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Author's Note: Next chapter will probably be posted next week unless I get enough done on chapter 4 to post chapter 3 this week. :)

Holidating

by idreamofdraco

Boxing Day 2005

"You are lying, Draco Malfoy!" Pansy said with a shrieking laugh that turned the heads of Madam Malkin's patrons—both those perusing her wares and those standing in the absurd line that filed out the shop and into Diagon Alley.

Draco didn't appreciate the attention Pansy garnered. Frankly, he didn't appreciate being laughed at, either. Though if he'd let himself think about the situation objectively, he would recognize the humor in his tale.

He ignored Pansy's accusation and continued. "We walked into that house, dressed in finery, thinking the Greengrasses were throwing a Christmas ball. Instead of being escorted to the ballroom, we were shown the parlor, where the whole family was waiting in ambush."

"Not Daphne, too?"

Draco nodded. "Daphne, too. We then found out that there was no Christmas ball. We had been invited over for dinner to discuss the engagement."

Pansy gasped loudly. "Whose engagement?"

Heat radiated up Draco's neck, partially in embarrassment but mostly in anger. The humiliation of the moment angered him the most, stuck with him nearly forty-eight hours later.

"Mine and Astoria's."

Pansy was torn between laughter and another gasp, which turned into an alarming choking sound that included both. She might have been a noisy listener, but her reactions were gratifying and somewhat helped Draco see the humor in the situation.

"My parents were mortified to learn of my engagement to Astoria by being deceived into visiting the Greengrasses. When I assured everyone we were not engaged, Astoria got angry and asked me why—"

Stopping himself, Draco took a quick glance around the shop to see if anyone was paying attention. The redhead in line behind them glanced away too quickly for Draco to tell if she'd been listening or if their passing glances were coincidental. He lowered his voice and leaned down to Pansy.

"In front of both of our parents, Astoria asked why she'd let me bed her like a dog if I wasn't going to marry her afterward. And her mother said Astoria never would have slept with someone who wasn't her husband. "

Pansy's eyes were shining in anticipation. "What did you say?"

"I merely pointed out that if we had been engaged, I still wouldn't be her husband yet, so maybe her daughter's standards weren't as high as she claimed them to be."

Pansy cackled. "I can just picture the way you would deliver that, all condescending and prat-like."

Draco frowned, not really liking the picture Pansy painted, mostly because she was exactly right. He had been a condescending prat, but he still thought Astoria and her mother deserved it.

"Yes, well. That was not received well at all. We left immediately after that before her father could challenge me to a duel. My parents were livid with me. Father said I should know better than to put my—" He paused and cleared his throat. They were in public after all. "—in any tight hole. That's how good men find themselves married before they are ready."

Pansy shook her head and grinned. "Why did you put your—" cough, cough "—in her hole?"

"Why indeed?" Draco said with a suggestive smirk that made Pansy roll her eyes.

The truth was, he'd liked Astoria. Very much, actually. Before the disaster of Christmas Eve, she'd been sweet and soft-spoken and understanding. She'd given Draco the impression that he could tell her anything and she'd accept it. Accept him. But one thing had led to another, and their attraction for each other had ignited. Only then had she shown her true colors.

It was no secret among the Sacred Twenty-Eight that the Greengrasses were on the verge of losing everything. Bad management over decades had dwindled their finances until there was nothing left but the house they lived in and a few frocks on their backs. A marriage to a wealthy family was just what they needed to restore their once-esteemed estate.

Astoria had used him for some indecent sex, and then she'd let her family try to trap him into marriage for the chance they needed to save their family name. Draco would have felt badly for them if he hadn't been so angry at himself for nearly letting it happen.

"You know what you need?" Pansy said as the line moved forward another foot. "A holidate."

"A what?"

"A holidate. I always have one when I attend engagements around the holidays."

Draco shook his head in confusion. "Explain."

Pansy's lips curled into a secretive smile. "A holidate is someone you date just for the holidays. Then you don't have to attend parties and events alone. You go together, you have a good time, and then you don't see each other again until the next holiday rolls around. It's a great way to avoid sticky things like entrapment and feelings."

"You do that? Date someone just to say you have a date for the holidays?"

