Title: An Elf's Lament
Rating: PG-13 or R
Word count: 1,756
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Genre: Humor/fluff
Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize belongs to me, including but not limited to the concept of elves as Santa's helpers.
Notes: As you can see, I am a horrible updater. I usually will update eventually, but it sometimes takes me forever and a day, and sometimes takes me less than a week. I'm so very sorry, but usually what gets me going again is reviews, so please, feel free to throw them at me! I love constructive criticism, since when I know what to improve upon, I feel even more inspired to write the next chapter and do it better than the previous one.
Hector moaned pitifully and rolled over onto his slightly-less-bruised side. Harry had gotten him good, and although he had grudgingly repaired a few of the worse bruises (mainly gained by falling down the stairs running away from the crazed teenage hero), he left the Black & Blue hex that he had thrown at the elf right after. He had then proceeded to lecture about proper seduction techniques for half an hour, which led Hector to comment, "You seem rather eager to make sure this succeeds." Thankfully that had turned out to be the most embarrassing thing to say to the boy, because Harry just looked rather annoyed and stormed out rather quickly.
Hm...perhaps there was more to this Malfoy creature than he thought. He should go take a look.
Calling upon the Christmas powers that elves were only supposed to use in the completion of tasks - but really, doesn't this count? He was beaten in the line of duty after all - Hector quickly healed the most painful of the remaining bruises and pulled an Unnoticeable Air around himself. Because elves often had to go spy on children, they had perfected the spell hundreds of years before. Now, however, they weren't allowed to use it that often because of some privacy charges. Apparently one elf had used it on a celebrity in America, and the whole thing had just turned very messy. But it wasn't technically illegal, just frowned upon, and it's not like he was watching some blonde actress in the shower.
So, feeling quite satisfied with his justification, Hector popped on down to the dungeons to observe.
...a...
Draco was not in a good mood. He had been accosted - accosted! - by that stupid bobbled-headed Boy, and he had no idea why. After two years of truce, to have Harry appear in front of him and shove scrambled eggs in his mouth...really, wasn't it just a little too juvenile? And it didn't even make sense as an attack or a prank. Sure, Harry could have put something into the eggs, but Draco hadn't really felt anything at the time but panic and surprise, and didn't feel anything now except total confusion.
He didn't even notice anymore that he had called Harry by his first name. Though he had never done it to the boy's face, after saving his life in that crazy battle, he just couldn't bring himself to think of him as 'Potter' anymore.
He never admitted to himself that saying Harry in his thoughts made him feel special, but it did.
But though he used many search spells upon himself, he found no evidence of any potions or charms. The eggs were not magical then. Just strange.
Sighing to himself, Draco got up off his bed and opened his chest. He had tried to break himself of this habit, but maybe because of all the emotions that those days had held, he couldn't help himself. When he climbed back onto his four-poster, he was holding an album full of news clippings. News clippings from the war.
The war had been shorter than he had ever imagined. And despite all the things he had endured - the Cruciatus, torture, Veritaserum, all the usual war crimes - he had felt unaffected then and still felt that way now. After the way his father had treated him after fifth year...after he had escaped from Azkaban, enraged and desperate, hoping to prove himself and oh-so-angry when he found out that Draco would not help him. Draco, the coward, who didn't want to be involved in a war. Draco, who hadn't liked how his father looked and acted. Draco, who had woken up one day and seen that his father was much more cowardly than he war, that his father would kiss the toe of a monster and call it 'Master'.
After the disillusion, he hadn't wanted to ever become like his father again. And his father hadn't taken that very well.
So when he got back to Hogwarts that year, he resolved to stay out of the war as much as possible. He went to Dumbledore for protection, and all his plans changed in the drop of a Sorting Hat. The Sorting Hat had predicted that unless Draco helped, Harry would die. After giving Dumbledore a long lecture about how the Sorting Hat should be teaching Divination, he had proceeded to be trained by Snape.
Somehow, it had worked. Even now, Draco couldn't believe the intensity and level of determination he had then. He learned skills so far above his level that he thought he might die just trying to accomplish them. He became more powerful than his father. Then he had killed his father.
And Harry had been saved, and Draco had not kissed anyone's feet or called them master.
But he had downplayed his part, cowardly once again, too scared to admit that he had killed his father to anyone but himself. Too scared that it would make him break down if someone else knew. He was sure Dumbledore knew, but the old coot had not, and would not, confront him about it.
