A/N: First off, a very Merry Christmas to all of you! I wrote this last Christmas in a fit of good spirits (you'll notice it's not my usual angst-ridden style), but was unable to get it up in time for the holiday. It's had a bit of a makeover since then, but Happy Christmas all the same! I hope you enjoy your present. Here it is! :-) I'm not quite as fond of it as I once was, but, ah well. So:
Meet me under the mistletoe, midnight Christmas Eve.
Your sweet kiss is the first gift I'd like to receive...
Yours forever, Tsona
Draco Malfoy trudged up the drive to the house, his calves already half sunk in the heavily falling snow. It was Christmas Eve and the sky was dark with storm cloud; neither moon nor stars were visible tonight.
He gained the relative shelter of the porch and his numb fingers fumbled over the lock, which Alana was always careful to secure before retiring to bed. Work had kept him late. Nutters enchanting sleighs to fly, calls from all over the country claiming they had distinctly heard the jingle of bells, a jolly ho-ho-hoing, or the clatter of minute hooves of their roofs....
All was dark and still inside the house. The only illumination came from the string of lights wound about the Christmas tree and the dying embers of the fire in the grate.
Draco quickly removed his cloak and boots, leaving them by the front door to dry, and scuttled into the living room. He had to skirt around the spruce as he made his way through to the couch. He paused, grey eyes skimming over the form splayed there. Alana had fallen asleep waiting for him. His gaze swerved round to the clock hanging beside the mantle. The lights on the tree provided just enough light to see the face.
Smiling slightly to himself, Draco bent over and gently kissed his wife's cheek.
Alana stirred and looked sleepily up at him. She pushed herself upright, muttering with a whine, "You promised you'd be home in time for Christmas, Draco!"
"And a warm 'hello' to you, too," Draco said with a smile. "Besides--" he pointed to the clock on the wall "--I am."
Even as he said it, the minute hand moved with a loud tick and the clock tolled once, twice, twelve times in all-- midnight Christmas Eve.
"Happy Christmas!" he whispered happily.
Alana laughed, "Happy Christmas, Draco."
"I am sorry I'm late," Draco said, sitting down beside her and pulling her up against him. "You know how it is."
"Of course I do," Alana assured him, curling up into his embrace. "You're an Auror, you can't help it when things go wrong. These things happen. No," she sighed, "it's Emrys I'm worried about."
"Emrys?" Draco yelped. "What? Why?"
"I don't think he really understands why you can't always be here for him," Alana answered sadly. "I'm not sure he realizes just how important your job is. He didn't live through the war like we did."
"He's old enough," Draco protested. "He's not a child anymore, Alana."
"No, Draco," Alana said firmly, "he is a child. You just grew up too quickly. Anyway," she sighed, "I really think you ought to go wake him up. He really wanted Daddy to tuck him in tonight," she explained with a faint smile.
"Yeah," Draco muttered, "all right."
Alana lightly kissed his cheek and whispered, "I'll wait for you in bed, Draco." She stood and crossed to the foot of the stairs.
"'Night," Draco called after her.
She turned and gave him a warm smile before disappearing up the steps.
Draco sighed and leaned heavily back against the couch. Looking around, he thought he really didn't have much to apologize for. The quaint cottage felt far more like a home than the manor of his childhood ever had. On the mantle, slightly obscured by the festive decorations (Alana had lain out garlands of pine with holly branches woven in, and covered the lot with what she liked to call 'snow,' but which was really pillow stuffing), were arranged a neat row of framed photographs of the family, each capturing its own happy memory. Draco had to struggle to recall a single happy moment from his own childhood. Presents were already stacked beneath the glittering spruce. Alana kept insisting, "Christmas is the season of giving, not getting," and had spent a good many days hunting down the perfect gift for each of their friends. There had never been presents beneath the towering pine at Malfoy Manor, only empty boxes in brightly colored wrapping paper. His father had always believed in presenting a good impression, even if he hadn't believed in much else. It had been he who had first told Draco that Father Christmas was just "a trick used by faint-hearted parents to get their unruly children to behave properly." Draco supposed this cynical statement must have been right, for the jolly old elf had never paid him any mind.
Yes, Emrys didn't know just how well off he was.
On the coffee table before Draco lay a platter of oatmeal cookies and carrot sticks, a brimming glass of milk beside it. Tucked beneath the plate was a note, which Draco, leaning forward, read by the glow of the Christmas lights:
Dear Santa,
I left you some milk and some cookies Mum made so you won't get hungry. The carrots are for your reindeer, though I suppose you could snack on them too. I hope you've had a good year.
Love, Emrys Malfoy
Draco frowned. Em would be really upset if he came down tomorrow morning to find Santa Claus had bypassed the treats. He'd have to eat them himself before retiring. Maybe he'd even leave a letter in Kris Kringle's name, just to make it convincing. The stockings, hanging expectantly above the fireplace, also remained empty. Draco would fill them, there was bound to be something lying about the house he could use. Or a twenty-four-hour Muggle convenience store he could Apparate to.
Seeing how much work there was still left to be done, Draco sighed once more and stood. He would go and see Emrys before it got too late, then he would see about impersonating Old Saint Nick.
He was halfway up the dark staircase when, from above his head, he heard a dulled thump. He froze and his gaze meandered upward. Had it really come from the roof? Hearing the crunch of feet in the snow, Draco tried to tell himself he must be dreaming, that he had drifted off to sleep, but this seemed unlikely and the paranoia of the war had never really left him. Fear making him feel more alert than ever, Draco pelted back downstairs.
Standing at the stairs' foot and looking out, he saw by the Christmas lights, much to his amazement, a man standing on the hearthstones, just brushing the soot and ash from his red, fur-trimmed suit. He was a round fellow, with thick hair and a beard as snowy white as Dumbledore's, though not nearly as long. His eyes were a bright, twinkling blue, and beside him sat a large and lumpy sack.
