Here's just something short that I had the inspiration for. I hope you like it :)

Birthday Hell

It was the beginning of summer, but if you judged the season by the way I felt inside, you'd say it was the coldest day of winter with everything covered in snow and ice. The sun that was trying to warm up the grounds of Malfoy Manor would have had a hard time turning all the coldness into frost, sprinkling the grass in its chilly moisture.

No, it was the beginning of summer and, sadly, my fifteenth birthday. And I hated everything about it. I hated that the sun was mocking me, I hated that the stupid, chirping birds were laughing at me, and I hated every single one of the people my parents had invited to come to our oh, so lovely Manor to celebrate my birthday. I didn't even know half of them! Scratch that – I didn't even know ninety percent of them. Thinking that this was my birthday, I should be allowed to have a say in who would be invited, don't you think?

My parents thrived at every opportunity to gloat about how rich we were, about how amazingly beautiful our Manor was, about how insanely tasteful everything was furnished – mind you, Mother never missed one chance of telling everyone how old the interior was.

The only people I knew in person, in fact, were Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini, my two fellow Slytherins. The tiny, black-haired and overly excitable witch and the calm, quiet and devilishly handsome wizard had been my friends ever since my third birthday. Their parents had been invited by my parents because my mother knew someone who then again knew someone who wanted to impress someone else by mentioning the Zabinis and Parkinsons. So they had been invited. Obviously.

Those two weirdoes were my anchor in this madness and, come to think of it, they were about to arrive. In fact, they were already six minutes late.

"Dimple!" I called and not even two seconds later, the oldest house-elf I had ever known appeared next to my bed.

"How can Dimple be of use to young Master Draco, sir?" He asked. His low and sore voice trembled as if it was a difficult task to ask a simple, yet polite and waited for, question.

"Have Blaise and Pansy arrived yet?" I asked, not deeming the elf my full and undivided attention, as I gazed out of the big window. The view from my room was spectacular. I could see the small pond in the distance, the delicate marble slaps leading to it, the flower beds, the beautiful bench under the small willow... Everything was kept at pristine perfection, just how it was expected of wizards of our rank.

"They have indeed, Master Draco, sir," the elf said, not the least bit insulted by my down-the-nose behaviour. In fact, I was probably the nicest one out of all my family. "They have just stepped through the front door."

Upon hearing these, for a change, good news, I jumped off of my bed – very elegantly and Malfoy-like, of course – and hurried straight into the hallway that led to the grand staircase. I didn't run. No, Malfoys do not run. They never do.

As I arrived at the top of the stairs, I took a short moment to check my attire. My robes were spot free, of course, and no wrinkles were in sight. Mother would have my head if that wouldn't be the case. She'd have both mine and Dimple's, although with me it would be a mere metaphor.

Unknown people that I had never seen in my life were starting to fill the entrance hall, both figuratively and quite literally glistening in jewellery and prestige. I scowled. I mean, I was brought up a Malfoy; I was able to appreciate fame and fortune, but what I could not appreciate were the false smiles and delicate sniffs that some people thought were part of every gala, because this looked like just that – a gala.

My parents had not saved any Galleons on decorations, music or food – quite the contrary, in fact. The food was exquisite, the music soft and the decorations over the moon. Exactly like my mother loved it to be. Did you notice something? Yes. I said like my mother loved it. Not me. This show wasn't about me. Well, maybe it was. Officially. But mostly, it was a Malfoy event; something to show everyone just by how far the Malfoy line was better than everybody else.

My gaze hushed over the foreign faces and too high and voluminous hats and I spotted my two friends just next to the front door. Misters and Missus' Zabini and Parkinson were just about to move away from their children, eager to mingle with the rich and powerful.

I pried my way through the wizards and witches that didn't even acknowledge me, all the way over to the heavy oak double doors that led outside.

"Let's get out of here," I hissed over the loud background noise of boasting magical folk, turned around and walked down the marble stairs, straight to me favourite spot under a huge and ancient tree that was located at the far side of the Manor. You weren't able to see who was resting in its shadows from the Manor's entrance, and that was exactly what I wanted.

Once I arrived, I was surprised to see a folded blanket lying at the bottom of the tree's trunk right next to a small basket. I smiled, bend down and lay the blanket out on the grass. Wouldn't want Dimple to lose his head just because I didn't sit on the soft material, would I? Just as Blaise and Pansy wandered over, I was already seated, had the basket pulled between my legs and was peering inside.

