Worser Angels

Chapter Twelve

Christmas at the Manor

Severus's condition improved gradually, though between the pain and waking up screaming himself hoarse, he wasn't getting much sleep. By the time the term ground to a close, he was more than ready for a break.

On the first Saturday of the break, Draco bounced and capered at his side like an overexcited puppy as they made their way to the carriages waiting to take them to the train.

"A team of Aurors has been through the Manor, making sure You-Know-Who hasn't left any surprises behind. It should be all right." He had wanted to check things over himself, but hadn't felt well enough. Dumbledore had deputized Minerva to go, but he wasn't sure he trusted her any more than he did the Ministry's thugs.

"Didn't even think about that," Draco admitted. "Good thing you did." He levitated both of their trunks into the carriage and gave Severus and hand up into it. "I suppose you can see them. The thestrals, I mean."

"Yes." Since he'd been nine.

"It's funny. I've seen a lot of things, but not...you know."

"Yes." "Funny" wasn't exactly the word he'd choose.

They boarded the train, and had little trouble securing a compartment to themselves. Right after they boarded, a few students stuck their heads in, but word got 'round quickly, and after that they were left alone. The train started moving, and Severus flicked open his copy of the Prophet. The cover story featured a nursery school class visiting St. Oldgot's Home For Retired Witches; a sidebar explained the charm necessary to hear the tots' rendition of "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen."

Revolting.

"I suppose this is weird for you," Draco said suddenly.

"What?"

"Going to the Manor."

"I've been there before," he ducked the question.

"That's what I meant."

Of course he did. "I don't mind going." He was, in fact, looking forward to being away from school for something other than business for the first time in years.

Which wasn't to say Malfoy Manor wasn't at the bottom of his list of holiday destinations.

But they wouldn't be there, and that made a difference.

"I've sent the house-elves lots of instructions," Draco was saying. "It should be...all right."

"What sort of instructions?"

"Decorations and things. I've had them air out the red room for you, hope that's all right. I'm closing off Father's and Mother's rooms for a few years. And the ballroom, and the green drawing room."

Severus knew what he meant. "You might want to add the trophy room."

"That I'm having torn down and replaced with a television room."

Lucius would have a fit. "Does the Manor even have electricity?"

"I'm having it laid on. Buried wires, and just the one room," he added a bit defensively.

He was glad to hear that Draco was making changes to the Manor. And devoting a room to muggle entertainment seemed a very appropriate way to proceed.

When they arrived at the Manor--after getting a Portkey at the train station--two house elves greeted them at the door.

"Welcome home, Master Draco!" they squeaked in chorus, bowing so low their foreheads touched the carpet.

"Thank you." Draco bowed back.

The house elves took away the luggage, and Severus had a look around. The entrance hall had been filled with wreaths and fairy lights. Even that awful fountain had been covered in lights, and the basilisk had a fetching red ribbon collar. Garlands of pine boughs were wound around the banisters of the sweeping double staircase.

It hardly looked like Malfoy Manor at all.

#

They passed a few quiet days at the Manor. The house elves fed them delicious meals six or seven times a day, and Draco slowly relaxed, realizing as he did so how much he had been on his guard at Hogwarts. Even though nothing terrible had happened--to him, at least--for several weeks, he had always had to expect that something might. Here, as long as he avoided the parts of the house Father had used, he was comparatively free of demons.

Professor Snape made himself useful by sorting through Father's personal papers. Draco told him it wasn't necessary, but he insisted, so after a few attempts to dissuade him, Draco gave up and left him to it. Himself, he spent the days walking the grounds, getting ahead on his schoolwork, and reading. Evenings, he and Snape say in the little parlour. Sometimes they played wizard chess--the professor spotting him a few pieces. Other times he helped Draco practice for his N.E.W.T.s.

