My brother's cry startles me awake. His wailing rattles through the night nursery, high, piping and insistent. I know what he wants instantly. He is hungry; he is always hungry when we wake.
I am not. I only ate an hour ago. To begin with I want to roll over and go back to sleep, but as I wake up more, I realise my tummy hurts, a low, cramping ache that is distinctly uncomfortable.
I wriggle and whine for a few seconds, before adding my cries to my brother's, demanding that someone come and help us.
After what feels like an eternity, the door creaks open and there is a whispered 'Lumos!'
Mama appears in the light, blinking blearily as she stumbles over to Draco's cot.
"Hush, little dragon, hush," she pleads, lifting him up into her arms, "Mama's here, Mama's here."
Draco in the crook of her arm, Mama comes over to me, scooping me up into her other arm.
"There, there, Flavia, hush now, hush now."
She carries us over to the rocking chair by the window and seats herself into it, activating the touch-sensitive rocking charm as she does so.
My brother has never been hard to please. He knows what he wants and will kick up a fuss to get it, but as soon as he is granted his wish, he will be happy again. This is proved true within moments, when he starts to suckle at Mama's breast, gulping noisily as she rocks us gently.
She coos at him, stroking his downy hair, before turning her attention to me.
"Hush, Flavia, hush, look."
She offers me her other breast, but I don't want food. I want my tummy to stop hurting!
I arch my head back, screaming louder and louder as Mama tries to encourage me to eat.
She sighs heavily, "If you two would only learn to coordinate, life would be a lot easier."
She tries to nestle me into her, but I am having none of it. I wail and grunt and kick out at her.
We both know what is happening, but there is little she can do about it. Bouncing me on her knee would help, but there is no way she can do that without disturbing Draco – who hates having to break off mid-feed.
"Oh, Flavia, I'm sorry, darling, I'm sorry. Shh, shh, it'll be over soon."
Mama tries to rub my back, but I am writhing too much for her hands to be very effectual. I am puce in the face by now, shrieking long and loud in my discomfort. It hurts! It hurts so much!
Eventually, Mama can't take it anymore. Deciding a half-fed Draco is the lesser of two evils, she unlatches him and carries us back over to the cribs. She puts him down – prompting a whole other cacophony of frustrated wailing – and starts to bounce me lightly, massaging my tummy as she does so.
"Shh, shh, shh," she murmurs, "It'll be over soon, I promise. Just let go, darling, just let go."
Her words are only half-true. I do manage to fill my nappy eventually, but we hear the grandfather clock on the landing strike the quarter-hour before I finally slump into Mama, limp and exhausted.
She looks down at me, fond exasperation tingeing her silvery-blue eyes. "Why do you always have to need to go in the early hours of the morning, you little vixen? Come on, I'd better feed your brother before I change you or he'll have a right royal tantrum."
If I could speak, I might say Draco has already had one – for he has been roaring furiously all this time – but I can't. Anyway, Mama doesn't give me time to respond before plopping me in my cot and plucking Draco out of his.
The sudden movement startles me, and the squelch of landing in my own mess doesn't help matters. I squawk in indignation.
"Not now, Princess. You've had your turn, I need to see to Draco now."
With that, she is gone. For the briefest of instants, I am too shocked to cry, but within moments, I am fussing again, quickly ramping up the volume until I am full-on bellowing my displeasure. Papa would say that Malfoy ladies don't behave so, but I don't care. Mama has never left me while I am crying before. Surely, if I cry long enough and loud enough, she will come back to me and ignore my brother.
Not this time. Through my screams, I hear Draco's contented guzzling and Mama's dulcet tones crooning something to him. Eventually, he falls quiet.
I expect Mama to come rushing over to me to try and calm my fit of temper now, but it is not to be. It takes several more minutes before she finally picks me up again.
Angry at how slow she's been, I don't let up my roaring even as she carries me to the changing table. In fact, I resolve to stiffen and wriggle all the more to punish her for leaving me.
I last all of a few seconds, until Mama, unable to help herself, lets out a huge yawn. Unable to cover her mouth, given her hands are busy with my night things and new nappy, her face contorts in a way I have never seen before. I laugh at the sight of it.
"Oh, you think that's funny, do you, Flavia? Well, young lady, it wouldn't happen if you and Draco would only be nice and let Mama sleep, you know."
Mama blows a raspberry in my face and I giggle again. Before I know it, Mama is lifting me up, a nice, clean nappy snug around my bottom, and carrying me to the rocking chair.
"Shall we see if you can eat something now, hmm? You've probably worked up a hunger with all that crying. And you'll only be up before too long if I don't feed you now."
I gurgle at Mama, not fully taking in what she says, but it becomes only too clear when she offers me her breast. I don't want food! I'm not hungry!
I whine and arch away from her, wriggling in her hold. I am not crying enough to wake my brother, but enough to make it blatantly clear that I don't want anything to eat.
Mama groans, "Flavia, please! I need to sleep too!"
She tries again, but I spit the nipple she proffers out, this time shrieking, a short, sharp blast of noise that makes my feelings only too clear.
Mama freezes for a moment and I know she is listening out for a sleepy, angry cry from my brother at being woken. When that doesn't materialise, she groans and pushes herself to her feet.
"Very well, little madam. If you must."
She rocks me gently and while I whine for a little while, it isn't long before my eyelids are drooping shut. I barely even feel my back touching the mattress of the crib….
Until my eyes snap open again. The room is dark, Mama has gone, back to the warmth of her own bed, no doubt.
Well, that just won't do. I am starving!
My mouth rips open into an 'O' and I feel myself scream, red-faced and thrashing, until Mama comes running in. By now, Draco is crying too, startled at having been woken so abruptly.
Mama lifts me up, "Oh, Flavia, shh, shh. It's all right, it's all right."
It's not all right! It's not! I'm hungry! I'm hungry!
I root at Mama's chest desperately, nosing at her fiercely until she gives in and lets me latch. We haven't even reached the rocking chair before I am guzzling down the milk I want so badly. Indeed, we don't make it to the rocking chair until a good ten minutes into the feed, once Draco has quietened to Mama's lullabies and drifted back off to sleep.
Mama looks down at me, "You and Draco might be the light of my life, but I swear to Merlin, you're going to be the death of me one day."
Were I old enough to, I might scoff at her words. We're not going to be the death of her. We're just Malfoys. We know what we want and when we want it. It's not our fault if Mama can't keep up with that.