Disclaimer- If I owned the Potter gang, I'd be friggin rich…or JKR…unfortunately, I am neither…well, there goes that theory, eh?
Response to the fanfiction 1 contest
Challenge- In order to create more understanding between Muggles and Wizards after the war, the pure bloods are required learn about muggle activities by actually doing them without magic. Could be a sport, housework, any everyday activity that muggleborns would take for granted.
Also Dramione…because I felt like it…and I really don't think that heRmiONie has any significance…
Word Count- 722
Draco Malfoy and the Vile Vacuum
Draco Abraxus Malfoy (Order of Merlin, Second Class, Member of the Order of the Phoenix, 'Death Eater', second-in-command of Dumbledore's extensive Death Eater/Purist spy ring, the most recent winner of 'Witch Weekly's' 'Most Devilish Good Looks' and 'Most Charming Smile' awards, and soon-to-be husband of Hermione Jane Granger, blah, blah, blah), was soon to be doing something that he never in his wildest dreams would have attempted.
He was about to vacuum the living room. (Dum dum dum)
Mr. Malfoy wasn't doing this of his own free will, mind you, no this was all his dear fiancée's idea…okay, and the Ministry's, but was there much of a difference when the woman in question was the head of the British Muggle-Wizard Cooperation Department? (Normally a witch of Hermione's age wouldn't be the head of anything, let alone that rather important department, but many of the best witches and wizards had been killed in the fight against the Dark Lord, leaving large gaps for promotion in many top Ministry positions)
Draco sighed, Hermione had just displayed for the fifth time how to turn on the inane device, and he for the fifth time was thinking, 'Why am I doing this again?'
"What was that, dear?" asked Hermione over the newly made vacuum noise. She had turned it on over that spot five times…oh, well, one less spot to clean he supposed…
"Nothing, Hermy-kins."
"Now, Drakie-poo, what was our agreement about that little nickname?" she asked in a sickly sweet, dangerous tone.
"Err…if you don't call me Drakie-poo, then I can't call you Hermy-kins?" the man said, turning beet red and scratching his neck in nervous habit.
"There it is!" she muttered darkly, saying, "Now, I'm sure you have this down, then, shnookums?" she added the nickname in a teasing tone, shnookums was another off-limits name.
"Err…yeah…sure…of course dear." He said in a falsely cheery voice, truth be told, he hadn't listened to a word that she'd said, but he really did not want to make friends with the couch that night, but, come on, muggles used it without magic. How hard could it be?
Hermione was in the kitchen, and Draco was panting. How the hell did muggles use these bloody things?!?! They were heavy as Hades was hot! There wasn't a snowballs chance in hell that he was ever doing this particular chore again. He sighed and repeated the process; he lifted the vacuum and placed it upon the offending spot five times. It was an act of coordination; really those muggles could do more than he gave them credit for, as they had to turn the machine on and off for each of the five repetitions on each spot.
"Are you all right in there?" called Hermione from the kitchen.
"Fine!" he lied in a slightly high-pitch voice from the living room. Blegh, fine, yeah right, he hadn't even done half of the room properly yet, and he was sweating, SWEATING!!! Malfoys did not SWEAT! They might have shone with a slight glow, a bit, at most, but they did not SWEAT!
"Good, oh, I'm so proud of you, dinner will be ready in ten minutes, so wash up!" she replied from within.
"Fantastic, love!" he nearly shrieked, fantastic, just fan-bloody-tastic. Ten minutes? Did muggles have some sort of super powers that enabled them to do this sort of hard labor on a nearly daily basis? It had been almost an hour and he wasn't done yet!
Hermione then came out, "Draco, didn't you hear me, I said dinn-" she didn't finish her sentence as she leaned over with hysterical laughter, she was soon rolling on the (clean half of the) floor laughing. He really didn't get what was so funny, all he was doing was the hard labor of vacuuming.
"Oh-h D-drac-co-o-o," she said, starting to regain control of herself, "Darling, is this what you've been doing for the past hour?"
"Err…yes…" he replied, still confused about her insane behavior.
"Oh, Draco, this is how you do it," she replied, demonstrating as she rolled the vacuum back and forth across the carpet as her fiancée slowly turned an embarrassed scarlet.
"Oh," he replied rather calmly, in shock, "Excuse me for a moment, love, won't you?" he asked as he walked into their bedroom.
…
The scream was heard throughout the building.