2/7/21

Author's Note: Still working on chapter four, so if I finish in time for Valentine's Day, I'll post it day-of. If not, I'll have it posted before February ends!

Holidating

by idreamofdraco

New Year's Eve 2005

Normally Ginny could count on nausea as a side effect of Apparition. Tonight, queasiness didn't fill her stomach as a tell-tale crack announced her arrival at the back gate of the Burrow's garden. Butterflies did. They fluttered their gossamer wings, tickling her insides with anticipation and nerves.

The hand holding hers let go and Ginny took a deep breath before looking at her holidate. Malfoy stared up at the Burrow's lit windows, rising crookedly up into the darkness, his face inscrutable. Fierce protectiveness flashed through her as she wondered what he thought of the sight, though truly his opinion didn't matter to her.

Malfoy looked down at her with raised brows. "Are you ready for this?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." Ginny grabbed his arm, tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow as she conveyed him through the gate and into the unkempt garden. The tall grass glistened with frost under the moonlight, mimicking the stars that blanketed the uncloudy night sky. If she listened closely, Ginny thought she could hear gnome teeth chattering in their burrows buried within the unruly depths of the garden.

Instead of taking Malfoy to the Burrow, she went around the side of the house where she could definitely hear cheering and laughter and the unmistakable sound of Wildfire Whizbangs. Sure enough, as they rounded the corner, a bonfire came into view, and half the Weasley family sat around it in chairs taken from the dining table.

George commanded the center of attention several feet behind the fire as he bent over and lit a fuse with the tip of his wand. He raced back to his fiancee's side and everyone waited for the fuse to ignite the gunpowder inside the firework and soar into the sky. It flew upward with a high-pitched shriek, up as high as Ron's attic bedroom or maybe even higher. Then it exploded into a cascade of silver sparks that spelled out the words Harry Nem Yeet.

Ginny laughed at the nonsense even as her heart lurched at the sight of Harry's name. Malfoy glanced at her again, and although the light of the fire and the fireworks illuminated his face sufficiently, Ginny couldn't interpret what she saw there.

"Ginny!" George called as he spotted them, waving her forward. "Ginny, come look at what I'm working on for the shop!"

"Moment of truth," Ginny muttered to Malfoy.

"Smile like you mean it," he replied, his words muffled by the toothsome smile stretching his mouth.

They moved closer into the light and the excitement that could be heard from outside the garden fence silenced as her family got an eyeful of her arm candy.

"Who is that?" Verity asked from the opposite side of the fire, hand raised to her eyes as if that would help her to identify the unknown guest.

Ron sprang out of his chair. "I'll tell you who it is," he growled. He turned on Ginny. "What is he doing here?"

"Who is it?" Verity asked again, straining to see through smoke and flames.

Ginny ignored Ron, though the fluttering in her stomach accelerated. She was bold enough to pull this off. She was confident enough to make it work.

Squaring her shoulders back and clutching Malfoy's arm a little tighter, she said, "Everyone, I'd like you to meet Draco Malfoy. Malfoy, I think you know most everyone here. The confused one over there is my soon to be sister-in-law, Verity."

Malfoy nodded in Verity and George's direction. "Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials."

Ginny continued around the circle. "My parents, Arthur and Molly."

"Thank you for having me," Malfoy said.

"You know Ron, Hermione, and Harry, of course." They were nearest to Ginny and Malfoy, so their dumbfounded expressions—and Ron's flush of anger—were the least hidden by darkness and distance.

"Of course. I hear congratulations are in order for you as well," Malfoy said to Hermione.

"Oh! Er, thank you… Malfoy?" Hermione's eyes narrowed as if she suspected Ginny had brought someone else disguised as a Malfoy instead of a real one.

His civility more than pleasantly surprised Ginny. It nearly shocked her. Sure, they'd agreed not to offend each other's friends and families—it was rule number one of their holidating terms—but part of Ginny had been sure Malfoy wouldn't be able to stop himself from picking a fight. Yet, here he was, more polite than ever before while Ron's face began to turn purple in unprovoked indignation. She schooled her expression so that no one would be able to tell that Malfoy's behavior was abnormal to her.

