Gingerbread house

Disclaimer: The characters are all borrowed. The plot's mine- JK Rowling couldn't write this terribly to save herself…

Authors note: GUESS what? All you people lamenting at my horribly slow updates can now breathe easy.  I've finished this fic! "HURRAH, but where is it? I only see the new chapter… " Well, I'm spacing it out a little, say every fortnight. Gives my fic a chance to slide down the list a bit, so I can jack it back up the top and expose new victims *ahem* readers to my abominable attempts at fic writing.

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Ron felt so stuffed he was sure he was the size of Harry's cousin, Dudley. Enthusiastic about all the glorious food on the table, he'd eaten FAR too much, trying almost everything. Although he'd given the caviar a miss… Even if he HADN'T know what it was, the sight of black, beady slimy looking stuff really didn't appeal to his stomach, and Ron was very in tune with his stomach's wants.

The biggest trouble he'd had was eating utensils. There were HEAPS of them. Back at home he'd only ever been given a knife, a fork, and when occasion demanded it, a spoon, albeit all different sizes and patterns. His mother had never really worried about the proprieties of cutlery, and so poor Ron had been left out to sea when faced with a battalion of different sized, shaped knives forks spoons and a weird shaped spatula thing that looked like the lovechild of an egg flip, a spork and some mad scientist's evil tool.*
However, his proximity to the evil Mr. Malfoy had given him an unexpected out. Careful study from the corner of his eye taught him the right order to eat his food, and all the weird little ceremonies he had to go through while eating.
Napkins, he had always thought, were scrunched up and thrown at your sister, or, in the case of messier foods, used at the end of the meal to scrub your face with. When his parents saved up occasionally to treat them with a trip to Madam Mina's Magical feast house, and his Mum bullied he and his brothers into a semblance of decency, was tucked into the front of your shirt to stop drips.
But Lucius Malfoy had other ideas. It was laid fastidiously on his lap.  Ron had followed suit, wondering what good it would do there.

The only food eaten with your fingers were oysters, and even then, only picked up with your hands, the help of a curiously miniature fork got the slimy little buggers from the shell to your gullet.
Ron discovered at that point, he didn't really LIKE oysters. In fact, it was all he could do not to choke as the slimy unpleasant creature slid its merry way down his throat to his desperately heaving stomach.

Everything else had gone down fine. Dessert had been a particular hit. But it always was with Ron. Creamy delicacies from all around the world vied with each other for both visual opulence and orgasmic taste. From humble cherry tarts to candied dates from the orient, Ron had practically inhaled them all.
 Then, to add to it- they had ANOTHER round bought out. Cheeses. Smooth creamy Brie to some peculiar cheese with bits of blue through it that Ron found to his horror, was mould. Looking around he discovered that it was either supposed to be there and was one of those bizarre delicacies like oysters, or they were all blind and suddenly developed a numb pallet.

The other addition to the meal that was totally foreign to Ron had been a great disappointment.  It seemed that the Malfoy's traditionally drank wine with their meals. Ron, having a mother who rather loudly protested the idea of any son under eighteen drinking anything stronger then butterbeer, had never let Ron NEAR wine. So rather predictably, he'd been rather keen on trying it.

However, the white wine brought out for the first course didn't live up to his expectations. Mrs. Malfoy had thought it was spectacular.  He had heard her saying just that to her husband, but all in all, Ron felt like it tasted rather like pickling juice for some long dead fruit.

The red, (apparently delightfully robust with a delightful oak tone, according to some nameless family member) had been, if possible, even worse. It tasted like they filled in the crack in muggle roads with it.  

The white that had accompanied the dessert hadn't been too bad. It was sweetish, which kind of helped kill the whole rotted fruit taste.**

Not to say the meal had been all new taste experiences and pleasant fullness. During the main course, something had happened to shake even Ron's iron stomach.

A servant had come in, bearing a note on a silver tray as the chef wait staff had set up the table. Ron had chosen a nice fish cutlet, and was digging in, attention half focused curiously on the note.

Lucius had neatly laid down his eating implements and taken the note, reading it with an upraised eyebrow.
"What is it, Lucius?" Narcissa asked, after carefully finishing her mouthful. Ron noted neither ever seemed to use affectionate terms like 'dear' 'love' or anything else his parents habitually called each other. Maybe it was another one of those weird posh people things.

He was frowning slightly "An accidental magical reversal crew has summoned Draco and myself to the Ministry… apparently by the request of Arthur Weasly…"

At that point Ron choked on his mouthful, Dad must know! He thought joyously, trying not to die in the process.
Lucius Malfoy slammed him rather forcefully on the back. Aside the stinging pain, Ron had to admit he was somewhat grateful- he hadn't been having much luck getting that little bit of fish out of his windpipe alone.

