A Very Malfoy Christmas Carol

By Loveable Punk

“I won’t do it Gin.” The door slammed open, shaking the room. She paused outside the door for a moment, checking to see if his roommates were gone. They were, and she marched in, slamming the door behind her with just as much force as he had pushed it open.

“Draco, we need you. The show is tonight! We need a Scrooge.”

“So you immediately think of me?” Draco rolled his eyes and looked back at her. “And why can’t Dean do it suddenly?” Ginny hesitated for a moment, looking down at her feet before speaking very softly.

“Ron hexed him because he tried to kiss me. He won’t be out of the hospital wing until tomorrow.” A low laugh followed from the male standing near the large bed in the center of the room before he spoke again.

“There’s no way I’m doing that play.”

“And why the hell not, Draco?”

“Because, Gin. It’s a stupid bloody show. It’s so unoriginal. It’s so…”

“Say it, Draco, just say it!”

“Muggle!” The word was nearly shouted at her. She stood there stunned for a moment as he turned, opening the large trunk at the foot of his bed.

“That’s why we want to do it, Draco. We want to do it because no one ever has before.”

“Yeah? Well, you should stick to something traditional, like ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas at Hogwarts’ or ‘How the Boggart Stole Christmas’.” With the final phrase, the blond pulled out a bottle of fire whiskey from his trunk and took a long drink from it. One swallow, two swallows, three… Ginny just stood there watching.

“That’s right, Draco. Hit the bottle. Take another drink. You’re becoming more and more like your father everyday.” Her words built up an incredible rage within him, so much so that he almost spit out the remaining fire whiskey he had in his mouth. After a final, slow swallow, his pale grey eyes glared up at her.

“Don’t you dare talk about my father that way.” The anger was palpable in his voice, as was the restraint he was exhibiting not to throw the bottle in his hand at her. “Get. Out. Of. My. Room. Now.” The words were forced, clipped, almost as if he made them any longer he was going to scream them at her. Slowly, the redhead, with tears in her eyes, turned back for the door. As she reached the opening, she looked back one last time before slamming the door shut with so much force the bed shook. After the room stopped shaking, Draco looked down at the bottle.

“Bollocks.” Laying back, he took another swig, his eyes heavy as he slowly drifted off into darkness.


“Draco Malfoy…” The voice, low and haunting, woke Draco from his slumber. The first thing he noticed was the empty hand clutching at his dress shirt. His eyes shot open, looking franticly for his bottle of fire whiskey. He noticed it over on the bedside table, breathing a sigh of relief. At least he had been smart enough to place it there before falling asleep. Now he just had to figure out what had woken him up.

“Draco Malfoy…” There it was again, the same low, haunting voice. Yet, there was something familiar about it.

“Who’s there?” As he spoke, a ghastly object passed through the door. Dressed in nice clothes that looked worn out and old, the ghost carried a massive chain around its neck and body which dragged along the floor, making no noise. “Alright, cut it out Peeves.” The figure came closer.

“You do not even recognize me, Draco Malfoy? In life, I was your best friend, Blaise Zabini.”

“Cut it out, Blaise, you aren’t dead.” The ghost rolled his eyes.

“Play along, you git.” The voice changed, sounding very much like Blaise now, before reverting back to the low, haunting drawl. “You must right your wrongs, Draco. The drinking, the Muggle-bashing, the way you treat Ginny…” Draco opened his mouth to speak but the ghost cut him off. “Do not speak. You know it is true.”

“Then what’s with the chain?” Blaise’s voice switched again.

“Oh, you like it? It’s just a prop, but it is pretty convincing isn’t it? I made it myself.” A quick smile and wink followed before the emotionless mask of the character was back on his face. “To help you realize where you have wronged and the path you must now take, you will be visited by three spirits tonight… give or take.” A quizzical look from Draco was not answered. “Heed their words, Draco. For it is only through them that you will be saved.”

“And how will I know when they are here?”

