The Chronicles of Yule, or the Christmas Calamity

by NoirJuillet17

Yes, the Yule Ball was an important stepping stone in Harry's life, but what about the other students at Hogwarts? Presenting the Yule Ball, from other students' perspectives.

The Chronicles of Yule… or the Crazy Christmas Calamity

A/N/ Disclaimer: Yes, I know this is probably one of the strangest things I've ever written, and I know almost everyone is out-of-character, but that's fine. Yes, I also know there is some humor, some "romance", some drama… a bit of everything to make this story an anti-story. And yes, I also know that, no matter what I do to them, every person within these lines belongs to our resident genius, J.K. Rowling, and cannot be ruined by anything I do.

Chapter 1- Draco Malfoy…

… or the Amazing Bouncing Ferret

"Hermione, who are you going to the ball with?"

I heard Ron Weasley's voice floating in front of me as I left the Great Hall. It was just before Christmas—cold drafts now ruled the halls of Hogwarts, and I shivered as I felt one on the back of my neck before I heard her answer.

"I'm not telling you, you'll just make fun of me."

My blood boiled, despite the freezing air. "You're joking, Weasley!" I yelled, getting the attention of Ron, Harry and Hermione. I eyed Hermione nastily. "You're not telling me someone's asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?"

I'd wanted to ask her to the Yule Ball. I knew it would never happen, that I'd be laughed at by everyone. But as her brown eyes bore into mine, I felt a twinge of jealousy, and wished Crabbe and Goyle could be there to beat the twinge out of me. Someone had gotten to the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts before me.

Potter and Weasley glared like the greasy gits they are, but Hermione looked over my shoulder and waved to somebody I couldn't see. "Hello, Professor Moody!"

I felt the blood drain from my face, and I spun around wildly, expecting to see Moody behind me, wand raised and ready to transfigure me into an otter. I saw, however, that he was still at the staff table, fat enough away not to have heard a word I'd just said. I didn't want that maniac anywhere near me.

Angry with myself, I glared back at Hermione. She only smirked. "Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?"

I looked fiercely at the retreating backs of Potter, Weasley and Hermione, and it took every ounce of pure blood in my body not to hex them into nothingness.

…and the Repulsive Princess

I knew that the chances of Hermione wanting to go to the ball with me were about the same as the chances of the Weasleys coming into money. I am not one to take risks, especially with my reputation. So, on Christmas Eve, I did the only thing I could.

"Hey, you know that favor you say I owe you? I'm paying it back…"

For some reason, my mouth was having problems forming the words.

"Howoodyooliketagodaballwitme?"

As long as I didn't look at Pansy Parkinson's pug face while I was asking her, I wouldn't vomit.

… or That Greasy Git, Harry Potter

I awoke early on Christmas morning, a feeling of dread having taken up permanent residence in my stomach. I didn't get out of bed for hours for fear that the dread would decide to move to my mouth.

When I finally did get out of bed, I saw the dress robes my father had bought for me in Hogsmeade. Granted, they were very expensive, and better than anything Weasley could ever have, but they were still associated with this fiasco called the Yule Ball.

I raised my wand to set them on fire ("Oh, Pansy, I'm so sorry!" I saw myself saying in the future. "My extra credit for Potions backfired, and I spent all Christmas in the hospital wing… I put my robes at the bottom of the lake to put out the fire!"), but I stopped when I saw a photograph I had stashed under them.

Hermione Granger alternately smirked and glared at me from the small black and white photograph Colin Creevey had taken in our second year (the threat of disembowelment by wand is enough for anyone to hand over a picture), mocking me. I almost dropped my cherished photo as her miniature form seemed to start… talking to me.

"You know you can't have me, Malfoy," she said scathingly. "You never had a chance. I'd go out with Neville Longbottom before I even considered you."

I looked around the dormitory to make sure no one else was witnessing my mental breakdown. They were not, so I looked by at my fantasy girlfriend, and almost fainted as I saw her clinging onto Harry Potter as though her life depended on it.

"I don't need you, Ferret-Boy," she laughed, and Potter laughed alongside her. "I never will. I have my very own celebrity—he's much more important than you will ever be. My own Boy Who Lived…"

And she kissed him on the cheek.

