Title: A Disfunctional Family Christmas
Author: Ivory Tower
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the characters, not me.
Act II: Dinner
Harry, Ron, Draco and Hermione are in what appears to be a kitchen. Off-key Christmas carols are humming softly in the background. Hermione turns around and is holding a basket of rolls. Her smile is wide but obviously strained. Actually, she looks ready to hit someone, so the overall effect results in a deranged looking Hermione.
"I am so happy we are having a guest for our pre-holiday dinner," she exclaims in a somewhat forced voice. "Harry, how's the pie coming along?"
"Well..." Harry looks up from pouring the batter into the pie shell. "It shouldn't make that much of a difference that I forgot to bake the pie shell first...right?"
Draco throws a celery stalk at him. "Nice going, Potter. My arms are tired."
Ron looks incredulous. "That's only the second piece you've sliced!"
"Shut it, cousin Patty," warns Draco, brandishing the celery stalk as a weapon.
"Daddy, Malfoy's throwing food!" shouts Hermione, placing the rolls on the table that is too low.
Snape stalks into the kitchen, sways, and grabs a chair for support. He now has a bottle of Ogden's Fire Whiskey.
"Potter, why did you allow your brother to throw that? No dessert for you."
Harry slams down the whipped cream. "Wait just a darn-"
The doorbell rings.
"Cousin Patt-nephew-Weasl-YOU!" Snape thrusts a long, thin finger at Ron. "Answer the door."
As Ron scurries off, Hermione wipes her hands on her jeans and asks, "Daddy, shouldn't you check the turkey?"
"If it will shut that mouth of yours until next Christmas, I will gladly do so," growls Snape.
"Professor...are you drunk?" inquires Harry point-blank.
Snape ignores the last question, lights a cigarette, opens the oven, and pokes the turkey with a fork. Draco peers from behind Snape's back.
"It looks done."
"Thank you for that brilliant observation, Draco. Hand me the whiskey."
Once received, Snape proceeds to pour whiskey over the turkey. Draco jumps away as the turkey sizzles and pops.
Harry blinks. "Uh, professor-"
"I don't want to hear it, Potter. Take the turkey out and try not to do anything stupid like dropping it. Where in hell is your cousin Patty?"
"Maybe he was kidnapped, but then, who'd want a Weasley?"
"You're going down for that one, Malfoy!"
"Bring it on, Potter!"
Ron runs in and slides across the floor into Harry, who drops the steaming turkey right on Snape's foot. Snape screams. Snape then weaves such a tapestry of obscenities involving turkeys and the entire Potter clan that even Hagrid, seated in the audience and who has sworn aplenty in his lifetime, turns bright red and sinks low in his chair. For a reason that is never explained, Dumbledore is mysteriously absent during this part.
In the midst of all the swearing, none other than the illustrious Lucius Malfoy walks in and pushes Hermione aside with his splendid cane. He then joins the others, who are crowded around the fallen turkey. Every so often a faint groan is heard coming from Snape's direction.
"Well. Well. This must be the muggle way of eating roast turkey. I fear I will have to decline," states Lucius airily, removing his gloves.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione glare at him. Draco smirks.
"Potter dropped it. Old scarhead here can't even handle a cooked bird."
"You couldn't even chop a piece of celery, Malfoy!" retorts Hermione.
"Ack! The pumpkin pie!" Harry rushes to take the pie out, and transfers it to a plate without incident.
Lucius prods the turkey with his cane. "It's a rather small turkey, is it not? Ah, Severus, how are you?"
Snape looks psychotic. Lucius raises his sexy blond eyebrows and seats himself at the table that is too low. He frowns down at the basket of rolls.
"Let's see, we're having celery and pumpkin pie and ginger ale-oh, and the rolls. Father, are you all right?" asks Hermione.
"Whiskey," croaks Snape harshly. Ron obliges him with the bottle. Snape limps over to the table and sits with a pained expression while taking a liberal drink of whiskey. The others seat themselves.
Lucius picks up a piece of celery and studies it as though he's never seen one before. "Is there nothing to top this with?"
