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“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.”
-Friedrich Nietzsche
It was, admittedly, Ginny thought, a very bad idea to hang the Christmas lights on her house without any magic. But she loved watching the muggles clamber up on precarious ladders and shake all over as they tied up twinkling stars and bulbs. She wanted that little thrill of danger, even if it was quite tame compared to what she’d been through in her lifetime.
She set up a ladder (borrowed from a neighbor lady who could not understand why such a short girl lacked a ladder of all things) and bundled herself up. Puffy red coat over a new “G” sweater, jeans, fuzzy brown boots. Boots that seemed unwilling to make the entire trek up the rungs before they sent her into the snowbank on the ground beneath her.
It was, Ginny thought, very fortunate that it had snowed the night before.
She was still dazed, of course. Falling always knocked the wind out of her, and it was not a feeling she relished. So she laid in a Ginny-shaped ditch and picked out shapes in the clouds. They were all bright white and puffy, but the darkness on the horizon promised another storm. Just as well, she decided. She had books to read and cocoa to drink, and watching snowflakes fall under a large blanket was a favorite pastime.
That and reckless behavior, her mum would say. Ginny had to agree when she finally felt the snow seeping into her once-warm clothes.
A face swam into her view and she squinted to see it. Once the outline and accompanying loose strands of curly blonde hair became clearer, she smiled brighter than the sun-reflecting snow.
“Are you waiting for a Niffler to snatch away your ring?” Luna asked. “It will if you keep it uncovered. Oh. Ginny, where are your gloves? It’s rather cold out here.”
Ginny giggled. She held her arms up in a tacit plea for her wife to help her up, but when Luna took her hands, she pulled her down with her. A flowery, giddy shriek escaped Luna’s lips as Ginny rolled them around in the snow, packing layers of ice into the wrinkles of their clothing. The flowers on Luna’s coat easily victim to the winter frost. They kissed, gentle at first like always, and more heated as the chill settled in. Ginny could see her breath and she adored the way it mingled with Luna’s.
They made snow angels in the middle of the afternoon. Once those were complete, they stepped out of them and surreptitiously erased the footprints with quick wand waves (Later they would tell the awed neighborhood children that they both simply had excellent jumping skills and light landings).
Still covered in snow and shivering from its melting, Ginny pulled Luna close and started them toward the house. When Luna resisted, her wife looked back quizzically, and she answered in a wink and a dreamy smile.
Before Ginny knew it, they were dancing in the streets. Her boots, ever ready to betray her, found an ice patch and slid, but this time, Luna was there to catch her. She flicked her wand and cast a quick non-slipping spell, and then they were back to their steps. Luna hummed beautifully. The ladder-neighbor-lady, carrying a plate of cookies, stopped in the middle of her driveway to smile at the two women dancing in the middle of the street.
“Happy Christmas!” she called to them.
Ginny laid her head on Luna’s shoulder and let her return the greeting.