(no subject)
Draco made his way downstairs, silently cursing the couple arguing in the Slytherin common room. He couldn’t sleep; he never could on Christmas Eve, wondering what surprises would be amongst his presents. His mother always made sure there was at least one surprise, usually something that he did not even know that he wanted. When he had heard an argument erupt downstairs, Draco was tempted to let the couple just fight it out, but he was Head Boy this year and he was supposed to stop things like that. As an early present, he wouldn’t take points from either of them-he wouldn’t do that to a housemate on Christmas Eve-but multiple detentions were definitely in order.
Draco blinked as he entered the common room, shocked to the core at what he saw. He wondered if perhaps there was something in the pumpkin juice that he had for dinner because he simply could not believe his eyes. The current Head Girl, Hermione Granger, was standing in the middle of the Slytherin common room, arguing vehemently with a jolly old man in a bright red suit.
“Now see here, young miss,” said St. Nick. “You don’t understand what’s going on here.”
Granger glared daggers at the poor old man. “Oh I know perfectly well what is going on here, and that’s why I am here to put a stop to it. I can’t believe you! How can you-”
“It’s too early for this,” Draco muttered, then stepped forward to deal with the situation. “Oi Granger,” he said, waving his hands to get the witch’s attention. “It’s okay. He’s not an intruder.” He sighed. “I guess I should have expected a Muggle like you not to have heard of St. Nick.”
“And you! You are just as bad as he is!” Granger whirled around to face him, planting her fists on her hips. “As awful and as prejudiced and as….oh! Of course I know who he is! He’s the worst house elf enslaver of them all!”
Draco stumbled backwards. “Excuse me?”
She heaved a great sigh at his ignorance. “I guess it’s possible you didn’t know. It’s not the sort of thing that they would tell children. I only learned myself this past month, so I guess I owe you the benefit of the doubt. This seemingly innocent-looking old man”-she pointed a finger in Santa’s direction-“forces hundreds and hundreds of house elves to toil for him all year long, making all manner of toys and presents, just so he can look like he’s some sort of generous benefactor to young children. It’s gone on long enough, and I am going to put a stop to it.”
“But Granger,” Draco protested, “there are some children in this world who wouldn’t have any presents if it weren’t for him. Think of all those Weasleys, for Merlin’s sake! You’ll be making countless children cry if you go on with this!”
That did seem to affect her as she shifted about uncomfortably. “Well it’s too bad,” she finally said. “House elves shouldn’t be used this way. If the old man really wants to give a present to every single child, then he should make them all himself or at least pay the poor elves for their labor.”
Draco winced. That would put a dent in his own vaults at Gringotts, and from what he understood, old St. Nick wasn’t half as rich as he. Evidently the old man felt the same way.
“Pay the elves?” the old man said, his jaw dropping in horror. “I already can barely afford the raw materials to make all the toys! But to pay the elves! Young lady, you would put me out of business.”
“If you can’t afford to pay them, then you can’t really afford to stay open, now can you? The means don’t justify the ends, you know, not for something like this.”
“Oi Granger, it’s not as though he asks for payment. He runs a charity. Don’t you have different rules for charities?” From the light burning in her eyes, Draco knew that she wasn’t about to agree with him. So he decided to try a different tack. “You know,” he said, “you chose the worst possible time to do all this. Christmas Eve? That’s the busiest day of the year for him. Are you some sort of scrooge?”
That did give her pause. “I admit it’s not the best timing, but then again, it’s not as though he’s the easiest man to find,” she said.
“Give her your address,” he commanded the old man. “So she can send you all sorts of materials about spew.”
“That’s S.P.E.W. And I know where he lives, everyone does. I’ve already sent him pamphlets, but he’s never bothered to respond.”
“Well you’ve only been sending him stuff this past month,” said Draco, remembering her words from before, “so he’s probably been too busy.”
“You’ve got that right,” muttered St. Nick, who no longer looked so jolly.
“Promise her that you’ll write her back,” Draco ordered.
The old man glared coldly at him. “Just who do you think you are, ordering me around like that?”
“I’m someone who doesn’t want to listen to the anguished cries of Crabbe and Goyle when they’ve discovered that you haven’t left them anything because you were hijacked by that witch,” he replied.
“Oh. Point taken. I suppose that after the New Year, I’ll have time to answer all of Miss Granger’s voluminous letters.”
“Fine, fine. I guess that will have to do,” said Granger. Then a thought occurred to her. “Wait! Crabbe and Goyle are on the nice list?” Granger asked.
“Every year, like clockwork,” confirmed St. Nick.
“But they like to bully first years!” she protested.
“At least they don’t attack poor old men who are just trying to do their jobs,” the old man shot back. “Now if you two will excuse me, I have some presents to distribute.” The old man quickly took a pile of presents from his sack and left it under the Slytherin tree. Then he fled up the chimney, as though scared Granger would change her mind about letting him go.
Draco ignored Granger’s mutterings about whether the old man would keep his promise in favor of examining the assortment of presents left behind. Crabbe’s and Goyle’s were front and center, there was a small one for Zabini, one wrapped with a bright red bow for Nott….but none for him! He cursed and took another look, but still couldn’t find any present with his name on it.
“That slimy bastard,” he swore. “I swear, the next time I see him, I’ll avada his arse.” A loud gasp brought his attention back to the other occupant of the room, who was now staring at him with big, brown eyes.
“I know,” she said breathily. “It’s not right to want to kill someone, but he was just so…ugh! I feel the same way.” She took something out of her pocket. “Would you like a badge?” she asked.
Somehow, he couldn’t find the words to refuse her, not when she was looking at him as though he was the best thing in the world. He hadn’t ever known that he had wanted to her to look at him like that, but now that she was, he wasn’t ever going to let her stop. Draco Malfoy was clever enough to know what to do next. He didn’t need mistletoe dropping down to know that this was when he was supposed to kiss the girl. And so he did.