“Oh come on, Draco! They are ghosts! Ghosts, for Merlin’s sake!” Blaise composed himself quickly and then looked at him. “If you really need to know, the first will arrive when you fall out the bed, the second when you hit your head, and the third when you stub your toe.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“You wanted to know, didn’t you? There. Now you know.” Blaise looked to the side for a moment, as if listening, and then nodded. “My time here grows short. Heed my words and theirs, Draco. Only they can save you from yourself.” Looking to his side again, Blaise concluded with a curt nod of his head. “Exit stage right, got it.” Turning back to Draco, he started moving to his right slowly. “Heed their words, Draco. Remember what has passed between us…” Blaise’s voice drifted off as his body did the same, fading away into the darkness.

Draco got up and walked through the space where Blaise had just been. No sign of disturbance, the door looked the same. He rubbed his eyes slowly. It must have been a dream… that’s all it was, a dream. Moving over the dresser, he took another swallow from the bottle of fire whiskey. Looking around one last time, he sat on the bed.

“Bollocks.” He closed his eyes again, forgetting all about Blaise Zabini.


“Draco Malfoy!” The voice was soft but sharp, waking Draco from his sound sleep. As it turned out, he was already sleeping on the side of the bed, and the start with which he woke caused him to go crashing to the ground. Grunting and coughing, Draco rolled over to see another ghost looking over him, a bemused smile on her face.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to come until after I fell out of the bed. You made me fall out of the bed.”

“Well, you weren’t waking up.” An exasperated sigh from the boy on the floor followed that statement.

“That’s because it’s one in the morning. Most people are asleep!” Draco shook his head. “Who are you, anyways?”

“I am the Christmas Ghost of Past. Wait, no. I am the Ghost of Past Christmases. Hang on… I am the Ghost of Christmas Past.” The ghost looked exceptionally proud of herself for finally getting it right, but her voice and face were starting to look familiar to Draco now as he rubbed more sleep out of his eyes.

“Lovegood? Luna Lovegood?”

“No. I am the Past Ghost of Christmas…”

“Lovegood, it is you!” A laugh came from Draco as she messed up her name again.

“Well if you want me to completely break character, then yes, Draco, it is me.” Luna huffed and placed her hands on her hips, glaring at the blond on the floor for a moment before continuing. “I am here for your welfare, Draco Malfoy.”

“Waking me at one in the morning is hardly conducive to my welfare, Lovegood.”

“Ghost of Christmas Past!”

“Fine… Ghost of Christmas Past. My point remains.”

“Your salvation then.”

“My salvation?” A short bark of a laugh came from Draco as he stood. “Lovegood, if you are my salvation then I am well and truly screwed.” Another annoyed huff came from Luna as she floated over and took his arm. It wasn’t cold like Draco had expected, yet when he tried to grab her arm his hand passed right through. “What are you doing?”

“Your question should be ‘where are we going?’ Come on, Draco Malfoy.” With a snap of her fingers, the room blurred out of focus, and they were suddenly not in Draco’s bedchambers anymore.

Draco fell to the floor with a groan as everything snapped into focus again, noticing they were inside what looked like the dungeons, where a young boy, all alone, was sitting. In front of him was an empty cauldron, and on his lap sat an open potions book. The boy’s head turned at the groan, and Draco could see that it was simply his head on a younger boy’s body.

“That is just plain freaky,” he commented as he looked at the boy closer. “Can he see us or hear us?” The boy nodded as Luna glared at him.

“These are merely the shadows of things that have been. We are invisible to them.” She cleared her throat and the boy whipped his head back around, engrossed on his book again as if the other two were not even there. Before Draco could open his mouth to speak again, a door to the side shot open and a girl, slightly older than the “Draco” seated in front of them, ran into the room.

“Brother! Oh dear, dear brother, I have come to fetch you home for Christmas!” The girl kissed the boy-Draco on both cheeks and embraced him deeply, while Draco, his mouth agape, turned to Luna after seeing the girl’s face. It was Pansy Parkinson’s face and head… on a younger girl’s body. And “Pansy” was now embracing and kissing “Draco” on the cheeks and calling him “brother”.

“No… no, this is so wrong. Lovegood, what kind of strange hell is this? I’ve slept with her. She can’t be my sister.” Luna just turned and smiled at him, not saying anything. “This must be the most demented nightmare I have ever had. Lovegood, just get me out of here.” As “Pansy” took “Draco’s” hand to lead him away, the boy turned to both Draco and Luna and winked, just as the picture blurred out of focus and snapped to darkness.

