Quiet Loveliness

by She's a Star

Disclaimer: Harry Potter would be J.K. Rowling's. Ya know, in case you'd missed that.

Author's Note: Whoo! This is my first HP piece in awhile. It's in response to a challenge from my friend Bohemian Storm (check out her fics, for they are brill), which consisted of the words glass, snowflake, and doorway. Naturally, it turned disgustingly fluffy, but ah well. I had fun writing it. :-)

Also, I'm aware that there are an insane amount of 'and's in here. Sorry in advance for that.

*

She always reminded him a bit of a little girl.

He knew she wasn't, of course. Her liveliness and sarcasm and colorful vocabulary made that all too clear. But still, sometimes, when he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't miss the traces of the redheaded girl who had used to blush crimson and stick her elbow in the butterdish.

Christmas at the Burrow was warm, and inviting, and cozy. He tried to enjoy it, and smile when Mrs. Weasley gave him extra helpings, and let go of the fact that the memory of last year's holidays caused a pang in his chest.

On Monday, Ginny dropped a glass while she was putting the dishes away. It shattered, and she swore. Mrs. Weasley scolded her, and he found himself smiling. She caught him looking and grinned back.

Tuesday was quiet, and he felt cold and grey. The sky stayed dark, and the snow reminded him of rain.

With Wednesday came Christmas carols, wrapping paper, and new sweaters. Their hands brushed when he handed hers to her, and he felt like smiling without really knowing why. She sang 'Silent Night' softly to herself, and cut snowflakes out of paper. With a swift whisper, she charmed them to sparkle. They stuck them to the windows together, and he told her she had a pretty voice.

Her cheeks went rosy, for a minute.

On Thursday he watched her sit in front of the fireplace as she scribbled into a diary, her hair falling into her face like a curtain of merry flames. He remembered whispers and blood, and decided she was brave.

With Friday came a snowball fight - Ron and Hermione bickered, and she shrieked threats at him when he hurled one in her hair. They snapped back and forth angrily at each other; Harry and Ginny walked behind, smiling knowingly.

"It's obvious," Ginny stated matter-of-factly.

He watched as the snowflakes glistened on her eyelashes. "Yeah."

On Saturday, everything glistened with winter and beauty and quiet loveliness. In a flurry of scarves and coats and mittens, the house emptied, and the yard was filled with delighted shrieks and laughter.

He waited for Ginny as she searched for her scarf.

"You don't have to wait," she told him.

He knew that. "I want to."

She smiled, and he couldn't help but think how pretty she was.

On Sunday, they were the first ones up, sipping hot cider and talking about meaningless little things that suddenly seemed very important. Ginny decided that it would be lovely if they were to go outside and make snow angels before the sun rose.

He handed her her jacket, and paused in the doorway.

"What?" she asked. Her eyes sparkled.

"Nothing," he said, and kissed her, and outside, the sky slowly turned gold instead of grey.