The Twelve Days of Christmas
Woohoo, look what Aimée can do! Two chapters in less than an hour - go me. Granted, this one's not too long, but it's good enough... Draco's one of my favourite characters, so he gets a full chapter devoted to him and his sarcasim. Hell, it's worth a read. :o) Trust me on that.
Aimée
Malfoy woke up to a similar situation as Harry had that morning; Presents were piled in the middle of the common room he shared with Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott. The other three had always awoken and grabbed theirs, leaving Malfoy's sitting on his bed.
He reached over and grabbed it, feeling like light package squish beneath his fingers as he tore into the paper. There was no card; he had yet to receive one.
A large stuffed snake fell out of the wrapping paper, making Malfoy jump about four inches off of the bed. As soon as he realized it was fake, he let out a loud, hollow laugh, picking the animal up gingerly and feeling the velvet beneath his fingers. His Saint was obviously basing his presents off of the Slytherin House and his name, seeing as how he had gotten him only animal things so far – those animals being a dragon and a snake.
That, he decided, suggested his partner wasn't from Slytherin house; all of his classmates knew what he liked – large, expensive things that often came 'Property of D. L. Malfoy' inscribed in it. Not being from Slytherin meant…
Gryffindor.
He had known all along, of course. He found the situation humorous, if not downright hilarious. The one person he was supposed to hate, getting him presents for Christmas. The irony was far too good to pass up.
Harry Potter was emptying his pocketbook - for him! When his friends found out, he knew they'd make fun of him – only until he shot them a glare and they realized it was either keep quiet or die.
Malfoy wasn't positive, but he had a good feeling Harry had picked his name. It was the sort of feeling where you knew it was true, but refused to admit it. His great-great-Aunt Celine on his Father's side had been a Seer, and Malfoy was often convinced he had inherited some portion of her gift.
Either that or he was just good at guessing.
He picked at a piece of tape that had attached itself to his bedspread, making it's presence known each time Draco moved his left elbow. He was still half-asleep, and he didn't have the will to make himself get out of bed and go down to breakfast.
It was Saturday; there were no classes for the next two weeks, so he would be able to stay up as last as he wished, and also get up as late as he pleased. It was a vicious cycle during the normal school year; he's stay up until at least two AM, either drawing, writing, or doing homework, and then he'd have to wake up at the crack of dawn in order to make it to all of his classes.
He knew he should just simply go to bed earlier, but it was no use; his biological clock was set on late night, early morning for at least five days a week.
Malfoy hated it.
He wasn't too fond of Christmas as well; he despised the idea of having to give and expect nothing in return. He wasn't greedy, he just believed people should get what they deserve; in order to deserve something from him, they should give back an equal amount.
After all, it was only fair.
He was a Malfoy; Malfoys weren't supposed to be giving, except when it came to charities and such. Lucius Malfoy kept up the Perfect Family Imagine; a loving father, a wonderful, beautiful mother, and a perfect heir and child. The fact his father was a Death Eater would never be known to the public, as long as Lucius got his way.
It wasn't that Draco's life was bad; oh, no, quite the opposite indeed. His father was often harsh on him, yes, but he never did try in school anyway. He supposed he deserved the long lectures and bits of humiliation his father served him; it was how Lucius was raised, and look how he turned out. Respected – or was that frightened? – by his peers, he was a well-known name and face in the Wizarding World.
The Malfoys weren't into arranged marriages, either, Draco sighed with relief. An often misconception with the Slytherin House was that they were all betrothed the moment their parents found out if they were a boy or a girl, which wasn't true at all.
Yes, Draco thought. They usually wait until we can at least open our eyes to make sure our features won't clash too greatly.
He chuckled lightly; it wasn't like that at all. His father was all for Draco finding a nice girl to settle down with – girls that were willing to give themselves up were of no use, he was often told. They would run off and share a bed with any man they could get their hands on. This, of course, eliminated Pansy right away.
Draco was incredibly thankful for that.
This was the one Christmas he was looking forward to; all of the others had been almost routine. Open presents Christmas morning, after Christmas breakfast of course. The extended family would visit, giving Draco a headache from the moment the first one walked in the door until at least three days after the event was over.
This year would be different; although the gifts had little research and thought, his Saint at least knew enough to figure out his name had meant dragon and snake. The fact another student cared enough to spend a few good Galleons on him made Draco feel content; perhaps the whole school didn't hate him after all?
That was wishful thinking, he laughed bitterly. He would always be loathed by the rest of the Houses, yet he didn't have any problems with it. He truly didn't care; it wasn't his mission in life to be loved by everyone, as Harry's obviously was.
Harry Potter, the boy he was always told he had to hate. Never make it too obvious though, he thought. Malfoys are supposed to be happy the Dark Lord has fallen – never allow anyone else to find out any differently.
Saint Harry…
It had a nice ring to it.
