"Mum, Nathan won't leave me alone!"
"I would, if she'd give back my broom!"
"It's mine!"
"Muuuuuuum!"
"My head hurts!"
"Ginny, could you quiet them down? I'M getting a headache."
Muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum!"
Ginny Malfoy shook her head ruefully, surveying the disaster scene before her, wondering where exactly she was supposed to start. Her nine year old daughter, Ruth, was holding a toy broomstick in the air, dodging six year old Nathan's attempts to grab it. Luke, three, was sprawled on the floor, clutching his blanket, other hand thrown awkwardly across his forehead. And as for the eight year old twins...there was no sound. However, Ginny reflected, this was not really a good thing. Reflecting the old adage, the longer Sara and Robyn were quiet, the louder the inevitable explosion was. And to top it all off, Draco was standing carefully halfway up the staircase, well back from the general chaos, giving Ginny a look that said, very clearly, 'Help.' Of course, he'd been an only child, she thought. Scenes like this, that were second nature to her, tended to give her husband the urge to run for the hills. With a sigh, she steeled herself, then waded into the fray.
"Hey!"
"Mum! Give it back!"
"No. How many times have I told you that you can't play with the broom unless we're outside?" Ginny asked rhetorically, stowing the confiscated toy in the cabinet.
"Dad lets us," Nathan muttered rebelliously. Ginny gave her husband an Evil Look.
"Oh, he DOES, does he," she began. "Hey, I've got an idea! Why doesn't 'Dad' take you outside to play with your broomsticks?"
"Yay!" called the two voices as one, before they rushed over to grab their father by the sleeves of his coat, unceremoniously dragging him out the door.
"I'm going to get you for this," he mouthed over the kids' shoulders. Ginny only smiled sweetly, giving him a cheery wave, before turning back to the rest of the circus.
"Luke, sweetie, do you want to go lie on your bed?"
"Mum, my head hurts."
"Okay, I'll take that as a 'yes'", Ginny muttered, scooping her son into her arms. He felt hot, she noticed, momentarily forgetting her frazzled nerves. She gently plucked his arm from his forehead, laying her own hand over the sweaty brow. He was hot, though he was shaking with cold. Quickly, she carried him up the stairs and into his room, placing him on his bed and sitting down beside him. Headache, fever, and yes...with a glance at Luke's stomach, partially exposed where his shirt collar turned down, she confirmed her suspicion. The toddler's fair skin was peppered with tiny red bumps.
With a groan, Ginny flopped back onto the pillow herself. None of the kids had gotten it before, but it was inevitable. She herself had been four when the disease made its rounds at the Burrow. She sighed, then exited the room, vaguely remembering that she'd last seen her wand in the vicinity of the kitchen - Luke would need his temperature taken. Once she had him settled, she'd check the others over. Ginny shook her head.
Let the fun begin.
"I would, if she'd give back my broom!"
"It's mine!"
"Muuuuuuum!"
"My head hurts!"
"Ginny, could you quiet them down? I'M getting a headache."
Muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum!"
Ginny Malfoy shook her head ruefully, surveying the disaster scene before her, wondering where exactly she was supposed to start. Her nine year old daughter, Ruth, was holding a toy broomstick in the air, dodging six year old Nathan's attempts to grab it. Luke, three, was sprawled on the floor, clutching his blanket, other hand thrown awkwardly across his forehead. And as for the eight year old twins...there was no sound. However, Ginny reflected, this was not really a good thing. Reflecting the old adage, the longer Sara and Robyn were quiet, the louder the inevitable explosion was. And to top it all off, Draco was standing carefully halfway up the staircase, well back from the general chaos, giving Ginny a look that said, very clearly, 'Help.' Of course, he'd been an only child, she thought. Scenes like this, that were second nature to her, tended to give her husband the urge to run for the hills. With a sigh, she steeled herself, then waded into the fray.
"Hey!"
"Mum! Give it back!"
"No. How many times have I told you that you can't play with the broom unless we're outside?" Ginny asked rhetorically, stowing the confiscated toy in the cabinet.
"Dad lets us," Nathan muttered rebelliously. Ginny gave her husband an Evil Look.
"Oh, he DOES, does he," she began. "Hey, I've got an idea! Why doesn't 'Dad' take you outside to play with your broomsticks?"
"Yay!" called the two voices as one, before they rushed over to grab their father by the sleeves of his coat, unceremoniously dragging him out the door.
"I'm going to get you for this," he mouthed over the kids' shoulders. Ginny only smiled sweetly, giving him a cheery wave, before turning back to the rest of the circus.
"Luke, sweetie, do you want to go lie on your bed?"
"Mum, my head hurts."
"Okay, I'll take that as a 'yes'", Ginny muttered, scooping her son into her arms. He felt hot, she noticed, momentarily forgetting her frazzled nerves. She gently plucked his arm from his forehead, laying her own hand over the sweaty brow. He was hot, though he was shaking with cold. Quickly, she carried him up the stairs and into his room, placing him on his bed and sitting down beside him. Headache, fever, and yes...with a glance at Luke's stomach, partially exposed where his shirt collar turned down, she confirmed her suspicion. The toddler's fair skin was peppered with tiny red bumps.
With a groan, Ginny flopped back onto the pillow herself. None of the kids had gotten it before, but it was inevitable. She herself had been four when the disease made its rounds at the Burrow. She sighed, then exited the room, vaguely remembering that she'd last seen her wand in the vicinity of the kitchen - Luke would need his temperature taken. Once she had him settled, she'd check the others over. Ginny shook her head.
Let the fun begin.