When light reappeared and everything snapped back into focus, Draco could have sworn he was standing inside the Great Hall… except it didn’t look like the Great Hall. It looked older, not as grand, and a little dirty. As he bent down to inspect the floor, two sharp claps suddenly caught his attention. Bursting through the main doors to the Great Hall was a whole mass of people, and leading them was… Severus Snape? Draco was sure that he was dreaming now, but it was Snape, with more color in his face than Draco had ever seen before. And Snape was… smiling? No mistake about it could be made; the normally dour professor was beaming ear to ear.

“This. Is. So. Wrong. He’s… happy. He’s never happy.” No response came from Luna as Snape led the procession in. Right behind him, looking simply radiant in an emerald green shoulder-less dress, was Ginny Weasley. Another comment about the string of guests with Snape leading fell silent on his lips. For that moment in time, Draco was simply focused on how beautiful Ginny looked.

“Music, we must have music everyone!” The call from Snape snapped Draco back to the present, and it was much to his surprise that he saw Minerva McGonagall step out to Snape’s side and take his arm, beaming up at him. “Let the dancing begin!” Music started playing from somewhere in the hall and Snape grabbed McGonagall’s arms and they began a spirited waltz out over the open floor.

“No, no he does not dance. Especially not with her. Lovegood, get me the hell out of here.” As Draco turned to leave, Luna simply held up a hand and pointed the other direction. Draco turned his head over his shoulder to see a version of himself approximately the same age as he was now, but dressed to the nines in wizard splendor, walk over to Ginny, bow slightly, and kiss the back of her hand before asking her to dance. Ginny gladly accepted and the two waltzed out onto the dance floor as well, under the approving smiles of Snape and McGonagall.

“Well, at least they got something right,” he muttered. The Draco waltzing with Ginny on the dance floor caught his eye and tossed him a wink.

“Unfortunately, this would be the last happy Christmas. Come Draco Malfoy, my time with you grows short.” Luna took his arm again as everything faded from focus and suddenly they were back in Draco’s bedchambers again. He looked around. Nothing was different except that the bed was made.

“Lovegood, what’s going on? What am I supposed to see here?” Luna merely held a finger up to her lips and Draco listened for a moment, hearing a commotion coming up the stairs towards them. A growing ball of ice formed in the pit of his stomach, and he realized what he was going to be watching a moment before the door burst open and a vision of himself came stomping in.

Draco stayed quiet throughout the entire scene. Standing by the doorway, he saw the tears in Ginny’s eyes, the hurt etched across her face as if with a dagger. A single, solitary tear trickled down his own face as she slammed the door behind her and he watched himself slug back the bottle of firewhiskey.

“You stupid, stupid git.” The words were hushed, said more to himself than anyone else, though he knew Luna had heard him. He turned to say something to her, to apologize when he suddenly realized that she was gone. And he was no longer standing, but instead sitting in his bed, sheets messy and unkempt. But a single, solitary tear still weaved its way down his face.


Sleep hadn’t come easy for Draco, but it was restful once it finally had come. There were no dreams, no tossing and turning; it was almost as if he were dead. Suddenly, there was a sound, almost like a bottle being dropped, and Draco shot awake, turning to look for the sound… and smacking his head right against one of the bed posts. As he groaned and rubbed his head, another voice came out of the darkness.

“Ouch, that one looked like it hurt, mate.” The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Draco couldn’t place where he’d hurt it before.

“He should have known it was coming though, right? I mean the first guy told him that.” The second voice was very similar to the first, yet different at the same time. Slowly, Draco opened his eyes to see Fred and George Weasley, in the same ghastly form as Blaise and Luna before them, standing at the foot of his bed. Draco paused for a moment, rubbing his eyes, before speaking.

“Go away. There’s only supposed to be one of you. That’s what Blaise said.”

“But Draco, there is only one of us.” The twins moved so one was standing behind the other, creating the illusion of one ghost. Then, just to mess with Draco’s head, Fred poked his head out from behind George’s. Draco groaned.