"Sure. Do you remember Madam Zabini's last Halloween party? Peregrine Derrick was my holidate to that. And I took Justin Finch-Fletchley home with me for dinner with my parents on Christmas Eve."

"That Hufflepuff Muggleborn that got Pet—"

"Yes, that one. My parents were torn between horror and admiration at having him at their table. Turns out his family is quite wealthy in the Muggle world and his elitist snobbery about Muggle things impressed them. I thought he was a bit of a bore, but he served his purpose and kept Mother off my back about marrying as soon as possible. And then we fucked in the garden after dessert, and he wasn't that boring after all."

Pansy tilted her head, seemingly lost in memory.

Draco shuddered and only just stopped himself from glancing around to see if anyone had overheard her vulgar speech. "Do you sleep with all your holidates?"

She shook her head, the ends of her black hair swishing against her jawline. "Only the ones I want to shut up. But usually we decide that beforehand, when we make contact about the date. Sometimes I'm in the mood, sometimes they're not. That's the beauty of the holidate. It's whatever you need it to be without the commitment and messiness."

Finally they reached the counter, where Madam Malkin's apprentice manned the register. Draco placed a package in front of her and said, "I'd like to return this."

"Do you have a receipt?" she asked, her bored tone matching the pace at which the line had moved forward.

"No, it was a gift."

The assistant rolled her eyes and unwrapped the package, shaking out the forest green robes that Astoria had given to him before having a fit that Draco had not given her a gift in return.

"Oh my," the assistant said, eyebrows rising in astonishment.

Those were the only words needed to describe the garment. If the silver tinsel garland sewn into all the hems wasn't bad enough, the multicolored flashing lights that decorated the entire front of the robes should strike anyone dumb. If that didn't work, the Christmas hat-wearing cat heads hand-stitched into the fabric were quite an alarming sight. And then, right on cue, the embroidered cats began to meow a Christmas tune in chorus, which should have succeeded where all the other gaudy embellishments hadn't before in rendering the beholder speechless.

Pansy laughed because of course she did. Draco ignored the snickers emanating from the line of people behind him.

The assistant brightened as if her day had been made. "How often do they meow?"

"Every hour. So you see why I'd like to return it."

The assistant shook her head but called for Madam Malkin across the shop, who bustled over with pins sticking out of her mouth and a tape measure wrapped around her neck.

"This gent would like to return this," she said to her employer.

Madam Malkin's eyes widened and then narrowed at Draco before spitting the pins out into her hand. "This was a custom order."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Draco said, appalled that more than one person had been involved in the creation of such an atrocious eyesore.

"No returns on custom pieces."

Draco did a double-take. "What? But I didn't order it! It was a gift. An unwanted gift."

Madam Malkin shoved the robe back into Draco's arms, the insult clear on her face the way she lifted her nose in the air. "I am sorry to hear that. Perhaps you could return the gift to the person who purchased it?"

Draco gaped at the fabric, wondering how Astoria had managed to ruin Christmas twice. "I can't give it back to her! Would you rather I burn it instead?"

Madam Malkin's whole expression transformed into one of horror, as if she could not believe someone would desecrate her art in such a way. She opened her mouth to argue, but another voice interrupted.

"I'll take it off your hands," the redhead behind Draco said.

As he and Pansy turned around, recognition hit Draco with the same punch as a garishly bright and obnoxiously loud custom-ordered Christmas robe.

It had been ages since Draco had seen Ginny Weasley in person. Or, at least, face-to-face. He'd attended some of her Quidditch matches over the years, when the Holyhead Harpies made it to the playoffs, but he hadn't been up close and personal with her like this since their Hogwarts days. He tried not to think about that, though.

Instead, he thought about how short she was and how much prettier she'd grown since their teenage years. He never would have admitted it back then, not even when Blaise Zabini had shown appreciation for her appearance, but it hit him like a second punch to the gut. Big brown eyes that sparkled with amusement met his. Lush, bow-shaped lips pursed in an attempt to hide a smile. Freckles dotted her face, and maybe those were a little garish in combination with her stunningly red hair, much like the Christmas robe she professed to want, but they worked for her. Made her face interesting to look at.

