Prompt: Caroling in the Snow

A Malfoy Christmas


Caroling was such a muggle tradition. And like all good Malfoys, Draco hated all things muggle. Except for Mars Bars, but he blamed that on his mother – Narcissa had eaten an excessive amount of them during her pregnancy. His father used to call it a Black trait, until Aunt Bella tried to melt the flesh off of his face for daring to insult her family.

That was all besides the point.

What Draco was really interested in contemplating this cold Christmas Eve, his first as the head of the Malfoy family, was caroling. Specifically, what he was going to do with the bunch of brats who were currently circling the streets of his London townhouse, begging his neighbors for treats in exchange for an offbeat tune.

Were this five years ago, he would never have had the problem: Malfoys didn't do townhouses or Muggles, least of all on Christmas! Were he younger, he would have been at a ball held by some Pureblood family or the other, dressed to the nines with an entourage at his side and at least one girl hanging off his arm, with more waiting in the wings.

But there were no Pureblood balls this year, nor any time in the future. It was suicidal to even consider it, what with the ministry waiting to take the first sign of blood prejudice as reason to lock up those who had escaped the Death Eater trials. For Draco, who had actually been branded by He-Who-Never-Used-To-Be-Named, the threat was far closer to home than most of his acquaintances.

So instead of resting on his lapels in his beautiful manor like the other Slytherins he had graduated with, he was stuck in muggle suburbia just to prove to the Aurors hidden across the street and the dammed Animagus reporter in his garden that he was reformed. He hated the new world order of Wizarding Britain.

The brat pack were getting closer, and the brunette on the left was already eying his holly-festooned porch. How Draco longed to cast any spell, even if it was just a simple Muggle Repelling one, to keep them away from him. But to do so would render all the efforts of his past year useless.

If he had to visit one more Muggle orphanage, he would scream. As it were, he was already out of magical disinfectant from all the filthy pawing non-magical children insisted on doing every time they saw him. Why was it that the Malfoy family had to pay the most compensation for the muggle death toll, when neither of his parents had played a large role at the end of the war? Hell, his mother had helped Potter in the end! If anyone should be paying, it should be the Lestranges or the Black Family (Aunt Bella had practically been an army all on her own)!

Just once he would like to be left alone. He wanted a break from the paparazzi circus of his life, from all the constant scrutiny from people just waiting to hand him over to the Dementors, from all the bloody Muggles he was forced to cosy up to every bloody day and goddamit, they were coming to his door!

Maybe he should just pretend he wasn't home. That could work, right? Except he had heard stories of what suburban children did to the houses of people who ignored them during holidays. Zabini would never let him live it down if a bunch of kids managed to egg his house.

So when the doorbell rang scant minutes later, Draco reluctantly left his living room to open it.

"Merry Christmas, mister!" the group piped the moment he was in sight.

"I don't have any treats for you," Draco coolly answered, cutting straight to the point. "However, I do have some spare pounds if you could give me just one song only."

"Oh no, mister, for money we have a specific list!" a young boy blurted out, no doubt excited by the prospect of pocket change.

"A list?" Draco inwardly groaned. Luck was not on his side today.

Giving him perky smiles that he wanted to Sectumsempra off of their faces, the group opened with a horrifically cheerful song.

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way…"

Draco maintained a poker face, his new default expression that was so vastly inferior to his sneering expression of old. It was a sad world where Purebloods couldn't openly show their disdain for the - what's that new word people keep using for Muggles? Mundane, that was it. His father would have had a seizure dealing with all of these new unwritten restrictions.

"You better watch out! You'd better not cry!"

He could still remember the first time his father had taught him about the etiquette of Purebloods. He learnt how to lock away weakness, how to hide fear behind arrogance and tears behind disdain. He recalled spending his fifth Christmas in front of his mother's cosmetic mirror, learning through replication all of his father's "public body language". He only got his presents after his mother was satisfied with the differences between his real smile and his fake one. At least that was one lesson that had not been wasted in this new era.

"Come, they told me, parapapapum!"

He remembered with painful clarity the Christmas of his fifth year, when he had realized that he would be taking the mark sooner than expected. He remembered the pride in his father's eyes when the Dark Lord had asked for Draco by name, and promised him glory should he serve as faithfully as Lucius. He would never forget how his mother had held him for hours that night, as if afraid he would disappear beneath the weight of soon-to-be-given Mark. He still had some of his father's Christmas present from that year: the largest collection of medical potions and remedies he had ever encountered.

"Deck the halls with strings of holly, falalalala…"

He wished he could go back to when he was younger, to when his family was whole again. He wanted those days before Hogwarts, before Voldemort's return, when his father and mother used to create the most amazing decorations for their own ball using nothing but their imaginations and wands. He wished he could go back just to appreciate that safety and joy he felt seeing his parents invent spells as easily as they breathed. Lucius had always praised Narcissa's skill in forming ice sculptures that breathed fire or created artificial snow storms, while Mother had once confessed to him that it was Father's eggnog-making skills that had made her agree to marrying him.

"We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year!"

The Muggles were nearing the end, thank Salazar. He already had their money prepared – anything to get out of the snow that had begun fluttering down. He paid them no mind as they thanked him and scuttled away.

Instead, his mind drifted back to one of his first Christmas memories.

Draco sneezed as he patted down the last bit of snow on his snowman.

"Is someone getting sick?"

"Nu-uh!" the little Malfoy heir denied vehemently.

Lucius chuckled as he adjusted one of the snowman's stick arms that had become lopsided. "Whatever you say, my little dragon."

"'M not so little no more!" Draco pouted as he was swept up in his father's arms.

"Of course not," Narcissa assured him, walking towards the patio. "You're already four, after all."

Draco nodded in agreement. "Bigger too!"

"Yes, you're almost too tall for me to carry around," Lucius remarked, following his wife. He chuckled again at his son's crestfallen look.

"Once Daddy can't carry you anymore, you can learn to ride the horses," Narcissa promised as she handed over some hot chocolate to the two most important people in her life.

Draco looked torn between being excited for the horse riding lessons and being sad for the loss of his father's indulgence. He settled for cuddling the older Malfoy while enjoying the warm beverage.

For a long time, the family of three sat in silence, simply enjoying the sight of falling snow. A house elf whisked away their empty mugs, but otherwise there was nothing to indicate that this family was any different from the norm.

It was Narcissa who noticed Draco beginning to nod off. Knowing it would be impossible to separate him from his dad, she nestled into Lucius' side. Draco opened his mouth to protest against bed time, but Narcissa didn't bother with arguments. Instead she softly began to sing.

"Silent night. Holy night."

Draco's nose wrinkled at the unfamiliar song, so different from the usual lullabies.

"All is calm. All is bright."

Lucius drew his son closer as he joined in the next verse.

"Round yon virgin mother and child."

Narcissa stroked Draco's hair tenderly.

"Holy infant, so tender and mild."

Lucius placed a kiss on his wife's cheek before clasping her hand tightly.

"Sleep in heavenly peace."

Draco sank into his parents' warmth as they sang the last verse together softly.

"Sleep in heavenly peace."


Sorry to all the people looking for an update to Romance Dawn! I swear I'm working on it, but it's taking forever to get it how I want it to be. This is my first entry to the HP Holiday Challenge, as well as my entry to the Diagon Alley Christmas 2014 Competition.

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