A Christmas Party

A Christmas Party

Draco Malfoy, being the selfish and contemptuous bastard that he was, had adamantly refused to accompany his girlfriend of three years to her best friend's Christmas bash.

First and foremost, he felt no desire to fraternize with Scarhead and his Weasel sidekick any more than was absolutely necessary. That his girlfriend just happened to be the third point on the trio's Triangle of Noble Gryffindor Love had been out of his control, and he had, throughout the years, tried to pull his girlfriend away from the hated Triangle to no avail, and believe him, he had tried. Second, he hated to see his girlfriend eying with envy the gleaming diamond on Ginny Potter's left hand and her ballooning abdomen. Though the subject of marriage was consistently avoided in their own relationship after the explosive Incident, he was not completely oblivious to his girlfriend's wishes. He had simply decided that he needed to have his affairs in order before making such a decision. Naturally, his girlfriend had disagreed but had decided against pursuing the subject further. And finally, he wanted, quite simply, to stay at home, quietly enjoying a crackling fire and a cup of deliciously warm butterbeer. The Second Great War had only ended officially a few months ago, and he had every intention of enjoying the tranquility and serenity that this newfound peace had brought.

However, no matter what his reasons had been, he knew that it would be his girlfriend who would ultimately have the final say, especially since said girlfriend was named Hermione Granger.

Therefore, it was no surprise that he found himself dragged across the snow-covered front lawn of Harry and Ginny Potter's house, kicking and screaming like a small child. His protests, though, fell on deaf--and very annoyed--ears.

"Draco!" snapped Hermione irritably. "Don't be so immature! This is the first Christmas since the War, and I have every intention of enjoying myself, so don't you dare ruin it for me."

"And how about you ruining my Christmas?" he shot back. "You never asked what I wanted to do."

She spun around to face him, stopping them both in their tracks. Her index finger jabbed into his ribs as she spoke.

"You will enjoy yourself," she hissed. "You were invited, so show some common courtesy."

He scoffed. "Potter asked you to bring 'a guest'," he said. "I wasn't even mentioned."

"Don't be daft!" said Hermione exasperatedly. "Who else does he expect me to bring?"

Snorting disbelievingly in a very unladylike manner, she grabbed his forearm forcefully and pulled him forward.

When she rang the doorbell, a beaming Harry Potter soon opened the wreath-adorned door. Potter and Hermione exchanged cheerful greetings and quickly embraced each other warmly. Moments later, Ron Weasley arrived and gave Hermione a hug as well. This entire exchange passed without anyone even bothering to spare a glance at Draco, who was irritated as he rolled his eyes impatiently. The two guests were soon ushered into the house, much to Draco's ignored chagrin.

For such a small house, it was lavishly decorated. An enormous Christmas tree that grazed the ceiling stood at the far end of the room, easily overshadowing the other decorations with its sparkling, metallic ornaments, colorful lights, and bright ribbons. Piles upon piles of vibrantly wrapped presents spilled unto the floor under the gigantic tree. A fire burned and crackled in the fireplace, and a number of decorative stockings hung on the mantelpiece, below the Potters' large wedding portrait and a variety of small, silver and gold trinkets. Balloons of green, crimson, and gold floated above the guests' heads calmly, adding more color to the room. Splashes of red suggested the presence of potted poinsettias, and mistletoes hung precariously from the ceiling, determined to catch guests unawares. By far the most impressive adornment, however, was the bewitched ceiling. Reminiscent of Hogwarts' Great Hall, the ceiling reflected the skies outside and revealed a beautiful starry night.

A sharp intake of breath by Draco's side gave indication of Hermione's reaction to the transformed house.

"Harry," said Hermione with awe, "this is amazing."

Draco scoffed to himself, unimpressed, knowing that the decorations were incomparable to those that his late mother used to put up during her annual Christmas parties. However, the thought of his mother sent a pang through his chest, so he decided to divert his thoughts to the present, which did not prove to be much of an improvement.

