Title: An Elf's Lament
Rating: PG-13 or R
Word count: 1463
Pairing: Harry/Draco (minor: Ron/Hermione, Dean/Seamus, others)
Genre: Humor/fluff
Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize belongs to me, including but not limited to the concept of elves as Santa's helpers.
Summary: Santa is determined to reward Draco's appearance on the "nice" list with his heart's desire - and that desire just happens to be Harry. A pushy elf named Hector is landed with the rather impossible job of "giving" Harry to Draco.
Notes: Sorry it took so long, but I'm not a fast writer, and I just came back to college last week. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! It really helped to keep me going (along with checking the stats for favorites and alerts), and thanks especially to Cupcake for her long review that made me squeal in happiness! I hope this lives up to everyone's expectations and all constructive criticism is welcome! And of course everyone knew that Dumbledore would be involved somehow...(if it's not already obvious, this fic disregards the 6th book and skims over that year.)
In Which There Are Eggs and Oatmeal
Hector could not imagine what he had done to deserve this assignment. Sure, he might have expressed a little…displeasure…with his current arrangement as a toy-making elf. But what was the point of making little trucks and dolls when no child truly appreciates them? And Hector was tired of sitting in the same spot as the past few decades, checking his section of the list (Fe-Fr) and what type of gadget/thingamabob/gizmo would most suit the 'good little child'. He wanted to get out, see the world, live a little.
But when he had mentioned that to his supervisor, oh boy, was there trouble. He was called into Santa's office just a few hours later and lo and behold! stuck with the task of presenting a selfish little boy (he remembered the whiny letters from Draco Malfoy that the elves had read during story time) with a stubborn little hero. Yes, a fit punishment for one who complains of boredom. Santa wanted to make sure he was thankful he didn't venture outside the cozy factory more often.
Hector thought back to the day before, when he was sent into the big man's office for his new "project".
...a...
Hector hesitated, studying the door to Santa's study. It was bright green, with shimmering red designs in the shapes of reindeer, ornaments, and various other Christmas goodies. Really, was there anything in this town that was not Christmas-obsessed? Seriously, get a bit of a life outside the glitter and sparkles.
He was still standing in front of the vividly colored door. Hector suddenly wished himself back to his place in the factory, making another hot pink dump truck for the odd girly tomboy. Shutting his eyes, he reached out and knocked.
A few moments later, by magic it seemed, he was seated in front of a red-clothed man with a mug of hot chocolate, not too hot or cold and full of marshmallows.
"Well, Hector," Santa said, smiling in his jovial way, "I hear that you're not satisfied making toys? Become a bit boring now, has it?" He laughed, his stomach jiggling, his cheeks rosy.
Hector's forced smile was more like a grimace. There were times when Santa was just a little too…Santa-y.
As if to mock him, Santa gave another jolly chuckle. "So I've decided to give you a new task. How would you like to leave for a while, get out and see the world a bit? A part of the world called Hogwarts, to be exact."
Wait, wasn't that… "The wizarding school?"
Santa smiled, pleased to see he recognized the name. "Yes, I've been talking to my old friend Albus Dumbledore, and I've decided that a student by the name of Draco Malfoy deserves our highest reward. He's made a switch over to the "nice" side, and we'd like to keep it that way."
"And what does that have to do with me?" Oh, he knew the name Malfoy. Everyone knew the name Malfoy. Malfoy meant nothing but trouble to all involved.
"You, my dear Hector, are in charge of giving him his heart's desire. Dumbledore has mentioned a few other things about Mr. Malfoy that I found very interesting…"
...b...
And so it had begun. "Kill them with kindness" or however the saying went. Santa was just too kind, really. Hector contemplated hanging himself with one of those strings of Christmas lights that the Big Guy so favored. The ones with only red and green colors, blinking in perfect time to endless renditions of 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town'.
Enough of that. Hector had a job to do, and he was going to have his revenge on Mr. Santa Claus. He was going to enjoy this, whether he liked it or not.
Shrugging his head, the small man set off to deliver Harry's first mission.
