The Curse of the Stocking Stealer
Hello, everyone. I bring you one of the most ridiculous plot lines I've ever come up with in honor of a Christmas writing challenge for the DG Forum. See the footnotes for the challenge specifics.
"Mr. Borrington, sir," a familiar blonde called out, stepping around the corner from the crimson bowl holding about 20 Sickles and 10 Knuts to flash the man a warm smile, "would you care to donate a dime for charity, perhaps? It is almost Christmas after all, and the children of the orphanage deserve just as much as we do."
Huffing appreciatively the balding businessman dropped a handful of coins into the bowl, "It's wonderful to see you supporting a charity, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco's smile brightened if at all possible (because if he smiled everyone believed he was actually doing this to benefit the poor children of Prufrulk Orphanage) and he tipped his hat, "Thank you, Mr. Borrington. The children will be delighted by your generosity."
Arnold Borrington waved it off, "Not a problem." Landing his beady gaze on a giant stocking sitting next to the booth his eyebrows raised but he made no comment, only sauntering off.
Draco chuckled, grabbing the donation bowl from the metal prongs that held it aloft, "Everyone believes a good fabrication." If these people actually were stupid enough to believe that he actually intended to donate this money to charity then shame them all.
Besides, he needed the money, thanks to the failure of his father, the man he had looked up to as a role model, and this was one of the easiest ways to come about it. Sooner or later people were just going to have to accept that he came first.
Across the street Ginny Weasley exited a comfy muggle shop filled with the reassuring scents of caramel frappacinos and chocolate chip-banana nut muffins. In her tiny hands she carried a multitude of packages, filled with various toys, perfumes and china sets she intended to wrap in the next few days. Every year she forgot to wrap her presents in time and ended up plopping one of those celebration bows - the ones that divulged a flood of streamers and balloons and Christmas music when touched - on each gift and handing them sheepishly to her many relatives.
But not this year. This year Ginny would begin her wrapping several days ahead of schedule so as to finish with plenty of time to spare.
"Aunty!" A little voice cried and Ginny turned just in time to catch a hysterical three year old in her arms.
"Rosey, what's wrong?" Ginny wondered, wiping the frantic tears that coursed down the child's chubby cheeks. "Why are you crying?"
"I c-can't f-find my m-mommy and d-daddy," Rose Weasley hiccupped, clutching her aunt tightly about her neck. "I t-turned 'round in the s-store and t-they were g-gone!"
Straightening the girl's knitted, beige cap, Ginny murmered calmly, "There's no need to cry, Rose. Your mommy and daddy are right there." She pointed towards Ron and Hermione, who were currently emerging from the muggle shop looking concerned.
Immediately the little girl brightened, squirming out of her aunt's arms and rushing towards her parents, both of whom gave her frustrated looks.
"Don't you dare do that again," Hermione was reprimanding her daughter as Ginny approached. "We couldn't find you anywhere!"
"She was looking for you both," Ginny added quietly, noticing the way Rose's face dimmed in obedience and guilt. "Luckily I caught her rushing around outside the shop."
Hermione nodded, "Even so, she shouldn't have gone running off in the first place." Her attention turned to the flustered manager of the muggle bakery who was currently stamping towards them. "Ron, I do believe we forgot to pay for our purchases."
"I'll pay him," Ron obliged softly after earning himself a pointed stare from his wife.
Hermione smirked as Ron began padding down his outfit, "He left his wallet at home. This should be amusing." Just then her gaze paused on something across the street, "Oh no he didn't."
Ginny, busy watching as her brother turned first a shade of fuchsia and then an interesting purple, didn't hear what her friend said, "Hmm?"
"Oh, nothing. I just saw our dear friend, Draco Malfoy, asking for donations for charity." The response came out bluntly sarcastic. "The nerve of some people..."
"You don't think he's actually trying to help poor, orphaned children?" Ginny questioned, having spotted their irking classmate.
Hermione's face twisted into a scowl, "Do you?" Both women just stared at each other for a moment before busting up laughing.