Which would certainly only cause more confusion since it was abnormal to everyone else.

"Are Percy and Bill coming?" Ginny asked her parents casually, as if she brought Malfoys to family gatherings every day.

"No, they're both working early tomorrow," Molly answered. "Ginny—"

"What in the bloody hell is going on here?"

Like one of George's fireworks, Ron's patience had finally reached the end of its fuse, exploding into an impressive display of color and noise. Silence met his outburst instead of gasps or cheers.

Ginny's gaze scanned around the fire. "Malfoy is my holidate."

Ron raised his eyebrows and shook his head, waiting for further explanation.

And Ginny relished in keeping him waiting. She would have smiled, but doing so would have given herself away. Better to make him think she wasn't being obtuse on purpose.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the corners of Malfoy's lips flip up into a small smile. Her stomach jumped even though his amusement at her brother's torture should not have pleased her. She was needling Ron because she enjoyed it, not for Malfoy's benefit. There was something wrong about an outsider like Malfoy, an enemy, witnessing and reveling in Ron's tantrum.

But tonight Malfoy was not her enemy. He was her partner in crime. She would just have to see what Malfoy did with all the ammunition she handed him by bringing him home with her.

When Ginny did not provide any clarification about her cryptic statement, Ron turned to Malfoy and pointed at him. "You. Explain."

He looked to Ginny for permission, and she shrugged.

"Your sister and I—" Ron visibly cringed at the way Malfoy lumped her in with him "—are fed up with how holidays cater to romantic couples. Why must we feel obligated to be in a relationship to celebrate annual milestones? We're taking our lives into our own hands and refusing to succumb to what's expected of us by holidating each other instead. No commitment, no romance, just two people celebrating the holidays single—together."

Ginny nodded along, pretending they hadn't rehearsed that speech prior to arriving.

Sporadic laughter broke out around the bonfire, but Ron was too outraged to join in. "That's the most idiotic idea I've ever heard."

"If I'd wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it before bringing Malfoy here." Ginny grabbed Malfoy's hand and stomped closer to the fire.

Ron leaned away from them as they passed, either because he could see he was starting to get on her nerves or to avoid Malfoy. Either way, he wisely stayed silent at Hermione's gentle urging.

"There are sandwiches in the kitchen if you're hungry, Ginny… er, Mr. Malfoy," Molly said into the quiet.

"Draco, please," Malfoy said. "And thank you. I've already eaten."

"Drinks, too," George called from the opposite side of the fire. "Why don't you go fetch a bottle for us, Ginny Gin Gin."

"A bottle of what?"

"Anything that's there," he replied with a grin.

Ginny rolled her eyes and then pulled Malfoy along behind her, missing the warmth as soon as she turned her back to the flames. Malfoy did not object to being dragged around by her, nor did he remove his mittened hand from hers. She was the one who let go as they turned the corner of the house, and her face heated because she knew the constant grabbing was unnecessary. She was just used to it. Taking Harry's hand. Victoire's. Dragging people wherever she needed them to go without a single complaint.

Malfoy hadn't complained, either. Which was weird, right? Why was he being so polite?

As they entered the Burrow through the kitchen, Malfoy said, "I think your brother might have had a few drinks already."

"Nah," she disagreed. "George doesn't drink. He just wanted us to leave so they can all talk about us and get it out of their system before we go back."

Malfoy looked down at her with a dubious arch of his brow. "Really?"

She nodded as she stuffed her mittens in her pocket to open the icebox and retrieve a platter of sandwiches. A quick inspection showed that only the cucumber ones were left, but she wasn't going to turn down a snack, even if it was a slightly healthy one. Placing the platter on the table, she nodded at Malfoy. "Really really. You'll see. They'll all be much friendlier."

"Even Ronaldo?"

Ginny paused mid-chew, and then she shook her head. "Except Ron. He's a champion grudge-holder. One time he held a grudge against Hermione because he'd never snogged anyone and she had." She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Don't tell him I told you that."

Malfoy took a seat at one of the remaining chairs around the table and placed a hand over his heart. "Holidate's honor."

