FIC: The Sweet Smell of Christmas [Harry/Draco - R]
Title: The Sweet Smell of Christmas
Author: ashindk
Pairing(s):Harry/Draco
Prompt:Draco has over-indulged on the sprouts and the Christmas pudding. He has wind and he is mortified. Harry is delighted for an excuse to tease him.
Word Count 2469
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Dear birdsofshore thank you for the lovely prompt. I hope I did it justice. I had a lot of fun with this one. Thank you for the beta eidheann_writes !
Summary: Lucius and Narcissa have been invited to Christmas dinner at Grimmauld Place. It doesn’t go exactly as planned.
“But Cissa, I don't want to go!”
“I really don't care. We have been invited for Christmas dinner, and we are going!”
“But he doesn't like me.”
“Of course not. We're still going.”
“I'm perfectly likeable!“
“Come along, dear.”
- - -
Harry adjusted the arrangement of holly and fir on the mantelpiece and stood back to admire his work. It had taken a lot of work to imbue the austere interior of Grimmauld Place with proper Christmas cheer, but he secretly thought that he and Draco had done a rather good job of it.
“Harry! Have you seen my tie?” Draco called, “They'll be here any minute now!”
“I think it's still on the bedpost!”
At that moment, the floo whooshed and Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy entered the room, brushing invisible specks of soot from their robes.
“Happy Christmas, Mr and Mrs Malfoy,” Harry gestured for them to step out of the fire. “Please come in.”
“Happy Christmas, Mr Potter," Mrs Malfoy said. "It's so kind of you and Draco to invite us over. Where is he?”
Draco chose that moment to bellow from upstairs.
“Harry, you fucking heathen! You can tie me to the bed and fuck me anytime you want, but in the future, could you please not use my silk tie to do so!” His words were followed by the clatter of expensive leather shoes, as he took the stairs two at a time and barged through the door, still straightening his tie. “Oh,” he said faintly. “Hello Mother, Father.”
Harry chanced a glance at the Malfoys. Mr Malfoy looked a little green, and Mrs Malfoy was looking very determinedly at one of the framed photographs on the wall. Possibly to avoid looking at anyone else.
“That's a lovely photo, Mr Potter.”
“Thank you, Mrs Malfoy.” Harry jumped on the chance to break the awkward silence. “It was taken this summer. In France. At the beach.” Way to state the obvious he thought to himself. The picture showed him slinging an arm over Draco's shoulder and turning to grin at the camera. They were both wearing swimming shorts, and holding huge ice cream cones. The Tricolore was flying in the background. Harry had had it framed because Draco tended to turn a delicious shade of red when he pointed out the slight dusting of freckles over his nose.
“Really? How interesting! We holidayed in Cannes once. Didn't we, Lucius?”
“Yes. Cannes.” He sneered. “French people. And sun.”
“Yes, well,” Draco cut in. “I think dinner is about to be served, if you'd like to come through. Mother, you know the way.”
- - -
“Mmmrmph! Mrrrmp! Errrrrp!”
Harry realised that he had forgotten to draw the curtain in front of the portrait of Mrs Black. Luckily, the Silencing Charm Hermione had cast on it last year still worked fairly well.
“Hello Aunt Walburga.” Mrs Malfoy nodded regally at the portrait, and kept walking straight ahead towards the dining room. Harry caught the smug smirk Mr Malfoy sent the portrait when he passed it, and was hit with a split second of sympathy, quickly overridden by disgust that he would feel any such thing towards Lucius Malfoy.
“I see you left the elf heads, Draco” Mr Malfoy said. “It's good to know that you haven't lost all sense of respect for tradition.”
“Actually, I was strongly in favour of burning them, but poor old Kreacher was so upset he threatened to accept one of Granger's knitted hats if we didn't leave them. In the end, I just couldn't bring myself to do it.” Draco smirked. Lucius sneered in disgust.
- - -
The dining room was one of the rooms they had left for later, when they decided where to renovate first. Harry had removed the tapestries with torture scenes, despite Kreacher's objections. And they had cast a few charms on the legs of the table, because Draco claimed that the carvings of suffering muggles struggling to hold up the heavy mahogany put him off his food. But the room was still quite dark and formal. Kreacher had been cooking all morning, and the Christmas meal was already waiting under heavy silver lids.
Harry drew a chair out for Mrs Malfoy and received a faint smile in return.