"No, of course not," Ginny chortled, crossing her arms across her chest as flakes of snow began to drift from the heavens.
"I love snow," Rose crooned in her mother's arms, stretching up to reach the dancing, glittering flakes. "Mommy, can I do snow angels?"
"Later," Hermione decided, flashing another glance at her hyperventilating husband. "I should go help him." She sighed.
Shoving her hands into her coat pockets to keep them warm, Ginny asked, "Do you ever wonder why you picked my brother out of every available man in this world? My stuttering, completely un-confident brother?"
"All the time," Hermione admitted, a tender smile playing on her lips as she observed Ron. Just then the two men began to get in a tustle and the women of the group sighed in exasperation. "Boys and their pointless fights."
Ginny nodded in agreement, "Hey, I think I'm going to go harass our dear friend." She motioned towards Malfoy, who was currently swindling a Galleon from a mother and her baby boy.
"Really?" Hermione's bushy eyebrows rose in bewilderment. "I thought we strove to avoid all things pompous."
Shrugging, Ginny commented, "Even the lowliest scrap of a man deserves Christmas warmth from...erm...individuals who don't feel like starting on their present wrapping just yet." She chuckled sheepishly. "Go save your floundering husband before he has an aneurysm."
"Would you even miss him if he did have an aneurysm and d-" Hermione broke off, remembering that she was still holding her daughter, "and...passed on?"
Ginny's chestnut eyes twinkled with mischief, "I'll have to think about that one." Pressing a kiss to her niece's brow, the ginger threaded across the street.
"Mommy," Rose whispered, "I think Daddy had an anu...aneur...any-ism." She gestured towards Ron, who was currently lying on the ground, his eyes bulging and his lungs fluttering.
"Oh dear," Hermione cried as she hurried towards her gasping husband's side.
"You really are quite the Slytherin," a familiar voice muttered and Draco turned to see a petite red-head that he frequently encountered in his fitful nightmares.
Quickly composing his face, he replied, "And proud of it. Now, do you have a purpose in bothering me, Weasley? As you can see, I am a very busy man." He gestured towards his charity bucket, inwardly patting himself on the back for his brilliant plan.
She snorted, "Man."
Draco's right eyebrow rose, the only sign that she was annoying him in the slight tightening of his jaw, "I am a man, thank you very much."
"Sure," she replied, stretching out the word until he felt like slapping his hand over her mouth. Pausing, she continued blabbering, "Do you actually expect me to believe that you're doing this for the orphans?" Her tone was critical and laced with venom.
He kept a blank mask on his face, knowing that it would succeed in ruffling her feathers, "Why else would I be out here freezing my arse off in the cold?"
She laughed mockingly, "You always have an ulterior motive, Malfoy. Don't think I don't know that."
Draco allowed a small bit of amusement to seep into his silver eyes, "So you have become some sort of detective then."
Rolling her eyes, she dismissed the barb, "What's with the stocking?" She motioned towards the giant stocking protruding from over the side of the gulf.
Draco did have to award her a medal for persistence and yet she really was beginning to get on his nerves, "When the bowl of donations is full I empty it into the stocking. The money falls to the bottom of the stocking and awaits release at the bottom which I will get when this is all over by Christmas Eve."
"Hmm," she hummed, crossing her arms. "It's awfully huge to store donations in, don't you think?"
He allowed a smoldering glare to seep through his mask, intending to scorch her, but the look didn't seem to affect the youngest Weasley in the slightest, "I think this conversation is over."
She laughed then, the sound echoing across the street and causing several aristocrats to turn up their noses at her raucous behavior, "Someone's touchy."
He simply stared at her for a moment, the storms in his eyes solidifying into concrete slabs, "If you are attempting to get under my skin, I suggest you give up now."
She stared right back, her amber irises weaving like the flickering sunset. Then a chuckle broke free from her pale lips and astounded him. How the girl managed to find something amusing about this situation was entirely beyond him.
"You've just proved that I wiggled my way under your skin," she gasped between bouts of uncontrollable laughter.
