"Didn't know you was into gingers, Malfoy?"
"Shut up Weasley"
-
Gemma Weasley shared many similarities with her siblings, the ginger hair, pale skin, freckles and a super sense of humour, yet she was the one that stood out from them all. Even her tw...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Boxing Day always felt like the world was catching its breath after the chaos of Christmas, but Grimmauld Place was as loud and overwhelming as ever. Fred and George were cackling in the kitchen, Ginny was trying to wrestle with Ronald about mince pies, and Mum was fussing over Dad like he might fall apart if he so much as reached for a cup of tea. I couldn't take it anymore. I needed some air.
I slipped on my coat, shoved my hands in my pockets, and ducked out the front door before anyone could stop me. The streets were damp from yesterday's snow turning to slush, the cold biting at my cheeks. It wasn't snowing anymore, but the sky hung low and gray, like it couldn't decide whether to let loose again or not. I didn't care where I was going—just away from the noise, the crowd, and everything else.
The quiet was a relief, the sound of my boots crunching against frozen patches of pavement oddly soothing. I kept walking, weaving through side streets, letting my thoughts wander. My dad was home, safe. That should've been enough to calm me down, but my chest still felt tight. Between worrying about Dad, the tension with Mum, and Dumbledore's mysterious card, I couldn't seem to shut my brain off. And then there was Draco.
Draco. The thought of him made me slow my steps. We hadn't seen each other since the term ended, and I didn't know how much longer I could keep pretending everything was fine. Dumbledore had told me an owl had been sent to him, but I didn't know how much he knew.
I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice someone standing at the corner until I nearly walked into them. I stopped short, blinking in surprise.
"Draco?"
He was leaning casually against a lamppost, his black coat buttoned tight, hands shoved into his pockets. His pale hair was slicked back, but a few strands fell loose across his forehead, and his face held that usual smugness I couldn't decide whether to hate or adore.
"Took you long enough," he drawled, stepping closer. His voice carried that casual confidence, but I caught the flicker of nervousness in his expression.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, glancing around. I couldn't believe he was standing here, in a Muggle street, of all places.
"Surprising you," he said simply. "You don't look thrilled."
"I'm—" I started, but words failed me. I was thrilled, but also confused, nervous, and worried. "You didn't even send an owl! How did you even find me?"
Draco's smirk softened. "Do you really think I wouldn't know where you'd be spending Christmas? I've got my ways."
I folded my arms, narrowing my eyes at him. "You shouldn't be here. If someone sees—"
"No one's going to see," he interrupted. "I've been careful. No one followed me. Besides, I wanted to see my girlfriend for Christmas. Isn't that enough?"
I hesitated, torn between the warmth spreading through my chest at his words and the nagging voice in the back of my mind reminding me how risky this was. But then he gave me that look, the one that made me feel like the rest of the world didn't matter.
