Quality Time, a harry potter fanfic

A/N: Here's a story that I wrote cuz I thought it would be REALLY fun to write about Draco "baby-sitting", if you can call it that. I've lived through some of these experiences in my days of baby-sitting as well, so a few things that are included in here aren't just figments of my imagination- they actually happened, and let me tell you now, you DON'T want to experience them.

Summary: Hermione leaves her three children in the care of her husband, Draco, for 24 hours. Will he survive the Dora marathons and bath time?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, any related characters, or anything else related to Harry Potter. I do not own Dora the Explorer, related characters, or anything else I don't know about. I MIGHT own the plot, because I made up the episode of Dora written here as I went along, but I'm not sure, someone else might have made it up first, so I'm not going to say anything… I don't own Uncle Bill's Pancake House, either. I am ALSO not the owner of the "book about a sea turtle and all his friends" mentioned later in the story. I don't remember the title, but I remember it's not mine. Wow, that was long… and depressing…

Quality Time

Draco walked downstairs, fully dressed and ready to eat, and entered the kitchen. It was more like a war zone than a kitchen, but he let that thought drift into space when he saw his angered wife approach him. She didn't look very happy…

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!" a very ticked Hermione asked, trying to tame her wild mess of hair and feed a two-year-old at the same time. "I've been up for nearly four hours while you're sleeping like a baby! You know I have that Healer's conference I have to leave for today! It's TEN A.M., DRACO! DO SOMETHING! I work too-" He put a piece of toast in her mouth and took two-year-old Marcy from her arms. He set his daughter in a chair and walked back over to his wife, ignoring the fact that his son was about to dump syrup on his sister's hand…

"Look, I know that you're stressed," he stated, taking her hands in his. "But I'm gonna have everything under control. You're gonna go to that conference, spend the night in a nice hotel, and come home and be happy. So, while I take care of the kids, you go get ready."

"But-" she mumbled through her toast.

"Go. Pack," he said patiently. Hermione rolled her eyes and ran from the room. He gave his children some food and was wiping off the kitchen table when he heard Hermione scream in frustration from upstairs. He ran up the stairs and found her kicking her luggage.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" he asked. She stopped and turned her angered red face to her husband.

"Just… take my luggage downstairs, okay?" she screamed. He picked up her bags and left her to relax herself by breathing heavily. When he came back up, he saw her lying on their bed, trying to calm down.

"All right, what's got your wand in a knot?" he asked.

"Nothing…" she lied.

"You can tell me, you know."

"Well, I'm just nervous about this whole meeting convention thing! I haven't been away this long before. What if the kids need me, or what if I miss something important? I-"

"You," he started, interrupting her, "are way too paranoid. Why is it that you think I can't take care of them for twenty-four hours? You act like you're leaving for a month. I can deal with three kids for a day or two, it's no big deal. Just relax, you know I hate it when you can't sit down and breathe for five minutes."

"I'm sorry, I just can't take all this. I want to go on vacation."

"Then we'll arrange it when you get back."

"Really?" she asked, standing up and looking excited.

"Why not? You deserve it, after all." She kissed him lightly on the lips and then hugged him.

"Thanks for doing all this, I'm sorry it came up so suddenly. But they told me I had to go to this stupid thing, so I told them that I could, and-"

"Relax, Hermione, it's fine! You're way too hard on yourself. Now when you come back, you're going to take a nice relaxing day off and forget about everything else for a little while, okay? Because you do too much."

"Thanks," she mumbled, smiling up at him. She looked at the clock. "I've gotta go!"

She walked down the stairs and grabbed her purse and her duffel. All her children tore themselves from the television screen for a moment to say goodbye to their mother.

"Bye, mommy!" Elizabeth, who was five, said, hugging Hermione.

"Bye, honey, be good for daddy, okay?"

"Bye mama!" Thomas shouted, throwing his arms around her waist.