Gritting his gleaming, white teeth Draco turned to smile amiably at another donor, thanking the woman in the silk wrap profusely before depositing the money obtained.
"Well, I must be going," she chimed in, lurching him from his thoughts not a second later. "Enjoy your pilfering." With a saucy grin she disappeared around the corner, leaving Draco to wonder what had just transpired. After musing about her words for a moment he dismissed them, figuring that it was easier to forget than to stew over the young Weasley.
"I'll be back by tonight," Ginny called out to her frenzied mother several days later, letting herself out through the askew, wooden gate and marveling at the tiny scribbles that she had etched into the stained wood when she was a little girl.
The sun was shining merrily in the sky and a gentle breeze was busy weaving through the forest to the west, greeting each tree by name. Ginny slid through the gnome-infested gardens, picking a sunflower from it's perch and inhaling the sweet scent. In the mortal world it was snowing bitterly, thus the change of clothes in her magically shrunken satchel, but her father had decided that he wanted it to be summer and changed the elements of their property to suit his preference.
Making her way to the edge of the gardens, to the edge of the Fidelius Charm her father had cast that kept mortals from viewing her haphazard home, Ginny apparated just around the corner from Draco's "charity case." The lying, cheating blonde was still sitting by the crimson bucket and gigantic stocking, his clothing and hair impeccable as always. A smirk adorned his porcelian face as he watched another couple deposit several coins towards Malfoy's own personal fund, something the donors weren't aware of.
Her mind made up, Ginny slid down a steep ramp with dusty stairs and towards a crumbling building that housed the huge stocking with all of the donated money.
Draco sighed, sliding a hand down his creamy face as he flung another bucketful of coins into the mouth of the stocking. The sound of rattling coins echoed in his ears as the money slipped down the stocking and thumped at the bottom - but wait, why was there the unmistakable sound of money clattering against the ground?
Pulling out his wand the young man created a sign reading: Help give penniless children the best Christmas they've ever had! Please donate and further the cause! Then he slipped down the creaking staircase to where the bottom of the stocking rested, supposedly holding all his hard earned money.
To his horror there was a hole in the bottom of the stocking and coins were dribbling out of the tear, clinking onto the ground. Animal prints littered the ground and a raccoon hissed in the corner, giving away the perpertrator. With an enraged roar Draco reached for the animal - he'd have to kill it now and retrieve all the money probably being dissolved in its stomach - but the raccoon scuttled away from the grasping fingers.
Just around the corner Ginny stood clutching a handful of coins, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips, "This is only the beginning, Malfoy." And with that she apparated to the orphanage to hand over the money.
The next day Ginny slid past Draco just as the blonde was seating himself in a velvet lawn chair - fitted with an ice cream machine and an oscillating fan, of course. He looked paler than usual, something Ginny contributed to the scandal of the stocking embezzlement yesterday.
"Why so blue?" She teased, squatting beside the self-serving man.
"Why are you talking to me?" He wondered in a bored tone, peeking at her from under his tinted sunglasses - they were designer, no doubt.
She only stuck her tongue out at him to prove that she wasn't budging.
"Must you be so immature?" He asked, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
"Yes," she stated simply, patting his knee before getting back up. "Well, I must be going." She turned to head off.
A cough from behind her made Ginny pause. She looked back to see Malfoy hunting for words, "Yes?"
"Was your whole purpose in coming here this morning to simply annoy me?" He inquired, slipping back into his narcissist mode.
"Why else would I bother talking to a git like you?" She countered with a shrug before disappearing.
His eyes didn't leave her retreating figure until he couldn't see her burning ginger hair anymore.
Minutes later Ginny slid into the hut, reaching inside the gaping stocking and feeling around for coins. There were only a few sharing the space in a gloomy manner and so she pointed her wand at the ground and conjured a comfy chair for her sitting pleasure.
"This place could use some cheering up," she mused, waving her wand around and popping a crackling fireplace, Christmas tree complete with silver and golden ornaments and a candlelight ceiling with cumulous clouds shifting along. "There, much better."