“I knew I shouldn’t have had so much firewhiskey.”

“Oh come now, man. We’re the Ghosts of Christmas Present. We’re going to show you all the marvelous things you’re missing acting like a Scrooge.”

“Wait a minute… haven’t you both graduated already? You’re not even supposed to be here.” The twins looked at each other for a moment and shrugged.

“Maybe we just loved this place so much, or our sister so much, that we decided to come back.” They moved around either side of the bed and grabbed Draco’s arms and the room, instead of sliding out of focus like it had with Luna, suddenly spun out of control. This is worse than using a portkey, thought Draco. Just when it seemed like he was going to be feeling the burn from the firewhiskey for a second time, the spinning stopped and Draco and the twins were standing inside what looked like a heavily redecorated Gryffindor common room. The windows were dirty, the floor dirt, it was cold, and the wood was weathered and cracked.

Standing near the fireplace was a Muggle oven, and perched in front of that was a mess of brown hair Draco would recognize anywhere. “Granger?” Whether the vision of Hermione heard him or not, she didn’t indicate that she had. Others were gathered around a table near the fire place. Draco could recognize Colin Creevey and the Patil twins. All were younger versions of themselves in body with their actual heads attached, and Colin looked the oldest of the group, followed by the Patil twins. Behind Draco, the door to the common room swung open, and in walked an older-looking version of Ron Weasley, with Dennis Creevey on his shoulders. Lavender Brown followed in behind them, carrying a small crutch.

“Hello, family!” Ron’s voice was jovial, a smile plastered to his face. He walked over and kissed Hermione with passion, forcing the “children” to look away and hide their giggles.

“And how was our youngest tonight?”

“An angel, Hermione. Really, you should have seen him. Just being there meant a lot to him and he thinks it encouraged the people to give more as well.” Dennis was now moving around the table slowly, using the crutch. His right leg didn’t seem to move, and he didn’t put any weight on it. As he sat at the table, the boy coughed heavily into his hand. The next words from Draco came hushed, as if he was worried about disturbing the boy and making him cough more.

“Is the boy sick?”

“Is Merlin magical?” The witty retort from Fred cut into Draco and he winced as he turned away. George, however, had a different question.

“What’s this? Draco Malfoy caring if a Muggle-born boy is sick or not? Have you lost your senses?”

“Do not mock me.” Draco rounded on the twins, his voice no longer hushed. “Will he die?”

“We all do, at one point or another.” Draco glared at Fred, but George continued.

“Without the proper care, which the family cannot afford, the boy will die, yes.”

“Is this real?”

“What is real, Draco? What defines ‘real’? And, perhaps the better question is: does it matter if it’s real or not?” Draco looked down at his feet for a moment as the family sat around the table. A slight frown crossed his lips, but before he could say anything else, the room was spinning violently once again and he found himself standing inside another common room, he could only guess it was the Hufflepuff one due to all the yellow drapery. This room was lit and furnished very much like a party, and there were numerous guests milling about the room. At the center of it all sat Neville Longbottom, dressed to the nines and smiling happily.

“What’s he so happy about? The miserable git usually doesn’t have much to smile for.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Ginny walked out, this time in a blue dress that changed colors depending at what angle you observed it from. Draco’s mouth hung slightly open for a moment before he saw the twins trying to hold back laughter at his expense.

“Wait a minute… she’s already got a part in this madhouse. What is she doing here?” The twins looked at each other for a moment before sighing.

“No one else would marry Neville,” came the unison answer. Draco rolled his eyes and turned back to the scene just in time to see Neville speak.

“Alright everyone, it’s time for games. Let’s start off with Hogwarts categories, shall we?” Waving his wand, Neville produced a card out of the air. “First category is… a miserable old creature.”

“Snape,” Draco snorted from the side, expecting the obvious answer.

“Oh, oh, I know!” Ginny raised and waved her hand in the air. Neville smiled over to her.

“Yes, love?”

“Draco Malfoy!” The room exploded in laughter, including the twins who nearly fell over their ghostly selves. Draco was dumbstruck. He couldn’t believe that she, that Ginny Weasley, would say something like that about him. A quick glance to the side killed any giggles still emanating from the twins.