Pansy elbowed Draco when he'd been silent for an uncomfortable length of time, and Draco blinked.

Weasley tilted her head, her wavy ponytail slinging over her shoulder and baring her neck where her scarf had loosened. Hm. Maybe he should look somewhere else.

He cleared his throat and said with his usual sharp brilliance, "What?"

"I would be glad to take the robe off your hands."

"Why?"

Weasley shrugged. "I like cats. Also you're holding up the line. Some of us have other things to do today."

He almost handed the robe right over, but he stopped himself mid-reach. No! He wanted compensation for what Astoria had put him through this Christmas. Not just lying about their engagement and presumably attempting to shame him into marriage for his money, but also for the disapproval his parents had treated him to for the rest of the holiday due to his bad choice of bed partners.

He snatched the robe back. "How much would you pay for it?"

A chorus of groans filled the shop from the other patrons waiting in line, but Draco would not step out of line until the robe was out of his hands.

Weasley retrieved a money pouch from her pocket and dug around inside it. Then she handed some coins to Draco, who stared at his open palm with disbelief.

"Eleven Sickles?" he announced in disgust.

Pansy tugged on his arm. "You know, you could have zero Sickles and a charred robe instead. Just imagine what that meowing will sound like when the cats are on fire."

A shudder went down Draco's spine. Knowing Pansy was right, he closed his fist around the loose change and then handed the robe over to Weasley.

"Don't spend that all in one place," she said with a smile.

Pansy dragged him out of the store and back into Diagon Alley. "What an ordeal that was," she said. "I hope you've learned your lesson."

"Never attempt to return a Christmas gift on Boxing Day?"

"No. Never date a cat person. They're sad and weird and they can't stop themselves from pushing their cat fetish onto everyone else."

Draco scowled. "Don't make me regret telling you about Astoria."

"Oh, Draco," she replied with a sigh, "that's your second mistake and—hopefully—lesson learned. Don't trust me with your humiliation. You will never hear the end of it."

She said her goodbyes after that and departed for the Leaky Cauldron. Draco contemplated treating himself to Florean Fortescue's before making his own way home but froze when he heard someone say his name. He turned to find Ginny Weasley behind him again, nearly getting swallowed in the bustle of the shopping crowd. A garment bag that she must have picked up from Madam Malkin's was slung over her shoulder.

"No returns, Weasley. The Sickles are mine and the robe is yours."

Her lips turned up in a smile. "You can pry the robe out of my cold dead hands."

She seemed to mean it, and that scared Draco a little. Not only did she have bad taste (which he well knew already—just look at her choice of friends and shabby clothes despite her success at Quidditch), she savored her bad taste. He thought about what Pansy had just said about cat people. Maybe Ginny Weasley was one of those sad weirdos….

She didn't look sad, though. In fact, her eyes shimmered with something that looked like hope, and Draco's fear grew a little more.

"I couldn't help but overhear your very loud conversation in Madam Malkin's," she started.

Draco suppressed a groan by scowling as hard as he could. He crossed his arms super casually, as if he didn't care that she'd eavesdropped on his indignity. Yes, that was exactly the vibe he gave off. He wasn't tense or defensive at all.

She took a step closer to him and licked her lips. "I think we should be holidates."

The shock of her statement made Draco drop his extremely nonchalant pose. His jaw probably dropped along with it.

Raising her hands cautiously, she went on as if expecting Draco to laugh at her or launch into a tirade—neither of which he was capable of at the moment. "Listen, I know that sounds insane, but hear me out. You clearly had a bad experience this Christmas with someone who didn't understand the boundaries of your relationship. What if you had someone you could rely on? Someone you could spend the holidays with without worrying about them getting the wrong idea?"

"While you were listening in on a private conversation, did you ever hear me say that I wanted or needed a holidate? The incident with Astoria never would have happened if she had been upfront with the nature of the invitation her family was extending."

Weasley's mouth opened and then closed, her eyebrows drawing together over her nose in uncertainty. She hadn't thought of that at all. She'd made an assumption about what Draco wanted—why?

Because she needed a holidate, Draco realized with triumph.

His posture loosened some more now that he had the advantage of her desperation, now that he knew that she was the one who needed something from him.

