House: Slytherin

Category: Short
Prompt: "It's too early to start talking about Christmas," [Speech]

Word Count (excluding A/N): 1087

A/N: All my love to my Rabbit and my Queen, aka The fanster and Andromeda of Orthys. They were invaluable in writing this fic. And thank you to my wonderful beta-readers, DarowynK, the Lorax (Carolare Scarletus), and Mags. You guys are the best!

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Hermione sighed as she shuffled through the pile of catalogs and magazines on her lap. "Draco, it's too early to start talking about Christmas. It's still October!"

Draco chuckled, sitting down on the bed beside her. "Love, it's called Yule," he explained with mock-patience. "And it's your first time throwing the Malfoy Yuletide Ccelebration. You should have started planning in April."

"Lyra was born in April," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes at her husband. "Honestly. I couldn't have started then."

Draco nodded, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Yes, being as large as the Giant Squid would make it hard to plan. You shouldn't have gotten pregnant."

"You prat!" Hermione cried, swatting him with a magazine whose cover was emblazoned with the image of a monstrous, over decorated Christmas tree. "You were the one who got me pregnant in the first place!"

As he batted away her attacks, Draco smirked, then drawled, "It takes two to tango, love."

Hermione huffed, then made a show of raising her wand; however, just as she began the spell which would have strung tinsel all over Draco, a wail echoed throughout the Manor.

Hermione scowled, then cast a quick Tempus. "You're lucky it's time for Lyra's feeding," she said. "Otherwise, you'd be just another tacky Christmas tree."

Draco laughed, getting to his feet. "I'll get you more books, love. Malfoys don't have 'tacky' decor. Mother always had certain spells for Yule… you'll need cookbooks, too, because we don't have House Elves…"

"Are you really going to complain about House Elves again?" Hermione sighed. "We've been over this, Draco. House Elves don't know any better— they've always been enslaved by wizards, working as drudges, and you should be ashamed to—"

"There's no need!" Draco interrupted hastily. He already knew her speech backwards and forwards. "I just wanted to say that SPEW had unintended consequences, that was all. Now, I'll go grab the books so you can keep planning the party." With that, he left.

Hermione frowned at his retreating form. Then she shouted after him, "Why don't you just plan this? You know more about this party than I do!"

"Nonsense," Draco called back. "It's a man's job to invite people and the woman's job to provide for them."

Hermione shook her head as Draco disappeared into the library, a fond smile gracing her lips. As a child, he'd been a prejudiced arse who'd meant every word he said; now, however, Hermione knew he was only jesting.

Still, that last comment was uncalled for. As Hermione nursed their daughter, she plotted how to exact her revenge. After all, someone had to show that arrogant prat up.

. . . . . . . . . . .

This was it. Today was the day.

The Yuletide celebration was to begin any second, and nothing was ready.

Draco threw open the door to the dressing-room. "Hermione!" he shouted, "The guests are arriving and there's no hor d'oeuvres! Where are canapes? The baked brie? The bruschetta? All we have for them to eat is plum pudding!"

Hermione stopped fussing with her robes to turn and face her husband. "Draco," she sighed, "It's okay. I've got this all under control."

"No, you don't!" Draco cried. "What will Blaise say? Or Pansy? You Gryffindors might think some wassail and a plum pudding makes it Yuletide, but Slytherins don't!"

Hermione regarded him with a level gaze. "It'll be okay," she reassured him. "I've thrown parties before. Leave it to me, Draco."

Though Draco would have much rather insisted that he not leave it to her, for she'd royally mucked up the party already, Blaise's patronus flew into the room. "You going to open the door, mate?" it enquired sarcastically.

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "I'm coming," he answered.

He spent the first hour greeting guests and their accepting gifts; Ginny Weasley gave him a scarlet and emerald knit sweater for Lyra, and Draco had to suppress a grimace at the sight of it. As if he'd allow his daughter to wear that monstrosity.

Nevertheless, he took the gift, promising to send her mother a picture of Lyra wearing it, then welcomed her to the Yule party. At least he didn't feel bad about the meager selection of appetizers when she entered. Each time he greeted a Slytherin, he cringed inwardly.

When he'd finished greeting his guests, he joined the party in the main ballroom, already steeling himself for the mass of politely bored people in their best robes; however, the sight that met his eyes was far from what he'd expected.

A very, very flushed Pansy was flirting with Potter, almost sitting in the man's lap, and Potter didn't seem to be protesting too much. Meanwhile, Weasley's face was red as his hair as he told Theo about broomstick regulation, because "too many brooms are straight nowadays, it's impossible to find bent ones," and Theo was nodding, hanging onto Weasley's ever word. Even Blaise was chatting with the rather tipsy Ginerva Weasley.

Wonders never ceased. Astonished by the sight of so many of his classmates making fools of themselves, he made his way to his wife, who was busily pouring drinks. "I'm impressed," he murmured.

Hermione smiled up at him. "I'm glad. You don't mind?" she asked, gesturing at the rack of already emptied bottles beside her.

Draco shook his head. "Not at all, dearest. In fact, I think I'll have some myself." She handed him a bottle and he took a sip, expecting to taste lower-grade spiced wine, spiked punch, or eggnog; however, the smooth fruity taste on his tongue felt oddly familiar—

He almost choked on his drink when he realised what it was. "Hermione!" he shouted. "Did you clear out my entire wine cellar? There were priceless pinot noirs down there!"

Hermione smirked. "No one drinks it anyways. Besides, alcohol makes the world go round." She gestured towards Pansy and Potter who were now snogging on the couch.

Draco had to laugh. "You certainly have a way of planning things," he admitted. "Though I certainly was not expecting this when I asked you to plan the party."

Hermione's smirk was not fading in the slightest. "I did warn you, Draco," she drawled. "If you'd wanted it your way, you should have to do it yourself."

Draco shook his head. "Never. I've got loads of blackmail material now." He grinned. "I hope you're doing this next year."

"As long as I don't have to start planning for it in April, I will," Hermione laughed, giving him a peck on the cheek. "Happy Yule, Draco."