Weaselette had just arrived by her husband's side, and the sight of her newly arrived guests, or rather, guest, made her elicit a small cry of delight, and she promptly embraced Hermione, who mirrored her gestures. Once again, Draco was deliberately ignored. He knew perfectly well that Hermione's friends had never approved of their relationship and they had only come to accept his presence. They were no longer hostile to him, but now, they merely chose to ignore that he was ever there. He was not quite sure whether this was a blessing or a curse.

Grumbling under his breath, he made his way to the concessions table, without a word to his girlfriend or any of her idiots, in search of anything alcoholic. Just because Hermione had forced him to come and "enjoy himself", she had said nothing about him having to be sober during any of it. But to his horror, there was not a drop of alcohol on the table, not even eggnog! The strongest beverage available was butterbeer! He swiveled toward Hermione, who was laughing with her best friends, and glared at her in resentment, as if it were all her fault. His mood was getting increasingly darker as the night progressed. How was he going to survive?

One thing was sure, however. He vowed that this would be the last time he would ever succumb to Hermione's pressures about spending his Christmas Eve in this manner.

"Hello Malfoy," said a voice nearby.

Taken aback by the realization that someone at this party was actually willing to spare him more than a disapproving glance, he turned to the source of the voice. He scowled. It was Lavender Brown.

"Brown," he said curtly with a slight inclination of the head.

She seemed to force a small smile but said nothing. Draco glowered, aggravated that she called his attention only to leave him waiting for her to say something, anything.

"Is there something you want?" he finally asked rather sharply.

Brown's smile faded, and she answered with a tone no more polite, "You're blocking the punch."

Draco jumped out of the way as color tinged his pale cheeks. Brown moved toward the punch without another glance and helped herself to a cup of the red liquid. She soon left to rejoin Seamus Finnigan, leaving an angry Draco Malfoy quite alone once again.

Sighing, Draco poured himself a cup of butterbeer and prepared to drown what he deemed his "sorrows" in the mild liquid. He fixed his gaze on Hermione once more, watching her every move, but not once did she look his way. He helped himself to some cocktail shrimp but coughed harshly as he tasted the overabundance of horseradish in the sauce. Apparently, he concluded, the Potters couldn't cook, so he settled for watching Hermione once again.

She was now talking and laughing with Looney Lovegood. He could not fathom why Hermione would prefer Looney Lovegood's company over his. After all, it was a widely acknowledged fact that Lovegood was utterly nuts, even before the devastation of the war. Later, Neville Longbottom joined the two girls, and after looking at Hermione's formfitting emerald dress, a blush crept up his face. Draco's frown deepened. How dare the blubbering fool think of his girlfriend in that way? Everything beneath the dress was his and only his, thought Draco with vicious possessiveness.

Absentmindedly, he grabbed a fluffy pastry from another plate of hors d'oeuvres and threw it in his mouth angrily, almost slapping his own mouth by accident, as he watched Hermione give Longbottom a hug, which caused the latter to grow even more nervous. Before he had a chance to grumble in annoyance, he realized with surprise how deliciously the pastry melted in his mouth. With curiosity, he picked another one off the tray and promptly devoured it. The second one was just as good as the first, and before he knew it, he was gobbling down the small pastries voraciously while continuing to keep a close eye on Hermione.

The most infuriating sound to Draco's ears rang through the small crowd above the chatter of the guests, calling for attention.

"Everyone!" shouted Potter above the noise, and the crowd quieted down. "We're going to begin the dance now, so everyone, grab a partner!"

He took out his wand, and with a magnificent arc through the air, the lights overhead dimmed. Suddenly, colorful lights emerged and spun around the room, giving the impression of the presence of a disco ball, though none appeared. Excited whispers swept through the crowd like wildfire, and the noise was finally drowned out by booming music. The upbeat tempo of the Weird Sisters' song resonated through the house, and the guests rushed around the newly cleared dance floor, finding partners.

To his utmost mortification, he saw Hermione nodding vigorously to Weasley, and soon, they were off in an energetic dance. Draco was not aware of the extent of his fury until he felt scalding butterbeer sloshing over the rim of the cheap plastic cup onto his hand. He yelped in pain. The plastic cup had been crushed in his hand. Butterbeer dripped from his hand to his fine shirt, and he hastily tried to clean himself up with a napkin, but not before shooting another dark glare at his treacherous girlfriend. His frantic rubbing did nothing but spread the stains on his shirt, and he groaned loudly in frustration.

