It was Christmas morning! Not that Christmas, as the muggles celebrated it, meant anything. However, as a politician, Lucius always said, Christ was a master. Thousands of people worshiping him, the overthrow of entire nations, governments, religions. That, alone, certainly deserved remembering. That the man wound up nailed to a cross by his followers--
Well one could expect only so much from a Muggle.
The chance to show off the opulent house, and to both receive gifts and give them was a pleasant side benefit, at the very least. There was no better way to show just how much money and power one had, while making the recipient feel indebted, tying them to you, than with expensive gifts and favors.
Ten year old Draco bounded down the stairs and into the massive front parlor. He was still clad in the black satin pajamas, that were the perfect replicas of his father's. He looked at the packages and lights, just a bit wide eyed, until he saw Lucius. His face struggled to compose itself into the cool mask his father seemed to wear so effortlessly.
"Father," Draco said, voice annoyingly imperfect. He tried not to look at the two very large packages on either side of the 12 foot tall, beautifully lit tree. He tried to pretend not to be excited. He knew his father just might not give in and show him what he'd gotten if he cared too much. It wouldn't be proper.
Lucius all but rolled his eyes at his young son, but of course didn't. "Draco," He began seriously, "I believe that as you approach your time at Hogwarts, the time for you to gain some of the responsibility and luxuries that come with your status."
Draco could not have been more confused by this lecture, and he showed it. His pink cheeks flushed just a bit further and he tried to keep from shifting on the cold floors. Damn, he should have remembered his slippers. Lucius certainly had. "Yes, sir," he replied uncertainly.
"Good. Then season's greetings," Lucius said, clearly satisfied. With a casual flip of Lucius' wand the wrapping fell away from the two largest gifts, revealing Crabbe and Goyle, Jrs. Both were blinking stupidly. One of them had a muffin in his hand, raised to his mouth. Draco couldn't tell them apart.
"In the spirit of the season, and your coming of age, it seems appropriate. Use your goons well." May they never nail you to a cross.