"Oh, I'll miss you, too, honey." Draco let Macy lean over his arm to embrace her mother and Hermione kissed her on the forehead. "I'll see you later, sweetie. Bye! And Draco, remember, Ginny'll be staying here on Friday, so make sure it looks at least a little decent, and tell Elizabeth not to fight with Thomas, and make sure the dishes and the laundry are done, and if you could lock the door on-"

"Will you relax?" he asked in an annoyed tone, though smiling. "I have everything under control, and when the Weaslette gets here, everything will look just spiffy, okay?"

"Okay, but don't call her Weaslette, and make sure they don't have an-"

"I love you too, darling, bye," he shouted over her as he began to close the door.

"But I just-"

"See ya tomorrow." He shut the door, and noticed all his children had gone back to watching the T.V. He sighed and saw a detailed list of things to do taped to the fridge:

Things to do:

Clean the kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms, family room, living room, dining room, foyer, rec room, den, attic, hall closet, coat closet, storage closet, etc.

Clean out the fridge/pantry and dispose of all food that is past expiration date and all food that will expire within three days of the expiration date.

Organize the office papers and clean off old/expired papers on the fridge.

Have kids clean/organize basement and put all toys all over house away.

Dust/vacuum/mop/sweep every room. (DO NOT let Thomas mop rooms with carpets.)

As for Crookshanks: bathe him, brush his fur, clean his teeth, clean his litter box, vacuum extra fur off his bed.

Drain/clean the pool.

Rake/mow the lawn.

Clean the kids: shower, brush hair, brush teeth, etc.

10.Do the laundry and the dishes AFTER you feed the kids dinner and AFTER they take showers.

Love ya, have fun!

Hermione

Draco instantly hated his life at that moment. They had a big house, and he knew he couldn't get all that work done in one day. He might as well get started.

"Daddy!" Elizabeth shouted. "Watch Dora with us!" He became confused. Who the hell was Dora, and why did his children want to watch her?

"Alright, I'm coming!" he shouted unenthusiastically. He approached the T.V. and saw commercials running. His kids were obsessed with television. They wouldn't look away from that screen…

They were suddenly having a spaz attack. Some Hispanic cartoon girl with eyes bigger than five of his heads put together and a talking monkey with red boots had appeared on screen.

He sat on the couch and seconds later with his eldest daughter sitting on top of him. He was trapped.

"Daddy, Dora's on!" she screamed happily. He smiled a fake smile and watched as the theme song began to play.

DORA!

BOOTS!

Come On Dora!

D D D Dora (Alright!)

D D D Dora (giggle)

D D D Dora

D D D Dora (Let's Go)

Dora Dora Dora the Explorer

DORA

Boots is super cool

Explore with Dora (We need your help)

Grab your backpack

Lets Go!

Jump In!

Vamonos!

You can lead the Way

HEY! HEY!

D D D Dora

Swiper no Swiping

Swiper no Swiping (Oh man!)

Dora the Explorer!

Draco's mouth hit the floor. What the hell was this crap? He focused on the television. The abnormally large-eyed girl had reappeared, along with her freaky monkey friend. He had never seen a monkey wear boots. What was with that? Then the two of them had a very rehearsed conversation about a picnic. After a few seconds, their friend Tiko appeared, and they invited him to their picnic. Once they had finished saying picnic in Spanish a hundred times, Dora and Boots bade farewell to their purple squirrel-type thing friend and they announced the needed help finding their destination. Then, without warning, a scroll flew from her backpack's pocket and started singing:

If there's a place you got to go

I'm the one you need to know

I'm the Map

If there's a place you got to get

I can get you there I bet

I'm the Map

The map started talking very fast and explained to all the millions of children watching the show that they needed to tell Dora and Boots how to get to their picnic site. After repeating the directions so many times Draco thought the Killing Curse sounded fun, the wretched piece of parchment shut its mouth and flew back into Dora's backpack.

Dora came back and three boxes appeared at the bottom of the screen.