"I think there's some celery in the fridge," offers Ron.
Lucius gives Ron an odd look.
"I know! Let's all sing Christmas songs while I serve the pie," exclaims Hermione. "Where was I? Oh yes, Fro-sty the snow-man was a...I think I forgot how it goes," admits Hermione sheepishly.
Draco rolls his eyes. "You've got to be kidding me, Granger. Everyone knows that song. It goes-well-Frosty was a jolly, happy soul and...something."
Harry blinks. "Wasn't there a corn cob somewhere in the song?"
"Yeah. Frosty had a corn cob something," adds Ron helpfully.
"A corn cob up his ass!" snarls Snape, lighting a cigarette.
Lucius chokes on his celery. Hermione gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. Harry, Ron, and Draco are torn between shock and amusement.
"This pie tastes funny," remarks Ron.
Harry looks guilty. "I kinda forgot to pre-bake the pie shell. What? I didn't think it would make that much of a difference. I'm just a kid!"
"How many Gryffindors does it take to foul up dinner?" asks Malfoy in the manner of telling a joke. Lucius and Snape smirk with approval.
"I wouldn't be talking, Malfoy. You let the celery get the best of you," says Harry with a scowl.
"Yes, and it is still the best thing to eat at this deplorable excuse of a dinner. My ex-house elf ate better fare than this," Lucius informs them.
Hermione narrows her eyes at him. "Why are you here, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be in Azkaban?"
"I am partaking of an experimental community service project issued by the Ministry," explains Lucius, picking up a roll and inspecting it carefully. "However, I seem to have made a grave mistake as memory of this horrid event will undoubtedly haunt me forevermore upon my return. Really, there is not way this can possibly get any worse."
Again, the doorbell rings. The door swings open to reveal none other than Witch Weekly's previous nine time winner of the Most Charming Smile Award, Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Hello! Hello! Can everybody see me? I have an extraordinary announcement to make. In light of the Christmas holiday, I seem to have regained my memory. But wait-there's more!"
Lucius looks at the others. "Is this supposed to happen?"
Ron shrugs with an unhappy expression.
Snape lowers his greasy head into his hands. "Christmas has officially made it to the number two spot on my loathing list, beneath Potter!"
Lockhart grins and rushes over to the table. "I have presents for all: my newest book, entitled: 'Me, Myself, and I. Getting to Know Myself...Again'. Already climbing the charts and is sure to be a best seller by New Years Day! There are copies for everyone, already autographed in my very own designer ink!"
Hermione resembles a dental patient feeling the effects of a generous amount of happy gas as she receives her copy. The others don't even bother to hide their distaste.
"Well now," says Lockhart, grinning, pulling out a chair, and sitting beside and especially annoyed Harry. "how about-"
Snape suddenly screams like a man caught in a bear trap. He then clutches his foot and eyes Lockhart with murderous intent. Lockhart jumps to his feet.
"Do not be alarmed! This oftentimes happens to my fans-a sort of belated response to being in my presence," booms Lockhart.
"I think you touched his hurt foot," says an uneasy Ron.
"Yes. Potty dropped our dinner on it," grumbles Draco, slouching in his chair.
"Never fear! I shall heal that foot for you, my good man!" Lockhart produces his wand.
Snape is in too much pain to make threats so, he picks up what is left of the pumpkin pie and flings it at Lockhart. Everyone at the table applauds loudly, except for Hermione, who is busy gathering napkins to be of assistance.
Once Lockhart has pie cleared out of his eyes, he gives Hermione a funny look.
"Is it medication time already? They must have redecorated the dining room while I was asleep." Lockhart continues to ramble on aimlessly about medicine and, for whatever reason, lobster claws.
Hermione whirls around and glares at Snape.
"Look what you did! He's lost his memory and thinks he's at St. Mungos!"
"It's a Christmas miracle!" cries Harry.
"Hear! Hear!" shout the others, banging their fists on the table as "Hallelujia" blasts throughout the place.
End Act II
A/N: And for tomorrow, folks, the grand finale of this warped Christmas experience!
