Work Text:
31 December 2007
New Year’s has been difficult for Ginny ever since the war. What’s the point in celebrating the beginning of another year without Fred? This year will be the worst yet: a decade without Fred, Tonks, Remus, Colin, and so many others.
Ginny’s begged off the party at the Burrow with some halfhearted excuse. She’s planning to spend the night alone with her memories and a bottle of firewhisky. Then the doorbell rings and Luna is standing there with flecks of snow slowly melting in her hair.
“Molly said you’re sick.” She proffers a jug of soup.
“Thanks, Lu, but you really didn’t have to. I just fibbed because I didn’t feel up to a party.”
Luna cocks her head to one side. “I know. Soup helps when you’re sick in here, too.” She touches a hand lightly against Ginny’s jumper, just above her heart. Ginny’s pulse quickens. She feels the warmth of Luna’s hand even after she pulls away and leads her friend to the sofa.
“Wouldn’t you rather be at the party?”
“Oh, I’d much rather be with you. Besides, how you spend New Year’s determines the sort of year you’ll have. I don’t want you to be alone next year.”
Ginny has never been the superstitious sort, but she’s touched. The clock ticks on the wall. She takes a deep breath and decides to be bold like Fred would want her to be.
“If we really want to be sure, there’s another New Year’s Eve tradition which is meant to seal your luck for the new year...”
“We can’t take any chances, can we?” Luna smiles and cups Ginny’s face in her hands.
Luna’s lips are soft and Ginny smiles into the kiss. The clock strikes midnight, marking a new beginning.