The Slytherin

Snoring is horrible.

Especially when it's not you snoring.

And so those were the exact thoughts that motivated Draco to get out of bed at six in the morning. He just couldn't take the snoring anymore. It was either him leaving, or four other boys getting murdered in their horrendously noisy state of sleep. Draco, not wanting to risk getting his clothes bloodied, chose the former. He drowsily pulled on his school robes and exited the dorm.

He stumbled down the stairs into the Slytherin common room. He was faced with a choice: go down to breakfast, or curl up in a ball and go back to sleep on the common room floor. He chose the latter, yet after lying on the floor in the fetal position for a few minutes, he came to the revelation that he'd eventually be eaten by the rats that so conveniently had made their homes in the Slytherin dungeon.

He headed for the Great Hall, his black robes fluttering behind him in the deserted halls. As he neared the Great Hall, he could hear the chatter from within. The early risers had come for breakfast.

Draco went to the Slytherin table and seated himself on the end closer to the teachers' table. He filled his plate with some biscuits and smothered them in sausage gravy, spilling some of it on the table in his carelessness.

This was not going to be a good day. Draco knew it. It was a gift that the Malfoy family had: they always seemed to be clairvoyant about things. Of course, his Malfoy sixth sense never kicked in during Divination class. That old hag Trelawney always liked to use Malfoy to show the class the way not to do things. Malfoy particularly hated this because it gave him the mental image that he had become Neville Longbottom, and Draco didn't want to be Longbottom, or any other Gryffindor for that matter.

Gryffindors were always so presumptuous, thinking themselves to be higher than everyone else. Sure, the Slytherins also held themselves as being superior to the other houses, but hey--at least it was true.

After inhaling the biscuits and gravy--unimpeded by eating utensils--Draco drained a goblet of milk and wiped his face with his robe-sleeve.

He decided that he should get out of the Great Hall before the Potter Gryffindor threesome showed up. He didn't think he could withstand too much ignorance at that early hour. Draco stood up and left the Great Hall, heading back to the Slytherin common room where he would gather his books and wait in the library until his first class started.

In the hall, when he had almost reached the last turn to the Slytherin common room entrance, he was accosted by Hagrid.

"Ah, Draco! I've got sommat that I need yeh're help with!"

Draco looked shocked. "Why can't you get Potter and Weasel-face-- "

"Oh, They're already helpin'! I jus' need one more able body!"

Draco shuddered.

"We're goin' out this mornin' before school starts ter gather the Christmas trees! I was supposed ter get them yesterday, but I forgot and they're supposed ter be up by lunch!"

So why don't you ruin my day? Draco thought to himself.

"Come on, we've got to head out now if we want ter get this done before eight."

Draco grumbled and followed the giant out to his hut.

***

"Couldn't I have gotten my coat? It's freezing out here!" Draco complained as a bitter December wind whipped at him.

"I'm sure I've got a coat fer yeh in the hut."

The two reached the poor excuse for a house and entered. Draco was relieved to find that the hut was at the very least heated.

Then he saw the Potter trio.

Damn, he thought to himself.

"Okay," Hagrid said before any obscenities could be exchanged. He plopped a huge coat upon Draco's shoulders. "Let's go."

The five (with Fang) departed from the hut and once again Draco was acquainted with the astringent absence of heat.

"This coat is so big I can barely walk..." Draco muttered as he trudged along into the woods behind Hagrid.

"You're mouth is so big I'm surprised that it fits on your scruffy face," Weasley said, all too obviously trying to impress Granger.

"Stop trying to show off for your girlfriend--or whatever she is," Draco responded.

Weasel-boy turned slightly red. "Shut up Malfoy. We all know about your affair with Goyle."

"And yours with Potter," retorted Draco coolly.

Weasley turned even redder. He was beginning to resemble a tall beet.

"We're comin' up on the evergreen field," Hagrid said, oblivious to the conversation behind him. "Here's some saws; find some good trees and cut 'em down. Then we'll pull 'em back to school."

Great, Draco thought as Hagrid handed him and the others bow-saws. Now they're armed.

Both Potter and Weasley gave Draco a look that suggested that they would use their saws on his neck when he turned his back on them. Draco quickly escaped to a spot in the field that was secluded from where everyone else was headed, just in case.