Dora pointed to the first box. "First, we cross the Riddling River." She pointed to the second box. "Then we climb over Strawberry Mountain." She pointed to the last box. "And finally, we go to Magical Maze. Say it with us! River, mountain, maze… river, mountain, maze… river mountain maze…" After saying that a few dozen times again, Draco was ready to puke. It was the Muggle shows that sickened him. Especially the ones his children watched. If the people on these shows were so stupid, how did it make his children smart?

After Dora had finally learned where she was going, she took her monkey friend and made a song out of the directions. All while they skipped down the dirt path, they were merrily chanting, "River, mountain, Magical maze! River, mountain, Magical Maze!"

The found the Riddling River and hopped in a canoe conveniently sitting all but ten feet away. After announcing dramatically that they were going to wear life jackets for their safety, they floated down the river and found a Leprechaun sitting by the gate. He gave them a riddle so easy Draco thought Longbottom would have gotten the answer correct. Dora and Boots pondered on the question for a time far longer than it should have taken them, and gave the short creature their answer. He nodded and clapped while three bugs wheeled by playing an odd assortment of instruments.

The strange duet moved on after the kind Leprechaun gave them a piece of gold. Draco knew it would disappear later, but he wasn't going to be made a fool because he shouted that at his plasma screen. They needed help making their way over the mountain, so they called on yet another non-living object who could sing to give them some assistance. So Dora's backpack burst into song, singing:

Backpack, Backpack… Backpack, Backpack…

I'm the Backpack

Loaded up with things and nick nacs too

Anything that you might need I got inside for you.

Backpack, Backpack… Backpack, Backpack…

YEAH!

Draco rolled his eyes while the backpack asked if a flashlight, a paper towel roll, and a doll were all a piece of rope. When he found the item that really was a piece of rope, he ate all the other things taking up space in her backpack and shouted something in Spanish. Because Dora was too lazy to reach inside her backpack and grab it herself, the rope somehow managed to fly into the air and she, amazingly, caught it. Dora used her new found roping skills to hook the rope on a very secure rock, and they climbed Strawberry Mountain.

He began to fall asleep while Swiper tried to steel their worthless Leprechaun gold, but was poked many times in the stomach by his overly happy children. So he had to suffer through their "exciting" adventure through the Magical Maze. Phft. Nothing was magical about it. They met a wizard in the middle, and he too gave them a riddle so simple he was sure there were unborn infants who could have gotten the answer within seconds. But Dora had to think on it for a few seconds, because Draco realized that she was more than a bit slow.

They met their friend Tiko, had a picnic in the beautiful, animated scenery. They cleaned up their trash and spoke in rehearsed voices again.

When the show was about to end, the two oddballs declared their favorite part, and had the nerve to ask him, Draco Lucius Malfoy, what his "favorite" part was. He was about to say, "The part where you rot in hell," but his children were curious, so those words would somehow get back to his wife, and that was never good. So he had learned to shut up once in a while.

"Daddy, watch it again!" Thomas shouted. The four-year-olds adorable face was so sweet, but he had to say no. He could not watch Dora again. He was scarred for life already.

"Daddy has to go to work, okay? Maybe some other time-"

"But we never get to see you!" It was true, Draco worked at the Ministry, and that required early mornings and late nights, but he had to, for the sake of his family.

"Daddy's too busy right now. When I'm done with cleaning, we can watch a movie or something, okay?"

"Okay…"

"But you know what you can do? I need you to go in the basement and put all your toys in the right spot. You too, Elizabeth."

"Okay," they chorused. He supervised, and was amazed. Hermione had these kids trained. They knew where everything went, and not once did they ask him where a single item was supposed to go. They finished in fifteen minutes, and he was pleased.

"You guys want lunch?" They nodded and he made them some sandwiches. It was torture. They could sure clean, but God, were they picky eaters…

"Can you cut the crust off?"

"I don't like this jelly!"

"Can you cut it up some more?"

"This bread tastes icky!"

"Can you cut it up some more?"

"This peanut butter is chunky, eww!"

"Can you cut it up even some more?"

