Ski school was boring. Harry sighed as they used the mini ski lift back to the top of the mini ski slope again, glancing longingly at the bigger slopes and imagining the rush of flying down one.
He’d only been here for a few hours, but it felt like a lifetime. He’d spent the day before exploring the town and the resort, and getting used to the cold - he’d never seen snow like it back home. He’d been looking forward to getting the hang of the skis today, but honestly, he felt like he’d already outgrown the lessons.
”Do you think we could sneak out?” A quiet voice asked in his ear as he waited his turn at the top of the nursery slope.
He jumped. Travelling alone meant that he’d gotten used to his own thoughts, and to smiling at people but not conversing with anyone. He looked around and saw a slim figure in forest green ski gear and gold goggles; all he could see was freckled cheeks and a wide smile, and they were soon hidden as the girl pulled up a black snood.
“Dunno, but I’d really like to,” he admitted. “Thought ski school was sensible for my first time, but…”
”It’s never your first time! You’re a natural.”
Harry raised his eyebrows at the thought that she’d been watching him. “Er, thanks,” he said, glad that the goggles covered his flaming cheeks. “Why are you in ski school if you’ve skied before?”
”Only ever done it indoors back home,” she said with a shrug. “Not the same, you know? My mate is really good. Her parents used to bring her all the time. She taught me a bit - and apparently she’s a better instructor than this guy.” She nodded down the slope. “Race you.”
She pushed off with no warning and Harry scrambled to follow her, laughing. It was his fastest run yet, with none of the weaving or snow-ploughing that they’d been taught, and the instructor gave them disapproving looks as they sprayed snow over one another at the bottom. It was a perfect draw.
”Let’s get out of here,” the mystery girl muttered to him, and he grinned and nodded.
Three green runs later, Harry knew he’d made the right decision. Skiing was easy - it was wonderful. He felt free.
He had also learned that the girl’s name was Ginny, and that she was on holiday with her best friend and her brother, who were dating, and another of her brothers, who had met them here as he lived in Romania. He knew that Ron and Charlie were spending time exploring the Christmas markets and drinking, rather than skiing, and the four of them were going to spend Christmas in the lodge together. He knew that Ginny had four other brothers at home, plus a sister-in-law and a niece, and said sister-in-law’s French family were over for Christmas, which was one of the reasons the three of them had chosen to meet Charlie for Christmas; Hermione missed skiing, and their house simply wasn’t big enough for Fleur’s parents and little sister as well.
Ginny was a firecracker. She was overwhelmingly chatty, and Harry found he liked it.
When she finally fell silent, and they made it to the end of the same green run for a fourth time, he said, “Your family sounds amazing.”
”Yeah, I’m pretty lucky,” she said. “Just don’t tell them I said so. What about you, anyway?”
Harry grimaced. “First Christmas on my own,” he said as casually as he could. “Thought I might as well spend it abroad. Also my first trip abroad, incidentally.”
Ginny used the edges of her skis to turn and skid to a stop. “Staying in a cabin on your own?” She asked, surprised. “At Christmas?”
“No, hotel,” Harry said, gesturing vaguely. “But yeah.”
Ginny pulled her snood down and her helmet off, shaking out pin-straight red hair. The freckles Harry had noticed before were darker on her cheekbones and dusted over the bridge of her nose. “Well, you’d be welcome with us,” she said. “I should message Hermione, see if she wants to take us a bit further up…”
Harry stared at this gorgeous, mysterious girl who had literally never seen his face before and had just invited him to spend Christmas with her and her family as she pulled out a mobile phone and opened it, pulling off a glove with her teeth and texting awkwardly with one hand while the glove dangled by a finger from her lips.
“Why?” He asked eventually. He fumbled with the strap on his own helmet, and realised only once he’d taken it and his goggles off that he couldn’t see without them. His glasses were safely in his hotel room.
”I want to try a blue run, but we probably should be with someone who knows what they’re doing,” she said airily.
“No, I mean - why would you invite a stranger to Christmas?”
She looked up at that and slid her phone back into her pocket. She frowned, light hazel eyes scanning his face, touching on his scar and then meeting his gaze. She held out the hand that had no glove on. “Ginny Weasley,” she said. “Novice skier, apprentice inventor, and semi-professional footballer.”
