Through the Chimney

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Something about Christmas time sent Draco Malfoy into a tailspin every year. It could have something to do with the cold weather, he supposed. People always assumed he liked the cold, but they would be wrong. It could be the fact that the sky was grey and the wind blew unyieldingly. It could have to do with the fact that everyone went around with fake smiles upon their rosy-cheeked faces pronouncing sappy sentiments like: ‘Happy Christmas time’ to each person they had the misfortune of meeting. Or it could be because his best friend died four years ago on Christmas Eve.

However, he preferred to believe he hated this time of year because of Hermione Granger.

“Does she seriously think she can deny me access to the girl this Christmas?” Draco Malfoy quipped, squashing the letter from Hermione Granger into his fist, and then banging his fist upon the table.

Throwing the piece of parchment on to the floor, he added, “She’s my only goddaughter, flesh of my best friend’s flesh, fruit of his loins! I have every right to see her, yet the girl’s stupid, mudblood mother thinks she can deny me the very basic right of seeing her on Christmas Eve! Furthermore, she cancels my visit with only two days prior notice. Bloody bad form, if you ask me.”

As he took a deep breath to reign in his temper he knew there was more to his anger than the fact that Granger cancelled his plans to see his only goddaughter. Still, it rankled him, it did.

His fist banged on the table. “It was bad enough that she told me I couldn’t give her what I wanted to give her for a Christmas present!”

He looked over at his father and squawked, “I mean, seriously, Father, you concur with me, don’t you? What harm is there in sending a girl of eight years of age the deed to a castle in Scotland? Everyone needs a castle!” He stood up so suddenly he knocked his chair over with a thud. “But no, Granger told me there was no way I was giving her something as extravagant as her very own castle. She told me to buy her a book or a toy. A TOY! For Christmas. I mean, can you imagine?”

His teeth clenched then he added, “You bought me my first castle at seven!”

“Six, darling,” his mother interjected from the other end of the long table. “You were six. You were deeded the chalet in the Swiss Alps at seven.”

“Well there you go!” Draco argued. “The poor little sprite has been neglected for two years! Two years without her very own castle or chalet! Poor, little sweet girl! I bet Adrian is rolling over in his grave at the thought that his only daughter is being neglected like that! I promised my best friend on his death bed four years ago that I would look after his only daughter, yet Granger thwarts me at every turn.”

If only Granger would see that he had the little girl’s best interest at heart – but no – Granger preferred always to think the worst of him. She always had and always would. Even though he’d tried everything to show her that he had changed! And now she wanted him to buy her daughter … a toy? What would that prove?

“I wouldn’t even know where one goes to buy a toy!” he tacked on.

Without lowering his paper his father said in a dry drawl, “A toy store?”

With a derisive laugh and a snort Draco responded, “Right, like those exist. A toy store, good one, Father.”

His mother smiled and said, “I could help you find a suitable present.”

“That’s not the point, Mother! The point is that, that woman has gone out of her way to try to extricate little Ivy from my life, but I tell you I won’t have it! Not at all! Christmas Eve is my time with her! Adrian appointed me godfather for a reason. He wanted a pureblood to look after her education and upbringing.”

Pacing back and forth beside his chair, he continued his rant while his parents continued their breakfast. “She’ll be heading off to Hogwarts in three short years! She has to know what to expect. No one’s taught her pureblood etiquette or history or traditions!” He made a disgusted sound deep in his throat when he added, “instead, all she knows is her mother’s mudbloody mudbloodness!”

Even to his ears that sounded like a feeble excuse. The truth was he wanted to see Ivy because she gave him a connection to the only true friend he’d ever had, and because down deep he had feelings for her mother, even if he rather die than admit as much. He picked up his chair and sat back down. Stabbing a large piece of sausage on his fork he said, “It’s bad enough that she has to be around mudbloods and Muggles every Christmas, along with people like the Weasleys or worse, Potter.”

Even Lucius shuddered slightly at his end of the table at that sentence, and then expelled one strangled, disgusted phrase … “Ugh, Potter.”

Draco persisted, “But to think, that she won’t even let me SEE HER! I’ve seen her every Christmas Eve in the past, but this Christmas, Granger claims she’s going out of town for the holiday. What a load of hippogriff shite … sorry, Mother.”

“It’s alright, darling, you’re upset,” his mother said with a smile.

Draco took a long drink of black coffee, looked down the long table for a long time at his father, who appeared to still be reading the newspaper.


There was no response.

“Father? Have you heard a word I’ve said?” the younger Malfoy whined.

Malfoy senior finally placed his newspaper on the corner of the breakfast table, gave his son his best haughty glare and said, “What?”

“Weren’t you even listening to me?” Draco demanded.

“Of course I’ve been listening to you,” his father levelled. “You’ve been crying, boo-hoo, boo-hoo, for forty-five minutes now. One couldn’t help but to listen to you, Son. You sound almost like a little girl yourself. You make me almost ashamed to call you my son; in addition to that, you’ve ruined my morning constitution. Yet you want to know if I was listening to you? Yes, I was. I had no choice.”

“Now you listen to me,” his father said while standing, “If you want to see your goddaughter, instead of sitting at MY breakfast table crying, go do something about it. In my day, I would have taken care of my problems instead of prattling on about them, but there you go, the old ways are long gone.”

“Yes well, in your day, you went around wearing long black robes and masks! In your day you would have probably just swooped down into the floo while no one was looking and … and … wait … you might have given me an idea, Father.” Draco narrowed his eyes, looked over at his mother, and said, “Mother, Father’s being a bit of a bore, but he’s given me a wonderful idea. I know just how I’ll get to see them, I mean, her, this Christmas without her mother being any wiser. Hmm, yes, I think it’ll work. Thank you, both. I must be on my way. I have things to do, unlike you two laze abouts.”

With that, he stood, went over and kissed his mother’s cheek, and then patted his father’s arm, before he walked out of the room without looking back.

His mother looked at his father with a smile on her face and said, “You’re brilliant, my love.”

Lucius sat back down. “I know it,” he returned with a twinkle in his eye. “I know.”

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