He faced the table's silent curious stares.
"Fishbone." He lied weakly, feeling rather flushed.
He hadn't really expected what happened next. Lucius turned a cold eye on the now cringing cook.

"Fishbone?" He repeated an edge to his voice. The cook retreated even further. "Was the meal, prepared incorrectly?" The silence was deafening, and Ron began to feel a little apprehensive.
"Master Malfoy… I..I checked it all thoroughly! There shouldn't've been…"
"Shouldn't but was." Malfoy cut in imperiously. His look grew dangerous. "Unless you're calling my son a liar…?"

The cook's expression grew frantic and he shook his head furiously.

Without so much as a change in expression, Lucius detached his wand from his cane and leveled it at the now terrified cook.
"Crucio." He said simply.

Ron almost felt his jaw hit the floor in horror as the cook writhed around shrieking. Guilt tore at him… it had been his lie. But how was HE to know? But no matter how he denied knowledge, the burning fact that HIS lie had done this bored into him.

After a few seconds that seemed to last a year each, Lucius cut the spell off. The cook staggered to his feet, terror in his eyes.
"It won't happen again, Master Malfoy…" The cook promised, cringing from the room.

"What do you plan to do abut the summons, Lucius?" Narcissa asked, apparently oblivious or numb to her husband's cruel brutality. Lucius flicked out the note as if nothing had happened.
"I'm not going to spoil Christmas dinner by running off now- particularly in the view it's on that disgusting muggle loving Weasly's promptings." He said with a disdainful sneer. If Ron hadn't been so shocked over the casual use of an illegal curse in domestic punishment, he'd have protested, despite his current form.

"But a summons…" Narcissa continued.
"I know. After lunch we'll go- though I am tempted…" He left it hanging. His wife gave him a stern look. "IF, Narcissa I knew what it was about. However, I do not, so we shall go."

Now, dinner had well and truly past and Ron sat there with that bloated, lazy feeling of too much good food. He had deliberately put the punishment of the cook out of his mind,
"Draco." Lucius said sharply, getting to his feet. It took Ron about half a second to remember he was talking to him. Luckily, Lucius' back had been turned so he didn't see the slight delay.
"Yes father?" He replied, a little warily.
"Come. We'll clear up this Weasly matter before we adjourn to the sitting room for gifts." He was already heading out the door. Ron hauled himself to his feet, eagerly, wanting rather desperately to escape this evil place.
They crossed several rooms, each more creepily opulent then the last. Snakes seemed to be in evidence rather often, forming possibly the basis for just about every piece of decoration. Black seemed to be the favoured colour but there were hints of green now and then and silky greys.
Finally, they reached what Ron could only surmise to be the sitting room, seeing a huge heap of presents were piled underneath a tree that seemed to be dredged from a nightmare. It was huge, and smelled resinous. The decorations were all neat and precisely placed, like something from a gift shop display made by some evil madman. The decorations were, predictably, silver snakes with glowing eyes curled around the branches, red, drip shaped glass hangers made the branches look like they were weeping blood, and black candles gave out an almost sinister light from the branches. An angel sat atop the tree, but not like any angel Ron had ever seen. She stared down evilly, her robe black as her wings and a scythe in her tiny hand. She smiled wickedly when she saw Ron.
Even the silvery tinsel seemed muted and evil in some way,
Lucius took a pot of floo powder down from the mantle. The pot, like everything in the house, was sleek and black, with the outline of a silver serpent twisted around it.

He took a handful and basically shoved the pot into Ron's hand. A muffled hiss came from where the snake's head design on the pot was pressed against his shirt. Ron almost dropped the pot in surprise, holding it out at arm's length.
Lucius tossed the powder into the flames with a negligent flip and stepped into them.
"Ministry of magic" he said curtly, vanishing into the green flames.
Ron hesitated, looking around. The pot hissed at him again, and hurriedly, he grabbed a handful, tossed them in the flames and stepped into the fireplace, putting the pot on the floor as he went.
"Ministry of magic!" He said hurriedly, relief washing over him as the creepy, foul, nightmarish Malfoy mansion vanished from sight.

Oooh! Almost there! I can tell you now that there will be two more chapters after this and a short epilogue. The epilogue is just an anecdote, so it'll be added on with the last chapter.

*A fish knife. Those things are freaky looking bastards.
** I actually like wine myself, so don't go sending me protests about how tasty it is and how dare I write such things. I'm writing from the point of view of an adolescent's first taste of the stuff, and VERY few people I know, myself included, liked wine their first try of it. You only tend to taste the bad things. When you get over the shock of that, it tastes better, but I'm not here to write a convoluted description of how pallets change as we grow older.