A big jug, filled to the brim with pumpkin juice, three goblets and a plate with crumpets, already covered in clotted cream and jam on top; all of it put under a Stasis Charm to prevent insects to gnaw at it or the sun to change the temperatures.

Satisfied, I took it all out of the basket and put the surprise lunch out onto the blanket, silently thanking Dimple for his thoughtfulness.

"A picnic out in the sun? How romantic," Pansy sat down gracefully, smirking disgracefully.

"Just needed an excuse to get out of there," I said and grabbed a crumpet. This meal was way better than the prawns, scallops and caviar that were awaiting us indoors.

"It's weird to have a birthday party that isn't really to celebrate you being born, isn't it?"

Blaise and I had always been on the same boat with this one. With Blaise, it had always been a bit more extreme though. His father had died soon after his birth – the circumstances were still unknown, although I was quite sure that Mrs. Zabini knew more than she said she did – and so his mother had always made sure his annual parties would be the biggest, most expensive and, thus, least personal birthday parties to have ever existed. He knew how I was feeling right now, so he could sympathize.

Pansy on the other hand...

I glanced over to my other, and last, best friend, who was eyeing the pumpkin juice with an excited glimmer in her eyes.

Pansy was that annoying kind of person that could retreat into their happy place and only return once the nightmare was over, so, naturally, she didn't really moan.

"I can't wait until my seventeenth birthday," I said and bit into my fluffy crumpet. It was amazing. "That will be my last birthday party. Or at least the last one I don't have a say in. I can't wait."

Being of age was a big deal in the wizarding world. You were officially an adult, came into your inheritance – either a creature one or a normal, magical one, which would give you the responsibilities you'd have to deal with for the rest of your life – and would be able to lead your own life without having your parents hover over you as if you'd explode at the slightest touch.

"Isn't your sixteenth birthday the one when your parents will hold the viewing?" Blaise looked at me with a neutral expression, but I knew him well enough. He was ecstatic to not have to go through the viewing process. His mother had signed an engagement contract at his first birthday, so he wouldn't have to endure one whole day of people dragging their daughters into his house, shoving her at his feet and gushing about how perfect of a wife and carrier of his heir she would be.

I groaned, having completely forgotten about it. Or rather, I had suppressed it, and not without reason.

"You'll survive," Pansy mumbled around a crumpet.

"You're just saying that because you already know you'll marry your cousin twice removed!" I moaned and started to pick apart a second crumpet. The cream was sticking to my finger tips as I ripped small pieces off of the suddenly not so enticing piece of bakery.

"I would actually be happier if I were in your shoes, Draco," she said, looking him straight in the eye. The haughtiness had left her brown eyes. They were glistening with sincerity and, if Draco read them correctly, a small amount of envy.

"You'll have a chance, no matter how small, that you can actually have a say in who you are going to spend the rest of your life with. Blaise here and I had to accept the fact that we will be bound to people who could turn out as ugly, selfish or disgusting as possible. We wouldn't know! We only get a picture every three years and a lot can happen in those three years!"

I looked into my lap that was slowly getting filled with small crumbs. She was right. I wasn't about to let her know that – Merlin, no, I wasn't suicidal – but she had a good point. I should be thankful to my parents that they had chosen the lesser evil of the traditional marriage procedure that Purebloods still held onto like owls to a letter.

A soft smile lightened up my face. Maybe it wasn't that bad.

I raised my head as I heard my mother's voice come nearer. Her hair was elegantly pulled up at the back of her head; a few curls were flying in the warm summer breeze. Her robes, of a lovely lavender colour, were complimenting her light skin tone that was glowing in the sun. She smiled gently as she spotted me watching her.

As she reached our little hideout, she smirked and lowered herself onto the soft blanket right next to me. My eyebrows jumped up into my hairline as her fragile looking hand reached out and started to brush the crumpet pieces out of my lap.

"Your father requests that you hold your speech in about five minutes," her voice was soft, not the usual commanding tone I was used from Lucius.

I sighed, but nodded. It wasn't her fault that my father was the stuck-up Pureblood that he was.

Just as I was about to stand up, she grabbed my hand, pulled me towards her and whispered into my ear, so that the other two couldn't hear her. "Happy birthday, my darling. I love you."

And with those words, she stood back up, leaving me sitting there, completely gobsmacked.

"Hurry up, you three. Your father doesn't like to be kept waiting." She winked, turned around and glided gracefully back towards the big double doors to play the perfect host of the perfect birthday party of her perfect son.

As always, please leave a comment. I love reading and answering them!

Until next time - see ya!