How the Sister Stole Christmas

WARNING, WARNING, DANGER, READERS, DANGER:

Not my normal stuff by a long-shot. Death Eater-centric and supportive. Wasn't even going to post it because I thought it was just too weird. Decided to let y'all make the call on that. I'm sure you will ... let me know.


How the Sister Stole Christmas

The table was set with great care. The silver gleamed with hours of polish. The finest bone china place settings were perfectly centered in front of each damask-draped chair. The crystal of the wine and water goblets glittered, reflecting the flickering candle flames. Narcissa smiled to herself, nodding her satisfaction before she pushed open the door to the kitchen where chaos reigned supreme. The house elves dashed about like little mad creatures, stirring pots, folding linens, and two focused solely on the evening’s main course, trussing up limbs and polishing the requisite apple for the bore’s mouth.

“Careful!” Narcissa warned. “The entrée is one of a kind this evening.”

“Yes, miss,” the errant elf answered obsequiously

“Be certain it is dressed and prepared properly. I don’t want anything to distress our special guests this evening,” threatened the lady of the house just before she glided out of the steamy kitchen.

Smoothly, she eased down the parquet floors then gracefully disappeared up the curving staircase. Entering her private chambers, she began her own very careful preparations, starting with a hot bath with expensive oils.

As she clipped on her last earring, she heard the chimes to announce the first guest’s arrival. As she stepped out of room, she met Lucius emerging from his in their private, time-honed dance. He tucked her tiny hand into the crook of his elbow and together the platinum-haired duo descended to meet the arriving guests. At the foot of the steps, they paused to glance lovingly at one another before entering the parlor where the elves were serving drinks.

The Malfoy couple divided their attentions equally among their guests, greeting the LeStranges, all three first, as they were, of course, family. Snape sulked in the corner, nursing his expensive tumbler full of liquor and barely nodding recognition to Lucius who wisely kept clear of the foul-tempered man.

The door chimed again and instantly an overwrought elf popped into sight next to Lucius who nodded and swiftly left the room to answer the door for this most important guest himself. The cowardly little elf scuttled along behind him.

“My Lord,” Lucius greeted Voldemort with the utmost awe and respect coating his already well-schooled voiced.

“Luciussss,” greeted the scaly man.

“May I take your cloak?” offered Lucius.

“Certainly,” Voldemort replied as he shrugged out of the expensive heavy velvet. Lucius carefully took possession, folding it over his arm. Motioning toward the parlor, Lucius guided his final guest inside. A chorus of hallelujah-like greetings met the Dark Lord as he entered.

Quiet small-talk ensued whilst his dearly beloved Death Eaters took their separate turns paying homage to their Lord. Eventually, yet another tiny elf popped up next to Narcissa, tugging shyly at her skirt. Disdainfully, Narcissa scowled down her nose at the beast then nodded her understanding.

“Ladies and gentlemen, dinner will now be served,” she announced.

The pocket doors between the parlor and the dining room slid open at her words, revealing the beautifully set table. The guests found their way to their appointed seats, all waiting until Voldemort took his place at the head and Lucius opposite him. They sat in unison, much like soldiers ordered simultaneously.

The elves began serving the soup and pouring wine all around the table. Lucius stood, clearing his throat, and raising his glass for a toast.

“To our success,” he offered first. Everyone sipped their own blood red wine. “To our most-esteemed guest,” he toasted Voldemort, who inclined his head as regally as possible to acknowledge the recognition. “And, to my wife, who has prepared a most special meal for our pleasure.” Narcissa blushed on cue and toasted her husband as well.

The small talk continued with Bellatrix trying to upstage her sister from across the table, vying for Voldemort’s sole attention.

The head elf hesitantly tapped Lucius’ elbow for confirmation. Lucius nodded and the elves prepared to bring in the main entrée. All chatter ceased as the giant silver platter floated into the dining room, bearing a very recognizable dark-haired boy with a lightning bolt-shaped scar, a gleaming red apple wedged into his teeth, his arms and legs trussed tightly, stark naked except for the dainty white paper booties adorning his hands and feet, his ass thrust up in the air and surrounded by artfully arranged roasted new potatoes and carrots. All of the assembled Death Eaters turned to stare at Lucius who was staring gaped-mouthed at his wife.

“Narcissa?” he asked, swallowing hard at the unreadable look on Voldemort’s face.

“Yes, dear?”

“I thought I had asked for roast boar …”

“Of course, dear. I thought you’d be pleased with roasting this bore,” she answered innocently, indicating Potter with a graceful flourish of her impeccably manicured hand.

“INDEED!” roared Snape, who then snorted and raised his glass to toast his hostess.

Voldemort slowly stood, staring in absolute wonderment at the feast laid out before him on the mahogany table. He turned his gaze upon the tiny woman, graced her with his widest smile, and began to applaud. All of his minions followed suit, except Bellatrix who remained seated and sulking at being outdone once more by her perfect sister.

Rodulphus, chuckling heartily, leaned in to whisper to his brother, “Beats the pants off last year’s roast beast.” Rabastan nodded vigorously, clapping his hands gleefully.

Artfully, Lucius picked up the carving knife and sharpening tool. At the first grate of steel against steel, two vivid green eyes flew open to stare at the host. Potter began to try to squirm quite ineffectually, resulting in spilled roast potatoes and carrots.

“Narcissa, dear, I believe the entrée is a tad underdone,” Lucius commented drily.

“Of course, rare bore, Lucius. You can have your choice of cut.” Narcissa looked at her husband with absolute amazement in her eyes, as if her suggestion was completely rational.

Voldemort threw his head back and laughed. Snape sat down and snickered into his wine, allowing his dark hair to hide his face and his delight.

Bellatrix slouched and glared at her sister. Her lip curled into a snarl, Bellatrix finally added, “What a treat, Narcissa.”

“Thank you, Bellatrix,” Narcissa added graciously.

“You have outdone yourself, Mrs. Malfoy,” the Dark Lord complimented as he used his fork to poke the obviously undercooked white backside of the boy who lived, earning a nice twitch of live muscle.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

The Dark Lord beamed at his hostess, his small heart growing three sizes that night.

“You’re welcome.”

“Welcome Christmas,” groused Bellatrix as she raised her goblet in a toast to her sister’s victory. Her toast was echoed more joyously from all quarters around the table. The roast bore struggled for a moment, then settled back into his restraints, praying for a miracle.




A/N: Okay, okay, so I couldn’t leave it with a plain roast beast ... or cannibals simply preparing to feast.