“Thank you, Mr Potter.”
They ate in silence for a while. Draco still had trouble meeting his father's eyes, and determinedly kept his eyes on his helping of goose and sprouts.
Mr Malfoy finished a slice of goose and carefully put down his fork.
“So tell me, Mr Potter, what are you going to do once you've finished this little stint in interior decorating?”
“Erm,” Harry said. “I haven't really decided.” He tried to catch Draco's eyes, but he was carefully placing more sprouts onto his plate.
“Really?”
“Yes. I... I mean, I know what I want to do, I just haven't applied yet.”
“Harry and I are thinking of joining the Aurors.” Draco jabbed at a sprout and missed. The screeching noise of fork-against-plate made Harry wince.
“The Aurors? But isn't that terribly risky?”
“I don't know, Mother. I think I might have an advantage. I know quite a lot about Dark wizards after all.”
Mr Malfoy nodded.
“Ah! So you’ve decided to use those unpleasant incidents with the Dark Lord to further your career. That’s the spirit!”
Draco gritted his teeth so loudly Harry could hear it from across the table.
“Those unpleasant incidents? Really, Father? Those two years were hell and you - “ Draco was cut off by a loud rumble. An unpleasant odour spread throughout the room, and Draco jumped from his seat and Disapparated. Harry stared at the spot where his boyfriend had vanished, leaving him to deal with the Malfoys by himself.
“Don't worry, Mr Potter.” Mrs Malfoy cast a quick charm that left the room smelling faintly of mint. “Draco's always been sensitive to sprouts. He gets that from his father.”
Lucius glowered. “Let's not bore Mr Potter with such common topics.”
Mrs Malfoy merely patted his hand, before leaning towards Harry and whispering loudly. Harry didn't miss the vicious glint in her eyes; She clearly had it out for her husband. “Malfoy men have weak stomachs. I don't allow Lucius any kind of kale or cabbage. He gets terrible bouts of flatulence.”
“Cissa!” Mr Malfoy sounded completely scandalised. Harry snuck a glance at his half full plate. Not a single sprout in sight.
“That's a pity! They're an integral part of Christmas dinner, don't you agree Mrs Malfoy?”
He ate one of his own sprouts and couldn't help a slight smirk while he chewed.
“Indeed they are, Mr Potter,” Mrs Malfoy delicately cut a sprout in half and speared it on her silver fork, before bringing it to her mouth.
Mr Malfoy looked like a small boy who had been denied a sweet. Over sprouts of all things! Harry suppressed a snicker.
“Erm, if you'll excuse me I'll just go and check on Draco. You can call Kreacher and have him serve the pudding if you want.” And with that, he made his escape.
- - -
Their bedroom door was closed and warded. Harry knocked.
“Draco! Please let me in!”
“Go away Harry.”
“I can't. I have nowhere to go, unless you want me to apparate to The Burrow. Your mother is telling your father off downstairs and I just couldn't stay there any longer. I was so close to laughing in his face. He looked like a scolded puppy.”
There was a muffled thump and a slide. Harry could imagine Draco leaning his back against the other side of the door and slowly sliding into a sitting position on the floor.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Your mother is kind of brilliant. In a really intimidating way.”
“She is, isn't she? Oh god! I’ll never be able to face them again!”
“Oh, come on, Draco! It was just gas. It could have happened to anybody. Ron did it all the time at Hogwarts.”
“I'm not a Weasley, though. I’m a Malfoy!”
Harry grinned. "Are you sure about that? All the old families are connected, you know? There might be some Weasley blood in there, making your bowels extra sensitive to sprouts."
A faint moan and the sound of Draco banging his head against the door was the only reply.
"Aw, Draco! Don't be so hard on yourself. I think I have a potion that'll help. I'll find it for you if you let me in."
There was a murmur when Draco took down the wards, and the door swung open.
"Okay, then. But one more joke and I’ll hex your sorry arse into the new year!”
An unmistakable odour of cabbage permeated the room, despite the fact that Draco had opened the window to let in the fresh winter air. Draco was leaning against the wall next to the door. He had his arms crossed and the scowl on his face reminded Harry of his eleven-year-old self. Harry grinned at him.
“Hello, love.” He placed a quick peck on Draco’s lips and moved past him into the room to rummage through his bedside table. He handed Draco a small flask. “Here you are.”