Potter laughed again, and I wanted to stuff my wand down his throat. "Mudbloods may not be good enough for you, Ferret-Boy," he said, "but they're plenty good enough for me!"

And he kissed her back.

I did the only logical thing I could. I opened the window (only a small crack at the top of the wall—being in a dungeon makes window-opening a bit hard), pointed my wand at the photo, yelled "Incendio!" and scattered its ashes to the wind. A snowball promptly whistled through the air and hit me in the face.

I stood on my toes in my bed, watching the Weasley army and Potter having a snowball fight, and at Hermione, pensively watching them. Her chestnut hair blew around her face in the cold winter wind, and I wondered vaguely if she were part veela. What was stopping one of the Weasley rabbits, or Potter himself from running over to her and loaning her their cloak?

The greasy git. He didn't even recognize a beautiful woman when he saw her.

I heard a grunt from the door of the dormitory, and Crabbe stood there looking at me, probably wondering why I had my head halfway stuck into the snow.

"C'mon," I muttered, climbing down from my bed and walking out. "Maybe a Christmas pudding will brighten up my last few Pansy-free hours…"

…and the Pudding Projectile

I sat at the Slytherin table, staring into my Christmas pudding.

I saw Harry and Hermione laughing back up at me.

I threw the bowl across the great hall, and heard a clank as it hit some first year Hufflepuff.

What do you know? I felt a little better.

…and the Rabid Dress Robes

At seven thirty that night, I entered the death chamber that is the Slytherin common room. Pansy had been "getting ready" for the past 5 hours. I was hoping she had fallen into the toilet, never to come out of the girls' dormitory.

"Don't know what she's getting ready for," Goyle grunted. "No matter what, she'll still be pug-faced."

I glared at him. Even if I did have to go out with Pansy, I would not let her ruin my reputation. "And it's exactly that charm," I said, "that got you a date tonight, right?"

This confused him. He hadn't, in fact, gotten a date, and had been hexed by five different people when he asked a first year to go with him. He still didn't understand why.

I left Goyle to his 'thoughts' and went up to the dormitory to get ready. As I dressed myself in my fine dress robes of black velvet, I heard Harry and Hermione's voices in the background, mocking me again.

"You know you never had a chance!"

"I'm the famous one! How could you ever compete?"

"This is one Mudblood you can never have!"

"You slimy Death Eater! My girlfriend would never want you!"

Looking back, these voices may have been the grunts of Crabbe and Goyle as they tried to fit their massive bodies into their puke-green dress robes.

Hey, it's not my fault that when I pointed my wand at them, their robes grew fangs and tried to eat them. Crabbe and Goyle shouldn't be so appetizing.

…and the Amazing Fantasy Land of Butterflies and Mudbloods

As I walked into the common room, the collar of my robes itching the back of my neck, I almost jumped down the stairs in excitement when I saw who was at the bottom.

Hermione Granger stared up at me, her amber eyes shining with anticipation. Her hair flew and her deep red robes rippled around her as though a gentle wind had just coursed through the dungeon. Bubbles and butterflies surrounded her form, and she motioned seductively for me to come closer. Who was I to refuse?

"I didn't want to keep you waiting, Draco," she whispered in my ear, and I melted into her arms. "I never meant to reject you before. That great prat, Harry Potter, threatened to jinx me if I confessed my love for you."

I could only stare at her. My dream, my fantasy, my perfect Hermione was in my arms, and not yelling that she was being attacked!

"But he could never keep me away from you, Draco…" Hermione continued, but I felt myself reaching out for her as she started to walk away. "I love you, Draco… I always have…"

She had reached the door, but my idiotic legs were rooted to the spot. I could only watch as she opened it and took out her wand.

"I love you, but I must do this… I'm sorry…"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

I blinked as I heard Crabbe's voice, and my arms snapped to my torso. I fell to the floor and looked up. The door had never been opened, and Crabbe, not Hermione, stood above me.

"What'd you make the robes attack me for, mate? I didn't think they were hungry…"

…and the Repulsive Princess, Part Two

I blinked again, and Pansy Parkinson's pug face hovered above mine.