The only other person who suspected was Harry. And Harry would not tell.
Instead of being angry with him, suspicious of him, or falsely thankful - Draco had not been able to predict the boy's reaction - Harry had looked a little puzzled and what seemed like sincerely, though quietly, grateful. "Thank you." Those words had saved Draco in the days after his father died. He knew it had been worth it.
Coming back to himself, he noticed that he was staring at a picture of Harry, tired and confused and hurt, under the headline "Boy Who Lived Kills You-Know-Who". Too afraid to put the name into print even after his death. Typical.
Draco put the album back and got up to gather his books for classes.
...b...
Hector watched the Malfoy boy sit on his bed, buried in his thoughts, stare at the picture of Harry for half an hour and wondered just how Santa and Dumbledore had known about this. He suspected they both used Unnoticeable Air more often than they were supposed to.
Still, this was all interesting information. He had to admit, the blond one seemed much more inclined towards this present than the present himself did. Hector always rooted for the underdog (but bet on the sure win), so he would try to help the poor boy a little more for real now.
Besides, torturing Harry was really the most fun he had had in years.
...c...
Harry hadn't planned on taking a stroll today. He especially hadn't planned on going out in the freezing weather only to be caught in the snow and ending up in the Slytherin locker room. He also hadn't planned for Malfoy to be in there with him.
"Stupid Hector and his stupid feet moving powers. And I don't even have a coat and it's really piling up out there," Harry muttered to himself as he put his hands in his armpits to keep them warm. He ignored Malfoy looking at him in confusion.
Harry pleaded in his thoughts. 'Please don't talk about it Malfoy, please don't...'
"So, why eggs?"
"Bugger." Harry turned to the other boy. "Why not?" he said simply. "You were eating eggs, so you obviously like eggs. I could have fed you oatmeal, but after this morning, even I don't like oatmeal, and I know you never eat it."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Glad to know you studied my favorite breakfast food before you shoved it down my throat. Alright, I'll rephrase the question. Why feeding me food at all? Was that an attack? Because if it was, you've really gotten pretty bad since the last time we fought with each other. Maybe I should've kept irritating you, kept you in shape."
"You look underfed."
"My body is in perfect shape. Thin is in."
"You weren't eating fast enough, and it was bugging me."
"I don't believe I've changed my eating speed, or ever will, so unless you plan on thrusting eggs in my mouth every morning, that endeavor was futile."
Harry didn't think Malfoy had noticed how dirty "thrusting eggs in my mouth" had sounded. He swallowed hard.
"The eggs were poisoned."
"Then why aren't I dead?"
"It's a delayed poison."
"I'm immune to most delayed poisons."
"Then it won't work on you."
"But they do give me an immediate severe stomachache."
"Oh."
"Next?"
"I was trying to seduce you."
Malfoy paused and looked thoughtful. Then he smirked.
"Well, that brings us right back to the question of 'Why eggs?'. Please read a romance book or two before you attempt to seduce anyone else, because they likely won't be as forgiving of complete idiots as I am."
Harry tried to interpret the sentence, the look, the air Malfoy had about him. He seemed...relieved? Not that Harry was seducing him, no, he didn't believe that, but about something...whatever it was, Malfoy was willing to forgive him. Harry took the chance. After what Malfoy did for him, he didn't want to repay him in spite and past anger.
"I do appreciate your forgiving soul, and I heartily apologize. I promise not to feed you any scrambled eggs in the future."
Malfoy looked satisfied at that, and so Harry couldn't help but add, "But I don't make promises about any other foods, breakfast or otherwise," before throwing a quick warming charm on himself and escaping out into the lightening snowfall.
He didn't look back to see Malfoy's completely confused face, but he knew it was there.
...d...
Hector popped up beside him in the hall.
"Well, well, aren't we enjoying ourselves seducing the little Slytherin, hmm?" he said, floating comfortably along beside Harry.
"Don't congratulate yourself just yet. He looked a little too self-satisfied, and I wanted to confuse him a bit. That's all it was, not a promise of future seduction," Harry said, getting a wee bit tired of elvish interference in his everyday life.
The elf just looked at him. "Oh but you will," he said ominously, before popping out of sight and leaving Harry alone in the hall, a little confused and a lot apprehensive.
Oddly enough, he was looking forward to beating his boredom. Having fought and planned and snuck around his entire life, it would be nice to get back to it on a slightly smaller scale.
He just wasn't sure about this end result Hector seemed to have in mind.
To be continued...