“You said these things aren’t actually happening right now?”

“Of course not, Draco,” George said, rolling his eyes. “These are, however, visions of what is in people’s hearts, what is on their minds, and the true version of who and what they really are.” Draco turned back to the scene where the laughter died down and the party had continued, but felt nothing but emptiness in this room full of joy.

“Come Draco,” said Fred, taking his arm. “Our time grows short.”

“Already?” Draco asked, looking perplexed at the two of them. “Shouldn’t you get twice as much since there’s two of you?”

“Negative, good sir,” piped up George. “While I’m sure you love our exotic and enticing presence, the bosses hate paying double. You only get us for half the time.” As he finished, George took Draco’s other arm and everything spun out of control once again.

With a thump, Draco fell back onto the bed as the world abruptly stopped spinning around him. He felt empty… and the cold vastness of the bedchambers did not make it any easier. Pulling a sheet up over his head, Draco closed his eyes and tried to get back to sleep.


Draco woke with a start. There was no noise, nothing physically that had woken him this time, but rather a feeling. A feeling that he was being watched, that he was not alone. He tried to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but found that he could not. Suddenly throwing back the covers, he expected to see someone standing over his bed. Draco saw no one.

Getting up in the dark, Draco reached over for his wand on the bedside table. Not finding it, he slid his feet onto the floor and moved forward, his toe suddenly ramming into the firewhiskey bottle on the floor.

“Merlin’s beard!” Draco hopped up on one foot and cursed when he suddenly turned to see a large, black, hooded figure standing in his room. To call it black really didn’t do it justice. The figure seemed to suck light from the room, as well as warmth. It wasn’t a dementor, though that had been his first thought. Where the dementor’s hands should have been there was just more, empty blackness. Swallowing, Draco looked up at the creature.

“Are you the Ghost of Christmas Future whose coming was foretold to me?” There was no answer, no sound, but a simple inclination of the head to answer in the affirmative. Draco nodded to himself, trying to calm his nerves, and stepped forward. “Then show me what you came to show me, spirit. I will follow.” The spirit reached out one of its black sleeves and Draco took it, surprised to find it solid. In a moment, the whole room darkened with a black smoke which engulfed them until Draco could see nothing. Just as quickly as the smoke had appeared, it dissipated, revealing a new scene in front of them.

The setting was not at Hogwarts this time. It was somewhere away from the grounds, perhaps London. A group of people were standing in front of a tall building with bars over all the windows. A large sign on the front simply read “Jail: The Traitors Reside Here”. Confused, Draco turned to look up at the dark figure.

“Spirit, is this the future?” The spirit only nodded again. “My future?” There was no response to this question. Suddenly the front door burst open and a man, probably in his forties or fifties jumped out, an ecstatic smile on his face. Despite him looking older, Draco instantly recognized him. Harry Potter.

“The last of the Death Eaters is dead,” came the excited shout from Potter, which sent the crowd into a frenzy. People started cheering and dancing around in the street. Harry waited for a few moments before holding up his hands for calm. “I would like to thank Draco Malfoy for his kind and generous service to the community at large in ensuring that the Death Eaters will never rise again!” This statement brought another wild cheer from the crowd.

“‘My kind and generous service?’ I killed the last of the Death Eaters?” Draco looked to the spirit for confirmation, but received none. “Whatever it is that I did, it has made these people happy. I have changed in the future. I have brought joy to Christmas!” A smile crossed the blond boy’s face. “You can take me back now spirit. I know that I will change Christmas for people. I know I will bring them joy. There is nothing more for me to see here.” The spirit, however, only held up a black arm to stop Draco from moving. Out the front door of the jail came a much older Crabbe and Goyle, along with two boys Draco didn’t recognize, carrying a cheap pine coffin and serving as pallbearers. Potter immediately jumped on the coffin and even danced a little jig on it as people in the streets continued to dance and cheer. The procession started to make its way down the street, and the spirit and Draco brought up the rear, following.