"C'mon, Draykey!" Her shrill voice sent shivers on a train up and down my spine. "We have to go! The ball starts in five minutes!"

If I could have moved, I would have been pounding my head on the floor.

…and the One Failed Insult of His Life

I strode through the entrance hall with Pansy clinging to my arm as though she'd fly off and hit a Mudblood if she let go. I kept tripping over her pink, frilly robes, and we both pretended not to notice. As long as we both looked nice together, my reputation would be fine.

Crabbe and Goyle followed behind us, each of them dateless and hopeless. All the better for me. They make me look better by comparison.

I saw Cho Chang with Cedric Diggory, talking quietly near the doors. Yet another girl who prefers the heroes to the real men.

I studied the crowd nearest the doors, and my jaw dropped. There was a Hermione so unlike a Hermione that she was even more beautiful than Hermione, if it was possible.

Her hair was sleek and tied back to reveal all of the beautiful features of her face. Her robes were a light, almost sky blue, and her smile was genuine, something I hadn't seen in ages.

She was heavenly.

I saw Pansy out of the corner of my eye, gaping silently at the same sight I saw. I searched my mind for an insult—any insult—to shout out at her, to find the one thing there was that made her imperfect. There wasn't anything.

…and the Pudding Grenade

"C'mon, Draykey!" Pansy shrieked, as the doors to the Great Hall opened at exactly 8 o'clock. She dragged me in, and I could swear my arm was going to be ripped off. We sat at the nearest all-Slytherin table and, following Dumbledore's lead, ordered food onto our plates. For dessert, a wonderful pudding appeared in front of me.

I had tuned out Pansy as soon as we entered the Great Hall, and as she asked, "So, Draykey, when am I going home with you to meet Mr. Malfoy?" (I have never heard an otherworldly sound quite like her giggle, and I hope never to again), I glanced around the Great Hall. My eyes fell on one of the Gryffindor-dominated tables, and I almost vomited on Pansy's lap.

Hermione sat, laughing, smiling her beautiful smile, and looking as non-Mudblood like as anyone ever could. She was laughing, however, with Viktor Krum.

I looked down at my pudding and saw Hermione, Potter, and now Krum staring back, all snickering and yelling insults. Then, pudding-Hermione and pudding-Krum engaged themselves in a kiss so passionate, it would have made You-Know-Who cry.

I picked up the bowl of pudding and threw it in the general direction of some Hufflepuffs.

"Ouch! What the—"

This time it didn't make me feel any better.

…or the Amazing Bouncing Otter

Pansy, to my dismay, would not let me get through the night without at least one dance. We rose from out table and danced to one of the Weird Sisters' newest songs—I couldn't tell you which, they all sound the same—as she led me, spinning sickeningly, through the Great Hall.

As the song ended, I heard Mad-Eye Moody growl behind me:

"Hello, Ferret. I trust you're well?"

I, as discreetly as I could, checked my behind for a tail as I walked away.

…or That Other Greasy Git, Vicky Krum

I sat back at the Slytherin table, wishing I had another bowl of pudding. Pansy sat next to me, clutching my arm again and jabbering about… something. Crabbe and Goyle sat across from each other, grunting about… something ('I swear, they're trying to talk! Go get my Troll-to-English dictionary!'). And Blaise Zabini stood behind me, trying to persuade Pansy to dance with him ('Please, Pansy, please go with him! He's a much better date than I ever will be!').

I stared morosely around the room, at all of the people dancing, or fighting, or making out (Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies didn't look like they wanted to be bothered by the Weird Sisters' newest hit). I jumped as I heard an aggravated scream.

"Don't call him Vicky!"

I watched Hermione storm away from Potter and Weasley, her face red, and vanish into the crowd of dancing bodies. All of the blood in my body came rushing to my face.

If Hermione wouldn't be happy with me, I at least wanted her to be happy with someone else (other than Potter or Weasley, of course). Now they wanted to ruin that for her? It didn't matter that he was a greasy git like the rest of them. He was Hermione's greasy git.