Harry pulled off his own glove slowly and folded her tiny, surprisingly warm hand in his, shaking it. “Harry Potter,” he returned. “I, er - I’m studying policing at Loughborough, on a sports scholarship. I play cricket, hockey, and tennis, and I swim, and I’m a lifeguard.”
“There. Now we’re not strangers,” she said, flashing him a grin. She squeezed his hand, and he let go hurriedly.
”Did you say inventor?” He asked, interest piqued as her words sank in.
”Yeah, kind of. My brothers Fred and George, they’re twins, and they opened a shop. They sell magic tricks and joke products. Female semi-pro footballers don’t earn that much, so I help out in the shop, design products, stack shelves, man the tills. It’s chaos, but great fun.”
”Hang on, Ginny Weasley - your brothers are the Weasley twins?”
“Yeah, that’s them. See, I told you we weren’t strangers.”
Harry shook his head, marvelling. “I’m a stranger to you, though.”
“Not any more. So, you want to be a cop?” Ginny pulled her phone out and grinned. “Hermione’s going to come and get us. You can tell me about it while we wait for her!”
Harry spent the happiest afternoon he could ever remember with Ginny and Hermione. He got on well with both girls, and they progressed from blue to red runs with no major issues. They’d all had a few falls, and he hurt in places he hadn’t been aware existed that morning, but he was snow-covered, sweaty and exhilarated by the time the light began to fail.
“Well, Harry, how would you like to meet the boys? Join us for dinner, if you like. We were going to see what took our fancy in town.” Hermione shook her curls free of her helmet.
He looked from her to Ginny. “Are you sure?” He asked. “You’ve literally looked after me all day, and you don’t know me.”
”We do now.” Ginny smiled warmly at him, and with the pinkish sunset shone in her red hair. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“Thank you,” he said, once he’d remembered how to speak. “I’d really like that.”
”Got a phone?”
“Er, not on me, it’s in my room. Didn’t expect to need it.”
“Know your number?”
“Yep.”
Hermione passed her phone over. “There’s only one bathroom in our chalet, so it’ll take us - well, by the time we’ve got there and sorted and back out, probably an hour and a half?”
Harry typed in his number, checked it, and handed the phone back. “Works for me,” he said. “Thank you. I was expecting to spend this week on my own, so I’ll fit with any timings or plans you want. I’ve honestly had such a good day.” His eyes slid to Ginny’s again.
“Christmas isn’t a time to be on your own,” she said, and her serious words and genuine tone was utterly at odds with her mischievous smile.
Five days later, Harry calculated that he had spent less than half of his holiday alone, and a solid eighty percent of that was time spent asleep (although he had fallen asleep on the sofa in the chalet one night, which somewhat skewed the statistics).
In terms of the skiing, he’d smashed all of the resort’s red runs and two of the blacks. Ginny, too, was an absolute natural, and Hermione was evidently thrilled to have skiing buddies. Harry had decided that he had a new favourite sport, and was already planning to investigate whether the University had any skiing opportunities when he got back. On the other hand, it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun without the healthy competition he and Ginny had fostered, which had amused Hermione no end.
As for Ginny - he’d learned a lot about her. She was a firecracker. She’d left school early to apprentice with her brothers, and was a year younger than him. She had a wicked sense of humour and a wide competitive streak. Her full name was Ginevra, and she hated it. Harry found himself watching her, studying her - she was magnetic. She was self-assured, and yet vulnerable; she was strong, but soft. He wanted to learn everything he could about her. The problem was, he had a feeling that Hermione had noticed. She sometimes caught his eye and smirked, and he felt his cheeks flushing in response.
He’d made firm friends of both Charlie and Ron, and found himself roped into video calls with the rest of the Weasley clan on three occasions; Molly, apparently three glasses of eggnog deep, had invited him to The Burrow for New Year. Hermione had needed to explain to a mystified Harry that this was the name of the Weasleys’ house before he’d been able to shyly agree. He still wasn’t sure whether the invitation would be rescinded once the Weasley matriarch had sobered up, but Ron assured him that it was unlikely, and that she probably wouldn’t be sober until after New Year anyway.
Now, he’d spent Christmas Day with the four of them. It was the happiest Christmas he could ever remember having. They’d played games, eaten far too much food, and watched ridiculous films. There was none of the weight of expectation and tradition that had always come from the various foster families he’d stayed with through his teenage years, and none of the dourness of the group homes. He felt light, and at peace, for the first time he could recall. The sun was setting, and he was looking forward to seeing the stars.
