Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters, insignia and stuff are owned by J.K. Rowling and not by me.

((A/N))

To all those who have read Moved In and Moved On before: I would like to say that I have just revised the title. Thanks.

The Twenty-year-old Teenager

Summary: (Previously named Moved In) Back at Hogwarts, Hermione had grown faster than any of her peers had, thus not facing the joys and pains of being a 'normal' teen. Now 20, her past catches up. Living under the same roof with Harry, Ron and Draco, she faces trials like overprotective 'brothers', late night parties, immature men, jealous ex's, first love and school. DHr

Chapter Eleven

Mummy Malfoy

A clearly audible sigh was heard in the otherwise quiet house.

Draco Malfoy slowly twirled the teaspoon in his coffee cup, staring wistfully out into the cloudy window.

He sighed again.

Ron threw the quill he was using at the back of Draco's head.

"Bloody hell Malfoy! What's wrong with you?"

A sigh was heard.

Ron threw his inkwell, splashing black ink at the blonde hair of Malfoy.

"Bloody hell Malfoy! Can you stop with the sighing and answer me properly?"

Draco inwardly sighed and faced Ron, unmindful of the dripping ink at his neck.

"Listen, Weasley, I don't know where Hermione is. I don't know if she is fine. I don't know if she's eating all right. I don't know if she's well sheltered for. I don't know if -."

Ron threw his hands up in annoyance.

"Bloody hell Malfoy!" He shouted for the third time. "None of us does! Neither does the secretary at her school would want to disclose any kind of information, so shut your mouth!"

It is a day after they have discovered that Hermione has gone away on a school test. Harry has left earlier than usual since he will be attending a meeting with several foreign delegates. He then leaves behind a cramming Ronald Weasley and a lovesick Draco Malfoy.

Draco unseeingly nodded at Ron and proceeded to twirl the teaspoon.

Ron shook his head. Things could not get any worse can it? He went back to his work after cleaning up the mess he created.

Tap-tap-tap.

Ron looked up from his papers and saw an eagle owl at the window. Malfoy stood up to unlatch the window and let the owl in. Ron focused once more on reviewing the reports in front of him.

Flap-flap.

The owl leaves once more.

Crinkle-crinkle.

Malfoy unfolds the letter the owl delivered for him.

"BLOODY HELL!" Shouts a certain blonde-haired man this time.

"WHAT?" Ron, obviously irritated, replied.

"Mum's coming to visit us this weekend!"

Bloody hell indeed, things definitely just got worse…

---

"Good morning darlings!" Cho beamed sweetly at the collegians as she magically had all the curtains drawn back.

Moans and groans were heard from under pillows and above the double deck beds.

She proceeded to tap beds as she walked in at the aisle snobbishly. "Come on now! Ladies must not appear to be grungy and whiny in mornings. Come on, up, up!"

Hermione continued to comb her wet hair as she had already taken a bath and was fully awake when Cho Chang burst in rudely in their dorm. She paused from what she was doing and used the comb to tap the bed above her head.

"Gwen! Gwen!"

"Once more minute…" came a whisper from above.

"Gwen! Wake up! Cho Chang's here!"

"I'm up!" Gwen sprung up from her bed and began to collect her toiletries.

Hermione shook her head at her friend's actions and was about to comb her hair once more when Cho reached the front of Hermione's double deck.

Cho came closer and spoke, addressing Hermione but nevertheless not toning down her voice.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in, by the hair, that is." Cho smirked at the unruly wet curls of Hermione. "Ms. Granger, I see that nothing has changed – still a clever little bookworm with no sense of style."

By now, Hermione realized uncomfortably, there was total silence in the whole dormitory.

"Good morning to you too, Ms. Chang." She stressed, words dripping with sarcasm. "I can also say the same for yourself, you haven't changed one bit either."

"Oh really?" Cho raised a penciled eyebrow.

"Yes, Ms. Chang," Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You're still the same selfish strutting dimwitted damsel that you have always been."