When Christmas Eve came, the house elves dragged an enormous tree into the little parlour, and followed with boxes of ornaments taller than they were. He'd ordered the ornaments last month, and was pleased to see that they looked as good in person as they had in the catalogue. There were tiny birds, which would flit from branch to branch (they came with a singing option, but he thought that would get old after a while), glittering icicles, and baubles in which tiny replicas of Hogwarts and Diagon Alley sat underneath eternal snowfalls. He'd also gotten two dozen replica snitches and broomsticks, and some leaping reindeer (he wondered if they'd collide with the birds).

He started with the snitches, becoming aware that the Professor was watching him over his newspaper. "Why don't you have the house elves do that?"

"It's supposed to be fun. I read about it in a book," he added ridiculously.

"Ha. Ha," Snape said. "Do you want me to help you?"

Draco was about to say "If you want to," but he realized that if Snape did want to, he'd probably rather be flayed alive than admit it. So instead he said, "If you wouldn't mind."

With a sigh, Snape folded his newspaper and put it aside. "Shall I start with these...things?" He lifted the snow globes.

"If you like."

Draco soon realized that he had dramatically underestimated the number of ornaments required for a twelve foot Christmas tree. "Looks a bit bare, doesn't it?" he commented when they had finished with the ornaments and were standing back to admire their handiwork.

"Rather," Snape agreed.

"How disappointing." They'd have to fill it out with something. "Sully?'

The house-elf appeared. "Yes, Master Draco?"

"We'll need the Christmas crackers in here. And maybe some ribbon, and anything else you can find that might look good on the tree."

"Yes sir!" she squeaked, and disappeared.

"I'm going to get my Chocolate Frog cards. We might be able to do something with them." He went upstairs for the cards. He wasn't particularly interested in collecting them, but since he ate so many Frogs, he had a great many.

He came back to the parlour with two boxes of cards and a box of Frogs. Snape was sitting on the carpet methodically transfiguring grapefruit spoons and fish forks into silver angels and dragons.

"Oh, good idea!"

Snape gave him a dour look. "I had considered pressing the chessmen into service, but we might want to play later."

Draco strung ribbons through the ends of the crackers, and poked holes in the cards to attach ribbons.

"You'll ruin those."

"I have plenty." He sorted through the cards, picking his favorites to hang up. "I have about fifty Dumbledores here. But I draw the line at Potter. Nearly had a heart attack the first time I opened a Frog and saw him smirking up at me." That had happened shortly after the Ministry admitted to Voldemort's return.

"I'm surprised you didn't start a boycott."

"I considered it."

Snape, apparently deciding he'd done enough transfiguring, started hanging his dragons on the tree. Sully brought in a set of tea strainers in the shapes of teapots and little houses.

"Oh, those are good. Go on, put them on the tree." The house-elf began hanging the strainers on the lower branches of the tree.

Once they'd finished hanging their improvised ornaments, the tree looked a lot better. Draco stood back to admire it again. "There. That looks terrific."

"It's not bad," Snape allowed, poking one of the Dumbledore cards. The Headmaster waved back at him from his photograph. "You'd best be off to bed. Father Christmas and all that."

Draco gave him a dark look. "I'm not four, you know."

"Yes, I know."

But he went to be shortly after that anyway.

#

Draco had planned on sleeping in the next day--there wasn't much point to getting up early on Christmas if one wasn't expecting any presents. He usually got a few things from associates of his parents--sweaters and books and the like--but it was never very exciting. This year he supposed that Snape and Dumbledore had probably attempted to get him something, but their efforts at Christmas shopping had probably been as awkward and feeble as his own had been.

Snape would almost certainly not like what Draco had gotten for him.

But he didn't have anything else. It wasn't as though he could wrap up something he'd found in his father's study and pass it off as a gift.

He had been to cotillion, after all.

After fretting about the problem for a half hour, he decided just to get up and get things over with. Taking the presents from the bottom of his trunk and pulling on his dressing gown, he went downstairs.

He was glad to see that the Professor was already up, sitting in the breakfast room where the house elves were pressing mounds of eggs and bacon on him.