Woohoo, look what Aimée can do! Two chapters in less than an hour - go me. Granted, this one's not too long, but it's good enough... Draco's one of my favourite characters, so he gets a full chapter devoted to him and his sarcasim. Hell, it's worth a read. :o) Trust me on that.
Aimée
Malfoy woke up to a similar situation as Harry had that morning; Presents were piled in the middle of the common room he shared with Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott. The other three had always awoken and grabbed theirs, leaving Malfoy's sitting on his bed.
He reached over and grabbed it, feeling like light package squish beneath his fingers as he tore into the paper. There was no card; he had yet to receive one.
A large stuffed snake fell out of the wrapping paper, making Malfoy jump about four inches off of the bed. As soon as he realized it was fake, he let out a loud, hollow laugh, picking the animal up gingerly and feeling the velvet beneath his fingers. His Saint was obviously basing his presents off of the Slytherin House and his name, seeing as how he had gotten him only animal things so far – those animals being a dragon and a snake.
That, he decided, suggested his partner wasn't from Slytherin house; all of his classmates knew what he liked – large, expensive things that often came 'Property of D. L. Malfoy' inscribed in it. Not being from Slytherin meant…
Gryffindor.
He had known all along, of course. He found the situation humorous, if not downright hilarious. The one person he was supposed to hate, getting him presents for Christmas. The irony was far too good to pass up.
Harry Potter was emptying his pocketbook - for him! When his friends found out, he knew they'd make fun of him – only until he shot them a glare and they realized it was either keep quiet or die.
Malfoy wasn't positive, but he had a good feeling Harry had picked his name. It was the sort of feeling where you knew it was true, but refused to admit it. His great-great-Aunt Celine on his Father's side had been a Seer, and Malfoy was often convinced he had inherited some portion of her gift.
Either that or he was just good at guessing.
He picked at a piece of tape that had attached itself to his bedspread, making it's presence known each time Draco moved his left elbow. He was still half-asleep, and he didn't have the will to make himself get out of bed and go down to breakfast.
It was Saturday; there were no classes for the next two weeks, so he would be able to stay up as last as he wished, and also get up as late as he pleased. It was a vicious cycle during the normal school year; he's stay up until at least two AM, either drawing, writing, or doing homework, and then he'd have to wake up at the crack of dawn in order to make it to all of his classes.
He knew he should just simply go to bed earlier, but it was no use; his biological clock was set on late night, early morning for at least five days a week.
Malfoy hated it.
He wasn't too fond of Christmas as well; he despised the idea of having to give and expect nothing in return. He wasn't greedy, he just believed people should get what they deserve; in order to deserve something from him, they should give back an equal amount.
After all, it was only fair.
He was a Malfoy; Malfoys weren't supposed to be giving, except when it came to charities and such. Lucius Malfoy kept up the Perfect Family Imagine; a loving father, a wonderful, beautiful mother, and a perfect heir and child. The fact his father was a Death Eater would never be known to the public, as long as Lucius got his way.
It wasn't that Draco's life was bad; oh, no, quite the opposite indeed. His father was often harsh on him, yes, but he never did try in school anyway. He supposed he deserved the long lectures and bits of humiliation his father served him; it was how Lucius was raised, and look how he turned out. Respected – or was that frightened? – by his peers, he was a well-known name and face in the Wizarding World.
The Malfoys weren't into arranged marriages, either, Draco sighed with relief. An often misconception with the Slytherin House was that they were all betrothed the moment their parents found out if they were a boy or a girl, which wasn't true at all.
Yes, Draco thought. They usually wait until we can at least open our eyes to make sure our features won't clash too greatly.
He chuckled lightly; it wasn't like that at all. His father was all for Draco finding a nice girl to settle down with – girls that were willing to give themselves up were of no use, he was often told. They would run off and share a bed with any man they could get their hands on. This, of course, eliminated Pansy right away.
Draco was incredibly thankful for that.
This was the one Christmas he was looking forward to; all of the others had been almost routine. Open presents Christmas morning, after Christmas breakfast of course. The extended family would visit, giving Draco a headache from the moment the first one walked in the door until at least three days after the event was over.
This year would be different; although the gifts had little research and thought, his Saint at least knew enough to figure out his name had meant dragon and snake. The fact another student cared enough to spend a few good Galleons on him made Draco feel content; perhaps the whole school didn't hate him after all?
That was wishful thinking, he laughed bitterly. He would always be loathed by the rest of the Houses, yet he didn't have any problems with it. He truly didn't care; it wasn't his mission in life to be loved by everyone, as Harry's obviously was.
Harry Potter, the boy he was always told he had to hate. Never make it too obvious though, he thought. Malfoys are supposed to be happy the Dark Lord has fallen – never allow anyone else to find out any differently.
Saint Harry…
It had a nice ring to it.
