DISCLAIMER: The characters in this story are owned by J.K. Rowling, and the plot is based (sometimes quite directly, and at other times quite loosely) off of "The Manny" by Holly Peterson. Do not sue!
This story is also un-beta'd, so any mistakes in grammar or spelling are my own.
THE MANNY.
If you want to see rich people act really rich, go to Merlin's School for Boys on any weekday. Nothing makes rich people crazier than being around other rich people who just might possibly be richer than they are. Morning and afternoons are the worst, when it's time for pick up and drop off. This is when parents take the opportunity to show the other parents just how wealthy they are. A wide arrange of house elves, human butlers, and personal chauffeurs were crowded into the foyer waiting for their respective charges to finish their last class.
I had cancelled my last appointment for the day, I was determined nothing was going to keep me away from seeing my youngest today! Limestone towers and magical herbs lined the path where a crowd was gathered, waiting to take their seats in the massive stands around the Quidditch pitch. I cautiously began to weave between a sea of parents: impatient fathers barking into their communication orbs and mothers with their glamorous cloaks and elaborately styled hair, many in the company of their hired help who were taking care of children too young to be in school.
Making my way up the stands, I could hear the tell-tale sounds of 3 and a half inch stilettos clicking behind me.
"Draco! Draco!" called Pansy Parkinson, waving her manicured hand. At least six different elaborately set rings sparkled and shimmered from her fingers as they winked in the light.
I tried to shield my eyes from the glare. "Pansy. Please. I love you but no. I've got to get a seat for Ines's game!"
"I've been trying to reach you!"
I ducked through the crowd, knowing that she would follow. She caught up to me, leaving her driver behind to tend to her two sobbing little girls. She let out a huge breath as if she was out of breath from the twenty or so steps it had taken for her to catch up with me. I smiled at her exasperated, we had grown up together but sometimes I had to remind myself that she had always touched down on actual ground as seldom as possible. "Well then let's hurry and go up front!"
As soon as the clock hit three, the two teams came out and began to practise and warm-up on the field. I quickly scanned the field for my Ines, but didn't see him. I looked up to the opposite stands. The moms and dads of the opposing team, Founders School, were starting to gather in their bleachers. Among them were nannies representing every country in the United Nations, but still, I couldn't see Ines. Finally spotting him on a bench near the dressing rooms, I stood up to give a huge wave. He was still dressed in his uniform, with the first couple buttons of his shirt undone. His cloak was crumpled on the ground beside him. When he saw me, he squinted and looked away – my husband Blaise often wore the same expression when he was angry or feeling pressured.
"Ines! I'm here!"
"You're late, Dad."
"Darling, I'm not late."
"Well, some of the other parents got here before you." He looked away.
I looked at him apologetically and tried my hardest to convey how sorry I was. However, my view of my son was cut off by the bulky form of Coach Diggle. He had his arms in the air, and apparently had been trying to get my attention for a while. "You know what? I'm not gonna force him into it every time. I told him he would miss the game, but I can't make him put the damn uniform on. He's being ridiculous..."
I cut him off. "It's not being ridiculous, okay?" The damn coach could never understand Ines. I motioned for him to lean in further. "We've discussed how Ines gets nervous before a game, he's six years old! It's his first year on a team." The coach gave me a disgruntled stare and took off, while Pansy put her arm around my shoulders in support. I looked up and met Ines's huge blue eyes as he shook his head. He had big blue eyes and delicate features with my white blonde hair that fell in loose curls around his face. As his coach walked by obviously put out, Ines looked at me again and rolled his eyes, dragging his uniform behind him along the dirt.
A half hour later the game was in full swing, but my heart ached as I watched my hesitant son hang back behind the other players. His team-mates had thrown him the quaffle only once so far, mostly because he had his head ducked down and was constantly circling the perimeter of the field well out of throwing range for boys of his age.
"Ines isn't playing very well." I chewed on my lower lip nervously, anxious for my little boy.
Pansy looked at me. "None of them play well. Look at them; they can barely get the ball high enough to reach the hoops." I had to smile.
Ginny Weasley leaned down from her seat behind us. She was wearing a tight, blindingly white cloak with a collar that turned up against gravity and an expensive-looking bird ornament in her hair. She was too tan and looked like she hadn't had a proper meal for months.
"Ohhh, and here's the busy-bee working daddy at a game!" She moved her head to my other shoulder and attempted to start conversation again. "We were talking about how hard it must be for you, never being able to get involved with Ines's activities."
She was so annoying.
"I like to work."
"You're not doing it for the money. Obviously. Blaise's such a heavy-hitting law-wizard these days. And you have your inheritance." I could tell she thought she was whispering, but everybody around us could hear her. "I mean, your salary can't possibly contribute anything that matters on a financial scale."
I rolled my eyes at Pansy and received a sympathetic grin in return. "I actually make a pretty good salary, Ginerva. But, no, I'm not working for money – call it a competitive streak but it's something I just like to do. However, right now I need to concentrate on Ines because he likes to compete too, and I'm sure he would like me watch him play."
"You do that."