" 'Morning, Professor," Draco said, sitting down across from him.

"'Morning. Happy Christmas. We've had owls already."

"Happy Christmas. Who from?" He summoned the toast rack, only to have Sully take it out of his hands and replace it with one filled with fresher, hotter toast.

"Dumbledore, your solicitor, and I didn't recognize the last one." He nodded towards the envelopes sitting by Draco's plate.

"Oh. The solicitors wouldn't have sent me bad news on Christmas, would they?"

"I doubt it."

"Sully," he interrupted the house elf who was in the process of bearing away a pot of slightly-cooled tea. "I'd like to see you and Nobs, as soon as you have a moment."

"Yes Master Draco," she squeaked.

A moment later, both house elves were standing in front of him. "These are for you," he said, presenting them with flat packages, each containing a pillowcase (floral for Sulle, and blue and white stripes for Nobs), and a sickle. "Also, the case of butterbeer in the pantry, and you're to have the whole day off tomorrow. The Professor and I will look after ourselves."

"Master Draco!" Sully threw herself on the carpet. "You are far too generous."

"Yes, well," he said awkwardly.

After assuring him that he was the best, kindest master in the wizarding world, the two house elves finally took themselves back to the kitchen, and Draco opened his post.

The letter from his solicitors contained nothing more than Christmas greetings and a wish that the coming year would be more pleasant than the last. The mystery envelope came from an address in Surrey. It proved to be a rather stiff note from the Grangers:

Dear Draco:

Than you for the lovely hamper. Don't worry about our assistance with that little matter. We'd have done the same for anyone. Hermione says you have been decent to her of late. We hope that continues. Happy Christmas and best wishes for the New Year.

Sincerely,

The Grangers

At the bottom of the note, Hermione had written, "P.S.: It was really very thoughtful of you to send something. I didn't know wizards could order from muggle shops. See you back at school. Hermione."

Even he didn't send thank-you's on the very day. Maybe etiquette was different for muggles.

He passed the letter to Snape. "You sent them a hamper?" he asked, scanning it.

"Seemed the least I could do. It was actually a bit of a pain--changing the money and arranging it with the owl office. I sent one to the hospital, and one to Dumbledore. He likes muggle sweets, doesn't he?"

"What? Oh, yes. Good idea."

Getting Dumbledore a gift had been a bit of an afterthought. He'd realized, belatedly, that ebing the trustee of Draco's estate and his pro forma guardian was a bit of an imposition, and decided that a gesture of appreciation might go a long way in smoothing things over between them.

Marmalading another slice of toast, Draco opened his last envelope with an extra knife and scanned it quickly.

"What's he say?" Snape wanted to know.

"Happy Christmas, sent a few things by separate owl--"

"They're in the parlour," Snape confirmed.

"--sorry I had such a difficult term, lots of alternately gnomic and whimsical stuff to the general effect that I'm becoming less of a prat than I once was, best wishes, Albus Dumbledore," he summarized.

"You might want to give it a more careful reading later. Albus puts a lot of thought into his Christmas letters."

"You got one too?"

"Yes."

"Well--" Draco decided he'd done as much with the breakfast as he could, although they'd hardly made a dent in what the house elves had provided. "Shall we go see about the presents, then?"

"If you like."

When they entered the little parlour, the birds and reindeer on the tree came to life, leaping and flitting from branch to branch. Draco sat under the tree to read the labels on the packages. He had no trouble guessing that the two wrapped in a green so dark it was almost black were from the Professor, and that the ones with the smiling Santa Clauses were Dumbledore's. He had three presents from the Headmaster, and Snape had two. Draco added his own (wrapped in a blue and silver snowflake paper--somebody had to have taste) and passed them to him. "You first."

Snape sighed. "I should warn you that Albus's gifts are...odd. He will try to cheer me up."

Draco grinned. This was going to be entertaining. "Go on, then."