She snorted. "Never mind. I know better than to trust you to keep that secret."

She finished her sandwich in silence while Malfoy looked around, his attention catching on the clock on the wall with its one hand pointing at Time for a snack. Ginny's heart jumped into her throat as it set in that Draco Malfoy was sitting at the kitchen table at the Burrow. She'd brought him home with her to meet her family. The hair on his head peeking out from his tobogan was shinier than any pot her mother used. He was as out of place in the comfortable, disorderly kitchen as Ginny was sure she would be in his family's cold, ancient mansion.

If bringing him home wasn't a Fuck You gesture, she didn't know what was.

Part of her supposed she should feel bad for using him this way, but the truth of the matter was they'd agreed to use each other. Maybe she should feel bad for sticking him in the middle of a potentially awkward situation, but he'd agreed to come and had known what he was signing up for. Why did she want to feel bad at all? Maybe she was afraid of hurting Harry's feelings. Her mum's.

What about her feelings? Ginny didn't want to think about those. Holidating wasn't about feelings, after all. It was about convenience. Fun.

She nudged the platter towards Malfoy as she took another sandwich half. "Have a sandwich."

His expression said he'd rather not. Maybe he'd only been polite when he'd told her mum he'd already eaten because he did take a sandwich and then stared at it in hesitation.

"Honestly, Malfoy, you don't have to be scared of it. How could a cucumber sandwich taste bad?"

Distaste scrunched his nose. "What if the bread is moldy? What if the cucumbers aren't crunchy?"

Ginny should not have been surprised by the insult, the insinuation that Ginny's parents were too poor to eat unspoilt food. What actually surprised her, though, was that she'd forgotten what a privileged arse he was.

Harry entered the kitchen from the garden just then, saving Malfoy from a repeat of Ginny's fourth-year Bat-Bogey Hex. She slid her hand out of her pocket and away from her wand even though the sight of Harry only made her want to hex someone even more.

Harry looked between her and Malfoy, who was now thoughtfully chewing the sandwich as though tasting a wine and did not react in the slightest to Harry's presence. He dismissed Malfoy at once and turned to Ginny.

"Hullo there."

"We're busy," Ginny said with her mouth full of sandwich.

Harry was not deterred. "Listen… can we go somewhere and talk?"

Ginny's voice brightened to mask her growing displeasure. "About what?"

"I feel like you're dating Malfoy because of me. Can we talk about that? Or would you rather have that conversation in front of him?"

The sarcasm in his tone made Ginny bristle and earned her full attention, but she did not let her frustration seep into her words. Doing so would reveal more of her feelings than necessary, and as stated before, there was no room for feelings in her holidates. Holidating was about hiding from her feelings. Hiding them from herself and everyone else.

"First of all, Malfoy and I aren't dating. We're holidating. Huge difference."

He rolled his eyes, clearly unconvinced of the distinction between the two.

"Second," she continued, "we've had plenty of opportunities to talk before tonight. And Christmas doesn't count either! Holidays are not appropriate times for exes to discuss why their relationship failed." Ginny said this with a sunny tone that tasted like rotten, mushy cucumbers. The smile she forced onto her lips was tight, but somehow she managed to send the smile all the way up to her eyes. All she had to do was pretend she was making a joke, because that's exactly what this conversation was.

"Lastly," she said as he opened his mouth with a rebuttal, "holidating Malfoy is barely about you, so please get your head out of your arse."

Malfoy choked on a laugh, his hand rising to his mouth to prevent chewed up sandwich bits from spraying all over the table.

Ginny glanced at him and away, but Harry didn't even turn his head. He stared her down, his emerald green eyes darting as if searching her face for the person he'd spent seven years of his life with. Why he wanted her was a mystery because he'd dumped that woman over two months ago, rejecting her and the life he would have had with her.

"You're right. Now's not a good time," Harry finally said. He grabbed a bottle of champagne from the icebox and then left without another word.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Malfoy said with a sneer, "Not a good time? I think you made it clear that there will never be a good time."

