I'm really sorry this is so late, freaks!

----

The Death Eaters at Christmas: Part 2

"Barty?" The dark lord asked in astonishment. "I thought you were at Hogwarts!"

"That's what you thought," he said, stepping into the house.

No sooner had Barty let go of his suitcases than the two Great Aunts appeared on the stairs.

"Oh dear," said Great Aunt Constance, giving Barty a tight lipped expression. "It's you."

Barty stared at them in horror.

"On second thoughts," he said, picking up his suitcases again. "I think I'll just crash out at Hogwarts for the holidays."

"Oh no you don't," Voldemort hissed. "You're not getting away that easily. We're all going to have a miserable Christmas together. You're going down with this boat like the rest of us."

"Riiiight..." Barty said. "I'll take my things upstairs, then."

"No, wait-" Voldemort said, but Albert had bounced in front of him.

"Aunties!" He said, leaping up the stairs. They glared at him with identical tight lipped expressions of disapproval.

"Albert," Florence said stonily. "That is not how a gentleman introduces himself to ladies."

"Sorry Aunties," Albert said good naturedly. "Just a little over excited, it being Christmas and all." He gave great Aunt Constance a good natured nudge. She gave him such a cold, knife like look that even Albert's smile faltered, and he returned to the bottom of the stairs.

"AARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!"

Voldemort sighed as he heard Barty's yell from upstairs. He had obviously found that his room was inhabited.

The Death Eaters rushed upstairs, and found Barty standing in the doorway of his room, suitcases dropped on the floor, staring in horror.

"My-my room!" He stammered.

"I can explain," Voldemort said.

"It's-tidy!"

"I don't know how you can live in such a bombsite," Great Aunt Constance said, as she and Florence pushed past him and stood in the room defiantly.

Barty looked as though he was ready to attack the two old ladies, so Dolohov steered him away.

"You can go in the spare room," he said consolingly.

"Sorry old bean," Albert said from behind. "I've got that one."

"Well then where can I sleep?" Barty asked incredulously.

"I suppose you'll have to go on the sofa," Wormtail said with a smirk.

Barty glared at him. Dolohov looked at Rodolphus meaningfully, and the two of them led Barty downstairs.

"They're not staying there," Barty said promptly, the minute he had reached the living room. "I promise you. I'll get my room back by Christmas day if it's the last thing I do."

"Don't do anything reckless," Dolohov said. "Just put up with them for a few days, they'll be gone soon enough."

"They better be," Barty said darkly.

-

Barty tiptoed across the landing later that evening and ducked into his empty room. Glaring at how tidy Constance and Florence had made the place, he only just resisted from pushing a pile of linen on the floor.

He walked over to his drawers and rifled through them, pulling out practically everything that might be useful for getting the Great Aunts out of his room.

Suddenly, there were footsteps and voices. He hurriedly closed the drawer and rolled under his bed as Great Aunts Constance and Florence came in.

"What an awful boy that Albert is," he heard Great Aunt Florence say.

"Dreadful," concurred her sister. "I'm just ashamed that we have to share the same house as him over Christmas."

Barty looked towards the door as the Great Aunts sat on the other side of the bed. Perhaps, if he was really careful...

"Of course come Boxing Day morning I'll be off right away," Constance said.

"As shall I," Florence agreed. Neither of them seemed to have noticed Barty creeping out of the door and out of sight.

With a triumphant smirk, Barty dashed downstairs.

-

"So, Tommy old bean," Albert said the next day; the day before Christmas Eve. He had been bouncing around after Voldemort all morning, and the latter was becoming rather irritated.

"How about you show me one of the pieces of china you've whipped up, eh?"

"What?" Voldemort asked, puzzled for a second, then he remembered. "Oh yes, of course. Erm, I would, but all of my crockery is at the er... warehouse."

"Shame," said Albert. "Well how about we have a nice fair game of poker?"

"No."

"Go Fish?"

"No."

"Snap?"

"No."

"Not even Happy Families?" Albert asked, disappointment etched on his face.

"Not even that," Voldemort confirmed. "I am far too busy to be playing card games with you. Why don't you ask one of the others?"

"But you're my second cousin!" Albert insisted.

"Well," Voldemort sighed, exasperated. "Maybe later."

Albert's face split into a huge grin.

"I can hardly wait, old chap," he said, giving Voldemort a good natured slap on the back before bouncing off again.

Voldemort waited until he was gone, and then let out a small cry of pain and clutched his back. He collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table beside Lucius who was piping icing around the newly made Christmas cookies.

"Albert giving you grief?" He asked sympathetically.

"Why," Voldemort hissed. "Am I cursed with such irritating relatives?"

"You're not the only one," Lucius said sagely. "Look what Rodolphus has for a brother."

