, a wonderful place with all kinds of people, little children awed by the carousel, teenagers bubbling over the place with flickering Christmas bonnets, students sharing jokes over a pint of beer, couples letting the spirit sink in, and hoping for a bright and warm future with their current partner…

No, that wasn't what frightened her. It was the shadow in her head, a surprisingly pallid, blonde shadow in the far end of her memories.
And deep, deep inside, her greatest wish was to see the shadow materialise and make her happy again, make her whole

"Well then, is this it?" He asked sceptically, an eyebrow lifted, his head turning towards her grinning face.
"Just wait a second, we're not there yet!' She hooked her arm in his, and led him through a street luminated by the shops' displays and decorative swirls of light hanging above their heads.
"Why didn't we apparate closes to that place then? I'm sure you could have thought of some dark corner somewhere…"
His protests made her laugh more than anything else. She knew it was unusual for him to be in the midst of muggles, but she also knew he wasn't the kind of person, despite of his up-bringing, to be disturbed by that. No, she was positively sure he was curious. He was dying to know what wonder he would discover.
"We're almost there, my love…"
And it was true, because the sounds of a large gathering of people could now be heard. Soon enough, they abruptly made a turn and found themselves in front of the market, both stunned into silence.
She looked up, and he looked down. Their eyes met, and they instantly knew much, much more about each other than words could have described.
He smiled. For once, he truly let his mirth express itself on his lips, in his eyes. She gave him her usual, warm grin back.
"Come, Draco…"

"Ginny, are you coming?"
From a far away reality, Ron had motioned towards her, apparently not noticing her disarray. She had been able to hide it quite well up till then, after all, and a practiced smile settled on her lips: it was the result of months of deception. Involuntarily, she had developed a strange defence mechanism, one that kept her sorrow from prying eyes, but at the same time constructed a barrier around her being, secluding anything that might have wanted to pass through, whether is came from the outside, or wanted to escape, from the inside.

Her feet did not seem to mind acting on their own as her mind was twirling, her eyes fighting tears back, her mouth sustaining with great effort the smile, and her hands still searching desperately for something to do; her feet, on the contrary, took resolute steps into the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Her hands finally met her brother's, and he pushed her in front of him, not wanting her to stay behind again.

A gloved hand placed itself on her back, supporting lightly her weight as she tried to fray herself a passage through the rumorous multitude. They first passed through a dozen of high tables supporting empty mugs and glasses, and the elbows of many men and women alike. They seemed to be too engrossed in their conversation to even notice the glamorous couple passing them by. Ginny didn't care though, because for once they could be together without having to endure the cynical, shocked or disapproving glances cast their way. She enjoyed what she was doing now: leading the way, and feeling his hand, his support, right behind her. A sense of certainty hit her, and she suddenly felt more secure than she had even felt since her first year at Hogwarts. Here, in the midst of fraternising muggles, in the midst of the Christmas spirit, she had found a parcel of innocence again.

Suddenly, the pressure on her back disappeared, leaving a seemingly cold spot as replacement. A brief moment of panic engulfed her, and she started turning around, to see why he had so abruptly fell away.

But there was no one standing behind her. She blinked once, then twice, trying to make out what could have happened, when she felt her arm being tugged at. Her eyes darted to her other side in a flash, and he was there, radiant in his cold, sulky way, grinning down at her as if he'd guessed her fears.

The hand suddenly stopped pushing her towards a blindingly twinkling stand, and again, not really remembering where she was, she turned to see why it had moved away. Sensing a strong sort of déjà-vu, but not yet realising it fully, she turned towards her left side, half expecting to see the ghost smile mischievously at her. Only this time, there was no smile, there was no lover. In a blur, far ahead, she could distinguish her brothers and her sisters-in-law. If they were there, well then… He wasn't.

Annoyed at her own loss of control, her little escapade into the past, she put herself back together, thankful no one had yet turned to ask her what caused her such pain. Deciding it would be best to deal with memories and flashbacks later, she hurried towards the first stand to her right, and admired the hand-made porcelain angels staring straight at her, into her soul. Their mouths were open in a mournful 'o', their eyes pitied her like only angels could. Their robes, white and stainless, reminded her painfully of times that had been twice as bright, twice as promising.

The outlines of the dresses were sparkling, a layer of glitter having been applied over it. The whole lot, a well-formed chorus, seemed to be chanting the merry carol the orchestra was playing, and she could imagine the heavenly sounds emitted by these love-bringing cherubim.

