Ginny's Trophy Husband Drunk Writings
Ginny lay sprawled on the sofa in the Burrow's sitting room, admiring the Christmas tree she and Harry had decorated that afternoon. Her mother bustled about in the kitchen, preparing the big feast for the next day, while her father had disappeared outside some time ago to do something important in his shed—at least that was what Ginny gathered from his muttering. Her gaze kept drifting to the corner where the grandfather clock stood. She was starting to feel restless; Harry had been gone for almost two hours and should have been back ages ago. If only he had told her what he was up to—but he had only answered her interrogations with an amused smile.
Outside, someone stomped noisily—probably attempting to knock snow off their boots. Ginny jumped up and hurried to the door, a broad smile already forming. "Harry—finally!" she called—then stopped short. "Oh. George. It's you."
Her brother gave her a wry smile. "Was someone else expected?" He glanced around the room. "Where's Loverboy, then?"
Ginny shrugged. "No idea. He was being all mysterious—said he had something to take care of."
"Ho, ho, ho!" boomed a voice from outside.
Ginny peered through the window. A Father Christmas stood on the doorstep, complete with staff and sack.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
George's grin widened. "Well? You going to keep him freezing out there?"
Ginny raised an eyebrow. Surely not. Harry wouldn't—
The door opened, and a man in a red robe stepped inside, hood pulled low and a long white beard obscuring most of his face. Ginny burst out laughing when she spotted the unmistakable flash of emerald-green eyes peering out from beneath it.
"Harry, how did it go?" her mother called from the kitchen doorway. "Were Victoire and Teddy frightened?"
"They're still too young for that," Harry said with a laugh. "But their eyes were enormous."
"You played Father Christmas for them?" Ginny demanded, half-amused, half-accusing. "And you didn't think to tell me?"
Harry shrugged. "You said last week you wanted to kiss Father Christmas. I figured I'd make your Christmas wishes come true."
He opened his arms, and Ginny promptly threw hers around his neck, kissing him thoroughly. When she finally pulled back, laughing, she eyed the beard with mock severity. "I much prefer you without the facial hair."
