Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and
owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is
intended.

A/N: Ummm. Don't judge!! (But please review me!!) Anyway, enjoy!

Jingle all the way

Draco

One week left of the closest thing I have to freedom. Here my father can't watch over me. He can tell me what to do, but he can't stop me doing other things.

Home is a different matter. It seems I'm the only person who dreads Christmas, where I'm called home to do my "duties".

I'll play the part of the "charming heir" as always. I'll smile politely and talk cicvilly while they have their traditional welcome home party.

Apparently nothing says "welcome home" quite like having dinner with a group of middle-aged witches and wizards.

Have I mentioned lately I hate my life? ~*~*~

So. What now?

It was the weekend, so there was nowhere for him to be late to. So far his choices seemed to be A) Go outside and walking in the sunshiny day while morons flung dirty snow at each other while he froze because even though the sun was out, it didn't seem to be doing it's job, as the temperature outside was -3 degrees (Celsius). That sounded *fun*.

B) Stand around the library studying arithmancy for hours on end to suddenly find out he had done everything wrong, and just spent the last 6 hours making himself *stupider*. But he had done that last week. Or

C) Stand here for the next 8 hours wondering what the hell to do.

D) Commit suicide and leave a bloody corpse lying in the bathroom. That sounded fun.

But of course he couldn't commit suicide. His father didn't want him to, and he did as his father said. Cold simple logic.

"I hate logic!" the angry words muttered from his mouth, echoing down the corridor. But no one heard. Unlike him they had better things to do than stand in the corridors talking to themselves.

Draco envied them. Everyone else. He was supposedly the "coolest" person in the school. Yet *he* was the one left behind.

Even Crabbe and Goyle had something better to do. Breakfast.

But Draco was off food. He wasn't starving himself or anything, he just. wasn't in the mood to stuff his face. *Who knew there was an eating mood* he wondered, trailing his steps back to his room.

Finally deciding to go back to bed and lose himself in oblivion he pushed through a wall tapestry, up stairs, down stairs, corridors, towers.

And then he was there. A large portrait, of the first ever head and boy. It seemed pretty obvious that it was the entrance to their chambers, but whatever.

Anyone who would've wanted to come in had the password. Head boys, girls, teachers, prefects and all their lovers knew the way here, and how to get in.

Who else would want to come there?

His feet dragged along the floor as he slowly climbed the spiral staircase to his room. As a prefect he got his own room. As a Malfoy he got the biggest room.

There were two prefects from each house, a boy and a girl. And to his ultimate disgust, he was in a room next to *Pansy Parkinson*.

Of course. She was the daughter of an *old friend* of his father, and.

Arranged marriages were popular among Slytherins. And so Draco would surely be married off to one of his fathers "friends" daughters. And it would be a living fucking hell.

But now was bad enough without thinking of then. His future was his father's choice. Everything was.

I don't even know who I am anymore. * his mind thought as he lay on the silk sheets on his bed. * I'm just another little bit of him.*

And into oblivion he wandered.

Through the Looking Glass

Abby

~*~*~

Abby's head swirled in memory as she slept. The murder. The betrayal. Her mother.

Every night she made a potion for dreamless sleep. To let her forget. But it was edged in too deep. It was one of those things you just know.

Those are the things that make your life.

Abby's life was made on her mother's death. They did not just kill her. They raped and murdered and defiled her mother's body. They would pay.

She had only been three years old and she saw it all. In truth the only reason her mother had truly died was because of their defilement of her body.

Her mother had been a nightwalker. Nosferatu The vampire. Her father was mortal. Abby was some unknown creature in between.

They had attacked her mother's body with all they could find. Some had knives, wands. And others simply broke of a branch. Her mother was stabbed in the heart with one.

And so she died. And so would they.

The potion couldn't block this out.

Nothing ever could.