The Christmas holidays went far slower than normal. Although this time the circumstances were substantially worse. Draco was staring morosely out the window into the grey grounds. It was Boxing Day and the day was wet, cold and wintry. The sky was a dull grey that seemed to match Draco's mood. In punishment for Draco's disobedient and disrespectful behavior, he'd been banned from leaving his room. Shifting slightly as he leant against the window sill, Draco could see his breath frosting on the glass. It seemed like ages since he'd been allowed outside. It would have been nice to feel the biting cold of the air on his skin. He was so sick of the musty smell of the old house that seemed to have a dull chill even in summer.

He moved slowly towards his bed. He hadn't been eating much and his thoughts were clouded and confused. His pale pallor was now grey and sallow. Still, thought Draco to himself as he pulled his weight on top of the covers, at least he wasn't yellow. He definitely preferred grey to yellow. He recalled Goyle's shockingly yellow pallor at Easter last year. Chuckling quietly to himself, he also remembered the spell that had caused it. Croceus Palleo: a highly useful little spell indeed that somehow managed to turn the recipient a dull yellow. Rolling over, onto his back he wondered how much effort it would take to get underneath the covers. Was he really that cold? Would it really be worth the effort? Groaning quietly to himself he decided against it; too much effort indeed.


"Draco?"

What on earth could that be? His father had made a pointed attempt to ignore him throughout the whole holiday.

"Master Draco?"

"Huhn?"

Draco winced to himself; his conversation skills were decidedly lacking.

Pulling himself up he forced himself to look down at the tiny house elf wondering whether it was worth bribing the elf to keep quiet about his ineloquent manner. Common sense came back to him, and he reasoned that no one would listen to an elf anyway.

"What do you want?"

"Master Draco has forgotten that he has to go back to school today. Master Lucius requests that you pack immediately."

Draco stared at the elf.

"Oh shit."


Draco had managed to pack eventually. Or rather, the house elf ran around and picked up robes and various other possessions and placed them gently in the trunk. Draco, however, had wandered aimlessly around and occasionally bumped into stuff.

Either way, Draco found himself in the entrance hall half and hour later, absolutely freezing, despite the three jackets he was wearing. Shivering to himself he desperately hoped his father wouldn't notice his face that had gotten even thinner over the Christmas break nor that he was shivering whilst wearing enough clothes for an Eskimo. Which, he reminded himself, was a rather stupid analogy. Everyone knew that in winter, Britain was seemingly colder then any where else in the world.

"Draco?"

"Yes father?"

The words lilted awkwardly off his tongue. He was unused to speaking having spent the past week and a half in complete silence.

"I just wanted you to know…"

Draco felt a tiny leap of hope rise in his chest. Could this be long awaited promises of love and affection that he had missed for so long? Could it be a declaration of pride in Draco's manner and happiness in the way that his son had turned out?

"That I'm terribly disappointed in you and that you have disgraced the Malfoy name."

No such luck.

"Thank you ever so much father."

Shit. Not sarcasm.

"For that Draco, I thank you."

A motion towards his pocket and a wand appeared. This whole exchange had, evidently, been previously planned.

Then Draco felt it; the pain that started where the bolt of power hit his chest. It was

the excrutiating pain of hatred and malice being thrown from one person to another. He could feel it coursing around his body as he fell to the ground. He was twitching as the hatred of a thousand people went through him. The pain was too much. He was getting beaten from the inside out. He could feel his insides churning as they struggled to cope with this onslaught of pain. Make it stop. I want to die. Please make it stop.

The pain retreated; he could feel it the power slowly leaving his body. He was shaking, cowering on the floor and felt like he was going to be sick. He slowly lifted his head and glared at his father malevolently as he struggled to breath. What a complete bastard!


He arrived back at school late afternoon. The castle was grey and dreary with its upper towers immersed in the thick grey cloud that was the sky. Drawing his numerous cloaks closer towards him, he wondered briefly which place was worse.

"Hey Malfoy!"

Yes. Hogwarts was definitely starting to look like the worse option.