Okay, so I realized I forgot to put this in the first chapter, this should be a little bit more helpful!

Ebenezer Scrooge - Draco Malfoy

Bob Cratchit - Ronald Weasley (Who is older then Draco in this fic)

Mrs. Cratchit - Hermione Granger/Weasley

Belle, Ebenezer's old girlfriend - Ginny Weasley

Ginny's boyfriend - Harry Potter

Jacob Marley - Blaise Zabini

Narrator a.k.a Charles Dickens - George Weasley

Narrator's friend - Fred Weasley

Ghost of Christmas Past - Dumbledore

Ghost of Christmas Present - Hagrid

Ghost of Christmas yet to come - hee hee hee! :o)

Old School Master - Dumbledore (Don't worry, it'll all work out! :o)

Mr. Fezziwig - Snape

Mrs. Fezziwig - McGonagall (just think of her as younger)

Fan, Ebenezer's sister - Fan

New Character - Draco's Brother-in-law, wife of Fan - Jack

Young Nephew Fred, son of Jack and Fan - Fred

Author's Note: Okay, so this one, is just a chapter needed for the next chapter, I swear, when Ghost of Christmas Past comes along, that's when I start my own plot up! This one is just funny and fun, I guess. Enjoy!! :o)

Took a direct quote, I think it is, from "A Mickey's Christmas Carol," Like the one from 1986. Let's see if anyone can find it!! :o)

Thanks Becky for everything!!!!

Remember I don't own anything!

~*~HP~*~S&G~*~D/G~*~HP~*~S&G~*~D/G~*~HP~*~S&G~*~D/G~*~HP~*~S&G~*~D/G~*~

The two followed Draco to his counting house and George continued with his narration. "He was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Malfoy! A squeezing, wrenching," he said trying to emphasize his point by changing his voice, "grasping..."

"Uh, Charlie?" interrupted Fred.

"...Scraping, clutching..." George ignored his brother and continued.

"Stop it!" Fred hissed.

"...Greedy, sinner! Hard and..." he stopped as someone tapped him on the shoulder.

He turned around and saw Draco right behind him. Draco leaned a little closer and said, "If you're going to be talking about me, best not be doing it within hearing range!" He turned and walked into his building.

George whacked his brother upside the head and said, "Why didn't you tell me that he was standing right behind me?"

Fred rubbed his head when he said, "I tried, bro, but you wouldn't listen."

They walked to the window and looked in.

"Why can't we go inside? It's probably warmer!" Fred said.

"Believe me mate, it's not," said George.

Draco walked into his counting house, removed his cloak and hat, and hung them near his desk.

Ronald Weasley, his clerk, who was about five years older than him with a wife and five children, was already sitting at his desk doing his work. He only looked up to see who came through the door and nodded his head slightly to acknowledge his boss.

"So, Mr. Weasley," Draco spoke with a clear deep voice, "tell me. Are the rumors true?"

Ron looked up from his paperwork and asked, "Uh... rumors sir? What rumors would these be?"

"The ones about Potter finally proposing to your sister," he said, warming his hands by the small furnace.

"Ah, yes, sir," he smiled slightly. Draco turned to him and gave him such a sinister expression that it made Ron grow deathly white and wiped the smile right off of his face. "Uh, yes he did; last night to be exact. He said that he..."

Draco put his hand up to signal his clerk to stop talking and said, "I only asked if it was true, I wasn't asking to hear the bloody details."

"Sorry, sir," Ron said. He was about to return to his desk when the door opened up and a gentleman around thirty entered the counting house with a little boy clinging to his pant leg.

"Master Jack!" Ron smiled and greeted the man.

"Good morning, Ron," he shook Ron's hand and said, "and remember, it's just Jack."

Ron smiled, bent down, and said to the little boy, "Good morning to you, young master Fred."

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," he said as only a 6 year old boy could.

"Get back to work, Weasley!" Draco hissed, and Fred hid behind his father's pant leg once again.

Ron stood up and went back to his desk.

"Brother," Jack said in a warning tone, "don't yell at him. He didn't do anything wrong."

"Don't tell me what to do, Jack, and I'm not your brother!"

Jack sighed and said, "But you are Fred's uncle."

Draco looked down at the boy who was cowering behind his father's leg and could see fear in the little boy's eyes. He turned to sit at his own desk and said, "I know that."

"Well, you certainly don't act like it!"

"Is that so?" he asked, taking out a quill and writing something in his books. "And tell me, Jack, what can I do to act as an uncle?" he asked, not really caring what the answer was.

"Well, you can come to Christmas dinner!" Jack said cheerfully.

"What?" Draco said, lifting his head.

"Come! Dine with us tomorrow!" Jack said.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I do not make merry on Christmas."

"You should though, it would do you some good, brother!"

Draco slammed his fist on the desk and said, "I am not your brother." He put his head back down and continued his writing. "I decline your offer and I wish you a good afternoon!"

"Why can we not be friends?" Draco did not respond to his question. "We were jolly good friends when your sister was alive. Why must it change?"

Draco stood up quickly and said, "Do not speak of my sister in such a way. I say again, good afternoon!"

"Fine. I'll leave. But do not let it pass that I did not try to become friends, and so I will keep Christmas in my way and allow you to keep it in your own." He looked down at his son and said, "Come, Fred, let's go."

