Yule
Being home again after so long was weird to Draco.
He had never really though much on Malfoy Manor from an objective perspective. But standing in front of it after side along-apparating there directly from the portkey in Diagon Alley, where his father had wanted to make a detour, Draco couldn't quite decide whether the sharp angles and roofs of the manor really represented his home. It certainly build up his house.
The house he grew up in. But the feeling of rightness didn't quite sink in.
Not until, Yule morning, when Draco stormed down the stairs, not caring how much his father hated the noise, and flung himself into his mothers arms with a hushed greeting.
Narcissa had been off visiting her father before yule, since he was of bad health and they didn't know how long the man had left. He was only 63 though, so Draco was sure Cygnus Black would get better in no time.
Because of his mother's absence, however, Draco had been bored out of his mind, strolling around the near forest at night and sitting in his fathers study
- silently of course - by day, although, just sitting around, not being allowed to do anything, was even more boring then everything else, so he had given that up on the second day.
All the more happy was Draco now to see her again. And if he was honest, it really was his mother that made the manor feel like home.
After reciting all of his achievements and experiences over their shared family brunch - just the three of them - Draco almost felt thrown back to simpler times. When there hadn't been that fear in his parents eyes, whenever he moved a little too fast, when grabbing something from the table.
Draco almost forgot about his bloody little problem.
He was even happier when Severus joined them over dinner that same day. Draco had already prepared the present for his grandfather, placing it proudly under the tree in the sitting room, and was giddy enough to bounce on his stool, until his father told him to stop.
Since Severus' father Tobias Snape had died a few years back, the potion teacher spent yule with them. Even though, Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, and Severus didn't always get along too well, Severus showed up most of the time, and Draco sometimes even saw his lips twitch upwards a tiny bit, in Draco's peripheral vision. Although it was gone just as fast, so that it could have just been a flicker of light.
To Draco's joy, Severus did seem to genuinely appreciate the monstrosity of a pocket watch, Draco had bought him in Diagon Alley. Although it was almost as big as Draco's palm, he could also appreciate the delicate carvings and swirls of black and silver around the casing.
Draco did realise, however, how abnormal things were, when he was told to drink up every drop of blood of the animals they'd sacrificed during the Yule ritual, in preparation for their annual Yule ball the next day.
"We can't have him running around hungry tomorrow can we? Not with all the people around."
Of course Draco understood his fathers concerns, but that didn't make the presumption of Draco's lack of self control hurt less.
During the ball, Draco spend most of his time sulking and roaming around the manor aimlessly with dumb and dumber in tow. Vince and Greg weren't the best company of course, but at least they listened to his whining without telling him how vain he was, as Severus often liked to do.
It was almost nice, talking to them.
Until Vince opened his mouth.
Then suddenly Draco didn't want anything more but to go back to ignoring them.
Of course Draco knew he was being a bit mean to his Lackeys, but in the end treating them better didn't suddenly make them more interesting, so where even was the point?
Even playing with Potter was more fun than this. He couldn't believe himself for missing the git, although, Potter was far better company than any of the guest currently in Malfoy Manor. And then that scent. Draco wouldn't necessarily die for it, but he would put himself in mortal peril to get just a little taste of that blood.
His mother had bought Draco a bunch of blood flavoured lollipops for yule. One of which Draco was sucking on right now, while staring out into the dark night.
Greg and Vince had become background noise long ago. Now it was only Draco and his thoughts, which he desperately tried to rip away from the Chosen One, and the deliciously throbbing artery on his neck.
To sink his teeth into it's warmth. Draco could already imagine it. Severus had gifted him 'to kill or not to kill: a vampire's memoir' for yule. The author, Bartholomew Artère, a vampire himself, had described the feeling as the most pleasurable experience of ones lifetime. Sadly the vampire had later in his life been killed after a massacre in a small french southwestern village, by over a dozen vampire hunters, so Draco wasn't really sure whether he was to trust a serial killer.
Although, most of his kind did kill for a living. Literally, since no vampire could survive without blood for a long period of time. Draco could. But he wasn't even a full grown vampire yet, so he didn't really know about how his boodlust was to prgress over the years.
Age itself was a peculiar thing to Draco. As he had read in most books about dark creatures, Vampires didn't really age normally. Neither did wixen. And a mixture of both, like Draco, was still broadly under reserarched.
Draco did know one thing, though. He did age. He was not a six year old boy anymore. Far from it. His mother had already commented on his voice cracking from time to time which he had noticed as well of course. And he was growing too.
At least Draco hoped he wouldn't always stay 11. Aging by the century didn't really play into his cards right now.
But maybe he had to just wait and see.
Anyway, Draco was already craving to be back at Hogwarts.