Christmas with the Malfoys - 8

Harry could tell that she was upset by the jerky movements of her wand, and he felt bad for bringing talk of war to her Christmas dinner. He knew she'd worked so hard on it.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, beaming at the treacle tart.

"Don't you eat all of that in one sitting, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. "Errol was supposed to have delivered me another batch of vanilla extract, but he never arrived, so I could only make the one. Poor old thing, probably lying exhausted somewhere."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Is she trying to make up for your lack of mothering when you actually were six?" he asked, causing Pansy to snigger loudly.

"It's Christmas, Malfoy. Certainly even you have heard of doing something nice for someone you care about just because you can," Harry said, scooping up a large piece of the treacle tart.

"I would have loved to have done something nice for my mother or Pansy this Christmas, Potter, but since I'm stuck here with you and cut off from all my family's funds, it'll be a rather meager Christmas for us all this year," Draco said, his lip curled.

"There are worse things than no presents," Harry said quietly.

He noticed Ginny look up, her piercing gaze attempting to penetrate his very soul. He quickly looked away.

"Easy for you to say. You're spending the Black family fortune like water through a sieve," Malfoy spat.

"And I notice you're enjoying some of that generosity, as well, Malfoy," Ginny said, nodding toward his plate that was overflowing with different puddings. "You seem quick to scoff at Harry's spending, but I don't notice you feeling strongly enough to make a point and go hungry."

"Of course not," Draco said, sneering. "Why should I go hungry when there's perfectly good food here? Besides, rightfully it should all belong to me anyway."

"Oh, we're back on this again, are we?" Ron asked, his mouth full of bread pudding.

"Shut it, Weasel. You've got no right to say anything about me accepting Potter's charity since you've been living off it for years," Malfoy said.

"And giving it in return," Harry shot back, "seeing that it was his mum who made the treacle tart that started all this in the first place. It's called friendship, Malfoy. You ought to try it sometime. A few real mates might do you some good."

"I've got mates," Draco said, puffing out his chest. "More than I need and plenty more than you've got."

"Oh, ho, now that's mature," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

"Ignore them, Draco," Pansy said, cooing. "Let's retire upstairs and have our own Christmas Eve celebration. We don't need the likes of them."

"Oh, that just spoiled my appetite," Ron said, pushing away his half-eaten bowl of bread pudding.

"Why don't we all move into the drawing room," Mr. Weasley said, rising. "There's a trio of wizards giving a performance of Christmas carols on the wireless. We can listen whilst we sip our cordials."

Harry rose and followed the others into the drawing room, noticing Mrs. Malfoy had latched onto Draco's arm and steered him into the room with her, despite Pansy's irritated scowl. He and Ginny had hung back slightly, and Ginny stopped him at the dining room door beneath a sprig of Fred and George's roaming mistletoe.

"I was hoping we'd find one of those," Ginny said, grinning impishly.

"Hmm," Harry said. "This is turning into a Happy Christmas after all."

Before he could kiss her, however, Ginny placed her hands on his chest, a perplexed frown crossing her pretty face.