With a long-suffering sigh, Snape opened his first present, a largish squashy one.

It was a soft toy. A penguin. Freed from the wrappings, it said in a syrupy voice, "Hello! I'm Percy the Potions Penguin, from the Little Merlin's range of teaching toys! Recommended for ages six and up. Would you like to play a game?"

Snape winced. "You see? You see what I have to put up with?"

Percy the Potions Penguin was undaunted. "Let's play a game, shall we?" he insisted.

"I'd rather not," Snape said firmly.

"I make learning fun! Which of these things is not like the others: puffapods, gillyweed, beetles' eyes, or frogwort?"

Snape tried to set the penguin aside, but it sing-songed, "I don't hear you!"

Trying not to laugh, Draco said, "You'd better answer it, or it might never shut up."

With a look of profound distaste, Snape addressed the toy. "You probably want me to say beetles' eyes, because the other three are all plants. However, puffapods, frogwort, and beetles eyes are all used in restorative potions. Gillyweed is not."

"Aren't you the clever one!" Percy began to dance, flapping his wings and waddling around the tabletop while emitting a tinny song. When he finished, he asked, "Shall I give you a harder question?"

"Not just now. Please," Snape said. "Oh, get up," he added to Draco, who had been rolling around on the floor in silent mirth.

The penguin was quiescent. "You see what he's like" Snape said. "Honestly. I've learned the hard way not to open anything from him in the staff room."

"Indeed," Draco said, trying to keep a straight face and failing utterly.

"The other one shouldn't be too bad. He usually doesn't..." Snape unwrapped the other Dumbledore package. It contained a photograph in a heavy silver frame, of Draco, Dumbledore, and Snape himself. "Oh, yes, that's all right."

Draco looked at it. They were grouped against a backdrop of books, Dumbledore seated on a chair and the two of them standing on either side of him. "But we never sat for it," Draco pointed out. He looked characteristically grim, as he always did in photographs. Dumbledore was nodding and smiling, and photographic Snape looked unusually relaxed.

"Probably had it put together out of other ones," Snape said.

Now that he mentioned it, Draco thought he recognized his image from a family portrait taken last Christmas vacation. That certainly accounted for his serious demeanor.

"Are these two from you?" Snape was clearly ready to move on. "You didn't have to...."

"Yes, I did. Do that one first. It's a bit of a joke. Not as big of a joke as Percy, though." For a moment Draco thought he was going to have another fit of hysterics, but he managed to control himself.

"It had better not be." Snape shot him a mild glare. "Though I can hardly imagine how it could be."

"I have a whole new respect for Dumbledore," Draco said. "Go on."

The present was a coffee mug reading "World's Greatest Teacher," and decorated with apples and chalkboards. Snape smiled thinly. "Very amusing," he acknowledged.

"I thought it might be worth taking into the staff room to see what the others say."

"It might. Maybe." He started on the second present.

This was the one Draco was really worried about. He held his breath. It had seemed like a good idea at the time...

Snape had the wrapping paper off, and was trying to open the box, which Draco had taped shut with about half a roll of spellotape.

Inside was a necktie, striped in silver, purple, and green. "You know what this is, don't you?" Snape asked.

"Yes. The shop almost wouldn't sell it to me." He'd had, in fact to imply it was for Dumbledore.

Because it was an Order of Merlin regimental tie.

"Do you like it?" he asked anxiously.

"Yes," the Professor said thickly. "it's perfect." He even took off the tie he had on and replaced it with the new one. "You do understand I won't be able to wear it. People will think I've been rummaging in Albus's cupboards."

"After the war's over, I thought," he said. "You can put it away till then." That was why he had doubted whether Snape would like it--it would, perforce, be a constant reminder that all of his accomplishments were heavily guarded secrets.

"Yes, that's what I'll do. Thank you, Draco. It's the finest gift I've ever received."

"You like it better than Percy the Penguin, then?"

"Oh, shut up. Open your presents."

