Summary: Seasonal JK Rowling/Charles Dickens crossover. Draco encounters the Ghost of Christmas Future, and our story concludes...
Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling. The plot belongs to Charles Dickens, but he's less likely to sue... See if you can spot which lines are directly stolen from "A Christmas Carol".
* * * * *
MALFOY'S CHRISTMAS CAROL - Part 3
Draco stared transfixed as the solemn ghost, draped and hooded in black, came towards him. This ghost frightened him more than the other two spirits had done. For one thing, it looked horribly like a Dementor, although something told him it was not.
It halted in front of him, but did not speak, which unnerved him further.
"Are you - are you the Ghost of Christmas Future?" he stammered.
The ghost nodded slightly, but still did not speak.
"Are you - going to show me things that haven't happened yet?"
Again the ghost nodded. It pointed, with a ghostly hand, to indicate that Draco should follow it, and he did, though his knees were trembling.
He did not feel any sensation of movement this time, but suddenly he was following the black-robed figure along a gravelled path. It was wintry, and frost covered the grass beside the path. Looking around him, Draco realised they were walking through a graveyard, and that the path was climbing a hill on which grey tombstones, covered now with white snow, were jutting out of the grass. Beyond the graveyard, wintry fields rolled away beneath them, and Draco could see the rooftops of isolated houses here and there. A winter sun had just risen, reddening the grey sky.
When they reached the top of the hill, the silent ghost halted, and Draco waited behind it, not liking to say anything. A few moments later, he blinked, as a man and woman Apparated about five feet away from them. Warmly dressed in winter cloaks, hats, scarves and gloves, carrying wreaths of scarlet holly berries, the couple walked slowly across the frosty grass to a tombstone which stood by itself a short way away. As Draco now expected, the couple showed no awareness of the ghost or himself at all.
The man and woman stopped by the tombstone, and the ghost began to glide towards them. Draco was compelled to follow, until he was standing right beside them. The woman was brushing the snow away from the tombstone with her gloved hand, until the lettering became visible. Draco looked at it curiously, and felt a sickening jolt in his stomach as he read the name and dates on the stone.
HARRY POTTER
1981-1999
He Died So That Others Might Live
Draco's eyes flew from the writing to the face of the woman who had brushed away the snow. Muffled in her hat and scarf, only part of her face was visible, and she was in her late twenties or early thirties, but he recognised her with a shock.
"Hermione Granger!" he blurted out, almost expecting her to turn at the sound of her name, but, of course, she remained oblivious to his presence.
"After all this time, I feel as though it would be wrong to have Christmas Day without coming here first," she remarked to her companion. "Do you think he knows we're here?"
"Yes," said the tall, red-haired man firmly. Draco recognised him too, although he was at least fifteen years older too. Like Hermione, Ron had lines on his face which made him look older than he probably was. "He's probably watching us right now and practising U-turns on the best broom ever." Draco wondered what Ron would say if he knew who *was* watching him right now.
Hermione smiled reluctantly at this, but her eyes were still very sad as she cleared some more snow from the base of the tombstone. "Look - someone's left fresh flowers quite recently."
"I think a lot of people come here regularly, not just us," Ron said, looking across the snowy graveyard.
"It seems such a waste - especially at this time of year. I was thinking the other day - in another few months James will be the same age we were when the three of us first met."
Ron nodded. "Well, I hope he makes such good friends when he gets to Hogwarts next autumn, that's all."
"Mmm." Hermione was silent for a few moments, before she burst out, "It really was a waste! Voldemort was already dead - everything was going to be all right - if those last few Death Eaters hadn't found out where Harry was, and decided to make a last gesture - "
"I know." Ron patted her on the back soothingly. "Imagine being Draco Malfoy now. They never proved it was him who betrayed Harry to the Death Eaters, but everyone's avoided him like the plague ever since."
"I don't mind if he's suffering," Hermione muttered, while Draco looked at her in unseen horror. "The more miserable his life is, the better."