As if on cue, Rabastan came walking into the kitchen. He stopped and looked at them.

"Are you all right, Rabastan?" Voldemort asked.

"I lost my favourite socks," he said.

"When did you see them last?"

"The Slytherin common room in second year."

"Ah," Voldemort said. "I'm afraid there's very little we can do about that."

"Oh," Rabastan said. "Never mind, then." And he walked out of the room, muttering something about lemons.

"See what I mean?" Lucius commented. "Completely batty."

At that moment, Rodolphus rushed in, with something very strange on his head.

"What on earth is that, Lestrange?" Voldemort asked.

"Mistletoe," Rodolphus replied.

Lord Voldemort and Lucius glanced at his head gear. He seemed to be wearing a plastic hard hat with string pulled around it tightly, holding a large sprig of mistletoe into place.

"Have you seen the spellotape?" He asked.

Lucius passed it to him wordlessly.

"Thanks." Rodolphus proceeded to bite a strip off, and press it across the end of the string. He put the spellotape back on the table and dashed out of the room.

"Well," Lucius said. "At least now we know why they're called Lestrange's."

-

Snape walked past the living room, and gave the 'No Entry; genius at work' sign a disdainful glance.

Having nothing better to do, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. He stared.

What had previously been the living room had now been transformed into what could only be described as an absolute mess.

Scrunched up balls of paper had been scattered carelessly over the floor, a cauldron was bubbling over the fire, a large amount of potion bottles had been placed at precarious angles on the mantelpiece and shelves. One of the sofas had been turned into a makeshift bed, rather untidy it was too, and the creator of this mess was sitting at the desk on the other side of the room, scribbling madly on a piece of paper.

Barty turned around as Snape came in.

"Did you not read the sign?" He snapped. "GENIUS at work."

"Where's the genius?" Snape couldn't help but sneer at him.

"Oh ha ha," Barty said sarcastically. "Go away. I am incredibly busy."

"The Dark Lord is going to kill you when he sees this," Snape pointed out.

"I'll just blame it on Wormtail," Barty shrugged.

"What are you doing anyway?" Snape asked.

"Plotting," Barty replied. "Now go away."

Snape sighed and walked out.

-

"How do I look?" Rodolphus asked Dolohov.

"Great," Dolohov assured him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Teeth?"

"Fine."

"Hair?"

"You're wearing a hat," Dolohov pointed out flatly.

"Ah, yes," Rodolphus said. "Here she comes! Get lost!"

He shoved Dolohov into a broom cupboard, slammed the door and tried to look casual as Bellatrix walked into view.

"Hello," he said, flashing her a smile.

"What are you wearing?" She asked sceptically.

"That would be a hat," Rodolphus said. "Admittedly, with some mistletoe on it, but, all in the festive spirit, eh?"

"If you say so," Bellatrix replied, and walked off.

Rodolphus waited until she had turned the corner, then took his hat off and dropped it on the floor resignedly with a sigh, before walking off rather dejectedly.

All was silent, then there came a voice from the cupboard.

"Er, hello?"

-

Barty crept upstairs as quietly as he could. The two Great Aunts were currently downstairs giving the others grief. It was the perfect opportunity to give his plan a crack.

He stepped into their room, bucket and nasty smelling slimy substance in hand, and got to work putting it above the door.

For a seasoned practical joker such as Barty, placing a bucket over a door was a rather clichéd trick, but it was still effective, therefore he was filled with a fair amount of confidence that the having a large quantity of smelly, green, not to mention staining slime poured over their heads would push the old ladies over the edge and make them insisted on leaving the house that instant.

As soon as he had finished, he snuck out of the door and hid himself behind a nearby chest of drawers to watch.

The bucket over the door trick is a joke which has gone back for a heck of a long time, being used by amateurs and professionals alike. 99 of the time it is guaranteed for a good laugh, if want anybody to walk through that particular door. However if you are preying on just one, or in Barty's case, two victims, there is one thing that could go wrong.

So it was that Barty watched as someone approached the door, and he leapt out from behind his hiding place as he realised who it was, trying to warn them, but it was too late. The door was pushed open, and the contents of the bucket came cascading down with wonderful accuracy right onto the head of Lord Voldemort.

"BARTY!" Voldemort yelled. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?"

"My Lord!" Barty said. "I apologise!"

"Are you trying to get rid of my Great Aunts?" Voldemort asked.

"Yes. I mean no. Erm... maybe..." Barty said sheepishly.

"Well if that's the case," Voldemort said. "I have just ONE thing to say to you!" Barty flinched, waiting for the punishment. "Good luck," Voldemort finished. "And you better have them out of here before Christmas day, or you'll be cleaning up the kitchen for a week!"

Barty stared as Voldemort, dripping slime, stomped away. What had at first been an attempt to reclaim his room was now a full blown mission assigned to him by Voldemort.