Author: Ivory Tower
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the characters, not me.
Act II: Dinner
Harry, Ron, Draco and Hermione are in what appears to be a kitchen. Off-key Christmas carols are humming softly in the background. Hermione turns around and is holding a basket of rolls. Her smile is wide but obviously strained. Actually, she looks ready to hit someone, so the overall effect results in a deranged looking Hermione.
"I am so happy we are having a guest for our pre-holiday dinner," she exclaims in a somewhat forced voice. "Harry, how's the pie coming along?"
"Well..." Harry looks up from pouring the batter into the pie shell. "It shouldn't make that much of a difference that I forgot to bake the pie shell first...right?"
Draco throws a celery stalk at him. "Nice going, Potter. My arms are tired."
Ron looks incredulous. "That's only the second piece you've sliced!"
"Shut it, cousin Patty," warns Draco, brandishing the celery stalk as a weapon.
"Daddy, Malfoy's throwing food!" shouts Hermione, placing the rolls on the table that is too low.
Snape stalks into the kitchen, sways, and grabs a chair for support. He now has a bottle of Ogden's Fire Whiskey.
"Potter, why did you allow your brother to throw that? No dessert for you."
Harry slams down the whipped cream. "Wait just a darn-"
The doorbell rings.
"Cousin Patt-nephew-Weasl-YOU!" Snape thrusts a long, thin finger at Ron. "Answer the door."
As Ron scurries off, Hermione wipes her hands on her jeans and asks, "Daddy, shouldn't you check the turkey?"
"If it will shut that mouth of yours until next Christmas, I will gladly do so," growls Snape.
"Professor...are you drunk?" inquires Harry point-blank.
Snape ignores the last question, lights a cigarette, opens the oven, and pokes the turkey with a fork. Draco peers from behind Snape's back.
"It looks done."
"Thank you for that brilliant observation, Draco. Hand me the whiskey."
Once received, Snape proceeds to pour whiskey over the turkey. Draco jumps away as the turkey sizzles and pops.
Harry blinks. "Uh, professor-"
"I don't want to hear it, Potter. Take the turkey out and try not to do anything stupid like dropping it. Where in hell is your cousin Patty?"
"Maybe he was kidnapped, but then, who'd want a Weasley?"
"You're going down for that one, Malfoy!"
"Bring it on, Potter!"
Ron runs in and slides across the floor into Harry, who drops the steaming turkey right on Snape's foot. Snape screams. Snape then weaves such a tapestry of obscenities involving turkeys and the entire Potter clan that even Hagrid, seated in the audience and who has sworn aplenty in his lifetime, turns bright red and sinks low in his chair. For a reason that is never explained, Dumbledore is mysteriously absent during this part.
In the midst of all the swearing, none other than the illustrious Lucius Malfoy walks in and pushes Hermione aside with his splendid cane. He then joins the others, who are crowded around the fallen turkey. Every so often a faint groan is heard coming from Snape's direction.
"Well. Well. This must be the muggle way of eating roast turkey. I fear I will have to decline," states Lucius airily, removing his gloves.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione glare at him. Draco smirks.
"Potter dropped it. Old scarhead here can't even handle a cooked bird."
"You couldn't even chop a piece of celery, Malfoy!" retorts Hermione.
"Ack! The pumpkin pie!" Harry rushes to take the pie out, and transfers it to a plate without incident.
Lucius prods the turkey with his cane. "It's a rather small turkey, is it not? Ah, Severus, how are you?"
Snape looks psychotic. Lucius raises his sexy blond eyebrows and seats himself at the table that is too low. He frowns down at the basket of rolls.
"Let's see, we're having celery and pumpkin pie and ginger ale-oh, and the rolls. Father, are you all right?" asks Hermione.
"Whiskey," croaks Snape harshly. Ron obliges him with the bottle. Snape limps over to the table and sits with a pained expression while taking a liberal drink of whiskey. The others seat themselves.
Lucius picks up a piece of celery and studies it as though he's never seen one before. "Is there nothing to top this with?"