“Is there anyone you want to call, Harry? Christmas Day and all that. You’re welcome to use one of the bedrooms, if you want.”
Harry looked up at Ginny. He was sitting on the floor, leaning back against her armchair. The fairy lights from the chalet’s Christmas tree twinkled in her eyes. “No,” he said, smiling. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Hermione stretched like a cat and draped herself over Ron on the sofa. Charlie was sitting on the floor, leaning on its arm. “I’m sure your family would appreciate a call,” she said. She’d phoned her own parents that morning, and while their conversation was somewhat stilted and sterile, Harry could tell that they loved one another very much - it was just that none of them were good at showing it.
”I have no family,” he said without thinking, touching his forehead. He cursed the mulled wine they’d bought earlier that day, wandering around the town centre and wishing strangers a ‘Merry Christmas!’ as they passed. “Sorry,” he added into the suddenly-awkward silence. “That - I don’t normally tell people that.”
”I’m sorry, Harry. Didn’t mean to push,” Hermione said, looking stricken. Ron rubbed her shoulder.
”What happened, mate?” Charlie asked gently. Harry felt Ginny’s hand land on his shoulder.
”My parents were killed in a car crash when I was a kid,” he said. He rubbed the scar on his forehead again. “No grandparents on either side, by all accounts, so I went to my mum’s sister and her husband, but they didn’t treat me very well. Social services got involved when I went to high school, and took me off them. Bounced around foster care until I turned eighteen.” He shrugged and focused on the fire crackling in the grate. “Could have been significantly worse. I sometimes see dad’s friend Remus, but that’s all.”
“Remus Lupin?”
Harry turned so quickly to Ginny that his neck cracked. He rubbed it. “Er, yes?”
”He was the best teacher we ever had,” Ginny said. She gestured expansively at the room. “We all had him for one year - oh, not you, Charlie, actually. Anyway, he was great. He’ll probably be at New Year, actually - there were a lot of us Weasleys, and mum likes to take in waifs and strays. He seemed lonely, apparently, at parents’ evening, and she did her usual and made friends. When he left at the end of the year, she chased him down. He’s practically part of the family.”
Harry blinked. “I - wow. He helped me move to uni in September, but I haven’t seen him since. I messaged him before I left the UK, so he knows where I am. He’s always been there for me, you know, but he couldn’t take me in, and I think he’s always felt a bit guilty about it, even though he shouldn’t.”
”So you’re James’s son,” Charlie surmised.
Harry smiled painfully. “Yeah,” he said. “I - I don’t remember him. Either of them.”
Ginny’s hand squeezed his shoulder, and then her nails scratched lightly against the back of his neck and into his hair. He shivered and pressed backwards.
”Neither do I,” Charlie admitted. “But I’ve heard some stories from Remus, and I’m pretty sure my parents knew yours. You should definitely come at New Year, mate. You might learn a bit about them!”
Harry felt a warm weight settle in his chest. Ginny’s fingers were nimble on his scalp and this week, he’d felt more like he had a family than he ever had before; now, he was finding out that this little family might have been part of his life if his parents had lived. It was… overwhelming. It was amazing.
He swallowed hard and pulled himself to his feet. “I - thank you,” he said hoarsely. “I need - I’m just going to get some fresh air.” He turned, heading for the patio doors, and slipped out of them, shivering in the freezing air. His breath misted in front of him, and he stared up at the familiar constellations, searching for a foothold in the shifting sands.
A few minutes later, Ginny slipped through the door behind him and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. “How are you doing?” She asked gently.
“Yeah, good.” Ginny arched an eyebrow at him and he amended, “Bit overwhelmed, maybe.”
“Don’t blame you,” she said. “Funny, isn’t it? If things had been different, we might have grown up together. I can see you and Ron, thick as thieves. You’d have been in the same class, I think.”
“Not sure being the third wheel between them would have been the most fun school experience,” Harry joked weakly even as he craved exactly that. “Best mates with childhood sweethearts.”
”Maybe you’d have had your own childhood sweetheart,” Ginny countered teasingly.
“Yeah,” he muttered. He reached up to brush some of her hair behind her ear, and held her gaze. “Instead, I had to meet you in a completely different country, on holiday, at Christmas. Seems unfair, somehow.” His heart thumped painfully.