He prodded the presents in the Santa Claus paper. "Nothing here seems to be penguin-shaped. Maybe I got Terrence the Transfiguration Turtle. Or Andy the Arithmancy...Anteater."

"Charlie the Charms Chickadee," Snape suggested in a tone of complete seriousness.

"He'd better not have." None of the packages looked at all likely to be Little Merlin's toys, though--all were flat and rectangular. The first present proved to be a photo like the one Snape had gotten. Draco was glad to have it, even if it was a poor likeness of him. He'd even been contemplating asking the Headmaster for a copy of it.

The next gift he opened was a very small, very flat package. It proved to contain a single Chocolate Frog card, which at first seemed a very shabby present. Then he realized that it was one he didn't have--one nobody else had. The picture was of Snape, and an enclosed leaflet explained that it was a "one of a kind card printed with the photograph and accomplishments of your child or loved one."

He passed the card to Snape, who said, "Barmy old coot," but looked pleased.

"What's it say on the back?" He asked, wondering if he'd have to hide the card carefully.

"Decorated wizard, currently potions master at Hogwarts, and lists some of my inventions." He gave the card back, and Draco put it carefully in his shirt pocket.

The last gift from Dumbledore was a book. He feared the worst, but it was fairly innocuous: Worlds Divided: A Comparative History of Wizards and Muggles. "I'm glad he doesn't like me as much as he likes you," Draco observed. "I can't imagine what he'd have gotten me."

"The mind reels," Snape agreed. "What's more, that...thing...isn't even the worst he's ever given me."

"Really? What--"

"I'm not telling."

"You shouldn't have brought it up if you weren't going to share," Draco grumbled. He prodded the presents from Snape. "Which one should I open first?"

"It doesn't matter. They aren't very imaginative. I'm not very good at this sort of thing."

"You're doing all right." The first gift was a long blue and silver striped scarf. "Oh, nice. I felt weird wearing my old Slytherin one." He hadn't been wearing it except on the coldest days, and he looked good in scarves.

He draped it around his neck, and continued to the last present. From the shape, he could tell it was another book.

"An Introduction To Potions Research and Development," he read the title.

"I don't know if you're really interested," Snape said apologetically.

"No, it looks really good," he said, with only slightly more enthusiasm than he really felt. Potions research was an interesting subject, but it also struck him as rather dangerous. He wondered if he'd be able to wangle out of actually brewing experimental potions.

That ended the gifts. The rest of the morning went pretty much as he had expected. He read his new books (relieved to see that the Potions one devoted the first three chapters to safety precautions), tested his scarf on a walk in the garden, and ate chocolate frogs (occasionally taking his new card out to admire).

At noon, the house elves served Christmas dinner, wearing their new pillowcases. Snape got the sickle in his piece of Christmas cake, and deigned to pull a few crackers--though he drew the line at hats. Which was a shame, because one of them was an 17^th century cavalier's number that he thought would look quite dashing on the Professor.

Percy the Penguin kept harassing them with questions, until they discovered that if they trapped him under one of the silver domes used to keep roast beef warm, he'd think it was nighttime and keep quiet. Sitting in the parlour, they could occasionally hear a muffled flapping from under the dome, but for the most part it was peaceful.

Then there was a banging at the door.

"Wonder who that could be?" After the dinner, he had left the house elves start their celebration early, so he'd have to find out himself. He got up to answer it.

"Wait." Snape was drawing his wand.

"You don't think--"

"I don't know, but I'm not taking any chances." They went to the hall, where Snape concealed himself behind the basilisk fountain. "Go on, then."

Draco opened the door on...Pansy and her father. Pansy was wearing red dress robes and looking sullen.

"What do you want?" he demanded, ignoring everything he knew about etiquette.

"Young man," Mr. Parkinson said. "Pansy has told me that you've fallen under some...undesirable influences. We'd like to--"

"I don't think so," he said coolly.

"What?"