“Thank you.” Draco opened the bottle and quickly downed the contents. His slightly pinched expression cleared almost immediately.
“Feeling better?”
“Yes. But I’m still not coming back downstairs!”
Harry couldn’t help smiling. Draco was still looking a little frazzled and he had to admit he enjoyed his boyfriend’s discomfort a little bit. Draco was usually so cool and composed and seeing him upset over such a small thing was... for lack of a better word adorable. He stepped closer and put his arm around Draco’s waist. “I suppose we could stay up here for a bit.”
“Yeah?” Draco leaned in a little closer, and Harry relaxed at the comfort of his warm body pressing up against him. “What do you suggest we do up here?”
“Hmm.. It is our bedroom. We should take advantage of that…”
“Are you suggesting we take a nap?” Draco leaned in and placed a kiss on his neck, right below his ear. Harry shivered, as a curl of tingling warmth spread outwards from the place where Draco’s lips had touched his skin.
“That's not exactly what I had in mind…”
- - -
Kreacher had just apparated in with a bottle of sherry, when the chandelier above the table started moving slightly. There was a faint, rhythmic thumping sound coming from upstairs, almost obscured by the delicate chiming of the swaying crystals.
Narcissa pointedly ignored it, and kept eating her Christmas pudding. When she noticed her husband poking at his pudding in a most impolite manner, she put down her fork and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Are you feeling unwell, dear?”
Lucius glanced at the ceiling, trying -- and failing -- to suppress a shudder. He reached for his glass of sherry and downed it in one go. At the sight of his wife’s narrowed eyes, he hurried to reply. “No! No. I was just thinking that maybe we should retire before Draco and Mr Potter come back.” He quickly shoveled a forkful of pudding into his mouth.
“It's hardly polite to leave without thanking our hosts!"
“Never mind that. I'm more concerned about my ability to sleep tonight,” Lucius muttered. Kreacher shot him a sympathetic glance and refilled his glass.
- - -
Harry straightened his collar and attempted to smooth down his hair. Behind him Draco was sitting on the edge of the bed, tying his shoes. He looked perfectly put together except for a faint blush still staining his cheeks and neck.
“Ready?” Harry asked.
“No. But there’s no point in delaying the inevitable.”
“They’re not going to say anything, Draco.”
“I know! This will be so much worse. Mother is going to pretend nothing happened. And Father will sit there, too terrified of her to say anything, but dying to make a snide remark. It'll be written all over his face!"
Harry turned around and placed a quick kiss on Draco's forehead, trying to smooth out the wrinkles there. He grabbed Draco's hand and tugged. Draco reluctantly followed him out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He stopped at the dining room door and turned to look at his boyfriend.
"Don't worry. If your father says anything, I’ll let him in on my Weasley theory.”
“Don’t you dare!” Draco shot him a warning glance and opened the door.
Harry took his hand, and they stepped into the room together.
Mrs Malfoy looked up. “Ah! There you are. I was just telling Lucius that this Christmas pudding is an old Black recipe. It tastes just like I remember!”
“That’s nice, Mrs Malfoy,” Harry said. “I’m sure Kreacher has treasured the recipe.”
“Yes. I’ve always found the Malfoy recipe to have too much orange peel in it. This is much better. It’s the prunes, I think.”
Mr Malfoy’s hand froze with his forkful of pudding halfway to his mouth. Harry thought he saw the hand shake slightly. “Prunes?”
“Yes, dear. Lots of prunes! They add a nice rounded flavour.”
Mr Malfoy’s fork clattered against his plate. He picked up his glass of sherry instead, and brought it to his lips. When he finished drinking, he let out a loud belch.
“Lucius!”
“I-- prunes.” He scrambled to get out of his chair, and ran from the room.
"I should take your father home, Draco. It seems that prunes do not agree with him." Mrs Malfoy rose gracefully from her seat. "I'm terribly sorry to leave so soon, Mr Potter. Thank you for your hospitality.”
Harry hurried to stand. “You’re welcome, Mrs Malfoy.”
“I’ll see you to the floo, Mother.”
“Goodbye, Mr Potter.”
“Bye Mrs Malfoy.”
A few minutes passed, and then Harry finally heard the floo. He leaned back in his chair and popped the button on his trousers open. Then he cut a large slice of Christmas pudding and dug in, savouring the rich flavour along with the knowledge that it would be 364 days before the next Christmas dinner with the Malfoys.
