Ginger Malfoy

Christmas With Rodents

Ginger wasn't terribly disappointed in her mother and Harry.  They just had bad timing.

The good thing was that they could open more presents now.  Presents are always a good thing.

George and Draco came in next, and soon the room was full again.  Everyone moved back to where they were sitting before, but Ginger was happy to see that Ron and Hermione were no longer sitting in that odd position.  They simply sat cross-legged next to each other, Hermione leaned up against her husband.

Draco started to stand up again, saying he had forgotten something in the dining room, when he slipped on something and would have crashed face first into the ground if George hadn't grabbed his arm.  "Nice catch, Weasel," Draco said, and went off to get whatever it was he had forgotten.  

"No problem, Ferret!" George called after him.

Albus looked puzzled.  "What is all this weasel business, anyway?  Why do you call each other that?"

George smiled.  Another story to tell!  "Well, you see, Ginger was born into a family of four-legged animals.  In your dad's fourth year, Ginger, he got turned into a ferret by an impostor professor, and we've been sticking it to him ever since.  But as for weasel, he's been calling us that from the beginning.  Guess why?"

"So if we're all animals," Ginger looked at Hermione.  "What's she?  A rabbit?"

"The whole world of rodent-related humor and you choose rabbit?"  George asked halfheartedly.

Ron saw his brother's eyes misting over and quickly added, "No, Ginger, this one's a beaver," nodding at a blushing Hermione.  "Remember when you had buck teeth, Mione?" he teased, putting his fingers by his mouth and making himself look like a walrus.

"No," Hermione said, lightly slapping his hand away from his face, "but I remember you having long disgusting hair in your fourth year.  That was sickening."

Ron laughed.  "Oh, fourth year.  I got ugly and you got hot."

Hermione blushed again and threw a pillow at him.  Ron caught it, leaned in, and kissed her.

Ginger drew a tally in her notebook.  Eight kisses, she noted mentally.

As Ginger watched Ron and Hermione kiss, Draco and Ginny look at each other longingly, Luna and Harry converse flirtingly, George asking Angelina to be his girlfriend, Albus, Rose and James looking thoroughly disgusted, and Arthur and Molly looking on contentedly, she decided something.

She loved her friends and family a lot.  They were weird and annoying sometimes.  But this moment was perfect.  She looked down at her notebook again (which Ron and Hermione had just given her and she was already making use of) and sketched a lean white animal with tiny paws.  She shaded it in and wrote neatly at the bottom The House of Malfoy.

She closed her notebook and got up.  She walked to the kitchen to glance at the clock, but she found that it didn't tell time.  It showed where all the Weasley children were.  Everyone was home.  Except Uncle George.  That was odd.  She was about to tell Grandmum Molly that it was broken, but then realized that it wasn't George who was "traveling".  It was Fred.  She looked at the children who were "home" again, and she saw an identical redheaded face staring back at her.  That was George.

For the millionth time in her life, she wished she had known Fred.  She wished she could have known so many people.  Voldemort had taken so much from everyone.  He had taken the most from Harry.  Ginger knew that Harry would give up almost anything to have had his parents in his life.  And to have the guilt of endangering so many people taken off his back.  Harry felt responsible for a lot of things.  He didn't like that so many people had died for him.

Ginger never wanted that kind of responsibility.  That's why she had told Albus that she never wanted to be an adult.  She wanted to stay here, with friends and family, forever.  She wanted to bask in the warmth of the fire, to feel the care and admiration from her parents, to laugh and talk and smile and give and receive and to live and to love.

Ginger returned to the crowded living room and curled up between her mum and Albus, who were still on the couch.  Ginger was so focused on enjoying the night that she didn't know whether it was her mum or Albus who laid a warm hand on hers.  Because, at the end of it all, did it really matter?

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A/N:  Christmas has finally come to an end.  (:  Back to Hogwarts we come!  If you liked this, please vote and comment!  It means a lot to me!  (: