The Ghost Of Christmas Present

24th of December 1997, 2:30 AM

With a painful punch to the wall of his shower that left his knuckles raw, Draco leaned his forehead on the smooth surface of the tiles before him, freezing water trickling down his spine. He had hoped to find some relief for his overwhelmed mind in a cold drizzle.

It didn't fucking work.

Nothing managed, not alcohol, not a Calming Draft, not a wanking, not the glacial temperature he had set the water at.

Raising his head, Draco dragged his fingers through his damp platinum locks, scraping his scalp and reaching the back of his neck. He nervously stroked his nape. He remained under the running water until his teeth began rattling together. At that point, he wrapped his long fingers around his wand, which was always at arm's reach, and he tapped the spout, stopping the cold flow.

Not even bothering drying himself, he marched to his bed with long strides, water pooling where his feet touched the floor and drops trickling from his skin. He collapsed on the bed and covered himself with the heavy green blanket. Maybe if he fell unconscious, he could just sleep through whatever damned ghostly presence he was about to be disturbed by. He was just lying to himself.

Resigned to the incumbent arrival of his visitor, at 2:55 he rose from his bed and dressed in a simple vest, jumper, and black trousers over a pair of briefs. He sneered at the almost familiar dropping of temperature in his room, and he curled his lip as white fog swirled up from the floor. He didn't know where he found the nerve to do it, but he actually laughed in the ghost's face when it finally materialised within his room.

Cedric Diggory stared down at him, eyebrows pinched together, jaw tight. He was wearing his old school uniform, his tie, grey and black in his smokey form, had been black and yellow at Hogwarts.

"I see you are still a little tosser, Malfoy," the spirit hissed, smoothing his hair with verve.

"And you are still a pansy, Diggory," Malfoy clipped but quickly averted his eyes, suddenly remembering how the former Hufflepuff died. How could he have forgotten? Merlin, he should cut back on his alcohol intake, it was starting to erode his brain cells. Feeling his blood warming his face, he stuck his tongue to the side of his cheek.

"I'm the ghost of the Christmas present," Cedric revealed and without further ado, he floated over to Draco and jabbed cold fingers in the sensitive flesh of his left wrist.

In the blink of an eye, the walls around them and the floor below them faded away, and Draco found himself flying over a familiar landscape. The imposing structure of the Hogwarts castle stood out in the horizon. The only natural light source was the pale moon. Faint torch lights danced within the castle stone walls.

Diggory dragged Draco in a downwards spiralling fall, his heart sank into his stomach as they approached the hard and frozen soil. Expecting to crash to the ground, Draco squeezed his eyes shut. For a brief moment, he almost welcomed the imminent death. He dared peer through his eyelids only when his feet touched a solid surface with surprising softness.

They were in the dungeons, somewhere near the Slytherin Common Room entrance.

"Get in there," Cedric roughly pushed Draco against the wall, and his body slipped through it as though he were a ghost himself. As soon as they were on the other side, screams of pain pierced Draco's eardrums and scraped the inside of his skull.

Alecto Carrow was towering over the thrashing petite body of what Draco thought to be a little girl. The Death Eater was spewing all kinds of insults and curses in the direction of her victim, who turned to face her just then, and Draco could see her features contorting into an agonizing grimace. Alecto was fucking giggling, delighted by the torment she inflicted on the young student.

"Fucking Mudblood! Your own parents don't even want you home for Christmas," her voice was goading, coming out in a childish, mocking tone that sounded extremely out of place. "But wait...aren't you the daughter of that poor Muggle family that got killed in London?" Alecto laughed wickedly, shouting more curses.

As much as it pained him to admit it, Draco was used to witnessing this kind of violence. Sharing his manor with the Dark Lord and living the hell that their school had become under the Carrows' regime made him almost numb to torture and suffering. He was ashamed of it, but, nonetheless, he turned to Diggory with a haughty look and shrugged.