He walked up and down the aisles of evergreen trees, trying to find one that was good enough to put up in the Great Hall. Of course, all of the good trees had been taken in years past, so it would be a chore to find a tree that looked presentable.

After searching for a few minutes, he decided on a nice, wide, tall tree. He figured that there was plenty of branch-space on it to fit Christmas ornaments, and the tree itself had an overall charisma--it was quite evident that Draco had inherited the natural artistic talent that every Malfoy had.

He then laid on the pine-needle layered ground, thanking God that he was wearing Hagrid's coat and not his own. As he lay there, trying to get the sawing started, he heard some talking.

It's the Potter triad, Draco thought to himself as he put down his saw and tried to listen in on the Gryffindors' conversation.

After a few seconds of listening, Draco could see from under the tree that the three were walking over towards him, and soon they had stopped at the tree right beside his own.

"I wonder where Malfoy went," Granger said.

Perhaps I'm listening in to your conversation, Draco thought.

"I hope he wandered out into the woods and got eaten," Potter responded.

I hope you wander over to this tree so I can kick your butt, Draco mouthed silently.

"No, Malfoy's not man enough to go too far from the group. He's probably hiding behind a tree and picking his nose or something," Weasley laughed--another blatant attempt to impress the Mudblood.

"Eh, this tree is good enough. It's almost seven thirty--we can't be too selective with our trees," Potter spoke up.

Man, Gryffindors are lazy. Don't they ever take pride in their work? Draco thought.

Draco then saw Harry crouch down underneath the tree and begin to saw. Draco figured that he should start sawing too, for he wanted to get done with this as soon as possible.

"Jeez, this stupid saw doesn't work," said Potter, looking at the saw blade and then at the tree, which had a disheartening lack of saw marks on it.

"Let me try," Granger spoke up.

"Yeah, whatever." Harry backed away as Hermione got down near the base of the tree and began to saw the tree down.

Making the woman do the work--how Gryffindor-ish. And how much like a Malfoy!

Potter and his red-headed sidekick stood there and watched in silence as Hermione continued to cut down the tree. Draco was thankful that the sound of his sawing was covered up by the sound of Granger sawing.

The Mudblood stopped for a moment and wiped the sweat from her face.

"Well, you've got saws; go cut down some more trees!" she ordered.

The two Gryffindor boys started to wander around, pretending to look at trees, when in reality they were probably looking for Draco so that they could beat him up and leave him for dead in the woods.

"Hey," Potter said to Weasley, standing right in front of the tree that Draco was sawing on, "let's do this one."

Ugh, Draco thought, they've gone beyond standard Gryffindor perversion!

Potter crouched down, and noticed Draco lying under the tree.

"Malfoy!"

The-Boy-Who-Lived was cut short when Draco sawed through the last fibers of the tree trunk. The massive tree fell over on top of Potter and even reached as far as to whack Weasley on his red head and knock him to the ground.

Draco stood up and walked over to where Potter was. The Mudblood was also rushing over to the scene; she was considerably more worried than Draco was, considering that Draco wasn't worried at all.

"Harry!" Granger screamed.

Of course, the great Boy-Who-Lived-To-Regret-It was indeed alive, and he let out a moan to convey the message that he was not dead.

Hagrid, who had heard the Mudblood's screaming, came running over, Fang bounding after him.

"Harry! Ron! What happened?" he shouted as he picked up the tree and threw it off.

Weasley was indignant that Granger had ignored him. He continued to sit on the ground stupidly, his face getting even redder than it had been. Draco was convinced that it was going to explode sooner or later.

Potter, on the other hand, seemed to be playing up the moment, groaning and writhing slightly where he lay. The stupid tree was so big that it couldn't have hit him very hard; the branches would've broken its fall.

Granger was now cradling Potter's head, continually asking if he was alright. He continued to moan and such but it was considerably clear that he wasn't hurt badly, if at all.

"The tree fell on his head!" Granger said.

"How?" the giant asked.

Potter turned and pointed a weak finger at Draco, soon afterward followed by the glares of Granger, Weasley, and Hagrid.

Sure, blame the Slytherin, Draco thought.

All in all, Draco was right: this was not going to be a good day.