My December

My December

This is my December
This is my time of the year
This is my December
This is oh so clear

"Do we have an auror around here?"

"I'm an auror."

"Can you please put the Imperius Curse on this man?"

"Yes, but only if you read him his rights first."

Draco sat on the steps of his home, watching as several somber wizards and witches escorted his father out of their mansion. Draco knew he would never be charged with anything; after all, he was trapped inside a dark-arts infested household for sixteen years. How could anybody hold anything against such a poor, innocent soul?

He smiled bitterly, tracing a smiling face in the freshly fallen snow. A few flakes were still swirling futilely around in the December night, doing nothing more than scratching at his already raw cheeks. Lucius Malfoy was being dragged away from his precious manor, and his beloved dark artifacts, some of which were probably ancient artifacts of great import.

This is my December
This is my snow-covered home
This is my December
This is me alone

One of the officers came up to him, asking if he would like a warm blanket, and perhaps some cocoa, or coffee, or tea or something. And wouldn't it be better if he went with them for the evening, to the police station? Draco politely turned the offers down, saying he needed to be alone. The officer nodded and strolled away.

He stood up and went inside the house, which was presently being cleared out of any and ever dark item that could be found. Of course, they would find some of the typical items: a few black magic books, some pre-brewed potions that were illegal for one unimportant reason or another, perhaps a few mood-altering drugs (most of which were consumed by his mother, who was fortunate enough to be away in Nice at the moment), but nothing too crucial. He could be sure that the beloved family copy of "Thirteen Ways to Destroy Your Enemies and Amuse Your Friends," tenth edition, was intact, underneath the floors.

And I'd
(Wish that I didn't feel like there was something I missed)
And I'd
(Take back all the things I said to make you feel like that)
And I'd
(Wish that I didn't feel like there was something I missed)
And I'd
(Take back all the things I said to you)

He continued browsing around the house, glancing at objects he never knew they had. Interestingly enough, he found a pair of golden combs encrusted with rubies in his mother's vanity; why they weren't silver and emerald, he couldn't figure. Perhaps Narcissa had a soft spot for the Gryffindors back in the day? If she did, she had a funny way of showing it.

No longer in the mood to be at the home that was being completely eviscerated, Draco threw a cloak over his shoulders and apparated himself to town for some entertainment. He happened to plop himself in an alley near an improv club; good enough, he decided.

It turned out to be a poor bout of entertainment. A few of the comedians were actually quite good; but that was just a few. One man's entire routine was a song dedicated to his twin brother (which was one of the most humorous things Draco had ever heard in his life) while he played on the piano and someone else behind him played a tambourine. However, the next act bit the dust; it didn't even need the comparison, it was just bad on it's own. The man's entire act was based on physical humor and silly gags. One of his gem lines was "I would have milked the cow, but I was too busy yodeling" and the hula was really just the kicker. Draco suddenly felt like he had to leave, before his intelligence was taxed any more.

And I'd
Give it all away
Just to have somewhere to go to
Give it all away
To have someone to come home to

He found himself by a still fountain, the water inside long-frozen. Sitting at the ice's edge, he traced his fingers along the cold surface, the evening's events replaying in his head. The lousy Ministry of Magic had finally compiled enough evidence to get a warrant out for Lucius Malfoy's arrest. Some would have also loved to see Draco, Lucius' so-called 'precious son,' to be hauled off beside him, but this was one father-son activity Draco was glad to not be a part of. One of many, in fact.

This is my December
These is my snow-covered trees
This is me pretending
This is all I need

He never really liked the monthly Muggle torment that his father seemed to enjoy. Lucius was a man who thrived on power and authority, commanding it over his servants, and even his wife. Draco thought all this was well and fine, but not very entertaining. Not for long, at any rate. Crabbe and Goyle weren't exactly the intellectual giants he sought in life. And the girls who wanted to be with him only cared for his money. That was really all it ever came down to, wasn't it? Money. It spun the world around. Well, that and sex, but the latter Draco didn't know much about, despite his contrary reputation. A smile danced on his lips as he recalled some of the more exotic gifts he had received. He still had the handcuffs.

And I'd
(Wish that I didn't feel like there was something I missed)
And I'd
(Take back all the things I said to make you feel like that)
And I'd
(Wish that I didn't feel like there was something I missed)
And I'd
(Take back all the things I said to you)

He didn't like meals with his family. That was rather dull. All his father would talk about was Voldemort's rise to power, and the increase in his own power which would follow. Either that, or some new expensive broom. The latest one was made by some company in Germany and had set him back over thirty thousand galleons. What else could you do with excessive amounts of wealth? Give it to the needy? Not a Malfoy.

Magic lessons weren't really his flavor either, always focusing on dark magic and the like. What about practical magic? He knew ten ways to kill a man, but he still couldn't properly lock a door. What's the good in that?

And I'd
Give it all away
Just to have somewhere to go to
Give it all away
To have someone to come home to

As he thought about it, he realized there really wasn't all that much he did like about home. He didn't hate it, but all of a sudden, he didn't particularly like it either, and he didn't really have a strong desire to go back home, or to see his father again. Or his mother, for that matter. But why? They had never abused him. They were never unnecessarily cruel to him. All punishments given were good, sound, and appropriate, and probably less than what he would have done to himself. But these weren't really foundations for love. Respect, certainly, but now that Lucius was gone, who was there to respect?

This is my December
This is my time of the year
This is my December
This is oh so clear

Draco began to wish he did have some connection like that. Perhaps a friend, or some kind authority figure, or maybe even a girl. Other people could do it, and they looked happy enough. Why couldn't he? Moreover, why shouldn't he?

Because it would be ungrateful, that's why. He owed his family too much to run off to a new life the second things begin to go wrong. He knew it was his duty to keep up the Malfoy manor, make sure only certain items were removed, and then keep things up and running in a pristine condition for Lucius' return.

He stood up and began to walk home. As he stepped on the house's threshold, he realized just how empty Malfoy Manor was. The houses of others would be filled with laughter, hugs, and excessive amounts of spiked eggnog by this time of year. At the Malfoy Manor, the only thing that signified that Christmas was soon on it's way was the fact that twice as many fires were lit to combat the winter chill. He trudged up the stairs, carefully laying his coat on a chair as he entered his father's office. He picked up a stack of papers and began reading.

"Pay to the order of..."

And I'd
Give it all away
Just to have somewhere to go to
Give it all away
To have someone to come home to