The Christmas I Loaned My Sons
By: Ellipsis the Great
DISCLAIMER: The idea is from 'Chicken Soup for the Christian Soul.' Harry Potter and all things affiliated with him belong to the amazing J.K. Rowling. I own the Potter twins, and all of the plot outside what I garnered from CSFTCS.
Summary: After losing his wife and son to a magical disease, Draco Malfoy puts an ad in an editorial to borrow a son for Christmas. Harry Potter answers.
Rated: T just in case. May change later on.
Spoilers: Five years post-Hogwarts. Compliant with all books, sans the epilogue in DH.
Warnings: CONTAINS SLASH! There WILL be shounen-ai in this story! Maybe actual yaoi later on, but definitely shounen-ai!
CHAPTER TWO: The Letter
Malfoy,
I read your ad in the paper, and after much consideration would like to be the one to fulfill your Christmas wish. I have a set of three-year-old twin boys, Phoenix (a.k.a. Nix) and Byrne, who are not opposed to spending Christmas with you. I have also discussed this with the rest of our family, who are rather nervous about the idea but say it is alright if we miss one Christmas with them. I don't think that we'll be able convince them to make this an annual thing, whether or not it goes smoothly.
I do request, however, that I stay as well, because Byrne gets anxious when I leave him (separation anxiety, Hermione calls it) and Nix usually won't listen to anyone but myself and Molly Weasley (and sometimes Hermione, but that's a rare occurrence). I will try to stay out of the way as much as possible so that my presence won't affect your holiday.
Also, we would like to leave by lunchtime Christmas Day, if at all possible, so as to eat at the Weasley's. Molly is very adamant about this, and as she is their grandmother I am inclined to cater to her wishes (not to mention that the boys would probably be very upset if they were unable to play with their cousins this Christmas).
If you find or have found someone else, or do not wish for us to come, owl me with a letter telling me so. A simple 'no' will suffice.
If I do not receive a letter by Christmas Eve, I will assume that you are accepting and we will arrive at your house at dinnertime (6 o'clock).
Sincerely,
Harry Potter and Sons
PS – If you feel an absolute, irresistible need to buy the boys presents—I would discourage it, but it is a rather large part of the Christmas experience—Nix likes Quidditch and mischief-making, and Byrne likes to be read to and solve puzzles. I have told them not to expect anything from you and will bring a few gifts for them myself, so please don't feel like you are required to buy them something. Don't get me anything. –HP
I scanned the letter again. Of all the people who could have answered that ad, Harry Potter was the only one? I probably shouldn't have been surprised—he's got an insufferable hero-complex, after all—but I was nonetheless.
I began weighing my options. On the one hand, this was the only positive letter I had gotten so far, and Potter was sure to be civil if only for the sake of his children. On the other hand…it was Potter. The bloody Man-Who-Defeated-Voldemort.
It wasn't as if I missed the scaly beast, but still. It was the principle of the thing, really. I hated Potter, Potter hated me, all was right in the world. This sudden show of good will was a little off-putting, even if Potter had an unnatural predisposition for helping people.
Perhaps it had something to do with how he'd lost his wife, the Weaselette, three years ago. It was rather anticlimactic, really, him losing her in childbirth after the myriad of close calls the couple had had during the War. And I would never have thought that a Weasley could die from childbirth. Then again, as many children as that lot had, I supposed I should have been more surprised that it hadn't happened sooner.
But I guessed that his loss was no more or less anticlimactic than me losing Pansy and Adder to Dragon Pox. If they could only have held out for a few more weeks, that stupid Mud…that is, Granger would have been able to cure them (I was trying to break out of my Pureblood/Death Eater training, but it was difficult—especially in Granger's case.).
It was rather sad that the two people who most personified the opposing sides of a war would be able to withstand all of the pain a war brings, only to suffer from completely different pains. I thought it could only have been more ironic if Pansy and Adder had died of a muggle disease and the Weaselette had died after giving birth to an entire litter of kids instead of just the two.
"What's that, Draco?" Mother asked as she broke me out of my thoughts and entered the library, sitting gracefully in the chair across from me.
"An answer for our ad." I said, offering the letter to her.
One eyebrow slid delicately upward as she read, her eyes never straying from the paper.
"Harry Potter?" She asked finally, looking up at me.
"It's the only answer I've gotten." I said, neglecting to mention the ten letters I had already received telling me that Mother and I deserved to spend Christmas alone after what my family had done during the war.
"Then we shall accept, of course." She said with an almost imperceptible nod.
"Are you sure, Mother?" I asked. "Potter—"
"Mr. Potter will be a fine guest, I'm sure." She cut me off. "His letter is very polite."
I nodded slowly. Potter was the one to put my father in Azkaban during the war, and I suspected that he had been the cause of the slow degeneration my father had suffered after the war until finally he had died two years before.
"Very well, Mother." I pulled out a piece of paper to write a letter of acceptance.
"Don't." She said, stopping my actions with a wave of her hand. "He said he didn't need a letter unless it was to turn him down, which we obviously aren't." She paused for a moment. Then, ever the Slytherin, she added, "Besides, this way if we get another letter before Christmas there will be no need for apologies and the like."
Then she handed the letter back to me, grasping my hand in her own and squeezing it once before she stood and left the room again.
Most would have considered it a rather snide dismissal, but to me it was her way of saying she was very pleased by this turn of events. I wondered if it was just because the Manor would not be totally empty this Christmas.
I sighed and picked up a picture on the table next to me. The face of a small, perfect boy with sandy blonde hair and amber-flecked silver eyes grinned up at me, his petite hand waving shyly.
I looked at the letter again, then tossed it into the fire and hugged the picture tightly to my chest, curling up into my chair and watching the letter shrivel up and burn.
A tear dripped down my cheek, and I wondered what I was trying to do with this 'Christmas loan.'
And then I wondered what Potter was trying to do with it.
ENDCHAPTERTWO