http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4008555/1/The_Christmas_I_Loaned_My_Sons
http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1346901/Ellipsis_the_Great
The Christmas I Loaned My Sons
By Ellipsis the Great
Disclaimer: The idea is from 'Chicken Soup for the Christian Soul.'
Summary: After losing his wife and son to a magical disease, Draco Malfoy puts an ad in an editorial to borrow a son for Christmas. Harry Potter answers.
Spoilers: Five years post-Hogwarts. Compliant with all books, sans the epilogue in DH.
CHAPTER ONE: The Ad
Is there any place where we can borrow a little boy three or four years old for the Christmas holidays? We have a nice home and would take wonderful care of him and bring him back safe and sound. We used to have a little boy, but he couldn't stay, and we miss him so when Christmas comes. –D. Malfoy
As I read the above appeal in the Daily Prophet, something happened to me. For the first time since Ginny's death, I thought of grief as belonging to someone else. I read and reread the letter to the editor.
Somehow, it didn't matter that it was from Malfoy. All that mattered was that we had something in common, now. Not the War—everyone had that in common. And not just death, either. By now, everyone had experienced death. What we had was the feeling of making it all the way through the War, and after all that still losing someone to a completely unrelated incident.
I lost Ginny to childbirth. Childbirth, of all things.
Draco lost Pansy and Adder to Dragon Pox. Worse, he lost them a mere month before Hermione finished creating a vaccine against the disease.
"Daddy!" My three-year-old son, Phoenix, barreled into my leg. He looked up at me with wide, excited green eyes, squealing happily as I scooped him up into my arms.
"Good morning, Nix." I said, kissing his bed-mussed red hair. "You hungry?"
"Yeah, yeah!" He said, nodding vigorously.
"What do you feel like eating?" I asked as I put the editorials on the table.
"Flapjacks!" He answered immediately, bouncing in my arms.
"Alright, alright." I set him down again and retrieved the pancake mix from a cupboard. "Can you get a mixing bowl, Nix?"
He nodded again and scrambled to one of the shelves, pulling out a mixing bowl as I gathered the rest of what we would need to make the pancakes. When that was done and I had measured everything out, I picked him up and set him on the counter.
"Think you can mix it up?" I asked.
"I mix it, I mix it!" He said, picking up the spoon and stirring, his face scrunched up in a look of deep concentration.
"Daddy?" I looked at the door, where stood my other son, Phoenix's twin Byrne. He peeked out from behind the doorway shyly, the polar opposite of his gregarious brother for all that they looked so much alike.
"Hey, Byrne." I said, picking him up and setting him comfortably on my hip. He sighed happily and set his head on my shoulder, one hand fisting in the fabric of my nightshirt.
"We's making pancakes!" Phoenix piped up.
"Mmm." Byrne grunted sleepily.
I laughed, looking from one boy to another, and thought again of Malfoy's editorial. It had been three years since Ginny's death, and time had helped erase a few of the scars she had left on my heart. But there were special times when the ache would return and loneliness would engulf me—birthdays, our wedding anniversary, and holidays.
He had lost his family only a few months prior, so this would be his first Christmas without them. How much more pain was he going to feel, having no one left? I had had the unconditional love of two perfect baby boys and Ginny's family to help me through the worst times. The only person Malfoy would have was his mother, who had never fully recovered from the loss of her husband. Pansy's family saw the marriage as nothing more than a business arrangement, so they would be of no comfort to him at all.
And Malfoy had lost a child. No man, not even Malfoy, should have to bury his child. I couldn't even begin to imagine what that pain must feel like, although I had seen it in Mr. and Mrs. Weasley at Fred's funeral, and then again at Ginny's.
"How would you boys feel about not going to Nana's this Christmas?" I asked.
"Not go?" Byrne asked slowly as both boys' heads cocked to one side in identical expressions of confusion.
"Well…" How to explain this to three year olds? "I know someone who just lost some people who were very close to him, and he's very lonely this Christmas."
"We find them?" Phoenix asked.
"No, no, they…they're in the same place as your mum. They can't be found." I explained.
"Oh." Phoenix's eyebrows furrowed as he tried to grasp the concept.
"I thought maybe we could go keep him company so he won't cry."
"No crying!" Byrne said, eyes widening. He absolutely hated it when people cried. I'm still not sure why that was, but Hermione said it might be 'a childish manifestation of a hero-complex.' I suppose that meant he inherited my 'saving people thing.'