"Well, look at what happened to him after that," Ron pointed out to her, as they arranged the scarlet holly wreaths on the tombstone. "His cronies all gone, he saw his own father get the Kiss from a Dementor, his mother driven insane and put in St. Mungo's - they say Malfoy's practically insane these days himself, all he does is sit alone in Malfoy Manor staring at the walls - "
"I know." Hermione had calmed down a little, though the stony look was still on her face. "And I know I can't change anything by getting angry, it's just - well, I miss him, Ron."
"We all miss him," Ron murmured, pulling her into a comforting hug, and they stood for a moment by the tombstone before pulling apart.
Hermione looked at her watch, and became suddenly brisk again. "We must get back, Ron, or James and Molly will be awake, and tearing open all the presents without us."
"Yes." Casting a last look at the tombstone, where the bright wreaths made a splash of colour against the white and grey, Hermione and Ron Apparated away, leaving Draco standing beside the hooded ghost, sick and stunned by what he had heard.
"What they said - it won't necessarily come true, will it?" he asked the ghost pleadingly.
The ghost made no reply.
"Is there - is there anything I can do to stop it?"
Again, the ghost made no reply, and gave no sign of having heard him. Frustrated, Draco tried to grab the sleeve of its robe.
"Please - listen to me - I can change that - I can make sure it doesn't happen - can't I?"
The sleeve was fading from his grasp...Draco reached out desperately...grabbed something...fell forward...and found himself holding the post of his own bed.
* * * * *
He was back in the Slytherin dormitory, in his own bed. For a moment, Draco sat frozen in the dim light, before he patted the mattress, the bedpost, the sheets, the pillows, trying to reassure himself that they were real.
"Was it all a dream?" he demanded into the silent air of the room. Yet it had not felt like a dream...
The clock in the common room was chiming eight o'clock. The long night was over. On the floor at the foot of his bed, Draco saw a heap of packages - Christmas presents.
"Is it still Christmas morning?" he wondered aloud. He jumped out of bed and looked at himself in the long mirror inside the wardrobe door. Yes, he was still Draco Malfoy, still at Hogwarts, fifteen years old, and realising that made a smile spread across his face - not the usual Malfoy smirk he liked to cultivate, but a real smile of gratitude. He pulled some clothes out of the wardrobe and started throwing them on hurriedly, thinking hard while he did so. Once dressed, he pulled the wrapping paper off his presents. Doing so reminded him of Harry's unpleasant cousin Dudley, and he wondered how the fifteen-year-old Dudley compared with the four-year-old version he had seen.
His father had sent him a bag of golden Galleons, which gave him an idea. There was a book of Dark Magic from Great-Aunt Asphasia with a picture on the cover which made him shudder and throw it into the back of the wardrobe, making a mental note to dispose of it later.
After opening his presents, Draco pushed one or two things into his pockets and left the dormitory in a hurry. He was hurrying along the corridors on his way to the owlery when he met Dumbledore and Snape walking in the other direction.
"Merry Christmas, sir!" Draco said, beaming at them.
"Er - Merry Christmas, Draco," Albus Dumbledore said, giving him a rather surprised but affable nod. Snape just looked deeply suspicious. Draco fought back a grin at Snape's expression as he raced off towards the owlery. His eagle owl looked even more suspicious than Snape when he gave her the bag of gold to deliver, and whispered the Weasleys' address to her.
"They won't know who sent it," he grinned, as he made his way down to the kitchen to find Dobby. He thought Dobby might quite fancy the socks he had chosen for him, though he was going to be very surprised at their donor.
All the staff noticed how cheerful Draco Malfoy seemed to be at breakfast. "Makes a pleasant change to see that boy without a sneer on his face," Professor McGonagall murmured to Professor Flitwick.
"The magic of Christmas?" Professor Flitwick suggested.
"I wonder what he's thinking about?" Professor McGonagall mused, still watching Draco. She would have been astonished if she had known that he was planning to give Dennis Creevey Quidditch coaching on his Nimbus Two Thousand and One. He was just a bit concerned that Dennis wouldn't actually trust him enough to let him do it.