Looking up from his pursuit then, the man spotted Draco. He smiled encouragingly and pressed a silent, leather-gloved finger to his bright lips. He then bent down and began pulling presents from the sack near his booted feet.
Draco was too stunned to speak.
Having filled the stockings modestly enough, the man moved forward toward the fir and Draco felt someone touch his arm. Alana had come up beside him and was watching the red-clad man happily, her eyes dancing in the light of the tree.
Detaching her gaze, Alana turned to Draco, beaming. "Look," she whispered and pointed.
Obediently, Draco turned. The man in the red suit was coming toward them now, a colorfully wrapped box in his gloved hands. He held it out to Draco with a rosy-cheeked grin.
Draco merely stared at him, dumbstruck, and muttered wildly, "No. There must be some mistake--"
"No, Draco, no mistake," the man replied, his blue eyes glowing. "This gift's for you."
"But--"
"Take it."
Draco did as he was bidden, staring at the gift in wonder.
"Go on," the man pressed. "Open it."
Draco prised the lid off with trembling fingers. He gawked at the gift he found concealed there. "A teddy bear!" he choked in amazement. "My own teddy bear!" He pulled the animal free of its packaging and gaze it a little squeeze. It felt just like he'd always imagined: soft and warm and comforting in his embrace. He turned back to toy maker and, face shining with glee, whispered, "I always-- but Dad wouldn't-- and Dobby couldn't-- Thanks, Santa!"
Both Claus and Alana laughed. The jolly saint patted him genially on the head, still ho-ho-hoing. "You're very welcome, Draco," he beamed. "Now-- you two run off to bed, I've still got work to do tonight. Oh! and do me a favor, won't you? Don't mention this to Emrys. People need to believe with the heart, not the eyes."
They both nodded, grinning broadly, and turned to go. As he mounted the steps, Draco distinctly saw Santa heading for the snacks.
---
Draco was lying in the dark, staring up at the ceiling, clutching the stuffed bear to his chest. He and Alana had long since heard the clatter of minute hooves that meant the sleigh, with Saint Nick in it, had departed.
"But how can there be a Father Christmas?" he mused aloud. "How is it that one man can travel the world, stopping at each house, in one night? And in a sleigh?"
"He can slow down time if it pleases him," Alana answered sleepily. "Or he uses a Time-Turner."
"But how does he make the reindeer fly?" Draco persisted, rolling over to look round at her.
"I don't know. We make broomsticks fly. Or maybe it's something he feeds them."
"But--" Draco went on undeterred. "How does he get down the chimneys and get all those toys made in just one year and know who's naughty and nice and--"
"For heaven's sake, Draco! Are you a wizard or aren't you? Don't you even recognize magic when you see it?" she laaughed. "Now, go to sleep."
Draco rolled back over, sensing Alana had had enough of the subject. He sighed and, before obeying her order, placed the teddy bear on the bedside table in a place of honor.
---
"Wake up, wake up, it's Christmas!"
Emrys leapt up on the bed, still shouting joyously, his platnium hair flopping over shining, blue eyes. His grin stretched his rosy cheeks.
Alana groaned, opening a bleary eye onto the bright, early-morning sun. It had stopped snowing in the night and the sunlight made the world a glistening, white wonderland. "Em," she muttered, "it's five A.M. What are you doing up?"
"But... it's Christmas," Emrys repeated, looking slightly hurt.
Draco sat up, pushing the hair back out of his eyes. "He's right, love. Where's your Christmas spirit?"
Emrys grabbed Draco's hand and dragged him out of bed. "Come on, Daddy! Let's go see if Santa came!" Emrys cried excitedly, leaping off the bed and bounding down the stairs, Draco being pulled along behind.
By the time Alana joined Draco at the foot of the stairs, whence he had avidly beheld Father Christmas the previous night, Emrys was hovering beside the empty glass and platter.
"Look, look!" Emrys cried with glee. "He did come, I knew he would! And he's left a note, too!"
He plucked the note from the beneath the plate and read it out, if only a little haltingly:
Dear Emrys,
Thanks you for the snacks. The team'll be thrilled. You've been a very good boy this year. Keep up the good work.
Your friend, Kris Kringle
P.S.-- I've left your parents a little something, too.
Emrys frowned as he looked up from the letter and began to search the room. When he looked toward them, howver, his gaze meandered upward and a smile crept across his lips.
Draco, following his son's gaze, spotted the gift as well. Hanging innocently just above their heads was a sprig of mistletoe. He nudged Alana and drew her attention to the plant.
They smiled knowingly at each other.
---
And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless us, every one. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a joyous New Year! And remember: the best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear. Happy Christmas to all and to all a goodnight!
---
"Meet me under the mistletoe ... I'd like to receive..."-- lyrics from "Meet Me Under the Mistletoe" by Randy Travis
"Wake up, wake up, it's Christmas!"-- Eloise in the movie Eloise at Christmastime.
"And so ... every one."-- of course, the parting words of the time-honored classic by Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol.
"The best way ... for all to hear."-- from the 2003 holiday movie Elf. It was truly adorable and if you haven't seen it, rent it.
"Happy Christmas ... a goodnight!"-- if you don't know this... The parting words of Santa in Clement Clarke Moore's 'Twas the Night Before Christmas.
A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave me a review. And Happy Holidays!
For those interested, this is the latest in the timeline I've made with Draco. The others include (chronologically) Death Eaters Don't Cry, Tapestries Tear, And Then There Were Nine, A Malfoy Family Secret, and Holly and the Ivy (the last two are also Christmas fics). Happy reading!
Yours forever, Tsona