MALFOY CHRISTMAS BALL
Malfoy Christmas Ball by glovong featuring a gold necklace
Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Beast, prowling through Malfoy Manor, beside himself with impatience. The Malfoy Christmas Party would be starting any minute. He couldn’t believe how long it had felt like he’d not seen his Slytherin classmates, and in spite of himself, he may have missed them somewhat.
Even that insufferable Daniel boy.
As promised, in the foyer was erected a monumental jenga of crystal goblets, flowing like a fountain and producing the most delightful babbling brook sounds. The House Elves had been charmed to look as though they were wearing black and white dress robes, but this was simply a glamour: no Malfoy would release a House Elf by giving them clothes. At least, not intentionally. Just beyond the crystal fountain, Christmas garlands were wrapped around the banister of the sweeping entrance staircase, as well as many other inviting if not overly expensive decorations.
The dining hall was really done to the nines. Ruby-studded olive draperies hung from the long windows, and the chandeliers sparkled like glitter. Silk green stockings hung from the fireplace in a neat row, each with a red name upon it: Cissy, Lucius, Draco, Bella, and Tom.
Along the outside of the hall were many tables laden with appetizers, pricey if not delicious. A slightly raised dance floor had been put near the center, and music filled the room as if from nowhere. But the bar was truly a sight; a long, sweeping bar table that looped a full circle, manned by a lone House Elf that idly cleaned a drinking glass with a black cloth, protruded wildly from the far corner of the room. It had stocked many different brands, Russian mostly, but also French and Spanish liquors upon their Top Shelf.
Narcissa was running around, checking the decorations and the guest areas for perfection. Lucius was starting in early with the FireWhiskey Sours, already lost count of how many he’d had before any guests had even shown up, already fighting with the Elf about whether or not he can handle another, being generally belligerent.
And in the dining hall, a skinny man in a Santa suit was nibbling at some cordial cherries…
The rush of the Floo Network sent Draco running to find whom their first guests were. A group of OG Death Eaters stepped out, all having traded in their black robes and mask for what, for some of them, was high end dress wear. They had all tried, but hilariously a few had simply missed the mark.
But no matter. Draco wasn’t particularly interested in them either way. He said his hellos and gave his Happy Christmases to them as they made their way into the dining hall, shaking the hands of the men and kissing the hands of the women, all that pompous rich stuff he’d been so well trained in imitating. But his mind was elsewhere.
More guests arrived and more pretentious conversation ensued. He entertained them to a fashion, before considering sending an owl to a few choice faces he knew he’d wanted to see.
Where were they?