"Does that mean you want to go?" I asked.
"Nana will be lonely?" Phoenix asked.
"I'll owl her and let her know where we'll be." I assured him. "She has a lot of people to keep her company, and we can go to her house for Christmas dinner like always. We just won't be there Christmas Eve or morning."
The boys exchanged a long, thoughtful look.
"Okay. Let's go." Phoenix said finally.
"No crying." Byrne added.
I smiled. "I'll send the owls right after breakfast."
Phoenix: a mythical bird of great beauty fabled to live 500 or 600 years in the Arabian wilderness, to burn itself on a funeral pyre, and to rise from its ashes in the freshness of youth and live through another cycle of years: often an emblem of immortality or of reborn idealism or hope; person or thing of peerless beauty or excellence; paragon; a person or thing that has become renewed or restored after suffering calamity or apparent annihilation.
Byrne: a raven; mischievous and thievish; popularly regarded as a bird of evil omen and mysterious character.
Adder (Draco's dead son): A venomous snake. (This one just amused me, and I figured there should be some humor in this fic…)
CHAPTER TWO: The Letter
Malfoy,
I read your ad in the paper, and after much consideration would like to be the one to fulfill your Christmas wish. I have a set of three-year-old twin boys, Phoenix (a.k.a. Nix) and Byrne, who are not opposed to spending Christmas with you. I have also discussed this with the rest of our family, who are rather nervous about the idea but say it is alright if we miss one Christmas with them. I don't think that we'll be able convince them to make this an annual thing, whether or not it goes smoothly.
I do request, however, that I stay as well, because Byrne gets anxious when I leave him (separation anxiety, Hermione calls it) and Nix usually won't listen to anyone but myself and Molly Weasley (and sometimes Hermione, but that's a rare occurrence). I will try to stay out of the way as much as possible so that my presence won't affect your holiday.
Also, we would like to leave by lunchtime Christmas Day, if at all possible, so as to eat at the Weasley's. Molly is very adamant about this, and as she is their grandmother I am inclined to cater to her wishes (not to mention that the boys would probably be very upset if they were unable to play with their cousins this Christmas).
If you find or have found someone else, or do not wish for us to come, owl me with a letter telling me so. A simple 'no' will suffice.
If I do not receive a letter by Christmas Eve, I will assume that you are accepting and we will arrive at your house at dinnertime (6 o'clock).
Sincerely,
Harry Potter and Sons
PS – If you feel an absolute, irresistible need to buy the boys presents—I would discourage it, but it is a rather large part of the Christmas experience—Nix likes Quidditch and mischief-making, and Byrne likes to be read to and solve puzzles. I have told them not to expect anything from you and will bring a few gifts for them myself, so please don't feel like you are required to buy them something. Don't get me anything. –HP
I scanned the letter again. Of all the people who could have answered that ad, Harry Potter was the only one? I probably shouldn't have been surprised—he's got an insufferable hero-complex, after all—but I was nonetheless.
I began weighing my options. On the one hand, this was the only positive letter I had gotten so far, and Potter was sure to be civil if only for the sake of his children. On the other hand…it was Potter. The bloody Man-Who-Defeated-Voldemort.
It wasn't as if I missed the scaly beast, but still. It was the principle of the thing, really. I hated Potter, Potter hated me, all was right in the world. This sudden show of good will was a little off-putting, even if Potter had an unnatural predisposition for helping people.
Perhaps it had something to do with how he'd lost his wife, the Weaselette, three years ago. It was rather anticlimactic, really, him losing her in childbirth after the myriad of close calls the couple had had during the War. And I would never have thought that a Weasley could die from childbirth. Then again, as many children as that lot had, I supposed I should have been more surprised that it hadn't happened sooner.
But I guessed that his loss was no more or less anticlimactic than me losing Pansy and Adder to Dragon Pox. If they could only have held out for a few more weeks, that stupid Mud…that is, Granger would have been able to cure them (I was trying to break out of my Pureblood/Death Eater training, but it was difficult—especially in Granger's case.).
It was rather sad that the two people who most personified the opposing sides of a war would be able to withstand all of the pain a war brings, only to suffer from completely different pains. I thought it could only have been more ironic if Pansy and Adder had died of a muggle disease and the Weaselette had died after giving birth to an entire litter of kids instead of just the two.
