Title: An Elf's Lament

Rating: PG-13 or R

Word count: 1463

Pairing: Harry/Draco (minor: Ron/Hermione, Dean/Seamus, others)

Genre: Humor/fluff

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize belongs to me, including but not limited to the concept of elves as Santa's helpers.

Summary: Santa is determined to reward Draco's appearance on the "nice" list with his heart's desire - and that desire just happens to be Harry. A pushy elf named Hector is landed with the rather impossible job of "giving" Harry to Draco.

Notes: I couldn't resist. Yes, it's probably another trite Harry/Draco fic, but the plot bunny was in my head, and I couldn't get it out. Fic is named for a Bare Naked Ladies' song of the same title. Please review! I find the encouragement is much needed!

When Harry awoke one morning to find a funny little man sitting at the end of his four-poster bed, he wasn't surprised. It seemed that Harry was always getting funny little men, or mysterious dogs, or strange mythical animals, or something popping up constantly anyways, so what difference could one small, three-foot man with a short brown beard make, anyways? Still, slightly curious, and required by tradition, Harry put on a surprised look.

"If you don't mind me asking, who are you and why are you on my bed?" Best to get right to the point; sometimes these sudden visitors tended to babble and never actually told him what was going on.

"Well, isn't that a little rude? A Christmas elf pays you a visit – Hector at your service, by the way – and you can't even be a little happy? Most children would love to see an elf. Everyone knows what it means, after all." Hector remained sitting at the foot of the bed, arms crossed in a pouty manner. He did look rather like a Christmas elf, at least what Harry imagined Christmas elves to be. He was dressed in green and red, with pointy shoes and ears, and looked nothing like Dobby or the other houseelves. Still, he was not quite the cheerful, jolly type.

"I was raised by Muggles. I have no clue what it means, and I should very much appreciate it if you would explain it to me, please," Harry said as politely as he could. No use offending him if this was supposed to be a pleasant visit. It never seemed like his visits from magical people were ever very pleasant.

"Oh, don't Muggles understand? Well, I don't suppose they ever believe their children when we visit them. It means," and the elf stood up, very straight, and bowed pompously, "that you will get your heart's desire this Christmas, and that Santa Claus has found you worthy for his most special reward."

Well, that was quite a change. What had he done to merit such a thing? Oh, right, defeated Voldemort. That was most likely it. His mind quickly ran through the possibilities...bring back Sirius? No, that didn't seem very doable. What did he truly desire? Maybe the elf knew. That would be convenient.

"So what is it that I will receive, come Christmas Day?" Harry asked.

Hector looked a little sheepish. He coughed slightly, clearing his throat, then said, "Er, well...you won't exactly be getting anything. See, it's not you that has merited the special reward. It's...Dikamilfo." The elf mumbled the last part so fast that Harry could not catch it.

"Come again?"

The throat clearing again. "Draco Malfoy. His switch to the nice list after 16 years as "naughty" has caught Santa's attention. Most people don't make the switch, after all. And nothing can fool the list, so he must be sincere. And therefore, he shall receive his heart's desire."

Harry stared at the small man. Santa had sent an elf to come at (checked the clock) 5 am to tell him that his worst enemy was going to receive the highest honor from Santa Claus? Well, not worst enemy, but most annoying nuisance at least. What did any of that have to do with Harry, anyways? He considered the idea that he was just having a very vivid, strange dream and pinched himself. It hurt. Bugger.

Sighing, he turned his attention back to the elf. "And what does any of that have to do with me? Do I have Malfoy's heart's desire?" Maybe it was his invisibility cloak or something. Strange for Malfoy to want, but then, Malfoy was a material-oriented person.

"Well…you could say that. Yes, yes you do hold Mr. Malfoy's greatest desire." The elf looked a little amused at this, and coughed into his hand. So his coughing was both a nervous gesture and a cover-up. Harry wondered if he should offer him a cough drop. He had some lemon-flavored ones from Dumbledore.