As breakfast ended, Draco hurried to catch Harry, and fell into step with him as Harry left the Great Hall. "D'you want to have a snowball fight, Harry?" he asked.
Harry opened his mouth, and was clearly about to refuse when Professor Dumbledore's voice said, "Excellent idea, Draco. Make the most of this snow, you two. The exercise will help you work up an appetite for our splendid Christmas dinner."
This left Harry with no choice but to agree, although Draco could tell from his face he was far from keen on the idea. Never mind, Draco told himself, they had a whole week ahead of them. Potter was bound to think Draco was up to no good, but eventually he was confident he could convince him of his good intentions...it might just take a while...
"You know that horrible Muggle cousin you live with," Draco said, as they made their way down the snow-covered steps. "I've thought of an excellent Christmas present you could send him - have you ever heard of Toe-Squeezing Trainers?"
* * * * *
And so Draco Malfoy's character - and ultimately his fate - were altered for the better.
Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them (except when Crabbe and Goyle resorted to physical violence against him); for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset. And it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us!
And so, as Dennis Creevey (who DID learn to fly) squeaked,
God Bless Us, Every One!
THE END
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\_/
Author's Notes: Now back to "No Easy Goodbyes" - my sister is busy thinking of ways out of my plot difficulties for me, so hopefully I should be making progress again soon...I promise I will get Part 6 up a.s.a.p.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, here's a true story for my fellow R/H shippers:
The other day I was waiting for someone in St. Martin's Lane (which is the next street across from Charing Cross Road, where the Leaky Cauldron is supposed to be) in the middle of London, and I noticed a young man standing at a corner on the other side of the road. He was about 19 or 20, tall and lanky with red hair, and I noticed him because he looked *just* like my idea of an older Ron Weasley. He was obviously waiting for someone too because he kept looking at his watch. About two minutes later, a girl appeared, about a head shorter than him, quite pretty with curly brown hair, hugged and kissed him and they walked off hand in hand.
I swear it was Ron and Hermione on their way to Diagon Alley! :)
Disclaimer: These characters belong to JK Rowling. The plot belongs to Charles Dickens, but he's less likely to sue... See if you can spot which lines are directly stolen from "A Christmas Carol".
* * * * *
MALFOY'S CHRISTMAS CAROL - Part 3
Draco stared transfixed as the solemn ghost, draped and hooded in black, came towards him. This ghost frightened him more than the other two spirits had done. For one thing, it looked horribly like a Dementor, although something told him it was not.
It halted in front of him, but did not speak, which unnerved him further.
"Are you - are you the Ghost of Christmas Future?" he stammered.
The ghost nodded slightly, but still did not speak.
"Are you - going to show me things that haven't happened yet?"
Again the ghost nodded. It pointed, with a ghostly hand, to indicate that Draco should follow it, and he did, though his knees were trembling.
He did not feel any sensation of movement this time, but suddenly he was following the black-robed figure along a gravelled path. It was wintry, and frost covered the grass beside the path. Looking around him, Draco realised they were walking through a graveyard, and that the path was climbing a hill on which grey tombstones, covered now with white snow, were jutting out of the grass. Beyond the graveyard, wintry fields rolled away beneath them, and Draco could see the rooftops of isolated houses here and there. A winter sun had just risen, reddening the grey sky.
When they reached the top of the hill, the silent ghost halted, and Draco waited behind it, not liking to say anything. A few moments later, he blinked, as a man and woman Apparated about five feet away from them. Warmly dressed in winter cloaks, hats, scarves and gloves, carrying wreaths of scarlet holly berries, the couple walked slowly across the frosty grass to a tombstone which stood by itself a short way away. As Draco now expected, the couple showed no awareness of the ghost or himself at all.
The man and woman stopped by the tombstone, and the ghost began to glide towards them. Draco was compelled to follow, until he was standing right beside them. The woman was brushing the snow away from the tombstone with her gloved hand, until the lettering became visible. Draco looked at it curiously, and felt a sickening jolt in his stomach as he read the name and dates on the stone.