"What's that, Draco?" Mother asked as she broke me out of my thoughts and entered the library, sitting gracefully in the chair across from me.
"An answer for our ad." I said, offering the letter to her.
One eyebrow slid delicately upward as she read, her eyes never straying from the paper.
"Harry Potter?" She asked finally, looking up at me.
"It's the only answer I've gotten." I said, neglecting to mention the ten letters I had already received telling me that Mother and I deserved to spend Christmas alone after what my family had done during the war.
"Then we shall accept, of course." She said with an almost imperceptible nod.
"Are you sure, Mother?" I asked. "Potter—"
"Mr. Potter will be a fine guest, I'm sure." She cut me off. "His letter is very polite."
I nodded slowly. Potter was the one to put my father in Azkaban during the war, and I suspected that he had been the cause of the slow degeneration my father had suffered after the war until finally he had died two years before.
"Very well, Mother." I pulled out a piece of paper to write a letter of acceptance.
"Don't." She said, stopping my actions with a wave of her hand. "He said he didn't need a letter unless it was to turn him down, which we obviously aren't." She paused for a moment. Then, ever the Slytherin, she added, "Besides, this way if we get another letter before Christmas there will be no need for apologies and the like."
Then she handed the letter back to me, grasping my hand in her own and squeezing it once before she stood and left the room again.
Most would have considered it a rather snide dismissal, but to me it was her way of saying she was very pleased by this turn of events. I wondered if it was just because the Manor would not be totally empty this Christmas.
I sighed and picked up a picture on the table next to me. The face of a small, perfect boy with sandy blonde hair and amber-flecked silver eyes grinned up at me, his petite hand waving shyly.
I looked at the letter again, then tossed it into the fire and hugged the picture tightly to my chest, curling up into my chair and watching the letter shrivel up and burn.
A tear dripped down my cheek, and I wondered what I was trying to do with this 'Christmas loan.'
And then I wondered what Potter was trying to do with it.
CHAPTER THREE: The Arrival
Mother and I took our posts at the doorway at 5:58 pm on the dot. Mother wore a flowing crimson gown with deep jade embellishments on the sleeves and skirt, her platinum hair pulled up into an elegant and fashionable bun. I wore a rather simple green dress robe with a silver cravat that I kept wanting to pull at, but such a nervous gesture was beneath a grown man. A child could probably have gotten away with it, but never an adult and certainly not a Malfoy.
A sharp rap on the doorway at exactly 6 o'clock had both of us straightening (a seemingly impossible feat considering how straight we had already been), watching silently as one of our house elves opened the door, popping out of sight immediately afterward.
And there stood Potter, his smoldering green eyes gazing at us in a bored manner through his black oval-shaped glasses. He wore a tight red sweater and even tighter blue jeans, and had a small stack of five or six presents in his arms, all wrapped in gaudy Christmas paper.
At first glance, I had the oddest, most unsettling impression that he had come alone. Then a pair of huge green eyes peered out from behind his legs, looking up at Mother and I.
"Malfoy." Potter greeted with a short nod. "Lady Malfoy."
"Potter." I said as my mother said, "Mr. Potter."
Then we stared at each other for a moment, which was finally broken when Potter blinked and looked behind himself. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he set the presents down and turned, scooping up two identical little boys and setting them in front of himself. He whispered something to them, then released them and stood straight again.
One of the boys, wearing a green sweater with a phoenix on it, grinned up at us through a messy shock of fiery red hair. The other, his sweater depicting a raven, glanced up and dug his toe in the ground bashfully, his hair slightly less chaotic though it was the same fiery color. Both had their father's brilliant green eyes, as well. (Had I just called Potter's eyes brilliant?)
"Happy Christmas, Mr. and Lady Malfoy!" They chorused, both stepping forward and wrapping the arms around us—the grinning one around Mother, the shy one around me.
"Oh!" Mother gasped, thrown off-balance for just a moment.
I hardly had any time to react, as the shy one's arms had barely closed around my legs before he zipped back behind his father's.
"Introduce yourselves." Potter said, pushing the shy boy in front of himself again. "Both of you."
"Nix!" The grinning twin said. "I'm Nix!"
The shy twin grasped Potter's pants leg with one hand. "Byrne." He said quietly, not looking at us.
"Up?" Phoenix asked, holding his arms up to my mother expectantly.
"Mind your manners, Phoenix." Potter scolded with a small frown.
"Up, please?" Phoenix amended immediately, though his arms didn't move.