...c...
Harry was a reasonable teenager. Since he spent his fifth year whining, he had tried to stay away from the woe-is-me and if-I-kill-myself-will-this-all-go-away rants. But still, despite his attempts to lead a perfectly normal life – which he very much deserved after last summer, thank you – someone had to go and thrust this upon him. Not just anyone, Santa. Isn't Santa supposed to be kind, jolly, and all that garbage?
Enough of that. Time to reassess the situation. Think about it calmly, like a soldier. That Harry had never actually had the soldier or Auror training was not at all important.
What did he know about Malfoy? Malfoy had been evil. Well, bad. He had been his father's lapdog, annoyed Harry from first through fifth year, and then suddenly and miraculously made a change at the beginning of sixth year. No more arguments, no more name-calling, no more plots to get Harry expelled. Malfoy was now a "good boy".
Yeah. Right. Like even now anyone would call Malfoy a good boy. Well, there was the notable exception of Santa. Bugger.
Moving on. So Malfoy behaves…less aggressively…towards Harry during sixth year, has lots of meetings with Dumbledore (which Harry found out about during one of his spying trips around the school that were perfectly okay because after all, no one ever tells him what he needs to know, right? At least that's how he explained it to Hermione), and says not one word about his father for that entire year.
Then last summer, the Forces of Good – Percy had come up with the exciting name – had massed and attacked Voldemort's hideout in an old castle that Snape had so sneakily found, supposedly with the help of newly anointed 'good boy'. There was a big attack, a big battle, lots of blood…well, let's skip to the important part. Harry was, as he was supposed to be, in a darn impressive ballroom fighting a darn impressive Voldemort with his darn impressive powers. Darn impressive, if he said so himself.
The rest was slightly a blur. Harry had been holding off a spell, Lucius had come in, Malfoy after him…he remembered thinking that Malfoy had gone back to the other side and had a flash of panic that everyone was dead except for him…and then there were lots of lights, Lucius was on the floor, Malfoy was on the floor, Voldemort was staring straight at him, Harry screamed in rage and suddenly, there was nothing.
For weeks afterward, everyone had asked one question – how had he killed Voldemort?
And for weeks afterward, Harry had answered them – he didn't know. Then he stopped answering. It got redundant after a while.
No one knew that Malfoy had been there for the closing. Malfoy had dragged him out of there, he knew that much. Apparently he had been passed out for hours afterwards. Harry didn't know why the Slytherin downplayed his part in the story – maybe he was unsure how much Harry had noticed or remembered. Maybe he hadn't actually done anything good at all.
But now Santa's list was saying that he had. And now Harry had to make some sort of…connection…with this new Malfoy. This Malfoy he had yet to speak to after the battle, except for a terse "thank you," alone in his hospital room with the other boy. It had been met with a silent gaze. Harry had thought the blond wouldn't do or say anything. And then suddenly his mouth had tilted up into that trademark smirk, a look that seemed to contradict his next words:
"No problem, Potter."
That was it. Nothing more, nothing less. And since Harry didn't know how to react to that, he left it alone. And would have continued leaving it alone.
Sighing heavily, he glanced at the clock. 7:20. If he didn't hurry, he'd be late to breakfast. He hadn't slept any since Hector had come, but it's not like he would be able to sleep now. Might as well face the horrors to come.
Unwillingly seducing Draco Malfoy. Who'd have thought? Ron was going to die. And then maybe come back to life and eat him.
...d...
Thirty minutes later, Harry was calmly eating breakfast with Hermione and Ron. Yes, calmly. Nothing uncalm about Harry, nosiree. The fact that his oatmeal was talking to him didn't bug him in the least.
Hermione was looking at him questioningly. Harry covered the alphabet-shaped spaghetti that was somehow floating in his oatmeal spelling out "WELL GET OVER THERE DAMN YOU" with more of the gloppy brown mush and turned to look questioningly back at her.
"I asked if you had done your essay for Potions yet," she repeated, putting on her worried face. "Are you alright?"