Ginny just sighed. She'd known since the moment he broke up with her—and then made an appearance at dinner at the Burrow the next weekend—that being around Harry, navigating sharing her family with him, would be difficult. That was why she'd avoided visiting the Burrow for so long. But she'd never expected Harry to make it harder for her on purpose. That only piled more hurt on top of his rejection.

Malfoy went to the icebox and retrieved another bottle of champagne. For a brief moment, Ginny wondered how many bottles George had supplied. Even though he didn't drink, he had always been generous enough to provide for everyone else to drink to excess.

He pushed the bottle into Ginny's chest, forcing her to take it from him. His voice lowered as their hands brushed during the exchange. "I don't think I will ever forget you telling Potter to take his head out of his arse. To say witnessing it was a dream come true would be the understatement of a lifetime."

Ginny's cheeks heated at the way Malfoy looked at her, his gaze both too intense for her to endure and too intense to look away. Was he showering her with admiration, or was it just her imagination?

He stepped away, giving Ginny a reprieve from the intensity. "It's about time someone—besides me, that is—put Potter in his place."

She smiled a little, buoyed by his praise. Maybe it was wrong to agree with him, but Harry had hurt her feelings—the very feelings she was trying so hard to ignore—and maybe he deserved to have uncharitable thoughts said aloud about him.

"Shall we return to the others?" she said.

Malfoy gestured toward the door, inviting her to lead the way.

As they returned to the bonfire, the rest of the family was back in the good spirits she and Malfoy had originally found them in. George stood on the far side of the fire again, away from everyone else, amusing all with his whizbangs. One shot up into the air with a whistling screech and dissolved with a bang into a dramatic shower of sparks shaped like… well. It looked like it was supposed to take shape but hadn't quite managed it. A mountainous blob separated and disappeared. Ginny's family laughed, and she along with them.

"What was that supposed to be?" she asked.

George joined them again at the fire, smiling widely. "That was supposed to turn into a dragon, but I couldn't get the spells right. Actually, all of tonight's whizbangs are failed test products."

"WHAT!" Molly stood up from her chair, the laughter dying on her outraged face. "I thought these were jokes! Are you testing products on us? What have I told you—"

"Mum! Relax! The explosives in these are perfectly safe! It's just the effect that doesn't work—"

"Do not tell me to relax, George Weasley, when you know very well how I feel about—"

Ginny led Malfoy away from the tirade, knowing it could go on for a while. Instead, she took him to the orchard, where the trees stood naked under the moonlight. They could still hear Molly going off like a whizbang, but the words were muffled among the trees.

Ginny stopped and leaned against a bare trunk, lifting the bottle of champagne to her mouth and then handing it over to Malfoy. He hesitated for a second, but then he took a large swig from the bottle before returning it.

"Ours now," Ginny said. A shiver wracked her body, made her teeth clatter.

"Is this how you normally celebrate New Year's Eve? Drinking in an orchard?" Some of the moonlight filtered through the leafless limbs, striping Malfoy with milky light and shadows. His face benefited from the darkness, allowing him to hide.

The moonlight was almost blinding to Ginny, so she knew her own face was exposed.

She shook her head in reply. "Normally I'd be by the fire sitting right next to Harry. Sometimes I'd sit in his lap."

He grunted, and Ginny could only imagine the disgust that crossed his face. The thought of it made her grin.

"And now this year you're alone."

"Not alone," she said with another shake of her head. She took another sip from the bottle, her grip on the neck tight so it wouldn't slip out of her mittened hands. "This year I'm with you."

Malfoy took the bottle from her without waiting for her to offer it. Liquid sloshed against the glass as he drank.

"Still sounds like a pity party to me."

Ginny laughed. He wasn't wrong. "If we finish this bottle, I promise tonight will turn into a different kind of party."

"I thought you said we weren't going to have sex with each other?"

His voice was low and as dark as the shadows that obscured him. The sound of it curled in her belly, making her still, making her hot. Her breath puffed out of her like the firework dragon that had failed to appear.

Then he shifted, turned his head, and enough moonlight illuminated his expression to reveal the laugh that hung on his lips.

She punched him, relief and confusion racing through her veins. "You prat. You know what I meant."