Fred looked up to his uncle and said in a quivering voice, "Merry Christmas, Uncle." And he followed his father to the door.

"Merry Christmas, Ron." Jack said, patting the man's arm.

"Merry Christmas, Master Jack." Ron smiled up to him.

"Merry Christmas, Brother, and a happy new year!" Jack said and closed the door.

"Bah humbug!" Draco said. He noticed that as his former brother-in-law and his nephew had left his counting house, two more gentlemen walked in.

These two men were of an older age, not looking like they were in need of business. They wore nicely tailored suits, cloaks, scarves, and top hats.

They took their hats off, and one said, "Malfoy and Zabini's I presume." He looked at his list and asked, "Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Malfoy, or Mr. Zabini?"

"Mr. Zabini has been dead these past two years," Draco said. He put his head back down to continue his work. "He died two years ago this very night."

"We are truly sorry, sir," the other man said.

Draco made no motion to this kind man's words.

The other, with the list in his hands, said, "I am most positive that you are as giving as Mr. Zabini was, aren't you sir?"

Outside the counting house Fred asked, "Uh, bro... I mean, Charlie, basically what does that mean?"

"He's telling Malfoy that he's a cheap bastard, just like Zabini was," said George.

"Thought so."

The man looked at his partner and said, "We are collecting for the poor, sir. Many people are in the need of common necessities, like food to eat, clothes to put on their backs, or even a place to live."

"Are there no prisons?" Draco asked.

"We have plenty of those," the first gentleman said.

"And the union workhouses?" Draco said a little more sternly. "Are they not still in operation?"

"They are, though I wish they were not," the second man responded.

Draco got up and said, "Oh thank goodness, you had me worried for a moment. I am very glad to hear that."

The first man decided to not listen to Draco's words and say what he came to say. "We are going around asking for a little charity from every business here in town. We wish to buy the poor some meat and drink, and means of warmth this holiday season. We choose this time because this is a time of giving and sharing, a time for peace and good will toward your fellow men. What shall I put you down for?"

"Nothing! I just want to be left alone! I do not make merry myself at Christmas," he sighed for having to explain this for a second time in the same day. "Therefore I cannot afford to make others merry. Let them go to the prisons and the union houses!" Draco said angrily.

"Many would rather die!" the second man said.

"If they would rather die, then they had better do it quickly and decrease the surplus population!"

The second man gasped, "But you don't mean that!"

"Yes I do. Now have a good afternoon, gentlemen!" With that he shoved them out the door and slammed it behind them.

Draco leaned up against the door and sighed, "What is the world coming to, Weasley? You work hard all your life to get money, and then they expect you to give it all away!"

It was relatively quiet for the next few hours. They were only disturbed when a man came in asking for an extension on his loan. He tried to explain to Draco that his youngest was ill, and that they spent most of the money on doctors and medicine. Draco replied by picking the man up by the shirt, throwing him out of his building, and saying, "No."

It was then nearing seven o'clock in the evening, closing time.

"How much longer do we have to stay out here?" Fred whined as he blew on his hands and rubbed them together.

"You want some cheese with that wine of yours?" George asked.

Fred rolled his and said, "Really, I'm starting to freeze."

"It's going to toll seven right about... now!" At that precise moment the bells of London did toll seven.

Inside, Ron put his quill back into its holder and stood up. He walked over to Draco's desk and said, "Sir, it's seven-quitting time."

Draco took out his pocket watch, looked at it, and said, "Ah, so it is. See you at seven tomorrow, Weasley."

"Sir, but it's Christmas day tomorrow."

"Fine then, 7:30."

"Sir, a half an hour barely seems significant for Christmas Day."

"And tell me, Mr. Weasley, how long does sound significant for Christmas Day?"

"Uh, well, the whole day, Mr. Malfoy," Ron said, swallowing hard.

"The whole day?"

"If you please, sir. I mean, there will be no other businesses open to do business with."

"It's a poor excuse for picking's a man's pocket every twenty fifth of December," Draco said, standing up and putting on his own cloak, "but if you must have the whole day, then take it. But be here all the earlier the next morning."

"Oh thank you, sir! I will be! I will be!" Ron put his old tattered hat on top of his head and headed for the door. "Thank you again and Merry Christmas!" He left, closing the door behind him.

"Bah!" Draco finished dressing for the cold weather and then locked up his building.

"Draco went home that night not knowing what the night had in store for him," George said, starting up his narration again.

"Do we have to follow him?" asked Fred.

"Yup, come on. It's going to be an eventful night!" He grabbed his brother's arm and the two followed Draco home.

Fred and George were standing by a lamppost as Draco neared his house.

"How did we get here so fast?" Fred asked.

"I know a shortcut," said George.

Malfoy lived in a dark house, which rarely ever saw heat or light. The house itself fit Malfoy to a tee. The shutters were in need of repair and the paint was chipping off the building.

Draco walked up the same familiar path to his doorway as he did every night. But this night, as he went to unlock his door he saw the face of his dead partner Blaise Zabini in his doorknocker, groaning loudly. Draco jumped back in surprise and then stood in horror as he gazed upon the site. Draco walked back up to the door, never once allowing his eyes to stray from the doorknocker. He reached out to touch the face, but as he did, Zabini disappeared. Draco rubbed his eyes and when he reopened them, it was the same old knocker once again.

To Be Continued...

12/17/03