A Gift For Sirmioneforever: All I Want For Christmas (Ginny/Pansy, R)
Author: flipflop_diva
Recipient: sirmioneforever
Title: All I Want For Christmas
Pairing: Ginny/Pansy
Rating: M
Word Count: 2400
Summary: It would figure that the one time Pansy tried to do something nice for her so-called friends, she ended up alone in a cabin in a snowstorm with no friends, no presents, no nothing. But then came a knock on the door.
Author's Notes: Thank you to A for the beta and the constant cheering and enthusiasm! Writing wouldn’t be nearly as much fun without you. Thank you also to the mods for putting on this fest every year! It wouldn’t be the holidays without it. And thank you to sirmioneforever for the super fun prompts and inspiration! I hope you like this!
Pansy scowled at the snow blowing against the cabin windows as if this situation were all its fault. As if her so-called friends weren’t witches and wizards and a pending blizzard actually was a hindrance to their travel plans.
She didn’t dare look behind her at the beautifully decorated Christmas tree she had worked so hard on. Nor did she glance at the pies, freshly out of the oven, that were on the kitchen table.
She never did crap like this. She hated being domestic, but she had wanted to surprise them, had wanted to make the week special, and instead of being grateful, these people who were supposed to be her friends had all ditched her, every single one of them with one excuse after another, leaving her alone in this awful cabin in what was about to become a snowstorm.
She wanted to scream, to cry, to throw things. But she was not going to give them the satisfaction of having a breakdown - even if they would never see it - so instead she just continued to glare at the snow as it started to come down faster and harder.
Who cared if she was alone for Christmas anyway? It’s not like she hadn’t spent most of the Christmases of her life with just the nanny or the cook for company. As usual, her parents were off to who knows where - probably sunning themselves on the beaches of Australia or something. Pansy had long ago stopped expecting them to invite her or to even leave her a present before they left.
But she didn’t need presents or Christmas cheer or all that crap. She would be just fine in this stupid cabin by herself. It would give her time to think or whatever. Maybe give her time to find some new friends who actually gave a damn.
She glared harder at the snow, clenching her fists so hard that her nails dug into the skin of her palms.
“I hate Christmas,” she muttered out loud. “Who needs this stupid holiday anyway?”
As if in answer, a huge gust of snow splattered against the window. Behind her, the lights on the tree flickered.
Pansy glared harder. Anything to not cry.
--
A knock on the door startled Pansy out of an uneasy sleep. She sat up on the couch, feeling disoriented. Had a stupid Muggle gotten lost out in the snow and was now knocking on her door? Maybe they would just go away.
The knock came again. Pansy groaned and got to her feet. Was it too much to ask to be alone in her misery?
She stomped over to the door and flung it open.
“Hi.”
Pansy stared, not believing what her eyes were showing her.
“Ginny?” she said.
Ginny Weasley was standing on the front deck of the cabin, dressed in a bright green sweater that, with her hair, made her look like a walking Christmas decoration. She had on matching green mittens, a scarf and earmuffs.
“Yes, it’s me,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “The actual me. Not a polyjuiced me.”
Pansy kept staring at her. “But why are you here?”
“Do you not want me to be here?”
“No. … I mean, yes. … No, of course you can be here. But why?”
Ginny gestured to the snow falling all around them. “Maybe we can talk about this inside where it’s warm?”
“Oh,” Pansy said, realizing just how cold it was as a gust of wind blew snow at them. She stepped back and opened the door wider, allowing Ginny to come inside. She noticed Ginny had a small bag over her shoulder that she sat down by the door before peeling off her mittens and scarf and earmuffs.
Pansy, still confused as to what was happening, moved to the kitchen to pour them both a glass of the hot apple cider she had made earlier, before everyone else had cancelled on her. Might as well not let it go to waste.
She brought a mug over to Ginny, and they both settled on the couch, side by side, their bodies barely touching.
“So,” Pansy said, when it didn’t seem like Ginny was going to be the first to talk. “You’re here.”
“I am.” Ginny looked around at the quiet cabin. “Where are all the others? You know, the ones you didn’t want me to be around?”
Pansy’s eyes narrowed, anger rising back up inside her - at her friends, at Ginny, she didn’t know.
“Not coming,” she said bitterly.