HARRY POTTER
1981-1999
He Died So That Others Might Live
Draco's eyes flew from the writing to the face of the woman who had brushed away the snow. Muffled in her hat and scarf, only part of her face was visible, and she was in her late twenties or early thirties, but he recognised her with a shock.
"Hermione Granger!" he blurted out, almost expecting her to turn at the sound of her name, but, of course, she remained oblivious to his presence.
"After all this time, I feel as though it would be wrong to have Christmas Day without coming here first," she remarked to her companion. "Do you think he knows we're here?"
"Yes," said the tall, red-haired man firmly. Draco recognised him too, although he was at least fifteen years older too. Like Hermione, Ron had lines on his face which made him look older than he probably was. "He's probably watching us right now and practising U-turns on the best broom ever." Draco wondered what Ron would say if he knew who *was* watching him right now.
Hermione smiled reluctantly at this, but her eyes were still very sad as she cleared some more snow from the base of the tombstone. "Look - someone's left fresh flowers quite recently."
"I think a lot of people come here regularly, not just us," Ron said, looking across the snowy graveyard.
"It seems such a waste - especially at this time of year. I was thinking the other day - in another few months James will be the same age we were when the three of us first met."
Ron nodded. "Well, I hope he makes such good friends when he gets to Hogwarts next autumn, that's all."
"Mmm." Hermione was silent for a few moments, before she burst out, "It really was a waste! Voldemort was already dead - everything was going to be all right - if those last few Death Eaters hadn't found out where Harry was, and decided to make a last gesture - "
"I know." Ron patted her on the back soothingly. "Imagine being Draco Malfoy now. They never proved it was him who betrayed Harry to the Death Eaters, but everyone's avoided him like the plague ever since."
"I don't mind if he's suffering," Hermione muttered, while Draco looked at her in unseen horror. "The more miserable his life is, the better."
"Well, look at what happened to him after that," Ron pointed out to her, as they arranged the scarlet holly wreaths on the tombstone. "His cronies all gone, he saw his own father get the Kiss from a Dementor, his mother driven insane and put in St. Mungo's - they say Malfoy's practically insane these days himself, all he does is sit alone in Malfoy Manor staring at the walls - "
"I know." Hermione had calmed down a little, though the stony look was still on her face. "And I know I can't change anything by getting angry, it's just - well, I miss him, Ron."
"We all miss him," Ron murmured, pulling her into a comforting hug, and they stood for a moment by the tombstone before pulling apart.
Hermione looked at her watch, and became suddenly brisk again. "We must get back, Ron, or James and Molly will be awake, and tearing open all the presents without us."
"Yes." Casting a last look at the tombstone, where the bright wreaths made a splash of colour against the white and grey, Hermione and Ron Apparated away, leaving Draco standing beside the hooded ghost, sick and stunned by what he had heard.
"What they said - it won't necessarily come true, will it?" he asked the ghost pleadingly.
The ghost made no reply.
"Is there - is there anything I can do to stop it?"
Again, the ghost made no reply, and gave no sign of having heard him. Frustrated, Draco tried to grab the sleeve of its robe.
"Please - listen to me - I can change that - I can make sure it doesn't happen - can't I?"
The sleeve was fading from his grasp...Draco reached out desperately...grabbed something...fell forward...and found himself holding the post of his own bed.
* * * * *
He was back in the Slytherin dormitory, in his own bed. For a moment, Draco sat frozen in the dim light, before he patted the mattress, the bedpost, the sheets, the pillows, trying to reassure himself that they were real.
"Was it all a dream?" he demanded into the silent air of the room. Yet it had not felt like a dream...
The clock in the common room was chiming eight o'clock. The long night was over. On the floor at the foot of his bed, Draco saw a heap of packages - Christmas presents.