***
Author: ashindk
Pairing(s):Harry/Draco
Prompt:Draco has over-indulged on the sprouts and the Christmas pudding. He has wind and he is mortified. Harry is delighted for an excuse to tease him.
Word Count 2469
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Dear birdsofshore thank you for the lovely prompt. I hope I did it justice. I had a lot of fun with this one. Thank you for the beta eidheann_writes !
Summary: Lucius and Narcissa have been invited to Christmas dinner at Grimmauld Place. It doesn’t go exactly as planned.
“But Cissa, I don't want to go!”
“I really don't care. We have been invited for Christmas dinner, and we are going!”
“But he doesn't like me.”
“Of course not. We're still going.”
“I'm perfectly likeable!“
“Come along, dear.”
- - -
Harry adjusted the arrangement of holly and fir on the mantelpiece and stood back to admire his work. It had taken a lot of work to imbue the austere interior of Grimmauld Place with proper Christmas cheer, but he secretly thought that he and Draco had done a rather good job of it.
“Harry! Have you seen my tie?” Draco called, “They'll be here any minute now!”
“I think it's still on the bedpost!”
At that moment, the floo whooshed and Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy entered the room, brushing invisible specks of soot from their robes.
“Happy Christmas, Mr and Mrs Malfoy,” Harry gestured for them to step out of the fire. “Please come in.”
“Happy Christmas, Mr Potter," Mrs Malfoy said. "It's so kind of you and Draco to invite us over. Where is he?”
Draco chose that moment to bellow from upstairs.
“Harry, you fucking heathen! You can tie me to the bed and fuck me anytime you want, but in the future, could you please not use my silk tie to do so!” His words were followed by the clatter of expensive leather shoes, as he took the stairs two at a time and barged through the door, still straightening his tie. “Oh,” he said faintly. “Hello Mother, Father.”
Harry chanced a glance at the Malfoys. Mr Malfoy looked a little green, and Mrs Malfoy was looking very determinedly at one of the framed photographs on the wall. Possibly to avoid looking at anyone else.
“That's a lovely photo, Mr Potter.”
“Thank you, Mrs Malfoy.” Harry jumped on the chance to break the awkward silence. “It was taken this summer. In France. At the beach.” Way to state the obvious he thought to himself. The picture showed him slinging an arm over Draco's shoulder and turning to grin at the camera. They were both wearing swimming shorts, and holding huge ice cream cones. The Tricolore was flying in the background. Harry had had it framed because Draco tended to turn a delicious shade of red when he pointed out the slight dusting of freckles over his nose.
“Really? How interesting! We holidayed in Cannes once. Didn't we, Lucius?”
“Yes. Cannes.” He sneered. “French people. And sun.”
“Yes, well,” Draco cut in. “I think dinner is about to be served, if you'd like to come through. Mother, you know the way.”
- - -
“Mmmrmph! Mrrrmp! Errrrrp!”
Harry realised that he had forgotten to draw the curtain in front of the portrait of Mrs Black. Luckily, the Silencing Charm Hermione had cast on it last year still worked fairly well.
“Hello Aunt Walburga.” Mrs Malfoy nodded regally at the portrait, and kept walking straight ahead towards the dining room. Harry caught the smug smirk Mr Malfoy sent the portrait when he passed it, and was hit with a split second of sympathy, quickly overridden by disgust that he would feel any such thing towards Lucius Malfoy.
“I see you left the elf heads, Draco” Mr Malfoy said. “It's good to know that you haven't lost all sense of respect for tradition.”
“Actually, I was strongly in favour of burning them, but poor old Kreacher was so upset he threatened to accept one of Granger's knitted hats if we didn't leave them. In the end, I just couldn't bring myself to do it.” Draco smirked. Lucius sneered in disgust.
- - -
The dining room was one of the rooms they had left for later, when they decided where to renovate first. Harry had removed the tapestries with torture scenes, despite Kreacher's objections. And they had cast a few charms on the legs of the table, because Draco claimed that the carvings of suffering muggles struggling to hold up the heavy mahogany put him off his food. But the room was still quite dark and formal. Kreacher had been cooking all morning, and the Christmas meal was already waiting under heavy silver lids.
Harry drew a chair out for Mrs Malfoy and received a faint smile in return.
“Thank you, Mr Potter.”
