Draco was having trouble realizing he was actually doing this. Slowly pushing the front door open and peering around, before it dawned on him. He couldn't believe it. He had much more class than this.
Stepping lightly across the foyer he headed to the stairs and wondered what the bloody hell had possessed him to do this. That's right: the 'treasure', the 'goods'. It was worth it. He knew it would be in the end. It just required a little patience and skill, both of which he had.
He crept slowly up the stairs, keeping a sharp ear out for any doors opening, anyone flooing in, or someone apparating in. He knew the family was going to be out all day, so that's what made it even loads better. More time to carry out his plan, and actually try to accomplish something.
As he continued his ascent, his held his breath on stairs that may creak; the house was old after all. He also didn't know if anyone had stayed home last minute. That could prove troublesome if caught.
Once he reached the landing he stole a quick glance down the long and narrow hallway, before heading down. He went quickly past open doorways, in case there was someone lingering about.
After a few minutes of dodging house elves doing their routine cleaning of the rooms, he entered the room where the treasure lay hidden. He opened the door, praying it didn't have any squeaking hinges.
He glanced around the room, making sure the coast was clear before heading for the closet. Ah, how simple minded of people to hide the goods in there. Didn't they know it was the first place he always checked?
He stepped into the walk-in closet, and proceeded to shut the door behind him, as a safety precaution, in case anyone should see in the room. That's when he lit his wand and went into 'the zone' to only do one thing, and that one thing alone: find his birthday gifts.
He started out on the right side of the closet, feeling through clothes, in case someone had hidden something, and then along the walls, in case there was a safe .
Drat! Nothing was there. There were shelves above him, but how would he see up there comfortably? He tried every general summoning charm on the item he desired.
Once more there was nothing. He thought at this point nothing could be more inconvenient; well, perhaps the lighting was a bit on the poor side. He decided to just make the best of it and stand on his toes, feeling around for boxes and go through them one at a time. There weren't that many, luckily.
He searched through nearly all the boxes when the door slowly started opening. He hadn't heard the crack that meant someone had apparated in. What was he to do? He quickly shoved the box back on the shelf, and tried to act nonchalant. Yes, there was a good reason he was in the closet. He just didn't know what. He'd have to invent it, but when he did, it would be brilliant.
"Draco!" he heard a scolding voice say to him. Damn, he was caught.
"Yes, dear?" he asked innocently enough, his arm leaning against the shelf above him, playing it cool.
"Why are you in the closet?" his wife asked him, arms crossed. She knew why he was in there. It was the one reason she didn't want him to meet with them 'in a few minutes' as he had said.
He had talked himself out of situations before, but how was he to explain this? "Well, Ginny, there's something I've been meaning to tell you," he said, stepping out of the closet to face her. "I'm coming out of the closet," he said, with a straight face.
She blinked. "Bullocks. You're just trying to look for your birthday presents again. I told you to stop looking. You won't find them. The kids went through a lot of hard work finding the perfect gifts for you, and you aren't going to ruin it!" she said, poking him in the shoulder. "Now, you are going to go and apparate yourself to the Burrow, and enjoy yourself."
He snorted. "Like I can enjoy myself at the Burrow," he said under his breath. He wasn't exactly excited to go there either. He had more fun in the closet, looking for presents in the dark.
"What was that, Draco?"
"Nothing dear, just saying I can't wait to join in all the fun," he said, with a forced smile
She rolled her eyes. "Just go," she said. "I'll be there in 'a few minutes," she finished, grinning.
He sighed, gave her one last sad look, hoping he'd be able to stay with her and perhaps they could work on 'business'; but it was a wasted look. She wasn't buckling at this point. So he apparated out to join his excuse for brothers in laws.
Ginny sighed, thinking about the many times Draco had found the gifts over the course just as many years. Sometimes he found them on the day they were purchased! But oh, she had wised up this year. He was so bent on trying to find those gifts that he didn't realize he'd been staring at them in the face the whole time! Well… transfigured at least.
The one thing he had been dying for over the course of this year was a new broomstick: a Firebolt, to be specific. He had been getting on in age it was true, or so he said, he was only thirty-five though. But as soon as it came out he had wanted to buy it, but Ginny, being the responsible one, had said no, wait until it becomes a bit cheaper. Even though both knew price was never something to stop them.
He had been good though, his only complaint when told 'no', was: "But Gin, by the time it becomes cheap enough, it'll be an old model! There will be something new out and I'll want that instead." She merely shrugged off his concern.