Snow drifting from the skies in the doorway caught Ginny's attention and, pausing to warm her shaking hands by the flames, she settled deeper into her plush chair to watch the snow fall. Coins clattering into the stocking drew her attention every few minutes and finally she was able to fill her satchel with the gleaming knuts, sickles and the occassional galleon.
Getting up, Ginny flashed the fresh clothing from her bag onto her body, coating in her long sleeves, mittens and a knitted cap. Then she headed out for the orphanage.
On Christmas Eve Draco settled further into his chair, closing his eyes and allowing his mind to drift for a moment. The chilling air drew pants from his pale lips and his breath swirled in the night sky like a faceless ghost. Over the past couple days the raccoons had stolen every single donation from the bottom of the stocking and, try as he may, he couldn't stop them.
Brushing the flakes of snow from his pressed pants Draco stood up. There weren't many people out at this time on Christmas Eve, so it wouldn't hurt if he decided to check in on the bottom of the stocking to see if the raccoons had chewed through the fabric yet again.
Flashing the same sign as several days ago to being Draco Malfoy stood and began the slow trek towards the crumbling hut down the street.
"Would Mistress like anything else?" The tiny house elf asked.
Lounging back in the chair-turned-into-full-length-couch, Ginny slurped the chocolate from the corners of her mouth and asked, "Can you fix me a cup of hot chocolate, Tinky?"
Tinky bowed, "Of course Mistress. Tinky will get Mistress whatever she wants. Would Mistress like marshmellows?"
Ginny paused for a moment, "Sure, a handful will suffice." With a smile she dismissed the house-elf and turned to view her handiwork in the once decrepit hut.
Where once damp walls stood gold paint had been layered and pictures of snowflakes and reindeer cluttered the shimmering walls. The fireplace had a brick mantle with statues of magically moving Santas ho-ho-hoing and gold confetti sprinkled over the wood base. A picture of Draco rolling in money had been charmed onto the wall, accompanied by a picture of Draco pouting with no money and Ginny rolling in a tub of money.
A mosaic had been constructed on the ceiling; now if you looked up it would seem like you were gazing into a thunderstorm, with charmed pieces of snow drifting from the center and sifting to float outside where a squall of hail currently pounded the earth. Ginny had conjured a crimson carpet with stitches of green, russet and yellow etched into the diamond corner patterns.
Over time Ginny had become more and more bored with just sitting and waiting for the donations to fall to the bottom of the stocking, so she'd set up this cozy room and relaxed with a good romance novel (nobody but her would ever know she read gooey-smoochy books) in the now double couch with a leather ottoman. Unfortunately, once the last of the donations were collected from the stocking this evening she would have to vacate the premise probably until next winter when the blizzards waged war in the thundering skies.
"Weasley?" A man's voice cried and Ginny's breath caught in her chest.
Turning to face the incredulous boy leaning against the gem-encrusted double doors she stated coolly, "You wish to approach me?"
In that moment Tinky appeared, clutching a silver platter on which rested a steaming cup of cocoa, "Mistress, here is what you wanted. Does Mistress want anything else?"
Taking the cup from the house elf, Ginny murmered, "No, I think that will be all. You can go back to the kitchens of Malfoy Manor now."
"You stole my house elf," Draco stated grimly.
"Yep," she responded cheerfully, watching his expression with clear delight.
His face visibly paled as he took another step inside, "You're the one who's been stealing from me! Do you have any idea what I could do to a worthless wench like you?" To prove his point he pulled out his wand and aimed it at the red-head.
"Now, now, Malfoy," Ginny crooned, patting the cushion beside her and taking a sip of her hot chocolate as she watched the blonde sink down to sit. "Is that any way to behave to a perfectly innocent girl? Besides, I thought raccoons swallowed your money." With a chuckle she pointed her wand at the far corner and conjured a pair of hissing raccoons, her eyes gleaming with amusement.
Draco's eyes widened to the size of pool balls, "Innocent my arse." At the sight of her outraged expression his face slid into one of smirking glory. "Now hand my money back over." He waved his fingers in her direction.
