The end is in sight. This is (very probably) the second last chapter. More coming soon, if Hell Week doesn't kill me first.
There were no presents. Not one.
At first he thought he'd gotten the day wrong, and that today was actually Christmas Eve, but a glance at the calendar showed that, as he had thought, it just wasn't possible for him to be that dumb. This (mostly) welcome discovery was accompanied by the single envelope he had found when casting about for his presents. No, he hadn't been casting about, he had been… searching. Yeah, he'd been searching, and in a very dignified manner. Definitely not panicking because the usual mountain of presents hadn't been at the foot of his bed.
His name - just his first - had been scrawled on the envelope in spidery writing. Not a hand that was familiar to him, but one he thought he had seen somewhere before. If the writer knew something about his missing pile of presents, heads would roll, he vowed. Draco had never been a fan of Christmas, but the piles of gifts had helped to mitigate that distaste somewhat.
And now there were no presents, and he was pissed.
There wasn't a card inside the envelope, just a scrap of parchment the looked like it had been torn off the bottom of an old assignment. Hardly worth wasting an envelope on, in his opinion.
Come to the Gryffindor common room. Your gifts are here.
He wasn't sure if it was an invitation or a threat. Knowing that lot, it could be either. Still, there was no reason he could see for them to invite him up to their common room, today of all days. Surely they'd rather be spared his presence today, just as he had been hoping to avoid them. Unless… well, that was just him being stupid. She might not mind him quite as much as the rest of them, but even she wouldn't go so far. Would she?
He showered and dressed quickly. He told himself that it was so he could go up there and get the pain over with and get his presents back, but a traitorous part of him insisted it was because he hoped someone actually wanted to see him. Even if that wasn't the case, he wasn't about to pass up the chance to make life miserable for the Golden Trio.
Upstairs, he stopped in front of the portrait of the fat lady, uncertain as to how to continue. His entrance ought to be properly dramatic, he thought, or at least decently dignified. Knocking and waiting to be let in just didn't fit that criteria.
"Are you going in?" the portrait demanded. "She said I was to let you in, but if you don't want to…" She sounded hopeful. "What are things coming to these days, that's what I want to know." That decided him. If people didn't like him being there, then he was going to go in an bloody well make himself at home, just to be contrary. And to get those damn Christmas presents, with a side dish of revenge.
"Shut up and open the damn door," he snapped. The woman looked suitably offended, but after a moment when it looked like she might deny him entry after all, the door swung open. With it open, he could hear music and laughter beyond, coupled with the bang of a firecracker and a sound he truly loved to hear.
"If you try that one more time, Ron Weasley, I'll make sure it does more than singe your eyebrows." Yep, sounded like his favorite little firecracker has just blown up at her older brother. With a contented smirk firmly fixed on his face, Draco sauntered inside.
"But Ginny…"
"Don't you even…"
"You never get mad when Fred and George do it."
"That's because they aren't liable to blow their own heads off, you imbecile."
"Please, Ginny, don't yell at him. It's Christmas." At the pathetic sound of the Mudblood's voice, Draco's smirk grew. Just a few short months, and she'd broken down completely. Maybe he'd even done permanent damage to her confidence - he hoped so.
"Relax, Gin, it's Christmas." Potty was grinning, inviting the annoyed girl to smile with him and enjoy the day. At that moment, Draco wanted nothing more that to punch the annoying bastard full in the face. To think Potty would have the audacity to try talking to Ginny like that.
"All three of you can… oh, good morning, Draco." Finally. If he hadn't been so entertained watching them fight, Draco would have been annoyed at how long it took them to notice his presence.
Potty and Weasel glared nastily at him, probably as much because of Ginny's suddenly sweet voice as his general presence. The Mudblood went pale. Draco offered them all his very best smirk. "Morning, babe."
He tried to grab her and give her a kiss - just to piss them all off, of course - but she slipped away from him and punched him in the arm. Hard. No need for that; I'm just being my usual charming self, he thought, giving her a reproachful look. Those little fists hurt.
"Don't think I'm putting up with you today," she warned him, but he thought he saw her eyes sparkling. "There's breakfast on the table over there. I bet you didn't even think to eat before you came up, did you?" She added with a frown.
"I'm not much of a breakfast person."
"You should be. It's important." He wasn't about to argue with her, just went and took a muffin from the spread that had evidently been brought up by house elves.
"Do I get my presents now?" He hadn't meant to sound so whiney.
"Not for a little way. We're still waiting for the Hufflepuffs." Ah. He'd thought the common room seemed unusually crowded for Christmas break, but now he saw a couple cloaks with Ravenclaw crests on them tossed over the back of a chair near the fire. Someone had decided to share the Christmas spirit throughout the castle.
"I'm surprised you came, Malfoy." He thought the boy's name was Shoe. Or was it Boot? "What in Merlin's name possessed you to accept the invitation?" The boy didn't sound as though he was upset by Draco's presence, just extremely surprised and puzzled by it.
That scrap of parchment hardly qualified as an invitation to Draco. "I felt like it." Obviously, not everyone had been blackmailed into coming.
"Is that all you're eating?" Ginny was back, and fully ready to mother him. "At least have some fruit."
"Are you finished yet?" he groused, only to be given a sugary smile.
"Why don't you go play chess with Ron while you wait?" She paused. "Unless you think he'll beat you." As though that blockhead has enough intelligence to even understand the game.