“Oh, you think I’d have been your childhood sweetheart?” She asked boldly, her voice dropping.
“I hope so,” he said throatily. “It seems incredibly unfair that I’ve never met you before.” He leaned in, pulling her against him.
”It does,” she agreed against his chest. “But maybe it had to be this way. Maybe we had to be a holiday romance.”
”Romance, huh?” Harry husked against the shell of her ear. She shivered. “I think I can do that, but the holiday part might be a problem.”
”Given that my mother has already invited you to New Year, I’d hope so,” she said cheekily, digging her fingers into his ribs. He squirmed, and tightened his grip on her hips.
”Good,” he breathed. “Ginny… can I kiss you?”
“Been waiting for you to say that since I dragged you out of ski school,” she whispered, pressing her nose alongside his.
”Why didn’t you say?” He groaned.
Their first kiss was seen only by the stars, and lasted from Christmas Day until Boxing Day. The minutes ticked past midnight, unnoticed by either of them.
Three years later, Harry had graduated from University and joined the police. With his first pay check, he took Hermione into Oxford and trawled the jewellery shops. The ring he chose was gold, with a diamond and two emeralds, because Ginny still skied in green with gold goggles; both colours worked perfectly with her hair.
He held onto the ring until Christmas. He hadn’t spent one apart from the Weasleys since their skiing trip. Molly and Arthur had welcomed him into the family with open arms and he’d learned more about his parents from them and Remus than he’d ever thought he’d know. Between that and the independence he’d found at university and now in work, he couldn’t remember ever being happier.
Much of that was Ginny’s doing. She’d been there for every important moment, every challenge and hurdle, every celebration. She’d been by his side as he graduated, and he’d been to every one of her matches - she was in the Premier League now.
They might not have been childhood sweethearts, but he felt like he had known Ginny his whole life. They might not have met before that holiday, but that nursery slope had changed the course of his life. Their holiday romance had become his whole life; their whole life.
Between Christmas and New Year, during that void of time where days ceased to matter and everyone ate far too much cheese, Harry drew Ginny out into the Burrow’s gardens. The snow was only a dusting on the grass, barely deep enough to leave footprints in, but it still gave that magical, glitteringly quiet atmosphere; the same thing they’d had in Borovets. He wrapped her in his arms, a blanket around their shoulders, and they looked up at the stars, just as they had so many times since that first Christmas Day in the mountains.
They talked quietly together, and named constellations, until they had nothing left to say and a comfortable silence settled around them, watched only by the stars. Finally, Harry felt the moment was perfect. His breath once again misting in front of him, he slid out from under the blanket to kneel on the grass, fumbling for the ring box in his pocket.
”Ginny Weasley, you changed my life three years ago. Since you kidnapped me from that nursery slope, nothing has ever been the same. You’ve given me hope, and happiness; you’ve opened your heart and home to me. Your family have become mine. I love you, more than I ever knew was possible, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
Ginny’s hand was over her mouth, but her eyes were filled with tears and creased in a wide smile. “I resent the implication that I kidnapped you,” she laughed, dropping to her knees and wrapping him in a hug. “You were a willing participant in the truancy, Harry, Potter, and I will just as willingly become your wife. Tomorrow, if we could.”
“You haven’t even looked at the ring,” Harry said, heart once again thundering in his chest.
”You could have asked without one, or with a paper one, and my answer would have been the same.” Ginny tipped his chin up and kissed him deeply. “I love you.” She nipped his bottom lip, and then pressed another kiss to his cheek. “Let me see, then.”
Harry passed her the open box. She let the starlight twinkle on the stones, and grinned, even as tears tracked silently down her cheeks, tracing freckles. “It’s perfect,” she whispered.
“It’s your skiing colours,” he said awkwardly. “I loved it as soon as I saw it, but if you’d prefer something -“
”Harry. It’s perfect. Put it on, will you?”
Hands shaking, Harry pulled it out of its velvet box and slid it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. “I was so nervous,” he muttered.
”I’d never have turned you down,” she said, admiring the ring. Her other hand settled on the back of his neck and played with the hair at the nape of his neck - shorter, now, than he usually kept it, as per the police force uniform regulations.
“And I’d never have turned you down at that ski school,” Harry murmured. “Not in a million years.”
Their engagement kiss was seen only by the stars, and lasted from one day until the next. The minutes ticked past midnight, unnoticed by either of them.