Pansy pinched my knee because she hated Ginny Weasley even more than I did. Ginny was always giving me a hard time for working instead of staying home for the children and preaching to me about the way of upper-class living. It was tiresome to listen to, mostly because 1) I had grown up in an extremely privileged household and had already grown up listening to the garbage she spewed off on a regular basis, and 2) because she often had no honest clue of what she spoke of. She had grown up in a poverty-stricken home and married a wealthy man forty years her senior to attain the lifestyle she was living now.
Dylan was chatting to one of the other chasers on his team, thankfully excited by the game. I relaxed a bit and let out a breath. Because it was such a young team, the games were restricted to 1 and a half hours, of which there were only a couple minutes left. Checking the floating scoreboard, it seemed that Founders School team was up by one point. One of their chasers had the quaffle and was zooming towards the hoops. They made a bold move to score again, but the ball bounced off the hoop right at Ines. Amazingly, he caught it, but was obviously stunned. Petrified, we all counted the seconds before the buzzer rang and Ines flew nervously beneath the hoop.
Oh please, Merlin; scoring this shot would rock his world.
The shot was clear. He looked at me, and then back at his team-mates rushing towards him, and then back at the basket. He took the ball, grasped it in both arms and shot towards the grass, sobbing. He couldn't do it. The buzzer went off. There was complete silence in the stands, and all eyes on my little mess of a boy.
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"We're going to work together to get him through this, Drac," Blaise told me calmly. I knew he thought I was overreacting.
In my moments of honestly, I would tell Pansy that I might leave Blaise at some point down the road. I don't know when this started, all I know is that I had stopped being in love with him after I gave birth to Ines.
"He doesn't want to talk about it. He always talks to me, always." I bit my lip and turned away, standing half-dressed at my vanity. I slouched my back.
"Just so you know I know what you're thinking and you're very thin and young for twenty six. And about Ines I really don't blame him for not wanting to re-hash it. Give him a few days. At his age losing is tough. He'll move on. I promise we're going to get him there." He patted my bottom and strutted over to his dressing room. He turned his head to wink at me, full of confidence.
I finished getting dressed and sat in the sofa, reading the Daily Prophet.
"Just look at this!" Blaise exclaimed delightedly, pushing his chest out proudly as his new cloak adorned his broad six foot two frame. He slicked his hair down and a small smile played around the corners of his mouth as he fumbled with the clasp.
"It's nice, Blaise. Beautiful cloth." I went back to my newspaper and in my peripheral vision could see him laying out the nine other cloaks that he had custom ordered out on the bed. Suddenly, a dark cloud covered his face.
"Shit!"
There was obviously a problem with his new cloaks. Blaise was examining the family crest he had embroidered onto the lining of his cloak. I looked over his shoulder and saw that they had used only the traditional Zambini family colours instead of the combined colour palette of the Malfoy and Zambini crests that he ordered. This made him what you might call angry.
He took off his cloak and squinted at it.
Our three-year old Alita walked in rubbing her eyes, and grabbed him around the knee.
"Sweetheart, not now. Father's busy." He grabbed her off the ground and set her in my arms. I leaned against the doorframe biting my lip, holding Ali. My husband, descended from a long line of British aristocracy and law-wizard has little to no patience or the capacity to deal with the little messes of life. He was raised by the help in a large manor house with cooks that served him gourmet food three times a day and doormen that have silently opened his doors. He can win and lose six million galleons in a day and not break a sweat, but god forbid that the tailor mix up the colored stitching on his cloaks.
Most of the people we interact with and that are in our little society were raised much the same way. I had even to some extent experienced what they all had, yet at the same time much differently than the people I had met.
My family is of very old money, and also an aristocratic line. However, my parents passed away when I was fifteen. I was deemed old enough to claim status as an independent, and spent my remaining years of schooling travelling the world, and forming relationships with people outside of my sheltered circle. Having always been curious to explore the different lifestyles of the world, I began studying to be a Mind-Healer. It shattered many of my previous conceptions of people and the world. I'm not ignorant enough to think that I'm so much better than the company we keep, but it had opened my eyes to a lot of the ignorance that my friends and our acquaintances lived in, and how petty we could be at times. Quite like Blaise was being now.
I needed to calm him down before he forgot his manners and began swearing in front of our little Ali. I put her down and called for her elf Tinky to prepare breakfast and take Ali to get ready.
I grabbed Blaise by the hand and pulled him into the dressing room, closing the door. He winked at me as I crossed my arms. He placed his hands on my bottom and pulled me into him, peppering kisses up and down my neck.
"You smell so good, so clean. I love your hair," he whispered. "Sorry about the cloaks. I'm just nervous about meeting the new client, and now you've got me so hot." I slapped his hand. "You're driving me crazy." He tried to unzip my shirt.
"Stop." I laughed, despite myself. "I can't take it. I already have two children, and I'm not ready for a third."
He kissed me again before stepping away, disappointed. "Fine. Let's start again." He opened the door, and motioned for me to go outside.
As we walked into the dining area he picked up Ines and Ali and gave them a huge bear hug, swinging them through the air. Just when I was convinced Blaise was a lost cause, he would do something to make me think that I could possibly still love him. We're constantly drifting apart, he's always impossible, but then he acts responsible and fatherly and i'm always left thinking that I'm going to try to make this marriage work after all.