To her credit, Ginny didn’t say anything snarky to that. Instead, she took a sip from her mug.
“Sorry,” she said.
“They’re all arses,” Pansy muttered. “Who needs them anyway?” She changed the subject. “I thought you were having your annual Weasley super fun festive family Christmas gathering?” she said, faking a super sweet voice, and then adding. “You know, the one you couldn’t invite me to?”
Ginny rolled her eyes and then glared down at her mug.
Pansy waited.
“Well,” Ginny finally said. “Let’s say it was less festive and fun and more like an unending grief session for Fred.”
Pansy saw Ginny’s hands tighten around her mug as she brought it back up to her lips, sipping it slowly as she blinked back the moisture that appeared in her eyes.
She brought the mug down and took a deep breath. “I miss him, too,” she said quietly. “So much it’s like there’s a permanent hole in my heart. But it’s been three years! I can’t miss him that much every damn day for the rest of my life. I won’t make it through.”
Pansy nodded. She had no idea what it was like to love someone that much that she would miss them like that, but she could see the pain on Ginny’s face and in her whole body.
“So you came here?” Pansy said.
Ginny shrugged. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s the first place I thought of.”
“Should I take that as a compliment?”
Another shrug. “Up to you.”
They stared at each other. The places where their arms and legs were touching almost felt like they were burning Pansy up from the inside. Her stomach churned with a familiar sensation, and she felt the desire between her legs.
“Do you want to not think about anything for a couple hours?” Pansy asked.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
--
Pansy’s skin prickled from the now dried sweat. Her legs were still shaking slightly, her body still feeling a little like a wet noodle. Ginny’s fingers were still between her legs, stroking softly, creating a soft hum through Pansy’s whole body.
Beside them, the fire crackled in the hearth and across the room the tree twinkled its merry lights. They hadn’t even made it to the bedroom before they were magicking the other’s clothes off and attacking the other’s lips.
She had to admit she did feel better. More relaxed. Less angry.
Ginny propped herself up on an elbow and looked around the cabin, at the tree and the pies on the kitchen table that they could just see from their position.
“For someone who doesn’t do Christmas, this looks really nice,” she said.
Pansy shifted, spreading her legs a little so Ginny’s strokes would go more to where she wanted them.
“I tried,” she said.
Ginny’s fingers sped up just a fraction as she looked around again and then back at Pansy.
“What did happen to your friends?”
Pansy met her eyes. Part of her wanted to change the subject or just snog her to get her to stop asking questions, but another part of her wanted to actually tell her the truth. Ginny Weasley, her guilty pleasure of sorts. The woman she fucked at a Ministry party and then kept fucking - in bathrooms at work or in dark corners of shady Muggle pubs or sometimes even in her own flat.
“I’m not sure they are my friends,” Pansy said now. “We’ve barely talked in months.”
“But you invited them for Christmas?”
“Because that’s what we do.” Pansy stopped to let out a small groan as one of Ginny’s fingers slipped inside her. “We’ve spent Christmases together since we were at Hogwarts. It’s tradition. Or something like that.”
Ginny nodded, looking thoughtful. Pansy felt her slip a second finger inside, and the moan that left her throat was louder this time, more guttural.
“Sometimes change is necessary,” Ginny said. “Just because something is a tradition doesn’t mean it’s good.”
Pansy thought about the people she had once considered her best friends - the kids she had grown up with, had gone to school with, had spent holidays and birthdays with. The same kids that grew up to shun her after the dark lord was defeated - as though they weren’t also scared and desperate and looking for a way out, even if it meant offering up Potter. She was just the only one who had said it out loud. Making her the perfect scapegoat for those pretending they had always been on the right side.
The same people who would never let her live it down if they knew she was dating a Weasley. Even though that Weasley understood her more than those people ever had.
“Yeah,” she said now. “Sometimes change is better.”
And she reached up, tugged Ginny down to her and snogged her as hard as she could.
--
They sat together on the floor in front of the fire in the hearth, eating giant slices of pie that Pansy was pleased to note actually tasted quite nice.
“You should bake more often,” Ginny said, her mouth full.
“No,” Pansy said.