"Is it still Christmas morning?" he wondered aloud. He jumped out of bed and looked at himself in the long mirror inside the wardrobe door. Yes, he was still Draco Malfoy, still at Hogwarts, fifteen years old, and realising that made a smile spread across his face - not the usual Malfoy smirk he liked to cultivate, but a real smile of gratitude. He pulled some clothes out of the wardrobe and started throwing them on hurriedly, thinking hard while he did so. Once dressed, he pulled the wrapping paper off his presents. Doing so reminded him of Harry's unpleasant cousin Dudley, and he wondered how the fifteen-year-old Dudley compared with the four-year-old version he had seen.
His father had sent him a bag of golden Galleons, which gave him an idea. There was a book of Dark Magic from Great-Aunt Asphasia with a picture on the cover which made him shudder and throw it into the back of the wardrobe, making a mental note to dispose of it later.
After opening his presents, Draco pushed one or two things into his pockets and left the dormitory in a hurry. He was hurrying along the corridors on his way to the owlery when he met Dumbledore and Snape walking in the other direction.
"Merry Christmas, sir!" Draco said, beaming at them.
"Er - Merry Christmas, Draco," Albus Dumbledore said, giving him a rather surprised but affable nod. Snape just looked deeply suspicious. Draco fought back a grin at Snape's expression as he raced off towards the owlery. His eagle owl looked even more suspicious than Snape when he gave her the bag of gold to deliver, and whispered the Weasleys' address to her.
"They won't know who sent it," he grinned, as he made his way down to the kitchen to find Dobby. He thought Dobby might quite fancy the socks he had chosen for him, though he was going to be very surprised at their donor.
All the staff noticed how cheerful Draco Malfoy seemed to be at breakfast. "Makes a pleasant change to see that boy without a sneer on his face," Professor McGonagall murmured to Professor Flitwick.
"The magic of Christmas?" Professor Flitwick suggested.
"I wonder what he's thinking about?" Professor McGonagall mused, still watching Draco. She would have been astonished if she had known that he was planning to give Dennis Creevey Quidditch coaching on his Nimbus Two Thousand and One. He was just a bit concerned that Dennis wouldn't actually trust him enough to let him do it.
As breakfast ended, Draco hurried to catch Harry, and fell into step with him as Harry left the Great Hall. "D'you want to have a snowball fight, Harry?" he asked.
Harry opened his mouth, and was clearly about to refuse when Professor Dumbledore's voice said, "Excellent idea, Draco. Make the most of this snow, you two. The exercise will help you work up an appetite for our splendid Christmas dinner."
This left Harry with no choice but to agree, although Draco could tell from his face he was far from keen on the idea. Never mind, Draco told himself, they had a whole week ahead of them. Potter was bound to think Draco was up to no good, but eventually he was confident he could convince him of his good intentions...it might just take a while...
"You know that horrible Muggle cousin you live with," Draco said, as they made their way down the snow-covered steps. "I've thought of an excellent Christmas present you could send him - have you ever heard of Toe-Squeezing Trainers?"
* * * * *
And so Draco Malfoy's character - and ultimately his fate - were altered for the better.
Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them (except when Crabbe and Goyle resorted to physical violence against him); for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset. And it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us!
And so, as Dennis Creevey (who DID learn to fly) squeaked,
God Bless Us, Every One!
THE END
*
^^
^^^^
^^^^^^
\_/
Author's Notes: Now back to "No Easy Goodbyes" - my sister is busy thinking of ways out of my plot difficulties for me, so hopefully I should be making progress again soon...I promise I will get Part 6 up a.s.a.p.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, here's a true story for my fellow R/H shippers:
The other day I was waiting for someone in St. Martin's Lane (which is the next street across from Charing Cross Road, where the Leaky Cauldron is supposed to be) in the middle of London, and I noticed a young man standing at a corner on the other side of the road. He was about 19 or 20, tall and lanky with red hair, and I noticed him because he looked *just* like my idea of an older Ron Weasley. He was obviously waiting for someone too because he kept looking at his watch. About two minutes later, a girl appeared, about a head shorter than him, quite pretty with curly brown hair, hugged and kissed him and they walked off hand in hand.
I swear it was Ron and Hermione on their way to Diagon Alley! :)