"Alright then. Maybe you don't need a date. But if you had one, then you wouldn't have to worry about other women getting the wrong idea." She started off slowly, but as she sorted through her thoughts and considered her reply, she began to pick up steam. "Let's say the Greengrasses had thrown a Christmas soiree."

"No one says soiree anymore."

"If you and your family had gone, Astoria still might have tried to manipulate you into an engagement in front of a larger audience. But if you'd had a holidate, then she and everyone else at the party would have known that Astoria had no claim to you. Imagine if you'd shown up for that intimate dinner with your parents and your holidate, thinking there was going to be a party instead. Astoria never would have been able to convince anyone you were engaged if you arrived at the Greengrasses' house with someone else. "

Draco considered this, but it was hard to think in the middle of Diagon Alley, where Boxing Day shoppers swarmed the street looking for the best Boxing Day sales. Weasley was so small, it was only a matter of time before the tide of people swept her away from him.

"Why don't we take this conversation somewhere a little more private?"

Without waiting to see if she followed, he headed towards his original destination, Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, now run by Fortescue's daughter. With the Sickles she'd paid him for the robe, Draco purchased an ice cream sundae with most toppings imaginable, and then located a table outside underneath a standing flaming torch for warmth.

Weasley had in fact followed him, inside the ice cream parlor and then out. She draped her garment bag over the back of a chair and then sat down across from him with a frown. She did not buy an ice cream, he noticed.

"Are you really going to eat all that?" she asked as Draco dug his spoon out of his sundae.

The spoon paused in mid-air as he looked down at it and then at her. "I like sweets. Don't you?"

She eyed his bowl of whipped cream-laden, caramel sauce-drizzled chocolate ice cream sprinkled with hundreds-and-thousands and Cauldron Cake crumbles, and topped with three cherries as if it were a Dungbomb about to explode.

"Not that many at one time."

He shoved the spoon in his mouth and watched with relish as she gagged. Her nose scrunched in disgust and it was kind of a cute expression. For a Weasley-turned-Quidditch star.

"My proposal, Malfoy?" she prompted him after she'd dubiously observed him take two more bites of his sundae.

Ah, yes. The reason they were sharing a table outside in the cold in the first place.

"Remind me again why I should want a holidate?"

She huffed in exasperation. "Because doing so would send a signal to unwanted paramours—"

"No one says paramours anymore."

"—that you and your Gringotts vault are not available. Then you can enjoy the engagements you attend in peace, and you can trust that I will never get the wrong idea about our arrangement."

She had a point there. The Weasley family's destitution, much like the Greengrasses', should have been a red flag, but the Weasleys were proud of their poverty for some reason. And Ginny Weasley was a rising star making her own money; she didn't need his. Besides, if there was one thing Draco could trust any Weasley not to do, it was fall in love with a Malfoy or pretend to fall in love with one for financial gain. The animosity between their two families was too deep-rooted to fail them.

Draco licked his spoon clean while turning the idea over in his mind. Something else occurred to him to ask. When he narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion, she flushed and quickly looked away. He couldn't help but notice how her flaming cheeks unsuccessfully hid her freckles.

"I admit that your argument for my want of a holidate is almost convincing. But why do you need a holidate? What do you get out of such an arrangement?"

The flush darkened, spreading over to her unprotected ears.

"Don't lie to me, either. If you really want to be holidates, then shouldn't there be an amount of trust in that? I can't possibly be your first choice for a partner."

"No, certainly not," she agreed. She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms protectively over her chest. "I'm the last single Weasley in existence."

"Pardon?" Draco sucked on his spoon, waiting for clarification.

Weasley sighed. "All of my brothers are dating someone, engaged, or married. I am the only Weasley who is single, thanks to Harry breaking up with me a couple months ago after seven and a half years together."

Draco's brows lifted in surprise. It had been so long since the gossip rags had mentioned Potter and Weasley's relationship that it was assumed they had broken up over a year ago. No one had ever gone on record to correct the misconception.