Outside the snow was coming down fast and hard, the trees buckling under the weight as the sheet of white rose higher and higher, now past the second step that led from the front deck of the cabin to the ground. The wind was howling, loud and eerie, and there were no signs of the storm letting up anytime soon.
The other rooms of the cabin, where the fire couldn’t reach, were dank and cold, but in front of the fire, everything was bright and cheerful and warm.
The clock above the hearth showed there was only an hour left until Christmas Day.
“This probably isn’t how you imagined spending Christmas,” Pansy said.
Ginny finished chewing the pie in her mouth. “No,” she said. “It’s better.”
Pansy scoffed.
“I’m serious,” Ginny said. “My whole life, Christmas has been this crazy, chaotic day full of nothing but noise.” She paused, looking thoughtful as she took another bite before speaking again. “I love my family, more than anything, but it’s nice to have things be simple for once. No expectations.”
“I guess that’s a good thing about my family,” Pansy said. “When you never celebrate together, no one has any expectations about anything.”
“Well, maybe you can come with me to my family for Christmas next year,” Ginny said. She took another bite of pie.
Pansy stared at her, waiting for Ginny to realize what she had just said. Instead, Ginny kept eating her pie.
“Next year?” Pansy finally said, the disbelief evident in her voice.
Ginny put down her fork and turned to look at Pansy, her eyes bright and intense. “Unless you don’t want to?”
“You’re inviting me … for Christmas … in a year from now?”
“Yes?” Ginny said.
Pansy frowned. “Do you always invite your one-night stands over for Christmas?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not what we are.”
They stared at each other. Pansy felt the world shift just slightly beneath her. She felt like she had just run headlong into a moment she had been trying her best to avoid. Isn’t that why she hadn’t invited Ginny to the Christmas holiday in the first place? Why Ginny hadn’t invited her to the Weasleys? Why she hadn’t told anyone else in her life about Ginny? Not that there was really anyone else in her life worth telling.
And that was it, wasn’t it? There was no one else in her life to tell these things to. Not anyone who cared. The only one who maybe cared at all was sitting right next to her.
Pansy sucked in a lungful of air, licked her suddenly dry lips. “What are we then?” she said, trying to sound casual.
“What do you want us to be?” Ginny said.
“What do you want us to be?” Pansy returned.
They kept staring at each other, neither wanting to be the one to break eye contact. Neither wanting to be the one who answered first.
Outside, the wind howled louder than ever. Inside, a piece of wood fell over in the hearth, sending the flames higher as they crackled furiously.
Finally, Ginny looked away. She ran her fingers through her long hair.
“What if I want us to be something?” she said.
“What kind of something?”
Ginny shrugged. “I don’t know. The something that you tell your family about. The something that you spend holidays with.”
“Is that what you really want?”
“Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know,” Pansy said honestly.
“Yeah,” Ginny said. “Me neither.”
They drifted into silence, both of them keeping their attention focused on the fire and the snow outside. Not on each other. Anything but on each other.
Pansy’s mind raced. She pictured introducing Ginny to her parents as her girlfriend and imagined the horrified look on her mother’s face. She thought about the smirks and the gasps of the people who were supposed to be her friends but who had abandoned her without a second thought. She thought about what they would say if they knew.
And then she realized she didn’t care. She didn’t give a damn about what those people would say or about what her parents would think. Why should she? She’d never cared before. Why start now?
She reached over and placed a hand over Ginny’s. Her skin was warm beneath Pansy’s touch.
“What if I think I want to try?” she said.
Ginny turned to look at her. “You mean that?”
Pansy nodded.
“I think I might like to try too,” Ginny said.
Pansy nodded again. She felt like a weight she hadn’t known was there was lifted from her shoulders. At the same time, a burst of warmth exploded in her chest.
Above the hearth, the clock ticked, moving its hand to indicate Christmas Day had arrived.
Ginny and Pansy moved toward each other, their lips meeting just as they had so many times before, but this time it was different - sweeter, more special, more real.
Ginny pushed Pansy down on the blanket, slipping her fingers under Pansy’s shirt without breaking the kiss.
Pansy pulled back just a little, huffed out a small moan and managed to whisper, “Happy Christmas, Ginny.”
Ginny smirked, moved her hands up to Pansy’s breasts, and whispered back, “Happy Christmas, Pansy,” before leaning back in to finish what she started.