"You can tell him I'm not interested, Ta much."

"I'm not sure who you--"

Draco slammed the door and shot the bolts home.

Snape came out from behind the basilisk. " 'Ta much" may have been overdoing it."

"Yes," Draco agreed.

"But--well done."

"Thanks." Shakily, he went back to the parlour.

"He'll try again," Snape warned him.

"Yes. I'll be on my guard."

"Good."

He was just starting to relax again when there was another knock at the door.

"Must admit, I didn't think it would be today." Snape took up his position behind the basilisk again.

Draco opened the door hesitantly.

There stood another of his classmates, with an elderly witch wearing a ratty fox stole and a hat with a stuffed vulture on its peak.

"Longbottom?"

Unbelievable.

"Hullo, Malfoy," he said.

"We've come to pay a Christmas call," the witch announced. "Are you going to let us in, or stand there gaping like a simpleton?"

"Er...Come in, then."

When Snape came out from behind the basilisk, the witch glared at him. "A man your age, crawling around on the floor?"

"Madame, I was preparing for an ambush," Snape said haughtily.

Draco showed them to the parlour. "I'll fix us some tea," he said, and fled.

Sully and Nobs were slumped in a corner of the kitchen, looking dazed. Butterbeer bottles were scattered all around them.

"Don't get up, I'm just here for a pot of tea." He decided not to mention that there were guests; they might feel they had to try to get up and wait on them, and he didn't think that would be a good idea.

Once he'd made the tea and arranged a few biscuits on a plate, he put everything on a tray and lugged it back to the parlour, where Snape and Neville's grandmother were chatting obliviously.

And Neville was reaching for Percy's dome.

"No!" Draco dropped the tea-tray and lunged for him.

Neville shrieked, dropping the dome with a clatter.

Percy awoke, flapped his wings, and said, "Good morning! Do you--"

Draco retrieved the dome and slapped it back over him.

"Goodness gracious, young man," Mrs. Longbottom said. "You're clumsier than my Neville."

Snape looked horrified.

"Is that a Percy Penguin?" Neville asked.

"No," Snape said.

Draco added, "It's, uh...a very...dark....artifact. Someone's enchanted it. SO that if you get the questions wrong it..."

"Kills you," Snape said. "Horribly."

"Yes! So, of course, the Professor is the only one who's really safe from it."

"If it had had time to ask you a question," Snape said, "Well..."

"Blown to smithereens," Draco said cheerfully.

Neville's eyes were wide, and he was backing away from the dome.

"We weren't really expecting callers," Snape added.

Mrs. Longbottom looked pointedly around the parlour, which has been a bit of a mess even before Draco started throwing tea trays around. "Obviously," she murmured. Then, "You boys," she decided, "Go and play somewhere safer."

Draco, who until "clumsier than my Neville" had been starting to admire the old bat, was only too glad to comply.

"Gran made me come," Neville said as soon as they were out of earshot. "It wasn't my idea or anything."

"I figured. She certainly is....formidable." And she explained an awful lot about Neville. "I almost wish I could see what she and Snape find to talk about."

Neville shuddered.

Draco realized he was heading towards his old nursery, Mrs. Longbottom's instructions to "go play" having, apparently, triggered an automatic response. He mused, "If she spent her days telling me I was hopeless at magic, I'm not sure I'd dare be anything else, either."

Neville looked at him in surprise. "I've never thought of it that way."

"Maybe you should." He opened the doors to the day-nursery. "I haven't been up here since I started school."

But the house elves had kept the place dusted and aired out, as if waiting for ten-year-old Draco to return.

"Do you want to play Exploding Snap?" Longbottom suggested, spotting a deck of cards on the shelves.

Draco hesitated. He hadn't played Exploding Snap since he was ten, either. When Father had told him, "You're a man now, Draco, and you must put aside childish things."

Father, he remembered, was dead.

"Sure," he said to Neville. "Why not?"

#

That's all for now! More to come.