Harry Potter (HPDM)
should i cower, since i've been gone so long? sincerest apologies, because well...harry potter, house m.d., lost and school have eaten my life. i've been working on little things intermittently, but until the horror that is winter break homework is over and life returns to boredom(or simply free time), i don't know if i'll be able to post anything but drabbles. hope you're all doing well, and happy holidays, whatever you may celebrate! wishing you all the very best new year, full of bishounens and such, though i'm certain i'll post before jan1. from california(on vacation) y'all, ho...ho!
christmas was never celebrated in the malfoy manor, though that did not mean there was no tree, presents, or tinsel strewn about. there was a decided lack of obese men in cheap red velvet, draco remembered, but beyond that there was a lack of cheer that made christmas simply another party with rich presents.
lucius was killed on draco's seventeenth christmas, and he supposed that might make it more, so to speak, special.
draco was thus determined to make christmas number eighteen one to remember - narcissa commented in her absent way that that wouldn't be hard, since the first sixteen were elf-orchestrated and draco stayed up long after twelve anyway.
in retrospect, draco recalled from his eighteenth christmas three things. the first was staring at the blank, green tree, wishing he hadn't sent the house elves away and insisted that he would decorate the whole bloody thing by himself or christmas be damned.
the second was the fire that burned for the first time in the hearth, toasting one side unbearingly hot (draco hadn't been able to remember the last time he'd been that warm, but that may or may not have had something to do with the fire) and leaving the other chillingly cold.
the third was harry potter, wrapping a companionable hand around his waist and whispering little words in his ear. this is not malfoy manor, he had told draco with the confidence of someone who had just moved - with lover - into a new flat. we are celebrating christmas, draco, and merry, merry christmas.
christmas was never celebrated in the malfoy manor, though that did not mean there was no tree, presents, or tinsel strewn about. there was a decided lack of obese men in cheap red velvet, draco remembered, but beyond that there was a lack of cheer that made christmas simply another party with rich presents.
lucius was killed on draco's seventeenth christmas, and he supposed that might make it more, so to speak, special.
draco was thus determined to make christmas number eighteen one to remember - narcissa commented in her absent way that that wouldn't be hard, since the first sixteen were elf-orchestrated and draco stayed up long after twelve anyway.
in retrospect, draco recalled from his eighteenth christmas three things. the first was staring at the blank, green tree, wishing he hadn't sent the house elves away and insisted that he would decorate the whole bloody thing by himself or christmas be damned.
the second was the fire that burned for the first time in the hearth, toasting one side unbearingly hot (draco hadn't been able to remember the last time he'd been that warm, but that may or may not have had something to do with the fire) and leaving the other chillingly cold.
the third was harry potter, wrapping a companionable hand around his waist and whispering little words in his ear. this is not malfoy manor, he had told draco with the confidence of someone who had just moved - with lover - into a new flat. we are celebrating christmas, draco, and merry, merry christmas.