"Okay, so I have it. What is it? I'm not just going to give it up to him just because he wants it, and he's not a total prat anymore."

"Well…" the elf's eyes gleamed, and Harry intensely disliked the look of that smile, "you are what Draco Malfoy most desires. Therefore, I am required to give you to him this Christmas."

Surely this was a dream. A very strange dream that someone was inducing upon him for a joke. Ron, perhaps. No, Ron would never dream of setting him up with Draco Malfoy. Seamus, then. Seamus has a messed up sense of humor, right? Harry pinched himself again, this time harder. He was awake. Why had he thought this visit would be pleasant? He had just been informed that he was been handed over like meat to Malfoy.

Well, shit.

An hour and a very long explanation later, Hector had managed to convince Harry of one thing – Malfoy was not out for blood. He didn't want to abuse Harry, at least, not if Hector was to be believed. But Harry could not be persuaded of exactly why Malfoy did want him.

"I'll say it again, for the fortieth time, Draco. Malfoy. Is. In. Love. With. YOU!" As delicate as Santa had said to be about this matter, there was no getting around rudeness now. Harry Potter was as stubborn as a pig. More stubborn – pigs were quite reasonable once you gave them something to eat. Should he try that with Harry?

"By the way, I have some Chocolate Frogs if that'll help," the elf said slyly.

Harry looked at him suspiciously. "Help with what? Are you going to drug me and present me to Malfoy tied up with ribbons?"

No, Harry was not a pig. Too bad. Oh, he was speaking again. Didn't the boy ever stop spouting his denial?

"Look, Malfoy hates me. I hate him. It's what we do. There is no possible way he could love me, and still be the prick he is to me." Harry rolled his eyes. "I've seen people in love. Look at Ron and Hermione, Dean and Seamus – they practically ooze sugar. It's disgusting! Malfoy, on the other hand, oozes poison. Harmless poison, but poison nonetheless."

How could poison be harmless? Hector wondered. Oh, maybe like that daddy-long-legs, where they were too small to bite you, so their potent poison is useless. Wait, back to the point.

"Haven't you ever heard of a boy pulling the pigtails of a girl he likes? It's the same thing with Mr. Malfoy. He's obsessed with you, he can't get enough of you – he just doesn't realize the context yet. He's as clueless as you are." Honestly, teenagers. For all their obsession with sex, you'd think they would quickly figure out just exactly who they wanted to have it with. Hector pulled the covers slightly more around him, and less off Harry. If he was going to have to argue, he was going to be damn well comfortable while doing it.

"Alright," Harry said slowly, "Say Malfoy does 'love' me. Say he harbors this secret passion for me. If he doesn't realize it, isn't he going to be mighty confused when you suddenly present me Christmas Day and say, 'Hey, you own Harry Potter. Have fun' ?"

Hector rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously, that's not how we're going to go about this. He doesn't want to own you, well, not in the material sense. He wants you to love him like he loves you. You know, the head-over-heels, fluffy kind of love. And we at the North Pole can't force you to love him. But we can very well try our damnedest. You are going to spend time with him, have fun with him, seduce him, until you're either as lovesick as a puppy or hate him so much you can't see straight. It's December 1st. You have 24 days ahead of you. Operation Overdose Of Malfoy is in effect as of today. I'll give you your missions, and you fulfill them."

Harry was staring at him disbelievingly. Hey, it wasn't Hector's fault that the acronym rhymed with "doom".

"I wouldn't want to rebel, Mr. Potter. Santa is a jolly old fellow, but he can be pretty vicious when angry. You don't want to see that bowl full of jelly stop jiggling. Believe me, you just don't. How do you think I got stuck with this job? He can create a personal hell, just for you."

Harry looked suitably intimidated. Or slightly constipated. Whichever it was, Hector released the Silencing Charm he had put on the curtains at his arrival and tipped his pointy green hat.

"You'll get your first orders later today, Mr. Potter. I would advise you follow them."

To be continued…