Draco was cleaning the oven when he heard Marigold shriek. Sighing, he dropped his scrub brush, and began the obstacle course that was the hallway. He narrowly missed a guillotine, assorted tables with no conceivable purpose, and an exercise bike which hadn't seen the light of day since the popularity of one Jordan McKnight.

He maintained that it was most likely possessed.

Reaching above the doorframe, he felt for the key. Using a muggle key to lock the door was ingenious, if he did think so himself. A billion curses could be hurled at the door, and nothing would happen, save the wizard doing the spell casting would be incredibly put off.

A small splinter of wood caught his index finger and pushed in. "Christ. Like I needed something else to go wrong."

He paused for a moment, weighing his options. He could rush in and comfort Marigold, or he could try to get the damn splinter out of his finger. Wincing against the minor but constant pain in his finger, he unlocked the door and went to see to his daughter.

She was upright in her bed, her tears streaking down her flushed cheeks. Her bedclothes were tangled about her legs, as they usually were after a particularly bad nightmare, and her chest was heaving.

"Where's Aunt Ginny?"

"I made her go home. We don't need her."

In retrospect, Draco would realize that his simple declaration of independence wasn't the right thing to say to Marigold, particularly in her already upset state. He would rethink his words a thousand times, wanting to say something that was appropriately mollycoddling. He would think that anything would have been better than the two simple sentences that made his daughters eyes deepen and darken in pain.

It was Ginny's fault. She'd stormed into his house... or fallen anyway. She'd insinuated herself into his life, into Marigold's life, when there wasn't any way for Ginny to stay. In a few short days she had made it so that everything and everyone in the entire goddamn house reeked of her presence. He couldn't get the scent of rose petals out of his bed, and he'd washed the sheets three times. He shouldn't have cared for her at all, should have just sent her home where she belonged when he first caught a glimpse of her warm brown eyes and fiery red hair.

In hindsight, everyone is a genius.

"She had to go home, Marigold," he tried to explain the situation. "She doesn't belong here." He sat next to the child on the bed, put his arms around her and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb.

"But everything's better with her here," Marigold argued.

"We did fine before we ever met her," he reasoned.

"We haven't been fine in a long time."

"Out of the mouths of babes, eh?" He looked her in the eye. "I'll be honest with you Marigold. She's better without us...erm...me."

"She loves us."

"Who doesn't love you, darling?" He said, desperately trying to change the subject.

"You're being silly. She'd love you even if I wasn't here."

"What makes you think that," he blurted out before regaining his composure. "Even if she did, it wouldn't make a difference. I have secrets Ginny couldn't ever handle."

"What secrets?"

"Secrets that are much too adult to be any of your business, you little snoop," he smiled at her and smoothed her hair with one hand. "Now go back to bed."

"What's wrong with your hand?"

"It's a splinter. I'll deal with it later. Goodnight." He tucked the covers up to her chin.

"Ginny could help take it out if you bring her back."

"Bed. Now."

As he walked out the door, he saw her roll her eyes.

He walked back past the tables, the element of torture, and the guillotine, and into the kitchen. He picked up his scrub brush and justified the idea of non-magically cleaning major appliances before he got back to work.





When Harry returned home from practice, he was greeted by a miaowing Crookshanks.

"You weigh twenty pounds if you weigh an ounce. I'm not feeding you anymore."

The cat looked at him with big round eyes that Harry supposed were supposed to be pitiful. Then, the cat turned towards the bedroom and began to trot slowly towards the bed.

"I think not. You'll get the bed all messy and hairy."

The cat replied with a pointed glance at it's empty food dish.

"All right, you furry little tyrant." He scooped a cup full of dry cat nibbles into the dish which proudly proclaimed "Bestest Kitty Ever."

Hermione emerged from the bedroom, toweling her dripping hair. Her eyes were bright and alert and he was surprised that she looked so refreshed after sleeping for 18 hours. She smiled at him.

"So, will I be getting some sort of explanation for your absence or is it top secret spy stuff."

"'Top secret spy stuff?' Are you four? Is that what this 'I'm going to play quidditch forever and ever' thing is about?" She joked.

"I think it was a conscious decision on my part to take a job where I can retire to watch our unruly brood when they come about. It's me being a sensitive man," he told her as he started the coffeepot. "And I think I deserve a break from the whole 'saving the world' bit for awhile."

"That's acceptable," she told him with a kiss on the cheek. "And I might be willing to reveal my secret spy information if I'm given a cup of coffee."

"A bribe? How delightfully scandalous!" Harry remarked as he began to kiss her shoulder where her robe had slipped off.

"Let's talk about where I've been first. It's bugging me."

"Ok," he said, pulling a stool up to the kitchen island.

"Well, I went to find out who had leaked the information about Ginny to the papers," Hermione said as she pulled mugs out of the cupboard. She continued. "It was remarkably easy to find out. Percy's assistant, Nickleby. It's the same old story: unregistered animagus working as a spy for the gossip rags."

"So why three days?"

"He went underground. Thought he could hide in muggle London. Did a pretty pathetic job of it though. He only eluded me for two days, and he was a fly. A remotely competent animagus fly should be able to hide from me for a good week at least."

"So what took up the other day?"

"Comforting Ginny took half a day," she wrinkled her nose. "And then I had to convince Nickleby that what he was doing was wrong and should be stopped immediately."

"So you beat the crap out of him?"

"Officially? No. I merely told him that this behaviour compromised national security and violated the laws against unregistered animagi."

"So what bothers you about that," Harry asked as he stirred sugar into his coffee.

"Well, when I wasn't kicking his ass, he just kept smiling. It was like he knew something I didn't."

"Well, there isn't much to be done about it," Harry said philosophically. "Except for the whole randy sex thing."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

"You've been gone for three days, and we are engaged," he explained. "I'm only human."

She stood up and put her coffee mug in the sink and walked into the bathroom. Harry's shoulders slumped forward as he anticipated sleeping on the couch in the den.

"Harry?" Her voice came out from the bathroom. "Put the cat in the linen closet."