Potter drinks his drink slowly and carefully, and Draco just watches him. The silence stretches between them, and Draco thinks about Christmases and empty houses and full houses and how they aren't nearly as far apart as they seem.
Finally Potter breaks the silence to say, "I just want to know why."
Draco thinks about it a long time before answering. "Because I can," he says finally. "And because ten years is a long time to regret something."
"Sometimes things have to be done the hard way, not the easy way," Potter says sharply, but he closes the door gently on his way out.
Draco stares into the fire's death throes, deep in thought once more. Finally, he reaches into the box and pulls out the timeturner. He looks at it for a while.
And then he puts it back in the box.
He's going to do it the right way this time. The way, he's beginning to understand, that it was meant to be done. He will go, and he will find her, and he will tell her how much he still loves her, how much he's always loved her. After that, he doesn't know, but he can't make it through this Christmas without it. He sits behind his desk for a little while longer until the fire burns itself out, and then he gets up from his chair and leaves the room. He calls for his heavy winter cloak, and when one of the elves brings it, he dismisses her, puts it on and double-checks the warming spell for holes in the magic. Then he moves to the door and grasps the handle firmly. He opens it in a single fluid motion.
Ginny Weasley is standing on the steps leading up to the door. The snow is very white against the brilliance of her hair and the darkness of the thick, black cloak that falls heavily around her. Her face is leaner than he remembers, and her eyes are older, but she could be any of the ages and times and worlds in which he's loved her.
"Ginny," he says dumbly.
"Draco."
Then somehow she is in his arms, and her lips are cool against his, but they are pressed so closely together that even the snow can't get through. His hands are clutching at her tiny waist, and her hands are tangled desperately in his hair.
There is so much to do and say and think, but somehow, Draco knows, this just might be the best Christmas ever.