Ron rolled his eyes at his girlfriend. "Of course he's alright. Just because he doesn't want to talk Potions before eight in the morning doesn't mean he's sick."
Harry remained motionless. If he didn't distract them, in approximately twenty-six more seconds they would be happily bickering amongst themselves. Turn away, Hermione, turn away and look at Ron, there's a good girl.
"Well, if he doesn't want to talk Potions, then I'm afraid you're just going to have to do then." Hermione batted her eyelashes mockingly and then said in her sweetest voice, "And what have you done on the essay, hmm?"
Satisfied that the two were not going to look at him or his oatmeal anytime soon, Harry glanced back down. Now the words "IF YOU DONT GET OVER THERE ILL MAKE YOU" were strewn haphazardly across the brown surface. It badly needs punctuation, Harry thought. But apostrophes or not, he was not willing to go over to the Slytherin table and do…that to Malfoy. He was beginning to think Hector had no clue about seducing people. Either that or the elf was a sadist.
He peeked again. FINE YOULL DO IT ANYWAYS. What kind of magic do Christmas elves have again? His legs were itching to walk over to the Slytherin table. The more he sat, the stronger the impulse got. Apparently they had some damn strong magic.
He murmured a counterspell under his breath, moving his wand beneath the table. The urge just strengthened. Two more spells later, he was standing up. And there was the walking.
Please, please, please Santa I'll never ask for anything ever again, just don't make me do this, oh shit—
He was in front of Malfoy now.
"Malfoy." His mouth was still under his control. Goodie, what a silver lining.
The blond looked up. He looked confused. Gee, I wonder why? Harry thought sarcastically. He's bound to look a lot more confused in a few seconds.
"Malfoy, forgive me for I know not what I do." Might as well confuse him with the dialogue too. Harry had a moment to laugh at the utter astonishment on Malfoy's face until…
He wrenched the fork full of eggs from the Slytherin's hand and shoved it towards his shock-opened mouth.
Then he smiled awkwardly as Malfoy tried to mumble something that sounded like "what the fuck?" around a mouthful of bright yellow mush.
"Tata for now." And he was running. Where would a small little elf hide in a magical school?
The kitchens.
...e...
Hector laughed to himself wildly as he watched through the glass the house-elves used to keep track of emptying dishes. It could zoom in at any angle, so he had a perfect view of Harry attacking Draco with a fork.
It was a perfectly defensible action. After all, don't lovers feed each other strawberries and other such delectable foods? Eggs definitely counted as delectable, especially for breakfast time.
Yes, there was no way Santa could reprehend him for this move. He was merely a Christmas elf, in no way schooled in the art of seduction. This was a plausible situation to his inexperienced eyes.
One of the house-elves approached him.
"Mr. Other Elf, sir, Dobby is wondering if he could use the Looker, sir? Winky says that someone is coming down the hallway, very mad, and Dobby is thinking that maybe his plate was empty. We don't want no trouble here. Dobby will have to pour burning coffee over his head."
Hector turned to look at the fretting house-elf, who was wearing one bright pink sock that said "For a good time, I'm right here" in sparkling, neon green lettering and one red sock with broomsticks flying around and around it. Another nutter. Why did the house-elves go crazy before the Christmas elves? Perhaps he should be campaigning for them instead of for himself. No, they could do their own dirty work, he decided. He politely decided to ignore commenting on the questionable fashion of the elf and instead stepped away from the glass.
"I was done anyways. Thank you for lending it to me." Hector bowed. No use antagonizing the house-elves. He could see himself using the kitchen many times in the future.
Leaving Dobby looking worriedly through the glass, Hector wandered towards the door, silently gloating. Oh, but he was going to have fun with this assignment.
"Hector! I'm going to kill you!"
Harry burst through the door, eyes wide and enraged.
And Hector had been worried about ticking Santa off? He looked for an escape route.
"Dobby, catch that elf!"
As a pink and red-footed blur ran towards him, Hector swore to never even consider helping the house-elves out again.
To be continued...