Feeling rather pleased with himself, Barty reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a small bottle filled with a grey liquid.

"I think it's time for the ultimate extermination weapon," he said to himself with a wicked grin.

-

It was Christmas Eve the next morning. The houses were sleeping quietly as the morning light bathed them in a low light. The sky was clear, the grass was glittering with frost, and all was quiet.

BOOM!

The Death Eater's house shook from the dull explosion which had erupted form the living room.

Most of the Death Eaters were making their breakfast, however the ones who were still in bed were now very much awake.

Barty stumbled into the kitchen, hair slightly blown up from his face, which was covered in smoke.

He coughed.

"Where's the spellotape?" He asked. Lucius handed it to him as though nothing was amiss.

"Thanks," Barty said, rushed out and slammed the living room door behind him.

"How's Christmas Eve lunch coming?" Dolohov asked, having been freed from his cupboard the previous evening. Lucius had been up since dawn cooking Christmas Eve lunch.

"Fine," Lucius replied.

"Do you need any help?"

"No!"

"OK," Dolohov said, looking rather frightened.

Voldemort walked into the kitchen, dark shadows around his eyes, a grim expression on his face. He had been playing 'Go Fish' with Albert all night long, and now looked as though he was ready to kill someone.

Albert, meanwhile, bounced in behind him, chattering incessantly, brandishing a pack of cards, not seeming at all affected by his loss of sleep.

"Oh, come on old boy," he said. "One more game."

"I have been playing your infernal game all night long," Voldemort said through gritted teeth, trying desperately to keep his self control. "I think we should give it a rest."

"All in the Christmas spirit!" Albert insisted.

Voldemort gave the other two a pleading look. Lucius rose to the occasion famously.

"You know who does like to play cards?" He asked.

"Oh, who?" Albert asked eagerly.

"Snape," Lucius replied. "He'll be in his room. Go and ask him if he wants to play."

"I think I shall!" Albert said, before shooting out of the room.

Voldemort sat down and banged his head on the table.

"Just one more day," Dolohov pointed out.

"Yes," Voldemort said. "Christmas day. If he's this hyper now, imagine what he'll be like after Christmas dinner and lots of mulled wine."

Dolohov winced at the mental picture. His master was right.

-

At midday, everyone sat down at the table for Christmas Eve lunch. Lucius had made a wonderful meal of roast chicken and gravy, along with potatoes, carrots and beans.

The Death Eaters crowded around the table and sat down, along with Albert and the Great Aunts.

"Well," Voldemort said when they were all tucking in. "This is absolutely smashing. May I thank Lucius for preparing this for us."

"The chicken is too dry," Great Aunt Constance said bluntly.

"And the beans are stringy and overcooked," Great Aunt Florence added.

There was silence. The Death Eaters glanced up at Lucius, who had turned a nasty shade of purple.

"Yes, well," Voldemort said. "Anything, ah... nice... you'd like to say about the food?"

"The potatoes are nice," Great Aunt Constance said.

"Well, that's bett-"

"If you like them burnt, that is," she finished.

Lucius stabbed at his chicken savagely, a vein was pulsing in his temple. Voldemort decided to change the subject.

"Could someone go and get the drinks?" He asked.

"I'll get them!" Barty cried at once, jumping up so fast he nearly knocked his plate off the table. He shot into the other room.

"Look, we've been through this before, Rabastan," Rodolphus sighed, as his brother tried to cut his chicken with the wrong side of his knife. "You don't cut like that- you'll never get anywhere. Like this." He demonstrated the proper way.

"Honestly," said Great Aunt Constance said to her sister, in what she probably thought was quiet enough for no one else to hear. "A grown man who can't use his cutlery properly? There's a place for people like him. It's called a mental asylum."

Everyone looked up to see how Rabastan would react. However he was happily cutting his chicken, it was his brother's face that could have shattered glass. If looks could kill, then Great Aunt Constance and Florence would be dead and buried.

If only they could. Voldemort thought wistfully.

Rodolphus was about to reply scathingly to Constance's comment, when Barty came back in with the drinks.

"Here we are," he said, going around to Great Aunt Constance and Florence first, and giving them two glasses, then putting the tray on the table for the rest of them to get. "Drinks, everyone."

"About time too," Florence said. "Something to make the dry chicken go down."

Barty sat at the table next to Rodolphus and looked across at them with an evil, ominous smirk.

The two of them took their first sip of their drinks, and looked at it in disgust.

"This wine is off, Tom," Great Aunt Constance said. "It has a distinctly bitter flavour."

"Mine too," Florence added indignantly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Albert said jovially. "Mine is as sweet as a midsummer evening."

"I don't remember asking your opinion, Albert," Great Aunt Constance said icily.

