The Joys of Being a Gryffindor || Harry Potter

FOUR

His exclusion had to come to an end soon. He hadn't anticipated how, but, he supposed, no one could have.

It was Christmas Day, his twelfth Christmas, and the first one he would spend without his parents.

Every year, he would wake up early in the morning, far earlier than was sane, and excitedly run down into the drawing room, where they always celebrated. A stunning, expensive tree would be conjured in the middle of the room, tall and proud like his father. Beneath it would be a mountain of presents, all for him, and he would watch them all with barely concealed anticipation until his parents made an appearance.

It was the one day of the year that his parents allowed themselves to relax - if only marginally - and show him real affection. They would come in and gesture for him to begin on his presents. Often, he received books and expensive jewellery, like the pendant he still wore around his neck, and clothing made from the finest materials. He spent the rest of the day admiring them and bragging about how jealous his friends would be. In the evening, they sat at the grand table and were served dinner by their house elves.

This year was not like that.

Draco awoke, later than he'd wanted to, to find that Potter and Weasley were already gone. They'd been the only others to remain at home for the holidays. He clambered out of bed, only to remember what day it was.

Christmas Day. Without his parents.

For the first time in months, a faint hope sparked in his chest. Maybe they'd given in, or been bluffing, and he would come down to find presents under the tree for him. Maybe they still cared and had realised how cruel they'd been. Christmas was the perfect opportunity to repent.

With a glowing hope lodged in his chest, constricting his throat with longing, he ran from the room, not even bothering to change. His heart was beating so fast that he felt light-headed, pounding against his rib cage. He stumbled into the common room, dishevelled, to find Potter and Weasley sat under the tree, both unwrapping gifts, Potter as if he'd never received one in his life.

They both turned to him as he entered, as he hadn't exactly been subtle.

Weasley just turned away again immediately, but Potter continued to watch him, closer than he had in months. His green eyes were sharp and tracked his movements as he wandered over to the tree. Draco felt as if he'd lost his nerve somewhat, but he still crouched down to check if any of the remaining presents were his. He poked around hesitantly, not wanting to appear desperate or as if he were trying to steal presents... something he would have done a few years ago.

As he checked the name tags and none of them said his name, his searching became more frantic, desperate for one thing that someone had thought to get him. He didn't even care if it wasn't his mother or father, as long as someone had thought of him.

To Hermione Granger, to Lavender Brown, to Dean Thomas, to Neville Longbottom...

But not to Draco Malfoy.

There were no presents under the tree for him. None whatsoever.

No one cared about him.

His heart sank down into his stomach, spreading a cold, scared feeling seeping into him and soaking him. His breath felt shaky, shuddering from him audibly, and his vision was blurred with thick tears. His hands shook by his sides as the sudden crushing realisation that he was cared for by no one crashed down over him. It felt as if a wave had crashed down over him, sending him spiralling down into the murky depths and holding him under. Waves washed over him unceasingly, panic overtaking him.

If no one cared, then would he cease to exist completely? Would he just be absorbed into the castle one day as if he'd never been there?

"Did you get any presents?" Potter asked from behind him. His voice was jarring in the horrible silence of the room.