After a painful lunch, he scoured every room in the house. He cleaned the pool, he dusted and vacuumed and mopped. He organized papers and he cleaned the pantry. As he worked non-stop, he kept thinking, 'Of all the women I could have married, why did I choose the one who had a bloody promotion for elfish welfare?'

Then came the cat. He hated this cat. It never died. It had probably used up about eight of its lives already. He wished he could kill it and make it look like a tragic accident, but he couldn't, sadly. Hermione had had that thing ever since she was thirteen years old, and she was very much attached to it. She was twenty-seven now… That thing was immortal…

Bathing it was the worst. He had scratch marks up his arm, and his face looked worse than Mad-Eye Moody's. He considered himself lucky that he still had eyes to see the bloody beast. Then he brushed it, and whenever he came to a knot… it was painful for both of them. Then he vacuumed the fur off the bed and cleaned the horrid litter box. He swore he had sniffed better-smelling dumpsters. After nearly dieing for the fifth time today, he spread himself across the kitchen floor and groaned when he heard Marcy crying from her bed all the way upstairs.

He trudged towards the two-year-old's room and pushed the door open with both of his hands. He saw her out of bed, though she was supposed to be napping. He picked her up and tried to calm her down, but said actions received no reward. He took her back downstairs and tried to give her food, but she wailed on, screaming for her mother all the while. He tried to play with her and give her some juice. He even offered her twenty galleons to stop crying. Not that she knew what to do with those, but he was desperate for silence and sleep.

His other two children, though it was almost four in the afternoon, were still wearing their pajamas and watching television, besides their little lunch break and basement tidy-up. Elizabeth came running into the kitchen and instantly held her nose.

"What's that smell?" she said in an odd voice due to her nostrils being pinched together.

"What smell?" asked an exhausted Draco. He failed to notice Thomas sneak over to the refrigerator.

"Marcy smells funny-"

"DAMN IT!"

"What does 'damn it' mean?"

"Nothing, don't repeat it."

"But I wanna know what it means!"

"You're not old enough to know."

"But I have a purse!"

"And that's great, sweetheart, but you shouldn't say stuff like that, especially to your mother-"

"But daaaaaaaaaaddy!"

"No, Elizabeth."

"But I wanna know! Mommy always tells me what stuff means!"

"Well, mommy's not here right now."

"But you're here right now! Tell me!"

"I-" He had no clue what to say. "Do you know how to change diapers?"

"Mommy never lets me change diapers. She's says I'm little too. But I have a purse!"

"Lizzy, will you please go watch T.V. with your brother?"

"Daddy…" Thomas said, also holding his nose with one hand and a bottle. "Can I have some ice cream?"

"No, Thomas, go watch T.V. please." He took Marcy up to her room and changed her diaper, the smell making him gag the second it reached his nose. He put her in a new diaper and a new pair of pants and took her back downstairs, only to be greeted by his other two children who were both badgering him with requests.

"I want ice cream!" Thomas shouted.

"Both of you go watch T.V., I'm cleaning for mommy right now."

"But I wanna know what it means!" Lizzy screamed.

"I want ice cream!" Thomas wailed. He opened the bottle and dumped the contents on the floor. Thick red paste was in a puddle at his feet, but Draco was exhausted and missed the event. His eyes weren't even half open.

"IF YOU DON'T GO AND WATCH T.V. RIGHT NOW, NIETHER OF YOU WILL HAVE DESSERT FOR A MONTH!"

The two disappointed children ran out of the room, but not before Thomas slipped and hit his head on the kitchen floor in the middle of his mess. Thomas started crying and fussing, his face turning red quickly as he cried at the top of his lungs. Draco placed Marcy in her highchair and placed Thomas on the kitchen counter. Draco tried to settle his son as he inspected his head for large bumps.

"SHIT!" Draco yelled as he saw a thick red liquid in Thomas's hair. His son continued bawling, and all Elizabeth could ask was, "What does that word mean?"

"Lizzy, take Marcy and sit on the couch for a minute, okay?"