"And even though Harry broke up with me, he didn't break up with my family." She looked him in the face and he saw the resentment in hers. The frown, the sad creases at the corners of her eyes, the way her nostrils flared. "He still attends family dinners and parties and events, like he's one of my brothers instead of the person who broke my—"

She cut herself off and looked away, biting her lip to stop herself from saying more. But she'd said enough. What she'd said—and hadn't said—about Potter coincided with what Draco had known about the git since their first day at Hogwarts.

Harry Potter got everything he wanted and nothing he deserved. He wanted the girl? He got her. Wanted the family? He got it. No longer wanted the girl? Discard her. But give up the family? Never. Some would say Potter had sacrificed his life for the safety of the wizarding world, and his parents had certainly sacrificed their lives for his. But where was the proof of his sacrifice? What had he lost? As always, nothing.

"So," he said in a low voice, trying to soothe a skittish kitten, "if we become each other's holidates, what will that entail? Pansy said she and her holidates come to agreements before they go on their dates. What should we agree to?"

Weasley straightened in her seat, her arms unfolding to rest her hands on the table and lean toward him. "You'll do it?"

Draco waved his hand airily. "Depends on the terms, I suppose."

"I've already thought about that," she said, the sadness leaving her eyes and excitement animating her.

"Of course you have," Draco said with an amused shake of his head. He wasn't sure why he was glad to see her sadness fade. He should have been giddy that Potter's most devoted fan finally saw him for who he really was after more than half a lifetime of fealty.

"First, we won't purposely offend each other's friends and families."

Draco lowered his spoon in disappointment. "Well, why not?"

"That's not what this arrangement is about! It's about enjoying our holidays without being pitied—in my case—or pursued—in yours. Besides, all of our acquaintances will be horrified to find out we've brought each other to events as dates. There shouldn't be a need to provoke them further."

That didn't sound like much fun, but he supposed she was right. He magnanimously waved for her to carry on, ice cream dripping from his spoon to the tabletop.

Bolstered by his lack of argument, she continued. "Second, let's agree to be each other's holidates for the next year. From New Years Eve to Christmas, whatever events come up, we can count on each other to attend. Of course, we don't have to keep doing this if it doesn't work out or if we end up in relationships with other people. But it might be nice to have a plan beforehand, to know we can rely on each other without too much burden."

Burden, huh? Did she feel like a burden, he wondered?

He supposed it couldn't hurt to have a plan. As she'd said, if the arrangement no longer worked for them at some point, they could end it.

He nodded and she smiled.

"Third… Well. So. I heard what Parkinson said about her holidates, and I think it's safe to say our arrangement won't be similar to some of hers. Would you agree with that?"

"Er, agree with what exactly?"

Her face heated again, the color of it nearly equivalent to the color of her scarf. "No sex, Malfoy. I should think it doesn't need to be said, but I wanted to make sure our expectations were clear. That's not why I'm doing this. If it's something you want… well. I can find someone else to be my holidate."

He put his spoon down in his empty bowl and leaned back in his chair. She'd attempted coyness at first, but she looked at him now with a defiant expression, her chin lifted as if daring him to ridicule her for whatever reason. Had she been ridiculed about sex before? Draco wasn't sure if he was extremely intuitive or extremely prejudiced, but he wouldn't put anything past Potter, honestly.

What he did know for sure was that Weasley was not going to be able to find another holidate. Not one like him, someone who would piss Potter off and maybe spite her family a little for being so obnoxiously happy. If Draco backed out, she would have no one.

It felt… kind of nice to be needed.

"You mean no sex with each other, correct? From what I understand, you're not saying we couldn't find sexual partners outside of our arrangement."

She released a breath of relief as if she'd expected a fight. And now Draco wasn't sure if she was reacting this way because of her past with Potter or because of Draco. Somehow he found himself insulted by her sigh.

"That's right. What we do outside of the holidays is none of our business."

"Are those all the rules?"

She nodded.

Draco mused over what she'd said and what he wanted while Weasley looked on, her body still with anticipation. He couldn't think of anything else to add to her terms, so he offered his hand for a shake.

"Holidates, then?"

She beamed, and it was the brightest smile anyone had ever bestowed upon Draco, stunning him until she released his hand. He hadn't even noticed she'd taken it.

"I cannot believe you ate that whole sundae," she said in awed distaste.

Draco shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a glutton for punishment."