The procession ended at a cemetery, but it was not a nice or well-kept cemetery. Weeds grew around the graves; the grave markers were made of low-quality stone and placed into the ground at odd angles. None of the crowd entered the graveyard, only the pallbearers and Potter. They placed the pine coffin into a hastily dug grave and then simply left. There was no ceremony, no service for the dead person, not even the dignity of the grave being covered. Draco assumed someone would do it later, but waited until all had left before turning to the spirit.

“Ghost of Christmas Future, may I go and see who the last Death Eater was? To see who I killed to bring so much joy to those people this Christmas morning?” The spirit nodded slowly. Draco quickly walked into the graveyard and stood beside the still open grave, wiping his hand over the mud that was over the name on the gravestone.

Draco Malfoy.

There weren’t many things that could cause Draco to physically recoil, but after watching one’s own funeral procession without even knowing it and then finding themselves in an open grave can do that to a person. He rounded on the spirit and fell to his knees, clutching the robes that pooled on the ground, tears in his eyes.

“Spirit, I have changed! I will change! Please tell me that these are just visions of what the future will be as it is now, that these images are not set in stone forever. Please tell me that I can still do good in my life, that I have a chance to change, to make a difference.” Draco looked up and was startled to see the face of his father, Lucius Malfoy, staring back at him.

“You have joined me, Draco.” Hands suddenly appeared from the black abysses that had been sleeves and closed around his throat. “You have joined me on your rightful path, Draco Malfoy.” Draco’s eyes bulged as he gasped for air, trying to pry his father’s hands from his neck.

“No! I will change! I still have the chance to change!” The words came choked, stuttered, but their meaning was still clear. The spirit of Lucius Malfoy lifted Draco into the air off his feet and suddenly Draco was falling, falling into a darkness deeper and deeper with the elder Malfoy’s hands still clutched tightly around his neck.


Draco awoke kicking and shouting. He still felt pressure around his neck, yet when he pulled on it, the pressure came off easily. It was simply his sheets wrapped around his neck. Draco’s brow was cold with sweat, and the sun was peeking through the curtains.

“I’m… alive.” Breathing heavily still, Draco sat up, touching his face, his arms, his legs. Turning to his left, he saw the firewhiskey bottle exactly where he had left it on the bedside table. “It was all a dream… last night was all a dream.” Or was it, a little voice in his head intoned. Draco’s mind flashed back to what the twins had said.

“The real question is: does it matter if it is real or not?” Draco smiled. No, it didn’t matter whether what had happened last night was real or if it had been a dream. What did matter was that it had happened, in one way or another, and now Draco could change. He still had the time to change whatever visions of the future, or even present, there were. Grabbing a pair of pajamas from his drawer so he wasn’t wearing the same thing as the day before, Draco threw them on, racing up to the Great Hall. He had to find Ginny before it was too late.

Bursting through the doors to the Great Hall, he didn’t see Ginny at first but instead saw Pansy Parkinson, who was just on her way out. Grinning like a madman, Draco dashed up and kissed her on the forehead. “Thank Merlin you’re not my sister,” he said before dashing over the Gryffindor table. Draco skidded to a stop right beside Ginny, who looked up at him, obviously still peeved.

“Look, before you say anything,” Draco began, still trying to catch his breath, “something incredible happened to me last night. I have no idea what it was or how it happened, but what I do know is that it changed me. So, I’m sorry for the things I said last night and today we can do whatever you want to do. You want to play out in the snow? You got it. Hell, I’ll even make snow angels with you.” He paused, trying to grab another breath, looking at her hopefully.

“You’ll change first, right?” Draco looked confused for a moment and then looked down. He was wearing the pajama pants she had given him for his birthday… the ones with ferrets on them. Draco burst out laughing.

“Of course I will. I’ll be ready in five minutes.” He leaned down and kissed her passionately on the mouth before turning to run, skidding to a halt just a few feet away to turn around. “Who’d you get to play Scrooge last night?”

“Filch,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes.


“Yeah, Filch,” answered Ron, who was sitting next to her. “He didn’t even have to act.”

Author notes: A/N: Hope you all enjoyed it. Thanks goes to Pipperstorms for the inspiration for this and the constant hoping that it would be done that finally made me finish. Reviews, as always, are appreciated.

The End.
Loveable Punk is the author of 6 other stories.
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