"But what does shi-"

"NOT RIGHT NOW!" His eldest daughter took his youngest daughter and she walked quickly into the living room. Thomas continued to wail, and Draco tried to think up a plan.

Draco tried frantically to remember the Healing Charm they had learned in their fourth year at Hogwarts. Why hadn't he been paying attention? Not like he regularly paid attention, but now it seemed like someone could have told him, "What if you need to fix your son's fractured skull one day? Pay attention, Draco!"

But Draco had no time to think. He Appariated to St. Mungo's with Thomas still screeching in his arms. He asked for assistance, and the woman at the desk pushed a button, which started glowing red after being released. A Healer came down the hall at a swift pace and took the young boy from his arms. Draco ran after him, and the young employee apologized a numerous amount of times after denying him entrance. Draco instantly remembered that he had left his two daughters at home and quickly went back home to get them.

Marcy had calmed down considerably in the minute or two Draco had been gone. He used Side-Along Apparition to get them all back to the hospital. When they arrived, the Healer was holding Thomas's hand and the little boy had somehow gained an Acid Pop out of all of this. Draco blinked a few times.

"That was… it?" he asked stupidly.

"Yes, um, your son was fine the whole time. It wasn't blood- it was ketchup."

"You mean to say… that- I- he- ketchup?"

"That was all it was- ketchup. This visit wasn't necessary at all."

"You've got to be joking."

"Um, sorry- no."

"Well, thank you. Good-bye."

"But we need to record your information so we can send you the bill!"

"Um, look, can I just give you a hundred galleons and call it a deal?"

The Healer replaced his look of profession with a look of greed. "Certainly."

Draco reached in his pocket and pulled out the money, counting by tens.

He took his youngest child in his arms and waited until the Healer had a look of satisfaction across his face. He nodded and Draco rushed home, where he still had to give them all baths and feed them dinner. He couldn't take much more of this insanity. He let in a little bit and told them they were going out to dinner.

That was obviously a mistake.

He let them pick the restaurant, and out of all the places the could have gone, they chose some Muggle place called Uncle Bill's Pancake House. He didn't much like the idea of his children having breakfast for dinner, but he'd done so much work that day he didn't even care. And there was still more to do tomorrow. He had to finish cleaning the kid's rooms and make sure the towels for the sauna were clean. And he'd finished the pool, but there was still the hot tub, and he had to polish the pool table equipment… It gave him a headache just thinking about it.

By the time they were finished with dinner, syrup was everywhere, and their clothes were a mess. Things only got worse when he realized he didn't have any Muggle money with him. He didn't know what to do. He didn't have a so-called "credit card" or a "debit card," and he didn't know how he was going to get himself out of this mess. But then again, he could use magic for an innocent cause, couldn't he?

He pulled out some sickles and knuts and waved his wand, non-verbally casting a spell on them. He put them down on the table and they took the appearance of Muggle currency. The lady thanked him and bade him good night before they all walked out the door.

When they got home, he had to strap them down and run the water quickly. But running bath water took an eternity, and he was very exhausted, and they wouldn't quit moving, so he used an Immobilizing Charm on them. He was probably the worst father in the world, but when the bath water was finished, he unfroze them. As long as Hermione never found out, he was safe.

He put all their clothes in the hamper and placed them in the tub all together- a big mistake on his part. Water was on the walls, in the sink, on the floor, in the trash can, on him. He felt like he was drowning while he tried to pour shampoo on the heads. But they would tilt their heads backwards and look up, and he didn't want another unpleasant hour of crying, so he had to hold their head with one hand and pour quickly with the other.

Two hours later- yes, two- they emerged from the bathroom, the three children clad in towels while Draco was soaking wet. He wrestled them into the pajamas and changed Marcy's diaper one final time. He tucked them in and kissed their foreheads.

This was before the mayhem started all over again.

As Draco trudged sleepily down the many stairs of his enormous house, he heard a voice from upstairs:

"Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddy!" Elizabeth shouted. He sighed and went back up to his daughter's room and sat down on her bed.

