Draco Malfoy had loved Christmastime for as long as he could remember. Oh, it wasn't the gifts (though they were entrancing) - it was the time he spent with his parents. His father wasn't often home, when he was a small child, and so Draco's memories of the man were always of him in the snow, a big woolen cloak pulled over his fine robes.
And so it was a bit of a relief, for Draco, to push aside all of his thoughts from school, to set aside all of his cares (including that History of Magic essay Binns had assigned - Draco would do it on the train back, and no sooner).
Standing in the Slytherin Common room, Draco brushed nonexistent lint off his shoulders. He waited calmly for his godfather to arrive, as did most of the other Slytherins. No goodbyes were exchanged in such a public place - Draco had whispered a goodbye to his roommates, before feeling very silly for having done so - they weren't close to him, not even Goyle and Crabbe, who hung around him because with their looks, connections to power would be quite useful. Everyone seemed to assume they were bodyguards, anyway, no matter what Draco had said. In fact, Draco had briefly toyed with the idea of training them as bodyguards, before thinking that eleven year old bodyguards were simply irrepressably silly, and Draco Malfoy should stop encouraging his silly ideas, before they overtook his good sense and he wound up smiling like a Gryffindor.
[a/n: Well, off to home and Father and Mother. It shouldn't surprise anyone that Draco's his mother's boy - she's the one who had charge of raising him, while her husband was raising Cain in the Ministry. Reviews are always welcome, if you like the story or if not!]