Summary: Malfoy Manor was never exactly home, but that's even less of the case now. And yet, it's as much of a home as he's ever known. Will Draco make it home for Christmas?

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable content.

Home for Christmas

Christmas Eve will find me

Where the love lights gleam

I'll be home for Christmas

If only in my dreams

~I'll be Home for Christmas

He'd made the decision fairly quickly, but he didn't regret it at all. Malfoy Manor was never warm and inviting, but it the years after the Dark Lord's ride, it had gotten less and less hospitable. Draco knew he had to get out of the house as soon as possible. When he finally left, a few weeks after the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, he had little intention of ever going back.

For three years, he managed to do just that. He still met up with his parents, at restaurants and events at other people's houses, but he never stepped foot into the hostile, unwelcoming halls of Malfoy Manor.

Some of his friends found it strange, especially those who had trouble accepting the results of the war. They questioned him about how he could stand to stay away from his childhood home, about why he had no desire to return. Draco just waved them off; it was hard to explain to people who hadn't gone through what he had gone through why a place that the Dark Lord had established as headquarters would cease feeling like home.

For three years, Draco felt no pull to return home. That is, until one day in early December. It was during one of his weekly outings to a quaint magical teashop nestled in the middle of Muggle London. Draco met up with his mum at that teashop every week, so he never suspected, on that cool December day, his life would be so altered.

It started normally enough. The blonde haired pair met just up the street and carefully made their way down the icy London sidewalk. They gratefully entered the warmth of the small shop, found an empty table near the back corner, and ordered two cups of freshly brewed tea. Then, as they waited, Narcissa Malfoy struck up an easy conversation.

"How has your work been going dear? Keeping you busy, I assume?" she asked, her tone innocent. As she spoke, she carefully removed her elegant gloves and shawl.

"Yes, very busy. I've been given a lot of cases. The partners obviously see me as someone who is reliable and is a hard worker. I'm sure it won't be much longer until I earn my stripes and am made an associate," Draco prattled on. As he talked, the pastries they had ordered arrived, and the pair dug in, momentarily halting their conversation.

Then Narcissa dropped a bomb on the pleasant outing.

"Well," Narcissa began, "hopefully you'll get some time off for Christmas. It's been so long since you've been home and your father and I were hoping you could come and visit over the holiday." She said it so nonchalantly that the implications of her words didn't immediately connect with Draco, but when they did he was nearly struck dumb. He'd been avoiding 'home' for years, just never letting his parents invite him there. He'd twist his parents' words of coming to visit or wanting to see him. He'd go to the nearby town and invite them out there, or say he couldn't get away from London and that they should come see him. But now his mother had invited him home and it would be hard to twist his way out of that situation.

He did have time off work for Christmas, and he had nothing else keeping him in London. The only thing was his intense desire to avoid Malfoy Manor, but that wasn't really a good enough excuse.

Instead of responding, Draco remained silent for several seconds. He was trying to come up with an excuse to not have to go. Eventually, however, the weight of his mother's store became too much.

"I'll try and be there for Christmas," Draco responded, regretting it immediately.

Draco lay in bed. It was December 20th, the day he was supposed to be leaving for Malfoy Manor. It was his last day of work for the year, and the end of his excuses. No longer could he put off his trip home.

Ever since his mother's invite, Draco had been hoping for a reason to stay in London over the holidays. Maybe a case or two would be dropped into his lap. Maybe something would happen in his flat, a burst pipe or something. But he had no such luck.

'It won't be all that terrible,' Draco reasoned with himself as he slowly shuffled into his bathroom and started getting ready for the day. His childhood growing up in Malfoy Manor hadn't been terrible. In fact, for quite a few years, his life had been idyllic.

Suddenly, memories from the past washed over him as if he'd submerged his head inn a pensive

He remembered being four years old, and chasing the family peacocks around the expensive yard, his father standing at the back door and beaming with pride. And then, in a burst of youthful magic, Draco froze the peacocks and easily knocked them on the head.

The young blonde thought about waking on Christmas mornings to find piles of presents piled at the end of his bed by the house elves that working in the manor. Each year he'd get a few more gifts than the previous, making the pile larger and larger. Then, with absolute joy, he would tear into the wrapping and reveal the gifts hidden beneath.

Memories of large and delicious meals, for birthdays, and Christmases, and Easters, and sometimes for no reason at all flashed through his mind. They were followed quickly by images of large gatherings where his mother extolled his virtues and accomplishments.

As they faded, a warm and comforting sensation overcame Draco. 'Yeah,' he thought pulling on his elegant suit, 'it might be nice to go home for Christmas after all these years.' With a slight spring in his step, Draco walked into his kitchen and began fixing himself breakfast.

It was then, as he stood in front of the stove, that he was overcome by less than pleasant memories. Memories that were behind his decision to leave his parents' house and never return.

There were the terrible, vile things his father so readily spewed about anyone who disagreed with him. He thought about the eagerness and absolute willingness that his father showed when the Dark Lord expressed his desire to use Malfoy Manor as a headquarters during the battles in 1997 and 1998. And then, in rapid succession images of the terrible acts Draco witnessed the Dark Lord and his loyal followers committed in his once welcoming house.

The intensity of it nearly brought Draco to his knees. The happy, idyllic images of his childhood had been shattered by those few absolutely terrible years and there was just no going back.

As Draco left his house for his final day of work, he made his decision about returning to Malfoy Manor.

I'll be home for Christmas. If only in my dreams.

The End