A happy Christmas indeed.
Recipient: sirmioneforever
Title: All I Want For Christmas
Pairing: Ginny/Pansy
Rating: M
Word Count: 2400
Summary: It would figure that the one time Pansy tried to do something nice for her so-called friends, she ended up alone in a cabin in a snowstorm with no friends, no presents, no nothing. But then came a knock on the door.
Author's Notes: Thank you to A for the beta and the constant cheering and enthusiasm! Writing wouldn’t be nearly as much fun without you. Thank you also to the mods for putting on this fest every year! It wouldn’t be the holidays without it. And thank you to sirmioneforever for the super fun prompts and inspiration! I hope you like this!
Pansy scowled at the snow blowing against the cabin windows as if this situation were all its fault. As if her so-called friends weren’t witches and wizards and a pending blizzard actually was a hindrance to their travel plans.
She didn’t dare look behind her at the beautifully decorated Christmas tree she had worked so hard on. Nor did she glance at the pies, freshly out of the oven, that were on the kitchen table.
She never did crap like this. She hated being domestic, but she had wanted to surprise them, had wanted to make the week special, and instead of being grateful, these people who were supposed to be her friends had all ditched her, every single one of them with one excuse after another, leaving her alone in this awful cabin in what was about to become a snowstorm.
She wanted to scream, to cry, to throw things. But she was not going to give them the satisfaction of having a breakdown - even if they would never see it - so instead she just continued to glare at the snow as it started to come down faster and harder.
Who cared if she was alone for Christmas anyway? It’s not like she hadn’t spent most of the Christmases of her life with just the nanny or the cook for company. As usual, her parents were off to who knows where - probably sunning themselves on the beaches of Australia or something. Pansy had long ago stopped expecting them to invite her or to even leave her a present before they left.
But she didn’t need presents or Christmas cheer or all that crap. She would be just fine in this stupid cabin by herself. It would give her time to think or whatever. Maybe give her time to find some new friends who actually gave a damn.
She glared harder at the snow, clenching her fists so hard that her nails dug into the skin of her palms.
“I hate Christmas,” she muttered out loud. “Who needs this stupid holiday anyway?”
As if in answer, a huge gust of snow splattered against the window. Behind her, the lights on the tree flickered.
Pansy glared harder. Anything to not cry.
--
A knock on the door startled Pansy out of an uneasy sleep. She sat up on the couch, feeling disoriented. Had a stupid Muggle gotten lost out in the snow and was now knocking on her door? Maybe they would just go away.
The knock came again. Pansy groaned and got to her feet. Was it too much to ask to be alone in her misery?
She stomped over to the door and flung it open.
“Hi.”
Pansy stared, not believing what her eyes were showing her.
“Ginny?” she said.
Ginny Weasley was standing on the front deck of the cabin, dressed in a bright green sweater that, with her hair, made her look like a walking Christmas decoration. She had on matching green mittens, a scarf and earmuffs.
“Yes, it’s me,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “The actual me. Not a polyjuiced me.”
Pansy kept staring at her. “But why are you here?”
“Do you not want me to be here?”
“No. … I mean, yes. … No, of course you can be here. But why?”
Ginny gestured to the snow falling all around them. “Maybe we can talk about this inside where it’s warm?”
“Oh,” Pansy said, realizing just how cold it was as a gust of wind blew snow at them. She stepped back and opened the door wider, allowing Ginny to come inside. She noticed Ginny had a small bag over her shoulder that she sat down by the door before peeling off her mittens and scarf and earmuffs.
Pansy, still confused as to what was happening, moved to the kitchen to pour them both a glass of the hot apple cider she had made earlier, before everyone else had cancelled on her. Might as well not let it go to waste.
She brought a mug over to Ginny, and they both settled on the couch, side by side, their bodies barely touching.
“So,” Pansy said, when it didn’t seem like Ginny was going to be the first to talk. “You’re here.”
“I am.” Ginny looked around at the quiet cabin. “Where are all the others? You know, the ones you didn’t want me to be around?”
Pansy’s eyes narrowed, anger rising back up inside her - at her friends, at Ginny, she didn’t know.
“Not coming,” she said bitterly.