Mother picked him up carefully, not quite sure what to make of him.
"Your name?" Phoenix asked. "Please, your name?"
"You may call me Grandmother Narcissa, if that's alright with your father." Mother said.
Phoenix looked back at Potter, who nodded in spite (or perhaps because) of the slightly surprised expression on his face.
"Yay!" Phoenix cheered. "Grandmother 'Cissa!" He threw his arms around Mother's neck and kissed her cheek with a loud 'smack.'
Mother's face was blank for a moment before her lips curled up into a tiny smile.
"Your name?" Phoenix turned to me, not releasing Mother's neck.
"Draco." I replied.
His head cocked to one side, then looked at Potter again. "Grandfather Draco?"
"They aren't married, Nix." Potter said. "Lady Malfoy is his mother."
His eyes widened, and he looked from Mother, to me, and back again. "His mother?" He asked disbelievingly.
Mother's smile widened. "Yes, I'm his mother. He's much younger than he looks."
"And Grandmother 'Cissa is older!" Phoenix said.
"Phoenix!" Potter hissed, but Mother just laughed once and waved him off.
"It's alright. I'll take it as a compliment." She assured him.
Potter sighed again. "Thank you. Doesn't think before he talks, that one."
"And this one doesn't talk much at all." She looked at Byrne. "I don't bite, Byrne."
Byrne looked up at her slowly. "No crying, now?" He asked.
Both of us blinked and looked at Potter.
"I told him you might cry if we didn't come keep you company. He's too young to understand much else about…about losing people and such." Potter explained.
"No crying, please, Grandmother 'Cissa." Byrne said, giving us a rather melancholic look.
"No crying, Byrne." Mother said with a soft smile.
He returned her smile with a minute one of his own.
"Promise, Grandmother 'Cissa?" Phoenix asked.
"I promise, Phoenix." She said. "Now, are you boys ready for dinner?"
"I'm hungry, I'm hungry!" Phoenix said immediately, his twin nodding acquiescently.
"Then let's all head to the dining room, shall we?" She offered a hand to Byrne.
Byrne shook his head, burying his face in Potter's leg.
"Come on, Byrne." Potter said, untangling his son. "Won't you be a big boy and hold Lady Malfoy's hand? Please?"
Byrne shook his head, biting his bottom lip.
"One step at a time, then." Potter muttered, picking the presents up and grabbing Byrne's hand. "Lead the way, Lady Malfoy."
"You may call me Narcissa, Mr. Potter." She said even as she turned toward the dining room. I held out an arm for her, and she put her hand in the crook of my elbow, shifting Phoenix to her free arm as she did.
"Where may I set the gifts?" He asked.
I snapped my fingers before Mother could even glance at me, a house elf appeared at my feet. "Sesi, please take Mr. Potter's gifts to the Christmas tree."
"Yes, Master Malfoy." She curtsied and took the presents from Potter, disappearing with a sharp crack that made the twins jump.
"It's loud!" Phoenix exclaimed, his voice nearly as loud as Sesi's disappearance had been.
"Yes, it is." Mother agreed.
Phoenix started to say something else, but his attention was suddenly and quickly diverted to the dining table, which was practically overflowing with food.
"Food, food!" Phoenix said.
"We weren't sure what you liked, so we had the elves make a little of everything." I explained.
"Thank you." Potter said. "And Nix, don't you even look at those desserts until your real dinner is finished, you hear me?"
"Yes, sir." He grumbled.
"Good boy." Potter said with a tiny smile. "And you can only have one, then.
"Down, please, Grandmother 'Cissa." Phoenix said, wrinkling his nose at his father.
Mother set him down obligingly.
"Don't sit down yet, Nix." Potter said, giving his son a stern look.
"Why?" Phoenix asked, pouting.
"It isn't polite to sit until the Lady of the house is seated." He said. I was rather surprised Potter would know that sort of thing.
"But at Nana's—" Phoenix protested.
"We aren't at Nana's, Nix. We're at the Malfoy's, and I already told you how you're to act at the Malfoy's, didn't I?" Potter's voice brooked no room for argument.
"Yes, sir."
"Would you like to show Mother to her seat, Nix?" I asked.
Phoenix gave me a surprised look, but nodded, allowing Mother to take his hand into hers.
"I sit over here." She said, pointing at her seat, and he all but dragged her over there. "Now, a gentleman pulls out the chair for a lady."