They traded the bottle back and forth between them, drinking it faster once they descended into silence. The quiet between them should have been awkward. They barely knew each other, and what they did know of each other was fraught with history. But Ginny felt comfortable in the orchard outside her childhood home, not-speaking with Malfoy as they shared the consumption of an entire bottle of champagne. This was exactly what she'd hoped for when she overheard Parkinson explaining holidates to him in Madam Malkin's shop last week. It was also more than she'd expected.

The bottle was almost empty, and Molly's voice had died down, replaced with laughter and conversation again. Ginny checked her watch. Nearly midnight.

"Ready to go back?"

"You're the captain of this ship."

As she shoved off her tree and started moving, the alcohol began to take effect, making the ground uneven, the landscape wavy. The cold barely touched her anymore, her thick jumper and good cloak a little stifling now.

"What would you have done tonight if you weren't here?" she asked over her shoulder. Malfoy didn't look unsteady in the slightest. Bastard.

"The Parkinsons throw a party every New Years to find someone to marry Pansy off to. I would have gone to that."

Ginny frowned. "That sounds awful." She'd overheard Parkinson mention her mother's desire for her to marry, but she'd assumed her mother was at the same level as Ginny's. Then again, wasn't Ginny holidating Malfoy because she was afraid Molly would try to keep pushing her back together with Harry? Maybe their mothers were more alike than she initially thought.

"Pansy would agree," Malfoy replied.

When they returned to her family, more chairs had been retrieved from the kitchen, completing the circle around the fire. Ginny took the chair next to George, leaving Malfoy with the chair between her and Arthur. Verity handed them blankets to spread out over their laps.

"So… Draco. What do you do for a living?" Arthur asked. The question stopped all conversation as everyone turned to see how Malfoy would answer.

Like in the kitchen, Ginny was having a moment of clarity and alarm. She could clearly envision a zoomed-out image of the scene. Her whole family sitting cozily around a fire waiting to countdown to the new year, and then her dad asking Draco Malfoy of all people a mundane but absurd question in the spirit of small talk. If she could time travel to a week ago and tell herself before entering Madam Malkin's shop that this is what she would be doing on New Year's Eve, her past self would have thought her future self drunk. And Ginny was a little drunk... just drunk enough to release an involuntary giggle.

No one even looked at Ginny. Arthur's question was indeed funny.

Malfoy seemed more confused than amused, though. "I don't understand the question."

"What career path are you in? What's your job? How do you make money?" Verity supplied helpfully.

Malfoy's brow creased over the bridge of his nose. "I don't need to do anything to make money. I'm rich."

"Ahhhh, I see," George said with an understanding nod. "You're a deadbeat."

"He's a git is what he is," Ron grumbled.

Ginny nudged Malfoy with her elbow, looking at him meaningfully.

"What?"

"Don't forget our rules," she hissed, her words intended only for him.

"I'm not breaking the rules. I answered a question."

Ginny was skeptical, but Malfoy's confusion did somehow seem genuine.

Maybe he wasn't trying to annoy her family on purpose. Maybe he truly didn't need to work. As unfathomable as a job was to him, not having one was just as unfathomable to Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys. What must it be like to be so rich that you never had to worry about feeding or clothing yourself or your family? Never had to scrape and sacrifice to meet your needs?

Ginny's Quidditch career offered her more independence than she ever dreamed of and allowed her to treat herself to nice meals and good Quidditch equipment every now and then. It allowed her to pay Madam Malkin to tailor her Quidditch kit instead of cleaning and mending it herself. But she knew if something ever happened to her career, she would not last long before her funds began to run dry. Some months. Maybe a year.

She loved Quidditch, but she would like it even more if her success in matches did not determine whether she continued to make money playing it.

Hermione piped in then. "If you don't work, what do you do everyday? What motivates you to get out of bed in the morning? Don't you have a passion or a hobby?"

"Being an evil git is his hobby," Ron said, and Ginny did not miss Harry's mouth twitching as he contained a laugh.

Malfoy's confused expression only deepened. He didn't answer, but his mouth transformed into different shapes while considering the question, which was proof enough that he had never been asked such a question before.