Soon, the song was over. Laughing good-naturedly, Hermione disentangled herself from Weasley's long limbs and made her way toward the concessions table.

She passed right by Draco without seeing him.

"Hello," he said in her ear, and she jumped.

"Draco!" she said, clutching her heart. "I didn't see you there... Why are you hiding in the shadows?"

He shrugged. He was convinced she knew the answer to that question. She, however, was preoccupied with something else.

"Have you been stuffing your face this whole time?" she asked, surprised. Without waiting for an answer, she continued to ask, "And what happened to your shirt?" She was eying the four enormous stains.

"Spilled butterbeer," he grumbled.

She looked at the state of his crushed cup and frowned.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He had been waiting for that question and instantly exploded.

"'What's wrong'?" he echoed loudly and furiously over the noise. The guests now became silent and turned their attention on him. "Try everything! Why did you even bring me here? You know what your friends think of me, and yet, you insist that I accompany you to this bloody party! Your friends hate me, and you ignore me. Do you know how it makes me feel when I see Longbottom over there drooling over you"--the aforementioned blushed a deeper scarlet--"and do you know how I feel when you and Weasley practically molded together into one huge mass during that dance? And then, you stare at her"--he waved in Ginny Potter's general direction--"massive stomach as if your life depended on it! I get the damn hint, Hermione! Now, you ask me 'what's wrong'? You've got some nerve, woman!"

Hermione's lips were pursed so tightly they were bloodless. She grabbed his arm and pulled him outside, away from prying eyes, and shut the door with a loud slam.

He swallowed hard as he recognized that he might have crossed the line because Hermione did not look pleased in the least. This was bound to be the worst Christmas Eve ever.

"What is wrong with you, Malfoy?" she snapped. "Will you for once stop wallowing in self-pity? You're so selfish! When are you ever going to realize that not everything is about you? If you even tried to enjoy yourself and put yourself out there, maybe we wouldn't even be having this conversation!"

"Why in the world would I make myself a prominent target for a bunch of hungry vultures?" he yelled back. "Those people you call friends hate me!"

"Well, it's not as if you've made any effort to deserve their liking!" Hermione retorted swiftly. "Stop expecting everything to be handed to you on a silver platter!"

"You can be so blind, Granger!" he shouted. "After everything I've done in the war, after all the sacrifices I've made--and for you, no less--I should practically be hailed as a hero!"

"A 'hero'?" Hermione scoffed. "Everything you've done was to make up for all the atrocities you've committed before our relationship! It's only thanks to Harry that you're not rotting away in Azkaban!"

Draco was seething, but he said nothing because he knew that his girlfriend was once again right. For a few seconds, they did nothing but stare at each other in anger. Hermione's face was flushed crimson, her hair was wild, and to Draco, she had never looked lovelier than she did presently.

"Do you even know why I decided to come with you?" he asked bitterly. "Do you even know what I was planning to do?"

"What, Malfoy?" she asked sharply and furiously.

"I was planning on doing this!" he said harshly and dropped unceremoniously to one knee, withdrawing the black velvet box from his pocket. "I was going to ask you to marry me!"

For a moment, she was immobile, shock gracing her features. Then, tears slid down her frozen cheeks as she looked at the beautiful diamond ring in the box.

She stomped her feet almost childishly in frustration. "And I would have said yes, you idiot!" she shouted, wiping away the tears.

It was only at that moment that both realized what had transpired. It was only when Hermione burst into a clear and melodious laughter that Draco allowed himself to release a sigh of relief.

He stood up, but was immediately grabbed by Hermione, and their lips met in a searing kiss.

"I love you, Hermione," he whispered breathlessly.

She smiled against her lips.

"Just kiss me, you absolute idiot," she said.

Neither noticed the myriad cheerful faces pressed against the windowpanes, watching the entire exchange. Meanwhile, snowflakes danced languidly down the night sky as the clock inside the house chimed twelve times.

Draco concluded that he will never, ever come to another one of Potter's parties again.

At least not until next year.

END