A/N: EWE. If you're hardcore canon shipper, you might not be too pleased. But I hope you'd reconsider. :) Draco was never with Astoria and they just agreed to name Scorpius as Scorpius. And there goes one plot bunny. ENJOY! :D

Santa Grinch's Elves
By noneedforprozac27

24th of DECEMBER

"Santa's elves are house-elves," Draco drawled lazily without looking up from his position on the couch. A small, nonchalant voice spoke up from his feet.

"As long as they receive wages from Santa, I'll be fine."

As fast as whiplash, Draco folded 'The Daily Prophet' from in front of him and stared down at his son. The boy blinked up at him again while he narrowed his eyes.

"Who told you that?"

Scorpius shrugged. "Mummy hands Jarvees a bag of galleons to be distributed among our house-elves," he said, a little too innocently for someone his age. "Doesn't Santa pay his elves just like what Mummy?"

The look of horror in his son's eyes and the telltale quiver of Scorpius's lips – a trait he got from his mother – begged Draco to salvage the situation.

"Well, think of it this way...it's Yule. Isn't it a time for giving and sharing?"

Scorpius nodded.

"What if the elves are giving and sharing what they can to Santa so he can deliver all the gifts?"

"Without pay? Papa, that's horrible!" He scrunched his face and tried hard not to cry. Draco tried hard not to laugh.

A sudden whiff of jasmine and roses enveloped the room as his wife scooped up the child who was beginning to howl in earnest. "Scorpius, goodness! Draco Lucius Malfoy, what did youdo to your son now?"

"Mummy, Santa's not paying his elves!"

If he had been his third-year self that recently got punched in the face by a girl, he would have cringed in fear by the look on his wife's face, but years of living with her mellowed the gravity of the situation.

"Hush now, darling. Papa's just a mean old Grinch who wants to steal your presents," she said soothingly, shooting another meaningful glare at her husband. "It's time for bed. Let's tuck you in so you're wide awake when Santa comes to stuff your stocking."

The child pulled away from his mother, sniffing back his tears and sending the same glare to his father. "You're a meanie, Papa." Draco caught the "Mr. Grinch" that Scorpius added under his breath as he kissed his son goodnight.

Hey—he wasn't being a Grinch! He was just telling the truth. Having Hermione Granger as your wife isn't exactly as easy as, say, having a pureblood wife. They were always easier to please than a muggle-born and a Gryffindor at that! Having gone through war and redeeming the Malfoy name, Draco has learned that there are some things that he will never understand—such as the case of his wife's constant crusade for house-elf rights. He shook his head and chuckled at himself. He just wanted to let Scorpius in on the bits of magical involvement during Yule Hols.

Well, at the expense of your son's Christmas, you prat. Why does his conscience even sound like Hermione? He shook his head. He's got it bad.

25th of DECEMBER

"You're going to take back what you said about Santa's elves," she said while lazily trailing her arms down his side, and burrowing into his warmth. Draco shivered at her touch.

"If you hadn't been blatantly nattering on about your SPEW stuff, then maybe Scorpius wouldn't be so upset about Santa having house-elves as helpers," he replied, eyes still closed while Hermione kept the southward path of her fingers under the bed covers to where his resistance was for naught. "That and making him watch Christmas movings in that blasted box. I resent being called a Grinch. I do not look hairy nor hideous!"

"Movies, Draco," Hermione corrected, "You weren't complaining when you learned how to use the telly either. He is my son as much as yours so whatever goodness I impart unto him should not be corrupted by you," She said, gripping his hip roughly. He turned to Hermione and began kissing her neck. "Even though I think you deserve to be called out on such appalling and Grinch-like behavior, I agree that you're too pretty to be considered as a Grinch."

He let out an indignant sound, disentangling himself from Hermione's arms. "Handsome, dashing and maybe beautiful but never pretty! Malfoys aren't pretty." Hermione gave a small chuckle, rearranging her bedclothes as the telltale thump-thump-thump of footsteps approached the door. A moment later, the door was flung open by Scorpius, who promptly launched onto the bed and landed on Draco's stomach. He was crowing about opening presents from Santa.

"Mummy, Papa, I've got presents! Santa's got me presents! All in bright wrappings! Oh, I think I got a broom this year!"

"With help from his elves?" Hermione added.

"Of course he got my gifts with the help of his paid elves, Mummy," he added, wriggling in between his mother and father.

"And you were convinced how?" she inquired to which the boy replied happily, "He told me last night when I saw him stuffing my stocking." Hermione looked over at Draco with an eyebrow arched.

"Mummy, I thought Santa was old? I think his hair was quite the same color as mine under his hat. And his eyes,… Mummy they were grey!"

If her eyebrow could have shot out up her forehead, it would have. Hermione gave Draco an appraising look (who was dutifully avoiding her stare) before turning back to Scorpius. "Shouldn't you have been asleep?"

The boy grinned sheepishly. "I dunno, Mummy. I woke up and there was a stringy lion telling me Santa was around and there he was! He even let me sit on his lap. His tummy felt like one of your pillows. Then I woke up back in my bed. It was sweet!"

"Scorpius, Santa can't be sweet. Unless you tasted him and that would be disgusting." Draco said, chiding his son.

"Oh Papa, I hope he stuffed coals down yours! You're a mean Mr. Grinch!" The boy pouted so Draco tickled him to get his affections back.

"But Mummy, he really did have grey eyes! Like Papa's and mine! Maybe Santa's a Malfoy?"

Hermione couldn't hold in her laughter. "I highly doubt that, my dear. Now go and get warm milk and brownies downstairs."

Scorpius squealed in delight. "Really? That's allowed for Christmas?"

She nodded as she kissed the top of his head. "Yes, it's Christmas. One of Mummy and Papa's gifts for you, my sweet. Now, run along." The boy proceeded to pepper kisses upon both of his parents' faces before racing down, calling on Jarvees to feed him.

"This is the best Christmas ever. I saw Santa!"

As soon as the door clicked close, Hermione directed sparkling cinnamon eyes at her husband. "Santa?"

"Well, I felt so bad for making him cry, so I sent my Patronus up his room and I had to impersonate Santa. He fell asleep halfway between telling me about how he wished I gave wages to my elves and wishing for a broom…or a brother. I can't remember exactly."

Hermione gave him a passionate kiss and proceeded to his jawline and neck, with wetness trailing from her eyes. "Oh Draco, thank you. You made your son's Christmas!" Letting the tears fall and laughing at herself at the same time as Draco held her gently against him.

"I can only do so much for you and our son, Hermione," He replied with a smile.

"Sons."

"Huh?"

"You heard me."

"Oh." A sigh of contentment escaping his lips as Hermione returned to her ministrations on his body.

"Happy Christmas, Mr. Grinch."

"I love you, Hermione." He replied, placing a hand on her still-flat stomach.

DAS ENDE.

A/N: Thanks to my very awesome beta ultrasonicbop! Thanks for reading too! :D