The former Hufflepuff glanced sideways at him while he recentered his tie knot. Then his head jerked towards Draco, and his dead eyes scowled at him, observing his proud face for a moment. He blinked then and asked with a growl, "Is this what you wish the world to become?"

"I already know what the Carrows are doing at Hogwarts. I am a seventh year student," Draco responded in a plain tone.

Cedric scoffed, shaking his head, his lip curled in disgust toward Malfoy. "Do you know what's going on under your nose, then? In your very home?"

Diggory harrowed his boney fingers deep in Draco's arm, he could swear he felt his fingernails scraping at his bones. Everything around them started to change. Alecto and the poor girl faded into nothing and everything went dim.

Another darkened place came through the blackness. Draco recognized the cellar at his house. The familiar barrels of mead and firewhisky were stored in a disorderly manner. They had been emptied by the thirsty mouths of the Death Eaters that had desecrated his family's home. The young Malfoy heir had not stepped into the cellar since the Dark Lord claimed the Manor as his headquarters. He knew it was used as a holding cell for prisoners.

The wandmaker, Ollivander, was sitting in the dirt in a corner, head hidden between his knees. Next to him, laying on a rug, was a familiar blonde girl. Draco tilted his head and focused on her heart shaped face. She was dirty and thinner than the last time he saw her on the Hogwarts Express when he briefly passed her as she was fighting one of the Death Eaters that attacked the train.

Luna Lovegood. She was the prisoner that they had kidnapped on their ride back to London.

The heavy metal cellar door cracked open and with eerie sounds, it swung and let in Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. At the sight of his mad aunt, Draco's feet dragged backwards of their own volition. He knew what was going to happen, he had heard how Lestrange liked to rape and beat prisoners to death while the crazy bitch of his wife enjoyed the show. Draco didn't wish to witness that.

The damn ghost of Cedric Diggory sneered at him and with a movement of his hands he cast some sort of spell on Draco, the magic forced him still. He found himself unable to close his eyes either.

"Leave the girl alone," Ollivander's voice came out crackling, his tongue sounding like sandpaper on dry wood.

Bellatrix beamed at him, tilted her head, and sent a curse his way that made his old body fly across the dungeon and out of the way.

Rodolphus grabbed Luna by her hair, yanked her up to a sitting position, and slapped her hard across the face, a cruel smile tugging at his lips.

"No!" Draco, shouted, wide eyed. His hands were clenched so hard that he felt blood trickling from where his fingernails were piercing through his palm. He didn't want to watch this, this was fucking insane - wrong on so many levels. Torturing Muggles was somehow acceptable in his brainwashed mind. Draco didn't enjoy it and often blocked his mind off it with Occlumency, but he'd been forced to do it during some of his missions for the Dark Lord. Knowing by name only what Death Eaters did to prisoners was one thing, but looking in the eyes of a girl he knew from school, and seeing the terror she was feeling made him wish he could move and help her. Who was he kidding? He could have never done anything to ease her pain. If these were the Lord's orders then he could have never...he just couldn't go against him.

"Dear," Bellatrix interrupted her husband before he could do anything else to the girl. "Not this one. The Dark Lord has other plans for her, for now."

Lestrange roared in frustration and let Luna's hair go, not before shoving her towards the dirty floor. She fell backwards and looked between the two Death Eaters, her face terrified, but she kept her head up high.

"Where is Harry Potter, blood traitor scum?" Bellatrix asked her.

"I don't know. Although I wouldn't tell you even if I found him following the Wrackspurts," Luna clipped. Draco didn't know if she was trying to be witty or if she was just barmy. It didn't matter, his aunt would have tortured her anyway and, as if on cue, Bellatrix aimed her wand at Luna's chest and hit her with a powerful Cruciatus Curse.

Draco tried to turn his head away but Diggory was keeping him dead still, eyes fixed to Luna's pained face. "Stop this, take me away!" he begged the spirit but the wicked smile that Cedric gave him told him that he would receive no mercy, much like Lovegood.