"You mean the money you stole?" Ginny insinuated, licking her lips.
"I didn't steal it," he muttered.
"Yes, you did," she answered, patting his shoulder as though he were a toddler again. "I'm not stupid, Malfoy."
"Are you sure about that?" He remarked with a daring chuckle.
She smiled in return, completely throwing him off, "About that money...I'm afraid I can't give it to you."
He blanched, "Why not?" If he didn't get that money...no, he wouldn't let himself continue on that rather unpleasant thought.
"Because," she answered vaguely, floating a piece of crumb cake from a platter in the corner onto her tiny plate.
"Because why?" He snarled. If his mother found out that he didn't have the money he'd promised...no, he couldn't think about it, wouldn't think about it.
"Why does it matter to you?" Ginny wondered, milking the situation for as long as possible.
Smirking, he shifted on the couch, finding it rather comfortable, to his horror, "Do you actually think I'm going to disclose that information to someone like you?"
She smiled like the Cheshire Cat, "I do, because if you won't tell me then I just won't give you the money." Crossing her arms she leaned back, still smiling in that confident manner.
"You wouldn't dare," Draco began, finding the room suddenly uncomfortably hot.
"Wouldn't I?" She retorted, a musing expression lighting up her face. "Perhaps I could buy Luna a basketful of anti-nargle spray bottles. She's been having a horrible time with the nargles lately."
"Fine," he cried, instantly grimacing at how weak the red-head made him. It was disgusting. "Earlier this month I went out to have a drink with some fellows and I ended up getting completely drunk. The next thing I knew I was in my bed and my friends were telling me that I'd gone to gamble and lost the entire contents of my pockets, a good fifteen galleons."
"So you're ripping off innocent people just so your mother doesn't scold you for losing so much money," Ginny guessed, refraining laughter.
Draco glared at her, refusing to let the ginger know that she had hit his situation right on the nose, "My mother would not scold me."
A burst of laughter slipped from Ginny's mouth, "You just keep telling yourself that."
Draco continued to stare menacingly at the red-headed temptress, "I've given you the reason; now supply me with the money."
Taking a bite of her still warm crumb cake, Ginny mumbled through the delicious pastry, "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't do that."
Malfoy's face drained of all color once more, "Cease your mendacity and hand over what I requested, Weasley, or I'll have you writhing on the ground from the Cruciatus Curse." His eyes were immovable stone once more.
"You would really curse a woman?" Ginny taunted, sipping at her cooling cocoa. "I've already told you I can't give you the money."
"Merlin," Draco groaned, slapping a hand to his wrinkled forehead. "Why on earth not?"
Ginny stared at him for a long moment, nursing a smile, before stating, "I gave all the money to the orphanage you promised. I figured that you wouldn't mind if someone turned it in early."
He bit back a scream, "You're pulling my beard, aren't you?"
Shaking her head, Ginny got up, "No. Now I must be going. Clean up this mess for me, won't you?" She gestured to the cozy room.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Malfoy cried, standing up to face her stony expression.
"Yes. I've done the right thing. Christmas isn't about yourself," she answered in a breathy whisper, stretching up to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Merry Christmas, Malfoy."
And with that she disappeared around the corner, leaving Draco to stand in utter and complete shock.
SPARKNOTES:
The DG forum challenge:
Your assignment: to tackle a non-typical facet of the holidays. That means the common sights (like mistletoe, Weasley sweaters, and candy canes) that feature strongly in Christmas fics are to be avoided - the farther from "same-old" you can get it, the better. In short, be as creative as your little muse will allow while still writing about"the holidays."
That said, you must need to include one common Christmas element: all stories must mention or feature "Christmas stockings." (Not stalkings . . . I mean, you can go there if you want . . .)
Whether they're hung by the chimney with care or used for other exciting/scandalous/nefarious/ridiculous purposes, their use is up to you.
Requirements:
Pairing: Draco/Ginny
Genre: Any
Length: Any
Deadline: December 31
I hope you enjoyed this rather silly story. Consider it my Christmas present from me to you. Enjoy!