Title: A Disfunctional Family Christmas

Author: Ivory Tower

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns them. Okay, early this morning I had this damn weird dream that involved Snape riding a horse and then something to do with him swimming around a lot. Point being, the only damn thing I own is that dream, which isn't saying much.

Act III: The Gift of Giving.

It is plainly supposed to be Christmas morning, as indicated by the swinging sun overhead. Malfoy, Hermione, Ron and Harry descend the makeshift stairs that roll from side to side.

"We live in a real hell hole," remarks Malfoy, clutching the bannisters tightly. "I've adapted," he quickly adds, noticing Dumbledore's expression.

When they reach the bottom (Ron trips and tumbles down, taking Harry with him) they pretend to be overwhelmed with surprise.

"Oh look! Santa has come," shouts Hermione, clapping her hands.

"Yeah, so why didn't he take Lockhart with him?"

"Shut up, Ron." Hermione glares at Ron while Draco and Harry snicker behind their hands.

They proceed to ignore Lockhart's presence, which isn't too hard seeing as how he's still seated at the table in the background.

"Wait. We cannot start without fa-that greasy git who takes care of us. But Headmaster, it's the truth." insists Harry.

Lucius enters, helping a soddenly drunk Snape to the nearest chair.

Hermione shakes her head and says, "This is just wrong."

"I expect a full pardon after this is over," declares Lucius, shoving Snape onto what was once a recliner, but now the bottom half is missing.

"Pass out the presents, sis." orders Draco, sprawling onto the couch.

"I refuse to do everything. Do it yourself, Malfoy."

"Be silent and open your presents, you loathesome little brats," slurs Snape. "Where are my cigarettes?"

Ron looks astonished. "Mr. Malfoy-there's a gift for you under here."

"Well, if it is arsenic, I will gladly accept it."

Hermione seizes the present and throws it at Lucius.

"Take it anyway!" she yells.

Lucius is so shocked he just sits there and lets the present bounce off his head without comment.

"Here you go, Professor," says Ron, holding up Snape's present.

"Weasley, I am unable to walk. Bring my stupid present here...and unwrap it while you're at it."

"I'm not Weasley. I'm cousin Patty."

Harry looks worried. "Are you feeling okay, Ron?"

"Damn it! I'm cousin Patty!"

Hermione's mouth thins. She stalks over to Snape and slams the present onto his lap.

"Open it!" she orders harshly.

"Miss Granger-"

"Uh, Professor, I'd do what she says," advises Harry.

"Very well! Snape tears open the package to reveal..."A showercurtain! Which one of you cheap little bastards bought me this-this-!" Snape is so disgusted he spits.

Harry laughs. "You got a dancing Elmo shower curtain, Professor. That's classic!"

"Potter...if you did this..." Snape looks livid.

Hermione whirls around to face Lucius.

"Open your present, Mr. Malfoy," she orders threateningly.

"I have died and gone to Hell. There is no other explanation for this," comments Lucius, unwillingly opening the red package. He frowns. "Paisley oven mitts? I've never baked a day in my life. I don't think Azkaban even has a kitchen. This is the worst present I've ever-"

"Your turn, cousin Patty," interrupts Hermione.

Ron shrugs and unwraps..."Hey, wicked! Wait...that's a toilet paper dispenser."

"I think you opened Potty's present by mistake."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" hiss Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"Shove this up your bum," adds Ron, tossing a rolled up paper bag at Draco.

Draco unrolls the bag, reaches in, and produces..."A vial of dried up ink. Go me."

Hermione starts to twitch. "I think I'll open my present now."

"You do that," murmurs Harry.

"Silence, Potter! You are in very deep trouble."

"But, Professor, I didn't get you that stupid shower curtain. Why would I buy you a present?"

"Leave me alone, Potter. The room is spinning."

"Lovely. A trowel." Hermione tosses her new trowel aside and rubs her temples. "That leaves you, Harry."

"Do hurry up, Potter. I wish to return to Azkaban immediately. Severus, would you be so kind as to Obliviate me before my departure? Severus? I don't envy the headache you'll have tomorrow morning." Lucius idlely taps his cane onto the floor.

Harry reaches into the cheaply stamped box that serves as a Christmas package.

"Hey, a spork! Well, at least it's-"

"A spork!" exclaims everyone, including Snape.

Draco nimbly leaps to his feet. "Give me that spork, Potter!"

"Get your own!"

"It's mine!" shrieks Hermione and dives for it.

Ron tackles Hermione and crawls over her to reach Harry and his precious spork.

"Out of my way!" Lucius uses his cane to push the two aside. He repeatedly advances on Harry when Draco seizes Lucius's feet and hangs on. "Let go at once, Draco! I mean it!"

Snape staggers in Harry's general direction and promptly falls off the stage.

"Merlin's beard! Are you all right, Severus?" inquires McGonagall from the audience.

While everyone is having a knockout dragout, Harry sneaks offstage with his spork.

Snape somehow manages to climb back on stage *without* the aid of magic.

"Weasley touched my hair! I'm infected!"

"Hair? That's a bloody helmet you've got for hair, Malfoy. Take that!"

"Weasley's beating me with a stalk of celery! Help!"

"Help yourself, Draco. Get this insane girl away from me!" Lucius kicks at Hermione.

"...and this is for supressing Dobby for all those years-and your blatant misuse of authority at the Ministry of Magic..." Hermione continues to rant and pummel Lucius in the face with his newly acquired paisley oven mitts.

Harry walks back out, still clutching his spork.

"Guys? I think the play is over. Is Lockhart going to sit at the table all night or what?" Harry asks, shrugs, and faces the audience. "Well...we hope you've enjoyed-"

Snape passes out drunk and topples over with the Christmas tree. Can't you just taste the symbolism?

"-our play," continues Harry, "Thank you all for-"

"Ouch! My hair!"

"Granger, stop squalling about your bushy hair."

"That wasn't me, Malfoy! That was your father!"

"Couldn't have been, Granger. Snape's out cold."

"Your *other* father, ferret face!"

"It's a lie, Draco! Do not believe a word this girl says."

"Taste the toilet roll of death and destruction, Malfoy!"

"Weasley, get that thing away-help! Murder!" shrieks Draco.

"-coming. Yeah. I hope your Christmas doesn't end up like this, but if it does, there are always plenty of anti-depressants and tranquilizers. Good night." concludes Harry.

An out-of-tune rendition of The Most Wonderful Time of the Year fills the Great Hall.


A/N: Merry Christmas and don't get too drunk.