This fic was written as part of Trick or Treat Gift Exchange.
This fic is for ChaosAndCrumpets and my prompt was:
Treat #2: Draco in the muggle world being confused about commonplace muggle things
To ChaosAndCrumpets because this prompt was good fun to write, and hopefully combines with your enjoyment of animals being cute as well ;)
It was beeping at him again.
And again, for the third bloody time.
Each consecutive beep sounded more and more exasperated as he stood next to the angry machine and tried to decide what to do with it.
Half the stuff in Hermione's flat was still a mystery to him. It was true, he'd been rather spoiled all his life with house elves taking care of every single domestic task. He was changing that, he had to.
When the war ended five years ago, he lost both his parents, one to Azkaban and the other to illness. His mother's passing was especially devastating considering everything she went through and how she had remained the pillar of strength in their family throughout the whole ghastly affair. But they were both gone, the Manor that was once his home reeked of the darkest of magic, and he had no prospects beyond his ordered probation in the form of an eighth year in Hogwarts. But his luck changed the day he decided to own up to his mistakes and approach the one person who had the most reason to hate him - Hermione Granger.
At first she looked at him with apprehension but after his genuine apology invited him to take a seat, and as the weeks passed they went from cautious study buddies, to friends by the time they were leaving Hogwarts. He wasn't poor by any means despite the justified reparations the Ministry took for their role in the war, so he decided to get the Manor cleaned and in the meantime bought a townhouse in Chelsea.
He could easily afford a house elf but Hermione would be furious, so he had to learn a slew of domestic charms to function. She'd been his tutor, and the rest he picked up from the books she brought him to study. He was now comfortable in his house, knew how to keep it tidy, started to enjoy cooking for himself, even managed to retile the bathroom last spring and found out he actually enjoyed the sheer sense of accomplishment of completing such a manual task.
But when it came to her home, he remained forever cautious. Hermione liked certain things done the muggle way. Her hoover, something called the Die-son, made the most atrocious racket he'd ever heard in his life. Even Crookshanks, her fluffy curmudgeonly companion, hissed at the bloody thing. And he couldn't blame him. The old boy got used to him so quickly, even Hermione was surprised. He'd long learnt a spell to remove the forever plentiful ginger fur from his trousers after their snuggles. But once he tried to use the hoover thing, and he accidentally caught some of Crookshanks' tail into the monstrous machine. The furious familiar hissed at him for two weeks before settling down.
And then there was this blasted thing. The washing machine. The drawer with multiple compartments for no valid reason he could figure out, the twisting knob with 50 different settings, and then the two knobs with numbers - one going up to 90 and then the other one going into the thousands? What in the ever loving Merling was he supposed to do with that?
He jumped as the machine beeped at him angrily again to signal it needed to be emptied and he leaned down to open the door to silence the damn thing. Okay, that bit is done. He didn't have to fiddle with anything else. Thank Merlin for that…
But when Hermione asked him this morning if he would be happy to move the wet clothes into the dryer next to the washing machine, he'd flippantly responded with an absent-minded 'sure', and now he looked at the second machine from hell with trepidation.
"Meow?" Crookshanks rubbed against his foot and he lifted the old boy up to sit on the washing machine to help him figure this out.
"Right, we can do this," he rolled up the sleeves of his cashmere jumper and reached in, grimacing at the feel of the wet clothing as he dragged it out and dropped it into the open top dryer.
Was he supposed to remove something or was everything going in? He was trying to remember what she'd told him last time, but he'd been in the middle of finalising his notes for a case he was presenting in court the next day and none of it stuck. Surely it'll be fine.
He moved the rest of it in and then rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at the bottles and tubs and bits in the cupboard next to the dryer. "Uh, the clothes always smell so nice, maybe we should add something into the dryer?"
"Meow," Crookshanks responded resolutely.
It sounded like encouragement to him so he reached for the colourful bottle. "Surf. Sunset paradise? Is that what the scent is supposed to be? Can't they just call it, I don't know, mango or something?" he grumbled as he unscrewed the plastic top and gave it a sniff. "Actually, not bad. Let's add some. Is that what this is for?" he pulled out one of the small plastic tubs he had previously seen her drop into one of the machines. Yes, this was it, he must be on the right track.
He poured the liquid in, all the way to the top, and then dumped it on top of the wet clothes. He looked at the simple knob on the left and a flip on the right. Okay, this was much easier than the washing machine thing.
"Right, low or high temperature? It's wet, right? So we'll just use the high setting so it dries quicker," he reasoned, nodding to himself as he flipped the switch. Then he turned to the spinning knob and studied the timer. "Two hours? That sounds like a lot. Maybe let's do 60 minutes and see if the clothes are dry," he turned it around, startled by the clicking noise it made before waiting. And waiting. Nothing was happening.
"Why isn't it working?" he groaned, ready to pull the clothes out and dry them with magic.
"Meow?" Crookshanks walked over the top, his tail flicking the plug above it. Oh, it was plugged in but the plug wasn't switched on. Right. He clicked it on and jumped when the thing came to life and started emanating a loud sound, the room quickly getting a bit warmer.
"Okay, I think that's it. Thank you for your help, old boy. Will a chicken liver yoghurt treat do for compensation?" he rubbed the tom cat's ears.
"Meow." Crookshanks agreed readily and jumped down, trotting into the kitchen ahead of him, making sure to trip him at least twice of course.
Draco sat back down with his reading, feeling a sense of accomplishment. Crookshanks jumped up into his lap once he finished his stinky little treat, and they settled down for a peaceful afternoon anticipating Hermione's return.
It was maybe twenty minutes later when he smelled it, something not right, like plastic or metal burning. He got up and followed the smell to the laundry nook, utterly panicked at the sight of the smoking dryer, audibly struggling to do its task. He ruined it, it smelled like it was going to burst to flames any second and his wand was in his hand before he even realised he was reaching for his magic to solve the issue.
"Evanesco!" he flicked his wand, wanting to vanish the mess he made and hoping the blasted machine survived, but the whole bloody thing popped out of existence and with a soft bang all the lights and electricity switched off.
He stood there in the entrance, the smell of burning plastic lingering in the air, darkness falling around him with the quickly setting sun and feeling completely helpless.
He was filled with horror when he heard the keys in the door and Hermione calling out into the flat a little uncertainly due to the silent darkness. Draco braced himself for her wrath and went out to face the music.
A few hours later he tried to make himself comfortable on the sofa but knew there was no way he would ever manage to fold his long frame on the thin sofa. She'd reacted better than he expected but at the same time he did vanish her dryer and was spending the night on the sofa, away from her warmth and soft honey curls.
She dropped a kiss to his forehead before nuzzling Crooks and headed for bed, smirking at the idea of taking Draco into a muggle shop to buy her a new dryer. Well that will be interesting for sure…
As he punched the pillow for the fourth time, Draco glared at the lounging feline. "Traitor, this is your fault. It was your advice that got me into trouble."
Crookshanks paused in licking his paw clean and gave him such an unimpressed look Draco rather turned away from the cat's judgement. Humans were strange creatures, Crookshanks thought as he cleaned his other paw, happy with the offerings from his female feeder. He did try to tell him no, it wasn't his fault the daft male took his meow as encouragement. Now, the only other thing left to do was to try and find a way to get rid of the screeching monster that ate his fur from the carpet. Maybe he could spill some water on the floor…yes, he had a plan….