George snorted. "Must be nice. If I had even a fraction of your money, I'd use it open that second shop that Fred and I talked about. I'd hire more staff. Maybe then I'd have enough time and money to ramp up production of new products." He prodded the basket at his feet, which was full of the whizbangs he had ignited earlier.

Ginny wondered if he'd brought them because he couldn't afford not to sell the products that worked.

But George was smiling. When he'd spoken, there had been no bitterness in his voice. So was George actually struggling or was he simply dreaming of more? He'd never given any suggestion before that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was in trouble. And he was always so generous with his money with the family. So what was true?

Malfoy had given George his complete attention, and now he looked at Ginny with a frown. He cleared his throat. "Er. Could I use the loo?"

Ginny nearly jumped out of her chair to escort him inside, part of her dying to know what Malfoy was thinking and part of her wanting to escape the heavy air that her dad's innocent question had caused. But that was silly, so she told him where to locate the bathroom inside, and he handed the nearly empty bottle of champagne back to her as he took off, out of the circle of chairs and into the darkness.

The conversation had already moved on, George's levity providing just the right tone to change the subject instead of dwelling on something none of them could change about their circumstances.

Harry's eyes were on her, and Ginny lifted the bottle to her lips to avoid his gaze. He had inherited money, too. Maybe not as much as the Malfoys, but enough not to worry. His parents had left him with a secure future while Ginny's parents' own futures were only now becoming secure thanks to all of their children growing up and moving out on their own.

She finished the bottle, wanting to drown out the negative emotions swelling inside her. It had been so long since she'd felt resentment at what her parents hadn't been able to give her. Thinking about it now was pointless because Ginny was doing so well for herself in a career she loved. Her whole family was taken care of now. It didn't matter that Malfoy could never understand their struggle.

Verity looked up from George's wrist. "Oh! It's 11:59! George, the sparklies!"

They rummaged in the basket at their feet for a handful of long, thin sticks that they passed around to everyone, leaving one on Malfoy's vacant seat. Then they instructed everyone to touch the tip of the stick with the tip of their wands, and the sticks came to life, multi-colored sparks emitting from the tip in a contained ball of sparks. Hermione and Harry waved the sticks in front of their faces, drawing shapes and writing words in the air as they laughed. Ron copied them in amazement.

"Did you get the idea from Muggles?" Hermione asked.

George grinned. "I get quite a few of my ideas from Muggles, if you can believe it."

When it was time, Arthur began the countdown. "Ten!"

Everyone else joined in promptly on "Nine!"

"Eight!"

"Seven!"

Ginny searched the darkness beyond the bonfire, but no figure emerged into the light.

"Six!"

"Five!"

She waved her sparkly and marveled at the tiny firework in her hands. Like an explosion lolly.

"Four!"

"Three!"

She scanned their surroundings one more time. Empty.

"Two!"

"One…. HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

"Harry Nem Yeet!" George cried a beat after everyone else.

And then all the couples were kissing, and there was nowhere Ginny could look safely without being confronted by her parents, or George and Verity, or Ron and Hermione. Sitting in a circle meant she was surrounded by happy couples.

Except Harry. Though if he was uncomfortable, he hid his discomfort well. He stared directly at her and Ginny stared back. She prayed to whichever gods were listening that he could not see the longing that she felt in her heart.

Malfoy returned just as the couples were pulling away, and his gaze swung around before landing on Ginny.

He sighed as he sat down. "Sorry," he mumbled.

And then he did something awkward and inexplicable and somehow sweet and leaned over to kiss Ginny on the cheek. She stared at him as he pulled away, but he diligently rearranged the blanket on his lap, avoiding her stare entirely.

Maybe it was the warmth from the fire, maybe it was a consequence of the champagne, but Malfoy's cheeks were pink. She didn't think she was imagining the color that flared there.

The evening wrapped up not long after that, but both of them were quiet throughout the rest of it. Ginny didn't know the reason behind Malfoy's silence. For herself, she couldn't stop thinking about him apologizing for missing the countdown kiss.

Or stop imagining what might have happened if he'd made it back in time.