What he didn't know was that she had sent a note off to her brothers, Fred and George, as they were located in Diagon Alley, to pick up aforementioned broom and keep it for a while. Once Draco had stopped mentioning it, she smuggled it secretly into the house . It was currently a necklace in Ginny's jewelry box.
And just to be mean, Ginny had hidden 'gifts' in the closet. There were a few brightly wrapped presents, sitting there, innocently; waiting for Draco to find them and get the shock of his life when he opened them. She had hidden: A nice, knitted sweater with matching scarf, a book (Sites of Historical Sorcery), and a lovely new quill and parchment set, all engraved with his initials. It was the children's idea to plant these gifts. They had caught on to Draco's tricks a couple of years ago when they realized that their father wasn't as excited over his gifts as he usually was.
~~~~
Unbeknownst to Ginny, Draco at the present moment was trying to get their youngest child to spill the beans about the whereabouts of his presents. The child, a whole four years old, was more interested in playing with her cousins than she was cooperating with her father.
"Alright, I'll make a deal with you," he said to the child. "If you tell Daddy where the presents are, you'll get the biggest sundae you've ever seen from Fortescue's ."
The little girl thought this over. "No," she said finally after about three minutes of 'serious' thinking.
He gaped, how could this child have told him no? The child had a bigger sweet tooth than all of Europe combined!
"Okay. You tell Daddy where the gifts are and you can get anything you want, in the entire world," he said . "Daddy is quite serious."
Once again the little girl thought it over, this time thinking about seven or so minutes, finally answering. "Alright. They're in your closet. Behind Mummy's shoeboxes. They have red wrapping paper and a big bow on them. I want a boat… and a big box of crayons!" she said, happily.
Draco merely nodded. "Right. Right, Run along," he said to his daughter, sending her off to play with her cousins. He sat back and put on a most evil grin. He knew the whereabouts of his presents and Ginny couldn't stop him this time. He decided right then and there that his little girl was his favorite. Well, he couldn't say that, he loved all his children equally; even if they were a bit thick-headed sometimes. He claimed they got that from their mother's side. He was never thick-headed as a boy. No, Sir. Not Draco.
All Draco had to do now was merely sit back and go along with this excuse of a get together he was forced into once a week. He didn't think they needed to see each other that often, once a month was alright with him.
Later that evening, as Ginny was in the bathroom, showering and whatever else she did in there, he really hadn't been paying attention at anything the entire day, he strolled across the room, pretending he was getting a shirt from the closet, and glanced around the walk-in. He knew Ginny kept her shoes on one of the shelves he looked at earlier, or was sure he did.
"Lumos," he muttered, still under the ruse that he was getting a shirt and nothing more and spotted the shoeboxes; they were taunting him mercilessly. He quickly pushed aside the boxes and grinned when he saw the gifts, wrapped just as his daughter had told him.
He pulled them down and went back into his bedroom, sending a locking spell at the door, can't have the children walking in on him. How embarrassing that would be! He undid the bow, carefully undoing the wrapping paper so as not to rip it, and opened the lid of the gift inside.
His face fell. It was a sweater. And what was that thing next to it? A scarf. How nice. Maybe if he was his father-in-law. No. Draco Malfoy did not do matching sweater and scarf sets. Perhaps the next box would hold something better. He undid that gift the same way, careful as to not rip the paper.
Once again, his face fell even further, "A book?" he questioned aloud. Did he change into Granger or something? Who gives someone a book as a gift? Obviously his children had been around their aunt a bit too long. He'd make sure that problem was fixed before long.
By the third gift, he didn't really care. His first two gifts were absolutely horrid! How was he to pull off that he liked them? Of course he'd do it for the children's sake…. Once the third box was opened he sighed, a quill and parchment set, what was that on them? Oh… his initials. He shook his head. Certainly his children could not have given him these awful gifts. He appreciated the thought, but, oh, if his gifts were these, he'd rather a card and a pat on the back.
He kept the gifts on the bed until Ginny came out of the bath, toweling off her hair. "Draco… where did you find these?" she asked him, angrily ; though she was trying to keep from laughing at the crestfallen expression on his face.
"Your closet," he said pathetically. "Did you help our children pick out these gifts?" he asked.
She shook her head, "No, your children wanted to pick out these gifts themselves and you had best damn well put on a smile when you open them on your birthday!" she said.
"They're absolutely wretched though, Gin!" he said. "You can't be serious."
"Oh I am. Dead serious. Now, perhaps next time you'll think again before you go off sneaking around, acting like some thief in the night."
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