A/N Merry Christmas. Belated a bit, but hell, why not. Voldemort loves you.
Every year he gets a tree and he drags out the same decorations from the hidden away hiding place. Every year the little tree droops and goes brown and all the pines become brittle and crisp and fall off and the pathetic little once red bauble perched on top of the tree is dusty and greying.
Sometimes, he may drape a pathetic little string with little dry chocolates around the tree in attempt to be cheery.
It's all hidden, though. If the Death Eaters found out they would never listen to him again.
Even Lord Voldemort tries to be festive.