"I think there's some celery in the fridge," offers Ron.
Lucius gives Ron an odd look.
"I know! Let's all sing Christmas songs while I serve the pie," exclaims Hermione. "Where was I? Oh yes, Fro-sty the snow-man was a...I think I forgot how it goes," admits Hermione sheepishly.
Draco rolls his eyes. "You've got to be kidding me, Granger. Everyone knows that song. It goes-well-Frosty was a jolly, happy soul and...something."
Harry blinks. "Wasn't there a corn cob somewhere in the song?"
"Yeah. Frosty had a corn cob something," adds Ron helpfully.
"A corn cob up his ass!" snarls Snape, lighting a cigarette.
Lucius chokes on his celery. Hermione gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. Harry, Ron, and Draco are torn between shock and amusement.
"This pie tastes funny," remarks Ron.
Harry looks guilty. "I kinda forgot to pre-bake the pie shell. What? I didn't think it would make that much of a difference. I'm just a kid!"
"How many Gryffindors does it take to foul up dinner?" asks Malfoy in the manner of telling a joke. Lucius and Snape smirk with approval.
"I wouldn't be talking, Malfoy. You let the celery get the best of you," says Harry with a scowl.
"Yes, and it is still the best thing to eat at this deplorable excuse of a dinner. My ex-house elf ate better fare than this," Lucius informs them.
Hermione narrows her eyes at him. "Why are you here, anyway? Aren't you supposed to be in Azkaban?"
"I am partaking of an experimental community service project issued by the Ministry," explains Lucius, picking up a roll and inspecting it carefully. "However, I seem to have made a grave mistake as memory of this horrid event will undoubtedly haunt me forevermore upon my return. Really, there is not way this can possibly get any worse."
Again, the doorbell rings. The door swings open to reveal none other than Witch Weekly's previous nine time winner of the Most Charming Smile Award, Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Hello! Hello! Can everybody see me? I have an extraordinary announcement to make. In light of the Christmas holiday, I seem to have regained my memory. But wait-there's more!"
Lucius looks at the others. "Is this supposed to happen?"
Ron shrugs with an unhappy expression.
Snape lowers his greasy head into his hands. "Christmas has officially made it to the number two spot on my loathing list, beneath Potter!"
Lockhart grins and rushes over to the table. "I have presents for all: my newest book, entitled: 'Me, Myself, and I. Getting to Know Myself...Again'. Already climbing the charts and is sure to be a best seller by New Years Day! There are copies for everyone, already autographed in my very own designer ink!"
Hermione resembles a dental patient feeling the effects of a generous amount of happy gas as she receives her copy. The others don't even bother to hide their distaste.
"Well now," says Lockhart, grinning, pulling out a chair, and sitting beside and especially annoyed Harry. "how about-"
Snape suddenly screams like a man caught in a bear trap. He then clutches his foot and eyes Lockhart with murderous intent. Lockhart jumps to his feet.
"Do not be alarmed! This oftentimes happens to my fans-a sort of belated response to being in my presence," booms Lockhart.
"I think you touched his hurt foot," says an uneasy Ron.
"Yes. Potty dropped our dinner on it," grumbles Draco, slouching in his chair.
"Never fear! I shall heal that foot for you, my good man!" Lockhart produces his wand.
Snape is in too much pain to make threats so, he picks up what is left of the pumpkin pie and flings it at Lockhart. Everyone at the table applauds loudly, except for Hermione, who is busy gathering napkins to be of assistance.
Once Lockhart has pie cleared out of his eyes, he gives Hermione a funny look.
"Is it medication time already? They must have redecorated the dining room while I was asleep." Lockhart continues to ramble on aimlessly about medicine and, for whatever reason, lobster claws.
Hermione whirls around and glares at Snape.
"Look what you did! He's lost his memory and thinks he's at St. Mungos!"
"It's a Christmas miracle!" cries Harry.
"Hear! Hear!" shout the others, banging their fists on the table as "Hallelujia" blasts throughout the place.
End Act II
A/N: And for tomorrow, folks, the grand finale of this warped Christmas experience!