2. Capybaras and Blobfish.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Draco or Hermione. I just play with them sometimes.

A/N. Another light-hearted drabble, this time dedicated to my boyfriend, who has endured more photos of blobfish and other strange pet possibilities than any person should have to.

"Draco! Where are you?"

They were staying at the Manor—Lucius and Narcissa were visiting friends in Germany, and had persuaded Draco and a very reluctant Hermione to look after the place while they were gone. Four days in, it was going better than Draco had expected. Hermione still wouldn't go near the drawing room, or indeed the whole wing of the Manor where she had once been tortured by Bellatrix; but they had stuck to Draco's old quarters, and the second, smaller drawing room that branched off the hallway near his bedroom, and she now seemed quite at ease. This morning she had kicked him out of the bedroom on the grounds that she had a lot of work to do, so Draco had taken the opportunity to roam the house and rediscover some favourite books.

Admittedly, it was nice to be away from home for a little while. The cottage that he and Hermione owned on the outskirts of London was a nice place, complete with garden—but recently, it had been getting a little…cluttered, as Hermione accumulated books and knick-knacks by the dozen every time she got a new hobby. Worse, her recent trip to the Muggle Easter Fair with the youngest Weasley had ended with the acquisition of four books on chicken-farming, five books on sustainable gardening, and a gnome.

That infernal gnome! It had begun to haunt his dreams—all two feet of peeling paint and maniacal grin. What was more, he could swear that it moved about when he wasn't looking—several times he thought Hermione must have got rid of it, only to find it grinning out at him from between two trees or beside a bush. It was unsettling, to say the least—the more so since Hermione had made him watch that terrifying Muggle TV drama with the angel statues that moved when you blinked. He'd asked his wife if they couldn't just get rid of the gnome—rehome it, or failing that, burn it—but she'd said no, it was a belated birthday present from Ginny, who would be very hurt if they got rid of it. So the gnome had to stay.

He was halfway through The Fable of Griffin when he heard his name called excitedly, along with the noise of Hermione bounding down the hallway in a manner which suggested extreme excitement.

"Draco! There you are! Guess what?"

"You finished proofreading your article on centaurs in antiquity?"

"No…." Hermione looked slightly guilty. "I didn't actually do any proofreading. But I found something exciting! Guess again!"

"Okay…well… That old professor in France that you've been trying to get in touch with finally replied?"

"No. Try again."

Draco scratched his nose. "Umm… Marie Kondo released another book?"

"No! You know I don't like Marie Kondo any more—ever since I threw my old Tigger out and cried for two weeks instead of feeling free!"

"Okay fine. I'm stuck. Just tell me already."

"Okay. So. I was on this website for the adoption of unusual pets—you know, irresponsible wizards capturing something and then realising they don't know how to look after it—and I found this capybara—his name's Toby—isn't he gorgeous?" She tilted her laptop so Draco could see.

Draco wrinkled his nose. "He looks like a doormat. Anyway, we're not getting a—whatever that thing is."

"A capybara. They're supposed to be quite docile. He could live in the back garden. Save you mowing the lawn."

"You do realise that that argument is about 100% less effective given that I can already do it with a thirty-second spell."

Hermione glared at him. "Well, if you'd rather, we could just get a Sphinx cat."

"What's a Sphinx cat?"

She showed him.

"Oh, sweet Merlin…. No."

"What about a blobfish? They're quite cute and you barely have to do anything to keep them alive…."

"I don't know what that is either, but knowing you it's something entirely… Good God." Draco emitted a sound between a choke and a retch. "It looks like a decapitated baby."

"Draco! Have you ever seen a baby?"

"Yes! Well—whatever. If this is about getting a chicken, fine, we can get one. One."

Hermione gave him a reproachful look. "You know that chickens are social animals, Draco. Think how you'd feel if you had to live among Muggles all your life and you were the only wizard. We don't want Buttercup—erm…whatever chicken we end up getting—to be lonely."

"Fine!" Draco growled through gritted teeth. "We can have two chickens. No more!"

Then he stopped as what Hermione had said caught up to him. "Hermione…is there already a chicken living in the garden at home?"

His wife's face was the picture of innocence. "No…why would you ask?"

"You mentioned 'Buttercup'." At the guilty look on Hermione's face, Draco gave a shout of triumph. "Aha! I've caught you! You can't deny it now! So when did Buttercup arrive? Ten minutes after we left the house?"

"Well, actually… If you promise you won't be mad…"

"Just tell me."

"…I got Buttercup four weeks ago at that Easter fair I went to with Ginny. But it's been getting really tedious Transfiguring her into a gnome every time you stepped outside, and I read somewhere that you can't Transfigure an animal regularly for more than a few weeks without side effects. And it was also really time-consuming Vanishing all the poo."

"I see." Draco's voice came out strangled. "So why bother convincing me that we need two of them?"

"Because this morning I went on a chicken adoption website..."

"And you couldn't resist. I know you. You bought a chicken and named it Penny or something."

"Draco, it's worse than that." Hermione looked at him plaintively.

"Worse? How can it be worse?"

"I got fourteen."

A/N. I should also point out, in fairness to my boyfriend, that he did not come up with the decapitated baby line. That was all Draco.

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