To her credit, Ginny didn’t say anything snarky to that. Instead, she took a sip from her mug.
“Sorry,” she said.
“They’re all arses,” Pansy muttered. “Who needs them anyway?” She changed the subject. “I thought you were having your annual Weasley super fun festive family Christmas gathering?” she said, faking a super sweet voice, and then adding. “You know, the one you couldn’t invite me to?”
Ginny rolled her eyes and then glared down at her mug.
Pansy waited.
“Well,” Ginny finally said. “Let’s say it was less festive and fun and more like an unending grief session for Fred.”
Pansy saw Ginny’s hands tighten around her mug as she brought it back up to her lips, sipping it slowly as she blinked back the moisture that appeared in her eyes.
She brought the mug down and took a deep breath. “I miss him, too,” she said quietly. “So much it’s like there’s a permanent hole in my heart. But it’s been three years! I can’t miss him that much every damn day for the rest of my life. I won’t make it through.”
Pansy nodded. She had no idea what it was like to love someone that much that she would miss them like that, but she could see the pain on Ginny’s face and in her whole body.
“So you came here?” Pansy said.
Ginny shrugged. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s the first place I thought of.”
“Should I take that as a compliment?”
Another shrug. “Up to you.”
They stared at each other. The places where their arms and legs were touching almost felt like they were burning Pansy up from the inside. Her stomach churned with a familiar sensation, and she felt the desire between her legs.
“Do you want to not think about anything for a couple hours?” Pansy asked.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
--
Pansy’s skin prickled from the now dried sweat. Her legs were still shaking slightly, her body still feeling a little like a wet noodle. Ginny’s fingers were still between her legs, stroking softly, creating a soft hum through Pansy’s whole body.
Beside them, the fire crackled in the hearth and across the room the tree twinkled its merry lights. They hadn’t even made it to the bedroom before they were magicking the other’s clothes off and attacking the other’s lips.
She had to admit she did feel better. More relaxed. Less angry.
Ginny propped herself up on an elbow and looked around the cabin, at the tree and the pies on the kitchen table that they could just see from their position.
“For someone who doesn’t do Christmas, this looks really nice,” she said.
Pansy shifted, spreading her legs a little so Ginny’s strokes would go more to where she wanted them.
“I tried,” she said.
Ginny’s fingers sped up just a fraction as she looked around again and then back at Pansy.
“What did happen to your friends?”
Pansy met her eyes. Part of her wanted to change the subject or just snog her to get her to stop asking questions, but another part of her wanted to actually tell her the truth. Ginny Weasley, her guilty pleasure of sorts. The woman she fucked at a Ministry party and then kept fucking - in bathrooms at work or in dark corners of shady Muggle pubs or sometimes even in her own flat.
“I’m not sure they are my friends,” Pansy said now. “We’ve barely talked in months.”
“But you invited them for Christmas?”
“Because that’s what we do.” Pansy stopped to let out a small groan as one of Ginny’s fingers slipped inside her. “We’ve spent Christmases together since we were at Hogwarts. It’s tradition. Or something like that.”
Ginny nodded, looking thoughtful. Pansy felt her slip a second finger inside, and the moan that left her throat was louder this time, more guttural.
“Sometimes change is necessary,” Ginny said. “Just because something is a tradition doesn’t mean it’s good.”
Pansy thought about the people she had once considered her best friends - the kids she had grown up with, had gone to school with, had spent holidays and birthdays with. The same kids that grew up to shun her after the dark lord was defeated - as though they weren’t also scared and desperate and looking for a way out, even if it meant offering up Potter. She was just the only one who had said it out loud. Making her the perfect scapegoat for those pretending they had always been on the right side.
The same people who would never let her live it down if they knew she was dating a Weasley. Even though that Weasley understood her more than those people ever had.
“Yeah,” she said now. “Sometimes change is better.”
And she reached up, tugged Ginny down to her and snogged her as hard as she could.
--
They sat together on the floor in front of the fire in the hearth, eating giant slices of pie that Pansy was pleased to note actually tasted quite nice.
“You should bake more often,” Ginny said, her mouth full.
“No,” Pansy said.
Outside the snow was coming down fast and hard, the trees buckling under the weight as the sheet of white rose higher and higher, now past the second step that led from the front deck of the cabin to the ground. The wind was howling, loud and eerie, and there were no signs of the storm letting up anytime soon.
