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Ginny wasn’t sure what to expect from this project. She had to admit, it wasn’t a bad idea. Witch Weekly had come up with some pretty ridiculous things, but she found herself actually looking forward to this one.
It was Hermione who had first brought it to Ginny’s attention. Flopping on Ginny’s bed, the glossy magazine clutched in her hands, she had shoved it under the red-haired girl’s nose.
“We should do this.”
Ginny squinted at the spread, grabbing it from Hermione’s hold. Sitting up, she scanned the title.
“A Pen-Pal exchange?”
Hermione nodded. “For Christmas. It’s just postcards, too, so it won’t take too long to write one.”
Considering it, Ginny hummed to herself, reading further into the article. The idea seemed simple enough: the magazine would match you up with a suitable person, and the correspondence would begin starting on December 1st. From there, it would be entirely up to the participants to how they wanted to continue.
Hermione was watching her carefully. “It’s a good idea, isn’t it?”
Ginny pointed at the carefully crafted postcards that were pictured in the magazines, complete with glittery ink that changed colour from green to red. “They’re not going to expect us to make everything look that festive, are they?”
“I’m sure they’re not going to be regulating how pretty the postcards look,” Hermione told her, making a face. “Mine certainly aren’t going to be that beautiful.”
“You’re definitely going to sign up for it, then?”
Shrugging, Hermione met Ginny’s gaze. “Why not?”
That was a fair point. Ginny gave the magazine another look, flipping through the pages absently. It really was an interesting idea. When she was younger, Ginny had always wanted a pen-pal. Maybe that was what had made her so interested in that old diary as a first year -- but this, she knew, would be entirely different. It was a little bit exciting even just to think about it.
“Fine,” she said, finally, “I’ll do it.”
Hermione grinned.
It hadn’t taken long for Witch Weekly to respond with the people Ginny and Hermione had been matched with. The owls came for them early the next day. Ron had been the first to notice the owls tapping at the kitchen window, and he unlatched it to swing the glass outward so that they could swoop in. Ginny, who hadn’t noticed the birds at first, frowned at him when the cold air hit her, though she was soon distracted. Hermione made an excited sound, jumping to her feet.
“It’s our Pen-Pals,” Hermione told her, passing an envelope to Ginny.
Eagerly, Ginny tore the paper open, and there was a loud bang. Ron winced at the noise and stepped away as confetti began to rain down from the envelope, sticking to Ginny’s pajama bottoms. Rolling her eyes at the tackiness of it, Ginny brushed as much as she could off of her clothing.
Hermione, also covered in confetti, had already managed to pull the notice from within the envelope. “I got a girl named Ekaterina Dimitrov.” She raised her eyebrows at Ginny. “She’s from Bulgaria.”
“Not the first Bulgarian pen-pal you’ve had, then,” Ginny teased. “Think she’ll measure up to Victor?”
Ron coughed. Hermione reached out to squeeze his hand, and he softened, looking at her affectionately.
Ginny wrinkled her nose at them. It was weird to see her brother being so openly in love. Rather than dwelling on it, she reached inside her own envelope (which had stopped spewing confetti, thankfully) and pulled out a small card.
Ginny Weasley,
You have been paired with Astoria Greengrass. Congratulations! You are free to contact her via owl mail at your discretion.
Merry Christmas,
The Witch Weekly Team
The name sounded familiar. Greengrass was common enough, but Ginny knew that it was something else. After a little thought, she managed to recall a Slytherin girl from her Hogwarts years. A year younger than Ginny, their paths hadn’t crossed much, so Ginny’s memory was foggy, but she seemed to remember that she had always been composed, her uniform unrumpled, her hair loose but still glossy and smooth.
“Ginny? Who did you get? You look a little strange.”
Ginny glanced up from the page. “Astoria Greengrass.”
Ron winced. “A Slytherin. Yikes.”
“Is that Daphne Greengrass’s sister?” Hermione asked, sounding curious. Ginny nodded. “Hmm. Well, I’m glad Witch Weekly is doing this. Even if we never got a chance for much inter-house unity during school, this will open doors for friendships all over the place.”
Standing up, she stretched. “I think I’m going to get started on my first postcard. Do you want to come?”
Ginny followed her out of the kitchen and into the living room, clearing the clutter off of the table. “What do you think I should say to her?”
Hermione looked thoughtful. “I don’t think I should tell you that. It’ll make it more authentic if it’s just you communicating with her.” Sitting down, she conjured a small, postcard sized piece of paper and, after brief thought, began to write.
Ginny still had nothing. She attempted to glance over Hermione’s shoulder to get an idea of what she was writing, but Hermione very pointedly shielded her page from Ginny’s line of sight. Sighing, Ginny created her own postcard and began tossing her wand gently from hand to hand, deep in thought.
Finally, she had her thoughts in some sort of order.
Astoria, she wrote:
I’m not sure whether you remember me from Hogwarts, but I’m a year above you (a Gryffindor). I don’t think we ever talked, but I guess we’ll have a chance to do that now!
Since this is for Christmas: do you have any plans?
Your name is very pretty, by the way.
Ginny Weasley.
Glad that the size of the postcard didn’t allow for more than a couple sentences, Ginny attached her note to the foot of Pigwidgeon and sent him off. This, at least, was a package that the tiny bird could handle.
Ginny got a response much earlier than Hermione, who watched with mild jealousy as Ginny received an owl. Ginny found herself unable to help the anticipation that built up inside her at the sight of the postcard, despite the small, niggling doubts that followed her about having a Greengrass as a correspondent.