The ghost kept him there to witness that horror as the pale light of dawn casted spooky shapes through the small cellar windows. The hours dragged slowly as the shadows moved around while Luna suffered through numberless curses and beatings, being asked the same question over and over like a damn litany. Draco kept his eyes and focus on her until he could bear no more. At some point during the day, he sought refuge in his mind, blocking off all the outside world that somehow became background noise. He concentrated on the image of his mother's kind face, that was gentle and most importantly alive. Draco had to be who he was, do what he did in order to keep her living. That was all that mattered. He hoped Diggory wouldn't detect that he was using Occlumency. Maybe he did notice but decided to pretend he didn't.

When the lights of day, filtering through the little, barred openings of the cellar, faded into the sunset, Bellatrix and Rodolphus left, abandoning Lovegood to her horrific shakes and pains.

The Hufflepuff stared at Draco, unblinking, and the Slytherin forced himself out of his mind and back into the dungeon. Draco glanced at Luna. Ollivander was helping her stand. He promised himself to at least bring them some food and blankets whenever he had the chance. He couldn't have done anything more for them.

Scowling at the spirit, he realized the magical hold on his body had dissipated. Draco started toward the cellar door, he didn't know if he could actually pass through it without the ghost touching him, he wasn't sure whether he was made of thin air or solid matter. He didn't fucking care. Jaw tight and teeth grinding against each other, he marched on, head first. Before he could smash his face, Diggory got ahold of his arm and took him somewhere else.

They were in a small village, hovering over the white roofs and streets; singing and jolly sounds were coming from a nearby building with a cross stuck on top.

Cedric erratically floated downward, much like the snow that was relentlessly falling, and he stopped in front of the upstairs window of an old cottage. He waved his hand and Draco flinched, afraid of being petrified again, but the ghostly magic wasn't meant for him. Every wall of the house became see through like sheer glass, giving them a full view of the interior of the house. The place was filthy as though it hadn't been lived in for a long time. Three old people were standing in the sitting room, and one of them, the only male wizard, looked anxious.

Diggory sighed and snapped his fingers. One of the witches and the old wizard changed shape and, as though they drank a youth elixir, they turned into a petite, curvy brunette and a git with glasses and a familiar unkempt hairstyle.

"Granger and Potter? What are they doing here? What are we doing here, Diggory?" Draco was bewildered. He had a bad feeling deep in his guts that something wasn't right. His heart started beating a little faster as he tried to remember the name of the older of the two witches. She looked familiar.

"Lead the way," Potter told the old hag and he followed her through the house and up a steep staircase.

Draco gasped. The old bat was Bathilda Bagshot, and they were in Godric's Hollow. "Fuck," he hissed. "That's not really Bagshot." He had heard the Dark Lord while he instructed Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange to set up guard at Granger and Weasley's family houses. He had assured them that he had already left someone to guard Potter's old house in the form of the famous author.

Granger stayed downstairs and began inspecting the dusty spines of the books that were sitting, crooked, on a bookcase. Fucking brilliant - Granger was so predictable. Her imbecile friend was walking right to his death, and she was eye fucking some books.

Draco moved his eyes and found Potter entering the bedroom upstairs, right beyond the window he was floating in front of. The hag was looking at him with blank eyes, the only light came from Potter's wand tip. "Have you got anything for me?" he kept asking her.

Draco started panting, his heart racing in his chest. "Get out of there, you wanker!" he shouted, but couldn't be heard. This was happening at that very moment. Potter's life was at risk right then. It was in that instant that he realized that Harry was the only person that could defeat the Dark Lord and free his family from that fool.

Diggory hadn't moved or said anything. He was just there, arms crossed and a bored plain expression smacked on his face.

"Do something you useless fucking Hufflepuff!" Draco punched him in anger to get a reaction out of him, but his fist went right through Cedric's cheekbone and Draco's whole body made a slow somersault mid air.