I almost stood and drew my wand, but Mad-Eye Moody was looking my way, and I didn't particularly feel like licking my fur clean.

I instead stood and turned to Pansy. "Er… I suddenly don't feel so great," I said, carefully avoiding her eyes. "You dance with Blaise. I'll… be in the common room."

And I walked out of the Great Hall without another word.

…and the Fairy Lights of Destruction

Back in the dormitory, I lay on my bed, staring up at the emerald green curtains around it. Lucky me—instead of the one date I could have, I now had none. Furious, I punched the wall behind the bed, and made a mental note to go to the hospital wing the next morning.

Now thoroughly depressed and in pain, I thought about the photograph I had set on fire, and instantly regretted it. I closed my eyes and saw a replica of it, almost exactly as it had been. Hermione stood scowling at me, and Potter sat sulking in the background.

Suddenly, Hermione's scowl turned to a look of (Dare I say it?) sympathy, and she almost smiled. Fairy lights appeared out of nowhere, surrounding her and making her glow more than she already did.

"Sorry, Malfoy," she said, and she didn't have that scathing tone she usually took with me. "But you knew all along, didn't you?"

I nodded slowly. I had known, and it pained me.

"There are some things," she said, "that you want so badly, you can feel it killing you. But the thought that you can never have that thing…"

She glanced back at Harry, then again at me.

"…is enough to make you want death."

I could still only stare at her, as she smiled her beautiful smile at me.

"But there's always next year."

And with a flash of the fairy lights, she was gone.

…and Five Million Futures, But Nothing to Watch

For a long time after everyone else had returned from the Ball, I lay in bed, thinking about all the different ways this night could have turned out.

Hermione and I stood at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. There were jeers and heckles from those standing around us, but all we knew at that time was that we had each other.

"Thank you, Draco… for everything, you know. I had a great time."

"It was nothing. Thank you for coming with me."

"How could I turn down a night with you?"

And we joined hands, and out mouths came dangerously close to touching…

A giant crash resounded throughout the room; a new house elf had just knocked over my stack of books. It looked at me apologetically.

"I have half a mind to give you a sock," I said scornfully. The house elf flinched and scampered away.

My mind drifted again…

Potter and I were in the Great Hall, staring each other down. I was tempted to move for my wand, but he only extended his hand.

"The best man won," he said submissively. "You deserve Hermione, I admit it."

"Come on, now, Potter," I said, shaking his hand. "You fought hard. I was just a bit stronger. You sure you don't want to join the winning side now?"

"I'll think about it," he smiled. Suddenly, a fanfare played in the background. "But for now, here is your prize!"

A spotlight shone on Hermione, in her flowing periwinkle dress robes, and her hair flying in the wind. She walked up to me and kissed me on the cheek, then clamped herself to my arm, a regular trophy girl.

"Here I am, Draco…"

Crabbe gave a huge, beastly grunt in his sleep ('Where's that dictionary when you need it?'). I stared blankly at my watch, which was flashing 3:00 a.m.

My eyes fluttered closed again, and I dreamt…

Pansy stood in the common room, staring down at me with her arms crossed.

"Why'd you leave me with Blaise, Draykey? Why'd you leave me at the ball?"

I could only gape at her, looking for a believable explanation.

"How could you leave your date, Draykey? " she asked, pouting. "No wonder Granger hates you!"

"Well, you see," I said, "—and this is the complete truth—That great oaf Hagrid put poison in my pumpkin juice to eliminate the competition for Potter, and Moody helped him to jinx me while I danced. I didn't want to go to the hospital wing, so I went to rest in the dormitories…"

"Oh!" Pansy said gullibly, and leaned forward to kiss me.

"No!" I screamed, waking up from my nightmare, drenched in sweat. I looked at my watch—it was only 3:02. My eyes closed again.

Potter, Hermione and I stood in an entirely white room, fairy lights surrounding all of us. They both stared serenely at me, but Potter's expression soon turned twisted.

"Hey, Malfoy," he said mockingly. "I've got your Mudblood…"

The fairy lights burnt out like a muggle light bulb, and they kissed.

I glowered in my sleep and muttered, "The great slimy git…"