Green Eyed Monster | Draco Malfoy

82. Birthday Gifts

Chapter 82 - Birthday Gifts

"Drea," a voice whispered through my foggy dreams. I groaned in protest, rolling onto my stomach and shoving my face into my pillow - it couldn't be time to clean yet; it just couldn't. Had the Delacours not already come like I'd dreamt? Was the cleaning really not over yet? It seemed impossible...no, it was impossible - I was never going to clean that much again. No, that wasn't enough - I would never again clean anything at all. Hermione was wrong: House Elves want to work and I would give them free food and board as long as I never had to lift up a cleaning utensil ever again.

"Drea," the voice whispered again.

"Bugger off," I muttered into the pillow. I couldn't really hear how it might have sounded, but if Mrs Weasley was the one to wake me I feared what sponges I would be given as punishment. I heard someone muttering something - someone that didn't sound like Mrs Weasley - and the muttering turned into some sort of quiet argument. Then, suddenly, I was jabbed violently on the exposed part of my cheek. I let out a groan again, digging my face further into the pillow only to have them continue to poke me while I felt like I was suffocating.

I came up for air, not even letting my eyes focus before I was glaring at the person who had dared to wake me and order me about again. The complaint fell short when I saw that my privacy had vanished and my room was infiltrated: it was not just my tormentor but a slew of people standing over my bed. I could see the entirety of the Burrow here, my brother and Sirius at my bedside while Fred and George were leaning over top of me with-

"Bloody Hell!" I snatched my wand from Fred's hand, holding it out of his reach. "What are you thinking poking me with that? Do you know how testy it is? It could have gone off and-"

"Oh, shut up and use it," both Fred and George ordered together. That was strange, them ordering me to hex them - especially when they knew just how ready I was to jump on the opportunity. People here were far too happy, after all. Still, it didn't make sense for them to offer themselves up like that - if anything I was sure they'd offer up Ron - and I felt suspicious of their motives. I was about to question what they meant when the realization struck me. It wasn't just any morning that I woke up to half a dozen people around my bed, nevertheless with Sirius holding a sandy coloured box in his hands...it was my birthday. I was seventeen.

The Trace was gone.

"Holy-" I stopped, pointing my pale wooded wand towards the box Sirius held. "Accio present!"

But of course, the present didn't move. I glared while someone in the group snorted.

"I said accio present!" I repeated. When it again didn't move I shook my wand angrily and used it like a baton to hit the fawn box and knock it out of Sirius' hand. I scooped it up before he could grab for it and shrugged. "We'll just pretend that was me."

"Happy Birthday, Drea," a few of the people chorused. I smiled at them, turning to my brother.

"Happy Birthday to you, old boy," I said to him. He rolled his eyes, but didn't hold back his smile.

"We were going to let you sleep in," Mrs Weasley said from the door; I absently found myself worrying whether or not she had heard my language and planned on punishing me with some sort of overly-hygienic torture. "But Fred and George would have none of it."

"It's her seventeenth birthday!" they defended in unison. "She shouldn't miss a second of it!"

"Arthur also sends his birthday well-wishes, but he had to leave early for work. He'll be back by dinner, it's just too bad he'll miss the presents - bring that one with you and we'll go down to them."