Disclaimer: I own nothing! I wish I worked from the BBC, though. If anyone from the BBC reads any of my fanfics, can they treat them as writing samples for a job application please?
The Christmas That Never Was
x x x
"You're going to be working all through Christmas?!" his wife yelled at him, at the shrillest pitch humanly possible.
"It's not like you didn't expect this, 'Stori." Draco said calmly, "You know my boss up there doesn't believe in Christmas."
He was silently grateful to postpone for another year the Santa debate, he was never going to dress up in red, not even if Scorpius begged him. And the kid was still too young to beg fluently enough to have a chance of swaying him.
"I don't know why you put up with that old Scrooge." Astoria snarled.
"Yeah, well staying alive is a big part of my motivation." he snapped, then he pondered her remark of Scrooge, "At least we're not poor-as-Weasleys and working through Christmas for tuppence!"
But he did now have something fun to do this week for his boss.
x x x
"To what do we owe the dubious pleasure of an Unspeakable visiting Hogwarts?" the new headmaster asked, curiously, "He was one of those men Draco hadn't even bothered to remember the name of before he got the job of headmaster.
Anthony Goyle, uncle twice removed of Gregory Goyle, was about the only intelligent member of that family, and older than Draco's father by a good deal. If Draco hadn't known this family's opinion of Muggle culture, he might have thought Anthony watched one too many episodes of The Sopranos. Or maybe The Godfather. It was entirely the Master's fault Draco even knew what those were, anyway. the Master was slightly obsessed with TV, South Park in particular, for some reason.
"I need to borrow something for a few days. It's for a seasonal project, nothing important but I certainly would appreciate the help." Draco said, in his best 'I might make a very generous donation to the school if you help me' tone. It took no more for Goyle to be convinced, and Draco's latest evil master-plan was on.
x x x
He hadn't been entirely honest when he'd said the Master did not believe in Christmas. The main observation deck had a 'tree' decorated in the middle of the room. True, this 'tree' was strung up from the ceiling in chains, but that was because it was Captain Jack Harkness. Dead, at the moment, asphyxiated by a noose made out of tinsel.
Honestly, Draco had to give credit where it was due, for an evil overlord, this was pretty good festive decoration. Far better than Voldemort had managed with the dead tree and other decorations better suited to Hallowe'en or a ghost party.
The Master and his favourite minions, Draco included, were dining on the finest roast turkey with all the trimmings, etcetera. If the Doctor wanted to eat he was expected to beg for scraps. So far he had not shown any inclination to do so. Draco had been surreptitiously magically siphoning off bits of his dinner into what the Unspeakables refer to as 'magic space', a small artificially generated dimension sustained by magical energy, which can contain large amounts of almost any material. He planned to conjure it somewhere the Doctor could find it, later on.
Meanwhile, he listened to the tense silence as if it didn't bother him, and ate what was left of his dinner without making eye contact with anyone.
Three times during the meal, Jack woke up, only to suffocate again within moments. It did not do good things for the appetite.
Finally, it was bedtime, on Christmas Eve. Draco disappeared to his own room, locking himself in and watching on the security monitors to see how his plan went.
x x x
The Master had been talking with the Doctor. Ok, talking to thin air while the Doctor pretended to ignore him. "So you see, I really am doing them a favor with this. These lesser beings need purpose." was he trying to justify himself? To the Doctor of all people?!
But then, the Doctor turned his back firmly on the Master, and it was at that point that it happened.
"OooOOOooOooOOooooo, I am the ghost of Christmas past!" he really should have gotten the Grey Lady to do this. Sir Nicholas was being over-dramatic again.
Both Timelords looked up at the ghost, in surprise, then they both laughed. "Last Christmas, Rachnoss... year before that Sycoraax, year before that-"
"We get the picture, please go back to shutting up!" the Master interrupted.
"But I am here to-" Sir Nicholas began again, clearly from a learned spiel, maybe he got his transparent hands on a ghost-copy of the script for a Christmas Carol.
"I saw the movie, now bugger off." the Master ordered.
So much for plan A. Time for plan B.
"I am the ghost of screwing you over!" Peeves yelled, careening into the room at full speed, colliding with several pieces of expensive and delicate looking equipment.
"Who's bright idea was this?" the Master asked Sir Nicholas, angrily.
"We were sent here to-"
"I did not ask why. I asked who?" the Master interrupted.
At this point, another voice said coldly, "Oh do as he said and bugger of, you old twat." Draco had never heard the Bloody Baron speak at all, and was quite surprised by his choice of vocabulary. He'd picked the Baron to play the ominously silent Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. But unlike Sir Nicholas, he seemed to know well enough how to improvise.
Sir Nicholas looked quite affronted, "You want to skip the crap and get to the point?" the Baron asked, looking at the Master.
"I'd rather skip the point as well." the Master replied, trying not to laugh, "You're probably the one who's going to try and show me people tap-dancing on my grave. Like I don't know they all want to already."
"No grave to tap-dance on, matey." the Baron said, smugly.
The Master tilted his head to one side, now actually listening. Sir Nicholas grumbled and wandered off towards the door, calling to Peeves, "You've broken enough, get out of it!" Peeves ignored and continued to smash.
"I know your future." the Baron said calmly, "I know what will happen to you."
"What could you possibly know?" the Master snarled.
The Doctor, meanwhile, was observing the three ghosts with interest, as if he was guessing correctly who they actually were. Especially when Peeves zoomed too close to Sir Nicholas and caused his head to half fall off.
"I know your war will fail. I know you will find yourself trapped once more. And I know you will grow old and die weak."
The Master blinked several times, staring now at the Baron with interest, "How could you know this?"
The Baron smirked, "You are a time traveller, you tell me. I have met you when I lived. I have seen the weakened state you will find yourself in. You will fall from power before next Christmas, and you will never regain what you have here."
"Liar!" the Master yelled. Not knowing if it would work, he aimed his laser screwdriver at the Baron, and fired. The beam went right through the ghost, causing no harm.
The Baron laughed, "It would take more than light to harm a ghost. Try glaring long enough." he grinned, showing broken teeth that had most probably been yellow in life.
The Doctor actually laughed.
"What is so funny?" the Master demanded.
"Just a book I read once." the Doctor said, trying to stop snickering.
The Master shook his head, "Get out, now!"
"As you wish." the Baron said, grinning smugly. He had delivered the message better than Draco had hoped. "Crotch-brain! Heel!"
And Peeves flew down to hover obediently next to the Baron, "As you wishes, I's obeys the Preciouses."
"Oh do shut up." the Baron said, shaking his head at Peeves' idea of a joke.
And they both departed, the same way Sir Nicholas had. Through the solid door.
"Well that was messed up." the Master muttered.
"I'll say. I wonder who actually did send them." the Doctor replied, momentarily forgetting his animosity to the Master at this puzzle.
"I suppose you know exactly who they were, and think it's hilarious that I don't?"
"Pretty much, yes."
"I hate you."
"I know."
In the ominous silence that followed, Draco leaned back, watching the screen for a minute, chuckling to himself, "I wish the Master hadn't made us watch Star Wars, now." he muttered, grinning.
Still, it HAD been entertaining viewing, especially the amount of valuable equipment Peeves had gotten to. And he learned a few things he'd really never wanted to know about the Bloody Baron, too. Such language from one so medieval was a bit shocking. He made a mental note to give Hogwarts a very generous amount of money, after this year was over. Dedicated in the name of Peeves and the Baron. Just to see the look on everyone's faces when they tried to figure that one out.
x x x