They ate in silence for a while. Draco still had trouble meeting his father's eyes, and determinedly kept his eyes on his helping of goose and sprouts.
Mr Malfoy finished a slice of goose and carefully put down his fork.
“So tell me, Mr Potter, what are you going to do once you've finished this little stint in interior decorating?”
“Erm,” Harry said. “I haven't really decided.” He tried to catch Draco's eyes, but he was carefully placing more sprouts onto his plate.
“Really?”
“Yes. I... I mean, I know what I want to do, I just haven't applied yet.”
“Harry and I are thinking of joining the Aurors.” Draco jabbed at a sprout and missed. The screeching noise of fork-against-plate made Harry wince.
“The Aurors? But isn't that terribly risky?”
“I don't know, Mother. I think I might have an advantage. I know quite a lot about Dark wizards after all.”
Mr Malfoy nodded.
“Ah! So you’ve decided to use those unpleasant incidents with the Dark Lord to further your career. That’s the spirit!”
Draco gritted his teeth so loudly Harry could hear it from across the table.
“Those unpleasant incidents? Really, Father? Those two years were hell and you - “ Draco was cut off by a loud rumble. An unpleasant odour spread throughout the room, and Draco jumped from his seat and Disapparated. Harry stared at the spot where his boyfriend had vanished, leaving him to deal with the Malfoys by himself.
“Don't worry, Mr Potter.” Mrs Malfoy cast a quick charm that left the room smelling faintly of mint. “Draco's always been sensitive to sprouts. He gets that from his father.”
Lucius glowered. “Let's not bore Mr Potter with such common topics.”
Mrs Malfoy merely patted his hand, before leaning towards Harry and whispering loudly. Harry didn't miss the vicious glint in her eyes; She clearly had it out for her husband. “Malfoy men have weak stomachs. I don't allow Lucius any kind of kale or cabbage. He gets terrible bouts of flatulence.”
“Cissa!” Mr Malfoy sounded completely scandalised. Harry snuck a glance at his half full plate. Not a single sprout in sight.
“That's a pity! They're an integral part of Christmas dinner, don't you agree Mrs Malfoy?”
He ate one of his own sprouts and couldn't help a slight smirk while he chewed.
“Indeed they are, Mr Potter,” Mrs Malfoy delicately cut a sprout in half and speared it on her silver fork, before bringing it to her mouth.
Mr Malfoy looked like a small boy who had been denied a sweet. Over sprouts of all things! Harry suppressed a snicker.
“Erm, if you'll excuse me I'll just go and check on Draco. You can call Kreacher and have him serve the pudding if you want.” And with that, he made his escape.
- - -
Their bedroom door was closed and warded. Harry knocked.
“Draco! Please let me in!”
“Go away Harry.”
“I can't. I have nowhere to go, unless you want me to apparate to The Burrow. Your mother is telling your father off downstairs and I just couldn't stay there any longer. I was so close to laughing in his face. He looked like a scolded puppy.”
There was a muffled thump and a slide. Harry could imagine Draco leaning his back against the other side of the door and slowly sliding into a sitting position on the floor.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Your mother is kind of brilliant. In a really intimidating way.”
“She is, isn't she? Oh god! I’ll never be able to face them again!”
“Oh, come on, Draco! It was just gas. It could have happened to anybody. Ron did it all the time at Hogwarts.”
“I'm not a Weasley, though. I’m a Malfoy!”
Harry grinned. "Are you sure about that? All the old families are connected, you know? There might be some Weasley blood in there, making your bowels extra sensitive to sprouts."
A faint moan and the sound of Draco banging his head against the door was the only reply.
"Aw, Draco! Don't be so hard on yourself. I think I have a potion that'll help. I'll find it for you if you let me in."
There was a murmur when Draco took down the wards, and the door swung open.
"Okay, then. But one more joke and I’ll hex your sorry arse into the new year!”
An unmistakable odour of cabbage permeated the room, despite the fact that Draco had opened the window to let in the fresh winter air. Draco was leaning against the wall next to the door. He had his arms crossed and the scowl on his face reminded Harry of his eleven-year-old self. Harry grinned at him.
“Hello, love.” He placed a quick peck on Draco’s lips and moved past him into the room to rummage through his bedside table. He handed Draco a small flask. “Here you are.”
“Thank you.” Draco opened the bottle and quickly downed the contents. His slightly pinched expression cleared almost immediately.