Meanwhile, inside the cottage, Bagshot sagged into herself like a deflated quaffle, and Nagini emerged from her decaying body. The snake started attacking Potter, lashing its tail through the air, and thrusting forward with its jaw wide open in an attempt to bite him. Draco extracted his wand and tried to send a Blasting Spell towards the serpent, but he had no magic. Nagini was tightly coiled around Potter, squeezing the air out of him and hissing in his face.

"Shite," Draco yelped as the Dark Mark on his left arm burned. The Dark Lord was summoning the Death Eaters - he was close.

Granger appeared out of nowhere in the bedroom and cursed Nagini off Harry; she was now fighting the evil creature. Potter, Draco was sure, would have died in first year if it hadn't been for Granger's skills and knowledge. Draco flinched at his own thoughts regarding the magical abilities of a Mud- Muggleborn. At the same time, the window exploded, glass shards trickling in front of Malfoy's eyes.

Black smoke appeared at the gate of Bagshot's cottage. Voldemort had arrived.

Draco followed him as he entered the house, his fucked up face contorted in a victorious sneer. He looked back upstairs then, and Granger was nowhere to be seen. Draco groaned, hands tormenting his tousled hair.

With a loud sound and a red flash, Granger came into sight from the darkness. Draco would have sighed in relief if Voldemort wasn't rushing up the stairs in that very moment.

"He's coming! Hermione, he's coming!" Potter cried.

"About fucking time you get it, moron. Get the fuck out! Apparate away!" Draco was observing the scene wide eyed, nails digging into his scalp. Granger shot another Blasting Spell. She missed and the blast started bouncing around the room like a rough Bludger, destroying everything it touched.

Potter grabbed Granger from behind. Amongst that chaos, he managed to jump from the bed to a smashed piece of furniture and then leapt over the window sill into the void. Draco instinctively extended a hand to catch them, but Potter and Granger's shapes twisted and disappeared.

He actually let out a relieved breath then, even as Voldemort's distorted face appeared in the window. Even though the Dark Lord's furious scream echoed through every centimetre of the bones in his skull, Draco couldn't feel terrified - he only felt satisfaction.

His heart was still beating like a crazy fairy's wings when Diggory took him back to his bedroom. Glaring at the twisted spirit and through heavy breaths, he spat out, "I thought Hufflepuffs were caring stoners and animal lovers. You are sick." Draco sagged to the floor, sliding his back against one of the bedposts for balance.

It appeared that ghosts were very fond of shrugging their shoulders because Diggory did just that before he sat on the desk, folding his legs beneath him. "You have an important role in the upcoming war. Grow up, Malfoy."

Draco shook his head in disbelief. "Upcoming? We are at war, you twit!"

Cedric brought a hand to his face and rested his chin on it. When he spoke next, Draco was sure he wasn't addressing him but mumbling to himself. "I could have been successful in life. I was smart, but Voldemort killed my present and my future." Great, Draco had to deal with the barmy prick of Christmas present. The wrath floated over where Draco was sitting on the floor and looked down at him. "You can stop this war."

"How?" Draco asked in a whisper.

"Help Harry."

"How?" This time Draco shouted.

Cedric gave him a lopsided smirk. "Mh. I'm not sure."

Draco groaned, almost whimpered in frustration. "Really?" He let out a long breath. "You just put me through bloody hell! And for nothing?"

"Oh, you went through hell?" Diggory continued yelling, inching closer to Draco's cringing face. "Tell that to the poor first year student. Go tell Luna how awful it was for you. Tell Harry how you almost died today!" With a maniacal laugh, he went right past Draco's exhausted frame.

"Must you all pass through my fucking body?" Draco cried as his limbs shook the weird feeling off of him.

With slow movements, he crawled up to his bed and sheltered himself with his comforting blanket. He immediately passed out.