"Okay, Grandmother 'Cissa!" Phoenix grabbed hold of the heavy chair and pulled it back with a little difficulty due to its size.
"Now bow while she sits." I said.
He bowed clumsily as she sat down as pristinely as ever, smiling all the while at him.
"You may sit down next to me now." Mother said.
Phoenix looked at Potter, who gave him an encouraging nod as I sat at the head of the table and he sat to my left, across from Mother. Phoenix clambered up into the chair Mother had indicated.
"Sit down, Byrne." Potter said, pulling out the chair on the other side of himself. Byrne looked up at him for a moment, a pensive expression on his face. Then he toddled over to my side and looked up at me.
"Your lap, Draco?" He asked hesitantly. "Please?"
"A…alright." I said, scooting my chair back a little to allow him room before I reached down, picked him up, and set him in my lap.
He smiled back at me, then turned to the table.
CHAPTER FOUR: Guests
"Dessert now, Daddy?" Nix asked hopefully after we had finished our dinner.
"Actually, dear, you'll have to wait a little longer." Narcissa said. "Some of Draco's friends will be coming for dessert and to open presents in a few moments."
"Aww…" Nix pouted, casting a forlorn glance at the desserts.
"They should be here soon, don't worry." Malfoy said.
"Don't encourage him." I said with a frown. "You know better than to whine, Nix."
"You shouldn't be so strict, Mr. Potter." Narcissa said. "It's Christmas, after all."
I arched an eyebrow at her. "So you'll take full responsibility for him?"
"Until you leave, yes. And I'm sure he'll be very good for Grandmother 'Cissa." She said, ruffling Nix's hair. "Won't you, dear?"
"Very, very good!" Nix chirruped, giving her a grin that I knew from past experience meant he knew he'd found a sucker. Byrne giggled, recognizing the grin as well.
Much as I loved him, Nix was pure Slytherin at times like those.
"Alright, then." I said. Some people had to learn Nix's vices the hard way.
"Master Draco, sir, they is people here to see you." A house elf appeared beside Malfoy's chair with a bow.
"My other guests?" He asked.
"Yes, sir." The elf said, head bobbing up at down agreeably.
"Then show them in." He said.
The elf nodded and bowed again before disappearing.
"Mr. and Mrs. Blaise Zabini." Another elf said as it appeared in the doorway. "Mr. Theodore Nott."
Everyone stood (the twins with some confusion) as Blaise entered the room with Luna (née Lovegood), and Theodore Nott entered alone.
"Harry!" Luna said, pulling away from her husband and running to me as best she could with her bulging stomach. "How wonderful to see you!"
"Hello, Luna." I smiled at her as I hugged her as much as I could. "How's the baby?"
"He's fine." She said, putting a hand on her stomach and smiling as dreamily as ever. "Though I suspect he's upset by the Nargles hiding in Draco's mistletoe."
"As we all should be." Blaise said gravely.
"Hi, Auntie Lu!" Nix piped up, standing on his tiptoes to see her over the table and waving ardently.
"Hi, Nix." She said. "I didn't see you." She looked down at my feet. "And where's Byrne?"
"Here, Auntie Lu." Byrne said softly from where he stood beside Malfoy, looking torn between staying where he was and running to me.
Luna's eyebrows rose, her husband's expression mirroring hers.
"And what are you doing so far away from your dad, eh?" Blaise asked, crouching near Byrne so as to be at eye-level with him.
Byrne shrugged, scooting a little closer to Malfoy in search for comfort in the face of so many newcomers.
"Come here, Byrne." I said, holding my arms out to him. He glanced from me to Malfoy, then scrambled into my arms, burying his face in my shoulder as soon as I picked him up.
"Poor thing." Theodore said. "Not quite up to staying away from you for too long, yet, is he?"
"Not just yet, but we're making progress." I replied, shifting Byrne to one arm so I could offer Theodore a hand. "Good to see you again, Theodore."
"You as well, Harry." He shook my hand. "Have you figured out that code, yet?"
I shook my head. "But I'm very close." I said. "If I'd known you were going to be here, I'd have brought my notes."
"It's Christmas, Harry." He said, voice almost scolding. "No work."
I laughed. "True enough, but you're the one who brought it up."
"Granted." He smiled a little, then looked down as Nix tugged on his maroon dress robes (Ron would've cringed at the color). "Hello, Phoenix."
...
aaasik