"They're so pretty!" She exclaimed, apparently not worried she would sound too childish. His snort made her grin sheepishly. She was almost positive it was acted. When she turned towards him, the perfect curling lips proved her right. A sudden urge to kiss him rushed through her, and she, of course, obliged to it.
A tender, languorous kiss later, broken to not to shock any children around, they set out again, hand in hand.

How happy that couple looked, strolling by all the goods, and eyeing each other as if nothing on this market could compare to their lover's beauty. Envy slowly being subdued by a gnawing feeling of bitter sadness, she let a child's hand lead her towards a carousel. The little boy, aged of seven, cast his hoping sky-blue eyes upon her, a little smile playing on his lips as he pointed towards the passing horse. She stroked his hair, admiring the scarlet hue of it, streaked with platinum. A smile of her own was the only thing her nephew needed to happily bounce towards the waiting line.

"They look so happy, Draco." She sighed happily, appreciating all the childish laughs echoing from the classic carousel.
"Look at that little prat, he stole his brother's horse." Draco laughed in a manner which clearly showed his appreciation. She frowned, still very gryffindoric in her way of thinking.
"If a child of mine even dares to perform such a trick…" She didn't finish, sensing silent laughter shake her lover.
"Then it's a child of mine."
She could have hated him at that moment, for various reasons. But she didn't. Of course she didn't.
"I wonder what hair colour our child would have." She mused, finally giving in to his good humour.
"Why, if her gets your temper - and let's hope he doesn't- he'll probably be a red-head with natural blonde meshes. He'll be like an improved version of Fred and George."
Ginny tried to punch him while restraining her laughter.
"Or she."
"Or she." He hesitantly agreed, not sure if he really wanted Ginny to know he'd always wanted a boy to be the first-born. Ginny already knew, of course, and couldn't help it; she just needed to tease him now and then… Or at every bloody chance she could.
"Anyway, pairing a ferret and a weasel must get a wondrous result. Is that even possible?"
His grin made her spine tingle with pleasure, as he drawled,
"I don't know, maybe we should find out…"

"Aunt Ginny?"
Another child came seeking for her attention, but he neither tugged at her sleeve nor took her hand. Seeing she had somehow been entranced by his bubbly cousin, he politely gave her a minute to adjust herself again to the present world.
"Hello sweetie, what is it you want?" Her voice was sweet, far too sweet, and the sad edge on it wasn't missed by the clever lad. "Oh, I guess you want to join your cousin, right?"
He shook his head, as if such an activity would be highly degrading. She noticed, and couldn't help it to smile fondly at him. She had realised long ago he was very bright, and realistic. He was the only one she sometimes got the feeling could see through her, as he stared with his dark chocolate eyes. He looked so much like his father…

The same eyes were now appreciating his shoes, which awkwardly shoved the dust away from his feet. Sensing he was in a dilemma, she turned towards a nearby tent, under which her family were leaning on a high table, enjoying their drinks. They looked as happy as the children, and Ginny understood why her nephew came towards her. He didn't want to disturb them with what was bugging him. She urged him to go on.
"Come on now, sweetheart, you can tell me anything, remember?"
"Well, I was wondering…" He started hesitantly, "I have this pen-pal I haven't replied to in a long time, because I had lost her address. I found it back. Should I write to her? I mean, I really liked her, but I don't want her to be mad…"
As if ashamed of his confession, he still didn't meet her gaze. She loved this twisted innocence he had, this fear of being wrong.
Many memories came back to her, although she couldn't quite understand the relation between his problem and hers. Tears threatening to release themselves finally found the way to the corners of her eyes. She brushed them away swiftly, thankful his gaze was still down, and gently raised his head, his chin cupped in one hand.
"Listen, Florian, listen and look. Wouldn't you like to share this beauty with one you love?"

"I would like to share something like this with you every year."
"Bold words, for a Slytherin."
"It's not always wrong to be bold when you love."

"Don't be afraid to be bold when it comes down to people you love. It's in your nature."
The boy looked at her as if she had responded anyone else's question but his. He didn't immediately see the connection…
"So you're going to write a nice letter," she added hastily, "and describe this wonderful evening. You'll describe how beautiful it was, and how much you enjoyed it. I'm sure she'll forgive you, if you explain to her what happened…"
She knew she'd accomplished her mission when he flashed her a true smile, one she was sure would make quite a few girls wobble in a couple of years. Bending to receive a peck on her cheek before he ran off towards his parents, she couldn't help but congratulate herself for remembering his words so clearly. So it wasn't always a curse.