Astoria’s penmanship seemed to be manicured to perfection. Ginny had never considered her writing to be particularly messy, but it didn’t even come close to comparing to Astoria’s.
Ginny,
I think it would be a little astonishing if I had managed to attend seven years of Hogwarts without noticing the famed Ginny Weasley. Believe it or not, being the girlfriend of Harry Potter and the most attractive girl in school doesn’t exactly conceal you from the public eye.
I’m spending the holidays with Daphne, my sister, and her family. They have a baby girl now, so I’m just hoping I’ll be able to sleep through the nights. Are you doing anything special?
Thank you! I always liked it.
Astoria
The postcard was white, with simple gold stripes of glitter across the front. Ginny reread it quickly, deciding that she liked this girl’s tone. Hermione attempted to pluck it from Ginny’s hands, but she batted the her friend away.
“If I can’t read yours, you can’t read mine.” Ginny said, firmly.
Hermione groaned, but didn’t bother arguing.
Astoria,
Well, there are worse things to be remembered by. Though I am no longer Harry Potter’s girlfriend, so that’s one legacy that I’ve left behind.
As a youngest child, I don’t have any advice on the sleeping-through-crying front. Earplugs?
Funnily enough, though, I’m actually spending the holidays with Harry (and the rest of my family, of course). It should be just about as overwhelming as it usually is… you’ve heard the talk about how big my family is, no doubt.
Ginny
Dear Ginny,
Well, that’s a bit unfortunate for Harry. I expect you’re beating off the suitors by now?
I’ll keep earplugs in mind -- though I’m not sure how my sister would react to me showing up to her house with them.
I have to admit, I’m close to envying your Christmas. My family’s was always a little slow, lacking that kind of commotion. Who knows, if my sister has another child someday, I might get a taste of it myself.
Astoria
Dear Astoria,
I’ve perfected my ‘Not Interested’ glare at this point. They seem to get the message, for the most part. Other than that, the old bat-bogey hex always comes in handy. I very highly recommend it for any guys who give you a problem.
What your sister doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?
A taste is usually enough. If you don’t believe me, you’re welcome to come over while Percy and Hermione are debating over some topic or another, Mum’s yelling at someone or another over disturbing the charms keeping the cookies warm, and Fleur’s complaining for the thousandth time about the music. Not so fun.
- Ginny
Dear Ginny,
Boys aren’t (usually) my area, so I’ll just have to use that hex on the more persistent ones. Thanks for the tip.
That’s a very Slytherin thing to say, Ginny. Who would have thought that you’d have it in you?
I can only imagine. I’ll be sure to let Daphne know that she should keep the family size to a minimum.
By the way -- saw you on a Quidditch Magazine the other day! I don’t follow Quidditch, so I didn’t know you were on the Holyhead Harpies. Impressive.
Astoria
The postcards continued, becoming easier to write every day as the two of them became accustomed to each other. Instead of being glad of the small space allowed on a postcard, Ginny found herself becoming irritated by the amount of writing that she had to cut out just so that it would all fit into the space. Hermione, too, seemed to have become fast friends with Ekaterina, whom she had started to call ‘Katie’.
Ginny also found that she had been finding herself wishing more and more that she had paid more attention to the Slytherin girl during the time at Hogwarts. Astoria was witty and sophisticated and just so incredibly interesting, and Ginny was becoming more and more entranced by her by each new delivery of a postcard (each one beautifully decorated for the season). Ginny, in turn, had taken to attaching a small tin full of whichever cookies her mother had been baking recently.
By the time Christmas was nearing, only a couple days away, the only thing that Ginny could think about was the limitations of this. She knew that the original plan for the postcard exchange, as Witch Weekly had arranged, was that it would only be until Christmas. Ginny didn’t think that she was ready to give up the correspondence with Astoria. She expressed this sentiment in one of the postcards.
Astoria responded with an assurance that she felt the same.
In fact, I’m beginning to think that it would be better to start using actual letters, instead of just postcards. But that can wait until after Christmas.
Something that I’d rather not wait for, though, is meeting you in person. If you’re up for it… are you busy tomorrow night?
Ginny’s postcard back was the shortest reply she had ever written.
I’m free. We could meet in Diagon Alley?
When Ginny arrived in Diagon Alley, the snow was beginning to fall. The street was filled with Christmas shoppers, and Ginny took refuge by the closed ice cream parlour, where there was a lull in the excitement. Soon, the other woman arrived, stepping into the street and pulling a white hood up over her head.
Ginny called her name.
Astoria turned, a smile beginning on the edges of her lips, and walked towards Ginny.
Ah, fuck. She hadn’t remembered Astoria being so beautiful. This wasn’t going to help the crush that was developing slowly.
Astoria nodded down the street. “Walk with me?”
The crowd seemed to leave them in peace as they made their way down Diagon Alley. Ginny managed to chatter on about the decorations, and Astoria smiled and talked about Daphne’s daughter, who had taken her first steps while Astoria was watching over her.
They ended up stopping at The Leaky Cauldron. Not the most glamorous of places, but it was enough to drink the butterbeer and point out the cheesy decorations floating in midair in a cheap attempt to create Christmas spirit.
It was also enough when they left, their cheeks rosy, and falling over one another. Laughing softly, they returned to where they had met, leaving footprints in the snow. The street was considerably emptier than it had been before.
Ginny reached out for Astoria’s gloved hand, as they were saying goodbye. “I’ll write you.”
Astoria smiled, and stepped closer to embrace Ginny. “You better.”
Ginny only felt the soft brush of lips against her cheek before Astoria was gone, the crack of disapparation echoing down the street.
Ginny, too, left for home. She had a letter to write, after all.