"What's wrong?"

"Will you read me a story?"

"It's getting late, you need to go to bed."

"But I can't sleep without a story!"

"I'm sure you'll do just fine without-"

"But I need a story." She backed up her adorable little five-year-old demand with a pout, her little round cheeks showing her dimples and her eyes framing with tears, making her look abandoned and unloved.

He felt guilty. He knew he shouldn't give in to this, but he had to. Even Voldemort would have given into that face…

"What story do you want?" he asked wearily.

Her face lit up with glee and she flew to her bookshelf, which contained about a hundred books. Hermione was her mother, after all…

"This one!" she said, holding up a book about a sea turtle and all his friends. He read the book with as much enthusiasm as he could muster between his exhaustion and the book being so incredibly boring.

When he read the last sentence, he was happy to see that she was closing her eyes. She said one last, "Good night, daddy," as she shifted in her bed. He walked down the hallway into his son's room where he was sitting up, playing with his toy cars.

"Thomas, we're not playing right now, we're sleeping."

"But I don't wanna sleep!"

"Well, you have to, give me the cars, good night."

"But I want some water!"

"You can't have any, it's too late, now go to sleep."

"But what if I get dehydrated?"

Draco's eyes opened a little wider. He was how old? And he knew what 'dehydrated' meant? Draco wasn't even quite sure what it meant completely himself, and his four-year-old son was using it like it was no big deal?

"Um, I think you'll be alright, just go to sleep-"

"But I need water!"

"You can drink some water tomorrow."

"But it only tastes good in the night time!"

"Water tastes the same no matter what time it is, now go to-"

"But I need water! Please?" He pulled the puppy-dog pout on his father. Draco began to wonder if his children planned his demise.

"You can have some water, but then you have to go to bed, alright?"

"Okay, daddy!"

Draco went into the bathroom and got a cup from the Muggle dispenser Hermione had installed to the wall. He filled it with water and reentered his son's room. He took the cup and took a sip. He held it in one hand as used his little hand to wipe off his mouth. It began to lean perilously to the side.

"Make sure to use two-!"

"Oops." Water was all over his blankets and pillow. He didn't have time to dry it all off. "Where I sleep?"

"I guess- you'll sleep in my bed, with me. C'mon, buddy, let's go."

"Do you have a big bed?" Thomas asked.

"I need a big bed to avoid your mother kicking me in her sleep- but she never needs to hear that, okay?"

"Okay."

"I've taught you well."

Draco tucked Thomas in on one side and slid under the covers on the other. He had had a long day, and he couldn't wait until his wife came home tomorrow.

And to top of his exhausting day- he couldn't fall asleep. He had wanted to all day, he finally got the opportunity, and he couldn't do it? He found that extremely unjust.

After hours of tossing and turning, he got his wish and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. He didn't have any dreams or nightmares. He only slept until the sun shining through the window forced him awake. Draco pulled the covers over his head, but that wasn't enough to keep his three little living alarm clocks off of him.

He pushed the covers off and walked down the stairs to make them breakfast. They jumped around him while he tried not to drop heavy, heated pans on their heads. He finally sat them all down and dished out food one at a time. He hadn't even eaten a piece of bacon before he had to get them dressed and ready to start their day.

He managed to find some decent outfits for them to wear, but it was murder when they had to brush their hair and teeth. Marcy only had a few since she had just turned two very recently, and she barely needed any work on her hair. Thomas couldn't reach the sink, so Draco had to help him lean over to spit out the toothpaste. Then he noticed Thomas didn't even do a very thorough job the first time, so he had to brush his teeth for him a second time.

Elizabeth had millions of knots and tangles in her hair, just like her mum. So it took a good thirty minutes to make it look slightly better. Her teeth were clean, as were her siblings', so everyone was ready- everyone except their father.

He looked at his outfit- not what Hermione would want to come home to. He placed his children in front of the television and took a quick shower and put on something else on. He ate a quick breakfast, finished the dishes, and at that moment remembered: the laundry. He hadn't done the laundry. Hermione would kill him if he didn't do the laundry. He. Had. To. Finish. The. Laundry.