"I'll hex you if you dare to do that eyes-thing again!" He admitted that brandishing his wand would seem more threatening, but he had to content himself with a glare.
"No, you won't." Blinking a few times, giving an image of absolute innocence, she knew he would obey to every one of her commands. Besides, it couldn't be that bad, could it?
"There's no way I'm forcing that… sticky thing down my throat, you crazy woman."
"Oh come on, I know you'll like it!" The crazy woman immediately grinned as she propped hers into her mouth, making sure she looked somewhat appealing when sucking on it.
His hungry eyes said it all. He just wouldn't resist her when she teased him, she knew it. Well, ok, maybe that seductively licking a syrup-covered slice of apple wasn't the most discrete and decent method she knew of. But she was dealing with a Malfoy here…
He immediately took up her challenge, but instead of eating his own, he forced hers out of her mouth, and let his lips work their magic. Her glee and stupor translated into a melodic laughter.

"Come on Ginny, you just got to try this!" Ron stuck a chocolate-covered biscuit in front of her nose. The tempting scent of cacao filled her senses until she finally succumbed and took the cookie out of her brother's hand. She assured Ron it was indeed one of the best she had ever had, and watched him hop towards his next victim.

In the hustle 'n bustle a distant laughter could be heard, a piercing, infectious laughter, which made her scan her surroundings fanatically, to try to see what had caused such mirth, and to whom. But she didn't see a thing, and it became faint, until it disappeared. With a resigned sigh, she closed her eyes and felt the gloved hands again, holding her shoulders, then shifting to hold her hand, and then shifting again to curl around her waist. Her skin tickled at the non-existing caresses and her eyes burned again with unshed tears.

"I'm being bloody haunted." She muttered, not aware of the friendly presence beside her.
"Gin? You ok?" The voice she loved the most – well, it came second, but the first voice was long gone – was inquiring, but knowing, and she realised she could perhaps hide her misery from her family, but not from her all-seeing confidant.
She shook her head while still keeping her eyes close and reached for a silver chain under her clothes. She pulled the tiny pendant out, a little serpent which had been hiding beneath her shirt for quite some time.
Bill understood. She felt him shake his head as she had. She felt a steady hand take hers, and her eyes opened to see what he was up to. A feint smile told her he wasn't finished with her, and she let herself be led aimlessly again.

Before she knew it, their family was far away, and they stood in between two stands. It was dark and empty there, with the exception of a broken bottle and a plastic bag. It seemed to her it was secluded from the rest of the world, a little place where she could watch and forget, and be left at peace.

Suddenly he pulled her into the darkness, where no children were rushing by. She could see the crowd moving on, oblivious to the couple lurking in the shadows. She turned to smile brightly at her lover, ready to 'punish' him for his bold deed, when a little package was pressed into her hands.

"Here." Bill placed the tiny velvet box on her palm, "I found it on my desk a couple of days ago. Seems like some one… Is still alive."
He didn't think eyes could go so big, and couldn't repress a smirk when seeing the trembling hands of his baby-sister open the box.

He asked her to turn around, so that he could fasten the jewel around her neck.

A folded piece of parchment fell into her hands and she quickly unfolded it.

I'll be back.
Merry Christmas,
D.

It was short, that was for sure. But there was no mistaking. It was his handwriting, and she could hear him utter the words.
Tears of joy started to spill at the sight of the message's content, and more came when Bill helped her slip a beautifully crafted ring – silver, of course, with a tiny emerald garnishing it – on her finger.
Laughter soon mingled with the tears, and it was melodic and crystalline again.

Some muggles passing by felt their lips curl up for no reason, the distant, faint, infectious laughter filling their souls as it filled their owner's. Not so far away, Florian gave his mother a kiss and smiled when she asked where her husband and sister-in-law had gone.

She was about to turn around when strong arms wrapped around her waist, and a chin came resting upon her shoulder. A promising voice breathed into her ear as he drawled, "Merry Christmas."
Watching the crowd and enjoying his body pressed against her back, Ginny decided their story was meant to last, and never end. Right then and there, she vowed she would never give him up, and keep courage, even in the darkest of times.