The other rooms of the cabin, where the fire couldn’t reach, were dank and cold, but in front of the fire, everything was bright and cheerful and warm.
The clock above the hearth showed there was only an hour left until Christmas Day.
“This probably isn’t how you imagined spending Christmas,” Pansy said.
Ginny finished chewing the pie in her mouth. “No,” she said. “It’s better.”
Pansy scoffed.
“I’m serious,” Ginny said. “My whole life, Christmas has been this crazy, chaotic day full of nothing but noise.” She paused, looking thoughtful as she took another bite before speaking again. “I love my family, more than anything, but it’s nice to have things be simple for once. No expectations.”
“I guess that’s a good thing about my family,” Pansy said. “When you never celebrate together, no one has any expectations about anything.”
“Well, maybe you can come with me to my family for Christmas next year,” Ginny said. She took another bite of pie.
Pansy stared at her, waiting for Ginny to realize what she had just said. Instead, Ginny kept eating her pie.
“Next year?” Pansy finally said, the disbelief evident in her voice.
Ginny put down her fork and turned to look at Pansy, her eyes bright and intense. “Unless you don’t want to?”
“You’re inviting me … for Christmas … in a year from now?”
“Yes?” Ginny said.
Pansy frowned. “Do you always invite your one-night stands over for Christmas?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not what we are.”
They stared at each other. Pansy felt the world shift just slightly beneath her. She felt like she had just run headlong into a moment she had been trying her best to avoid. Isn’t that why she hadn’t invited Ginny to the Christmas holiday in the first place? Why Ginny hadn’t invited her to the Weasleys? Why she hadn’t told anyone else in her life about Ginny? Not that there was really anyone else in her life worth telling.
And that was it, wasn’t it? There was no one else in her life to tell these things to. Not anyone who cared. The only one who maybe cared at all was sitting right next to her.
Pansy sucked in a lungful of air, licked her suddenly dry lips. “What are we then?” she said, trying to sound casual.
“What do you want us to be?” Ginny said.
“What do you want us to be?” Pansy returned.
They kept staring at each other, neither wanting to be the one to break eye contact. Neither wanting to be the one who answered first.
Outside, the wind howled louder than ever. Inside, a piece of wood fell over in the hearth, sending the flames higher as they crackled furiously.
Finally, Ginny looked away. She ran her fingers through her long hair.
“What if I want us to be something?” she said.
“What kind of something?”
Ginny shrugged. “I don’t know. The something that you tell your family about. The something that you spend holidays with.”
“Is that what you really want?”
“Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know,” Pansy said honestly.
“Yeah,” Ginny said. “Me neither.”
They drifted into silence, both of them keeping their attention focused on the fire and the snow outside. Not on each other. Anything but on each other.
Pansy’s mind raced. She pictured introducing Ginny to her parents as her girlfriend and imagined the horrified look on her mother’s face. She thought about the smirks and the gasps of the people who were supposed to be her friends but who had abandoned her without a second thought. She thought about what they would say if they knew.
And then she realized she didn’t care. She didn’t give a damn about what those people would say or about what her parents would think. Why should she? She’d never cared before. Why start now?
She reached over and placed a hand over Ginny’s. Her skin was warm beneath Pansy’s touch.
“What if I think I want to try?” she said.
Ginny turned to look at her. “You mean that?”
Pansy nodded.
“I think I might like to try too,” Ginny said.
Pansy nodded again. She felt like a weight she hadn’t known was there was lifted from her shoulders. At the same time, a burst of warmth exploded in her chest.
Above the hearth, the clock ticked, moving its hand to indicate Christmas Day had arrived.
Ginny and Pansy moved toward each other, their lips meeting just as they had so many times before, but this time it was different - sweeter, more special, more real.
Ginny pushed Pansy down on the blanket, slipping her fingers under Pansy’s shirt without breaking the kiss.
Pansy pulled back just a little, huffed out a small moan and managed to whisper, “Happy Christmas, Ginny.”
Ginny smirked, moved her hands up to Pansy’s breasts, and whispered back, “Happy Christmas, Pansy,” before leaning back in to finish what she started.
A happy Christmas indeed.