It was then that everyone stared at her.

As the two great aunts went off on a rant about speaking when you are not spoken to, the others noticed visible changes in their anatomy.

The identical feathered boas that they had decided to wear, seemed to turn to a dull grey and spread its feathers all over their face. Their thin, pinched noses became curved. Their eyes turned orange and as round as dinner plates, and they began to shrink.

Very soon, Lord Voldemort was no longer looking at the stern and severe faces of his two great aunts, but at a pair of owls.

Lord Voldemort's lip twitched, and then he, along with the rest of the Death Eaters and Albert burst out laughing.

The owls ruffled their feathers in shock and disdain, looked at each other with their large eyes and jumped as they saw what they had become. With a few screeches of indignation, they rose from their seats and flapped out of the kitchen window.

"Oh dear," Albert said, once they had calmed down. "I really would love to stay and laugh over this with you all, but I think I should try and get those two to St Mungo's. I'll get their cases and mine right now and be off."

And, with a wave of his wand, the cases came shooting down the stairs.

"Sorry I couldn't stay any longer, thank you so much for putting up with me, and merry Christmas," Albert said, as he made his way towards the door. "Oh, and Tommy. If you ever want a game of poker, just drop by, eh?" He gave Voldemort a jovial slap on the back, nearly knocking his second cousin into his chicken. "Tootlepip everyone!" He said, before bouncing out of the door.

There was silence after the door closed.

Then the Death Eaters let out a simultaneous cheer, and there was a great deal of glass clinking and congratulating Barty. It was probably the only time that every single one of them was actually grateful towards him, and they all realised that perhaps that annoying, irritating practical joker that most of them had convinced themselves they would be better off without, wasn't so bad after all.

-

Barty woke the next morning and gave a satisfied sigh as he looked around his room.

He had cleared out of the living room, which was now back to its normal, fairly tidy self, Christmas tree and all, and had moved back into his old room, which he had taken a special half hour to get nice and messy again. Messy, that was, apart from the slime spillage which he had cleared up using his specially concocted cleaning substance designed for clearing up such things. The great aunts and Albert had gone, and everything had returned to its relatively peaceful self.

He rolled over in bed, and suddenly his eyes shot open. It was Christmas day!

With one leap, he was out of bed. Hastily dressing into his robes, Barty ran along the corridor, banging on everyone's door to wake them up.

Soon, the sleepy heads of the Death Eaters appeared at the doors.

"Everyone up!" Barty said. "It's Christmas day!"

-

The Death Eaters chattered happily as they ate their breakfast.

"Well my minions," Voldemort said when they had finished. "I have to say that it has been a rather good year."

There was a murmur of agreement. Voldemort continued.

"And may I make a toast for everything that we have done this year, and may we strive to make next year even better than the last."

There was silence.

"And obliterate Harry Potter," Voldemort added as an afterthought.

A cheer of agreement rose from the table.

"My Lord!" Dolohov said, who had been looking out of the window. "It's snowing!"

The Death Eaters donned their coats, hats and shoes, and piled outside into the garden.

The snow had obviously been falling for some time. It had covered the houses and gardens in a sheet of white, and was still coming down silently.

The Death Eaters stood and watched it fall from the grey sky, the silence unbroken, until-

"Hey Wormtail, CATCH!"

SPLAT!

Wormtail shook himself and spun around angrily to glare at Barty who was pelting him with snowballs.

Rabastan dashed off to make a snowman, and Snape stood there watching him in disdain, before one of Barty's snowballs missed Wormtail and collided with the side of his head.

"Right!" Snape said. "Barty Crouch! Come back here right now!"

Barty shot off, cackling, away from an angry snowball wielding Snape.

Dolohov glanced over to the doorway. A sprig of mistletoe was hung above it, and Rodolphus was standing underneath it looking rather dejected, this time neither knowing nor caring that he was standing under mistletoe.

Dolohov turned to Bellatrix and whispered something in her ear. She glanced at him, and then at Rodolphus, and gave a very small smile.

Walking across the snow covered grass to where he was standing.

"Hello," she said, voice a little guilty.

He grunted in reply, looking sullenly around the garden.

She looked up.

"Mistletoe," she observed casually. Rodolphus merely carried on giving the frozen laburnum tree a glare.

Without saying anything, Bellatrix reached up and kissed him on his cheek, before walking off, face slightly pinker.

Rodolphus stared after her, glare entirely evaporated.

With a huge smile, he leapt up and punched the air, with a triumphant cry of,

"YES!"

----

There we go! A belated merry Christmas to you all.

Again, I am really sorry I couldn't get this updated sooner, this would have been better to read at Christmas, but it's my own fault. Sorry!

Anyway, I hope you all liked it, and that you all had a fantastic Christmas and new year:)

Reddy