“Feeling better?”
“Yes. But I’m still not coming back downstairs!”
Harry couldn’t help smiling. Draco was still looking a little frazzled and he had to admit he enjoyed his boyfriend’s discomfort a little bit. Draco was usually so cool and composed and seeing him upset over such a small thing was... for lack of a better word adorable. He stepped closer and put his arm around Draco’s waist. “I suppose we could stay up here for a bit.”
“Yeah?” Draco leaned in a little closer, and Harry relaxed at the comfort of his warm body pressing up against him. “What do you suggest we do up here?”
“Hmm.. It is our bedroom. We should take advantage of that…”
“Are you suggesting we take a nap?” Draco leaned in and placed a kiss on his neck, right below his ear. Harry shivered, as a curl of tingling warmth spread outwards from the place where Draco’s lips had touched his skin.
“That's not exactly what I had in mind…”
- - -
Kreacher had just apparated in with a bottle of sherry, when the chandelier above the table started moving slightly. There was a faint, rhythmic thumping sound coming from upstairs, almost obscured by the delicate chiming of the swaying crystals.
Narcissa pointedly ignored it, and kept eating her Christmas pudding. When she noticed her husband poking at his pudding in a most impolite manner, she put down her fork and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Are you feeling unwell, dear?”
Lucius glanced at the ceiling, trying -- and failing -- to suppress a shudder. He reached for his glass of sherry and downed it in one go. At the sight of his wife’s narrowed eyes, he hurried to reply. “No! No. I was just thinking that maybe we should retire before Draco and Mr Potter come back.” He quickly shoveled a forkful of pudding into his mouth.
“It's hardly polite to leave without thanking our hosts!"
“Never mind that. I'm more concerned about my ability to sleep tonight,” Lucius muttered. Kreacher shot him a sympathetic glance and refilled his glass.
- - -
Harry straightened his collar and attempted to smooth down his hair. Behind him Draco was sitting on the edge of the bed, tying his shoes. He looked perfectly put together except for a faint blush still staining his cheeks and neck.
“Ready?” Harry asked.
“No. But there’s no point in delaying the inevitable.”
“They’re not going to say anything, Draco.”
“I know! This will be so much worse. Mother is going to pretend nothing happened. And Father will sit there, too terrified of her to say anything, but dying to make a snide remark. It'll be written all over his face!"
Harry turned around and placed a quick kiss on Draco's forehead, trying to smooth out the wrinkles there. He grabbed Draco's hand and tugged. Draco reluctantly followed him out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He stopped at the dining room door and turned to look at his boyfriend.
"Don't worry. If your father says anything, I’ll let him in on my Weasley theory.”
“Don’t you dare!” Draco shot him a warning glance and opened the door.
Harry took his hand, and they stepped into the room together.
Mrs Malfoy looked up. “Ah! There you are. I was just telling Lucius that this Christmas pudding is an old Black recipe. It tastes just like I remember!”
“That’s nice, Mrs Malfoy,” Harry said. “I’m sure Kreacher has treasured the recipe.”
“Yes. I’ve always found the Malfoy recipe to have too much orange peel in it. This is much better. It’s the prunes, I think.”
Mr Malfoy’s hand froze with his forkful of pudding halfway to his mouth. Harry thought he saw the hand shake slightly. “Prunes?”
“Yes, dear. Lots of prunes! They add a nice rounded flavour.”
Mr Malfoy’s fork clattered against his plate. He picked up his glass of sherry instead, and brought it to his lips. When he finished drinking, he let out a loud belch.
“Lucius!”
“I-- prunes.” He scrambled to get out of his chair, and ran from the room.
"I should take your father home, Draco. It seems that prunes do not agree with him." Mrs Malfoy rose gracefully from her seat. "I'm terribly sorry to leave so soon, Mr Potter. Thank you for your hospitality.”
Harry hurried to stand. “You’re welcome, Mrs Malfoy.”
“I’ll see you to the floo, Mother.”
“Goodbye, Mr Potter.”
“Bye Mrs Malfoy.”
A few minutes passed, and then Harry finally heard the floo. He leaned back in his chair and popped the button on his trousers open. Then he cut a large slice of Christmas pudding and dug in, savouring the rich flavour along with the knowledge that it would be 364 days before the next Christmas dinner with the Malfoys.
***