He ran down the stairs to the laundry room and found piles of dirty clothes. He wished he could use magic. This was a desperate case. Hermione had made him promise never to use magic in front if their kids until they knew for sure they all had magical abilities. Why? He would never know. But he stuck to his promise- most of the time. If she found out he had changed the money… and froze the kids… he'd be in Hermione Hell, and that was way worse than most suspected.

But this was a desperate time, and that called for desperate measures. He pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed to one of the many piles. He shouted, "Scourgify!" and the clothes appeared fresher and cleaner than before. He smirked that famous Malfoy smirk and repeated the steps. He had done this five more times before he heard that voice. That little five-year-old voice… "Daddy-"

"Not now, Elizabeth, go upstairs and don't let mommy in."

"But Daddy-" Thomas started before being cut off.

"Both of you go upstairs and watch T.V., I'm busy right now."

"But Daddy," an older female voice said.

"You- wait, what?" He turned around and saw Hermione standing there with all three of their children at her feet. She possessed a smirk of her own.

"You promised," she said.

"And I kept it for a very long time."

"But you broke it in front of them," she declared, pointing towards Elizabeth, Thomas and Marcy. "You said you'd never let them see you with a wand until they were old enough."

"Cat's out of the bag, sue me. They were gonna find out anyway, eventually."

"But this isn't how I wanted it. I wanted to sit down and have a serious discussion about the rules that come with this responsibility, and I didn't think they could comprehend it all at five-years-old."

"Well, they know now, no point in hiding it."

"Either way, I'm not very pleased."

"But you're pleased with the way the house looks?" he prodded.

"How does that relate to any of the previous discussion?"

"It doesn't, but I busted my ass while you were gone, so you're going to tell me everything looks perfect."

"I believe you made another promise to me," she said, giving him a stern look.

"Wha-? Oh. Um, well, it's not like I ever kept that one." He smiled. Hermione sighed.

"No, I guess you never did. It'd actually be unnatural for you to refrain from using profanity."

"Well, let's go marvel at how beautiful the clean house looks. Shall we?" He offered her his arm.

"Well, I think we shall. I love critiquing." She smiled at his frown and laughed as they walked upstairs and helped her unpack.

As Draco got ready for bed, Hermione tucked the kids in and was back in five minutes.

"How did you do that?" he asked in awe.

"Years of practice." She sighed. "I missed you so much over the past… day."

"Me too. How was the convention?" He kissed her.

"Good," she said, parting their lips for only a moment. "How were the kids?"

"You're a saint," he muttered. She started to pull away.

"I have a confession," she whispered. She sat on the bed and hid her toes. She hugged her knees with balled fists.

"Um, what, dare I ask?"

"You know my "convention" this past weekend?" She looked slightly worried.

"Yes?"

"Well, um, I don't know how to say it-"

"Spit it out already!"

"There wasn't a convention," she blurted. "Ginny and I went to a five star hotel, stayed the night, went to a spa, got French manicures and pedicures-" She revealed her toes and her fingers, each one with salon-perfect nail as proof- "and then went to see a matinee performance at the thatre." She glanced up at him every once in a while, nervous for his reaction.

"So- there was no convention at all?"

"No."

"It was all fake? Made up?"

"Yes."

"You left me alone with three kids for an entire day?"

"I'm sorry, I-"

"You made me clean the whole house for no reason?"

"It looks very nice-"

"And you created this evil plot?"

"Well, I prefer to think of it as 'planned an outing'-"

"Yes. Or. No?"

"Ginny and I-" she looked at his face. He wasn't joking. "Yes."

So this is what it's like to be on the couch, Hermione thought. I've never ever been on the couch. I'm usually the one that assigns the couch. This is a turn of events.

She shifted her position so that she was on her side, facing the television. She sighed. I would give anything to be back at that spa…

Including my husband.

The End