A Twisted Christmas
By Shadow Rise
Tomorrow is Yesterday, Unregretted
Draco was, very simply, awake. His dreams did not come as usual, but he didn't care. He had much deciding to do.
"Your thoughts can wait." a feminine voice said from the darkness of his chamber corner, "You still have much to see, Draco Malfoy."
The blonde man sat up and threw the covers from his legs, putting his feet into his slippers, and stood. This whole pattern of events had sort of lost it's glamor by the second hour of Christmas morning. Honestly!
He waited silently as a cloaked figure stepped into the moonlight of his room. Draco could not see her (he had assumed, from the voice) face from the cloak.
"Spirit of the future, I suppose?" he inquired.
She nodded her head slightly. "You could say that."
He gestured to the bay window with his hand. "After you, madam."
"Don't be an ass." she sneered, snapping her fingers together.
Again, this woman seemed familiar.
The scene that was his bedroom faded away with a cloud of smoke and he now stood in the waiting room of St. Mungo's. He saw many Weasleys and friends of the Weasleys sitting or standing around.
"This is what you could have had, Draco." she whispered into his ear, fixing the cloak's hood, "You might still have a chance to have."
Draco rushed out into the anxious crowd with his arms open wide and grinning like a fox.
"Triplets!" he cried happily, "Two boys and a girl!"
They all embraced him and he distinctly thought he saw Bill and Charlie handing galleons to Fred and George.
He looked at her. Just looked.
"You're kidding, right?" He didn't look too cynical about the scene, "Triplets?"
She shrugged and snapped her fingers. Flashing images, very brief, started now.
A cozy little family house...
A blonde little girl being chased by redheaded twins...
Kisses, caresses, smiles...
Another swollen belly.
"But, this is all you'll have... If you keep this kind of stuff up."
Snap.
A sea of crying and sobbing redheads and brunettes crowded the living room of the Burrow, as well as one blonde woman. A small collection of pictures and things was piled at the front of the room. He noticed the pictures were of Daniel Weasley.
Snap.
The two of them stood in a graveyard now. Draco recognized it, located somewhere around Little Whinging or something of the like.
"Look at the tombstone, y'git!" she snapped, pointed to a polished ebony slab.
He read it aloud:
"Here lies Draco L. Malfoy."
He stared at it for a minute with his eyebrows arched. "That's it?"
Everything faded away with a snap. The two were standing in the den of Malfoy Manor. The woman flung her cloak onto the floor and glared at him. Her eyes blazed with fury and annoyance.
"You look here Draco-fucking-Malfoy!" she screeched, straight blonde hair falling into her eyes, "I did not allow spirits of the dead and guilt-tripping to stick me with this crap, but if you don't start screaming that you'll change your ways right now... So help me, I'll take you back to the other side with me!"
And then he knew. He knew exactly who it was.
"Parkinson?"