There were students chattering happily about their Christmases in the hallways as Draco walked down into the dungeons. They were talking about their Christmas presents, skiing trips (he still didn’t get why muggles strapped long pieces of wood to their feet for sport), and family reunions. Draco was fed up with these stories, partially for their repetitiveness, but mostly because they were a stark contrast to his own Christmas holidays. His home didn’t feel like home anymore, ever since the Dark Lord had turned it into his headquarters. Death and gloom were omnipresent in the Malfoy mansion, draining Draco of all hope and happiness. The only feeling worse than seeing the Dark Lord as the new head of his home was the unshakable image of what the Dark Lord would do if Draco were to fail the task he’d given him.