Cho kept her cool and regarded her manicured nails with a false sense of calm. "Well, at least I have style. And that I don't have to overexert," She raised her eyes to meet Hermione's. "My brain to concoct love potions and snag famous men to give me identity." She paused to hear several people gasp. "I am my own self."

Hermione smiled cynically. "Really Cho? Is that what you still think of after all these years? I, for one, am shocked – I didn't even know you have a brain to overexert."

---

Narcissa Malfoy patted her perfectly soft and absolutely straight blonde hair. She ran a hand to straighten her already neat and pressed lilac dress robes.

Everything must be perfect and pristine. You see, Narcissa was going to visit her charming only child, Draco.

She surveys her makeup and decides that the pink lipstick complements her pale skin well. She smacks her lips and with one final look at her appearance in the antique full-body mirror, she apparates to Four Ministry Lane.

---

"No, Potter! The flowers definitely clash with the curtain! Do not put it there!"

"Malfoy, where do I -."

"Hold on for a moment, Weasley, I'm dealing with Potter here!"

Draco takes the bouquet of pink and yellow tulips from Harry.

"Why in the world are the curtains here dark blue?" Draco eyes the curtain and brings out his wand to rectify the colors. "It must be light yellow. And these," he indicates the tulips. "Must simply be pink. Mum would be appalled with these, how shall I say, decorating faux pas."

Harry and Ron gaped at him.

Of course, how could they have forgotten – being brought up as a pureblood in high-ranking societies graces Mr. Malfoy with an extensive vocabulary and an eye for style?

"There!" Draco turned to face the pair and saw the clock over Ron's shoulder. "Merlin's beard! Mum's arriving in a few minutes – and we're not presentable!"

A still open-mouthed Potter and Weasley gazed downward at their attire – their clothes since last night. Contrary to previous incidents set in the morning, their clothes were different now. Today happens to have Harry wearing a pair of dark blue pajamas and Ron and Draco wearing only boxers – in their trademark colors: maroon and green.

"Well, I happen to be comfortable in the clothes I wear, thank you." Harry remarked. "I can wear this the whole day; I don't think your mother would mind, wouldn't she?"

Ron exhale noisily. "Expect Malfoy to think of clothes at a time like this!" He gestured with his arms, holding yet another bouquet of flowers, this time of red roses, fresh from the freezer.

"What do you mean?" Harry furrows his brows a bit. "When we should be preparing ourselves for the constant adoring and bustling about of Mrs. Malfoy?"

Ron shook his head, causing his ruffled hair to move a little. "No, when we have not even eaten breakfast!"

Draco burst out laughing. "Expect Weasley to think of food at a time like this!"

Ron pouted immaturely, resisting the urge to stick his tongue out.

"Thank Merlin I live with the two of you, who knows what would have become of me had I been assigned with dull-witted wizards." Harry commented sarcastically.

"There, there Potter," Draco patted Harry's head, mindful of the flowers he still carried. "I always knew that you can't live with your brain-equals. You need somebody to look after you. Though, I wouldn't say it's an honor to baby-sit the Scar-Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry moved away from him, understanding the insult. "Funny Malfoy, that was funny." He replied dryly.

---

Charming house, isn't it? Narcissa thought to herself, gazing at the residence of her darling Draco and his delightful friends. Hopefully, Harry, Hermione and Ron have loosened up since the last time they have met. They seemed tense back then, I wonder why…

Narcissa continued to wonder as she walked on towards the door.

That reminds me, Hermione, I haven't heard much about her until recently that she lives with Draco. Hopefully, she is well, having to put up with Draco, Ron and Harry. And hopefully, Draco has a steady and serious girlfriend. I can't wait too long to have grandchildren…

She let her musings hang and knocked on the door.

---

Knock-knock-knock.

All three heads turned towards the door.

Ron started. "Is that –,"

"Your mum, Malfoy?" Harry ended Ron's question.

Draco's eyes widened and looked from the door to their clothes. There's no time and no turning back now. He nodded slowly.

"Shall I?" Harry motioned towards the door.

Draco nodded once more and ran a head through his hair, gulping tensely and ruffling his hair nervously.

At that fateful moment that Harry Potter opened the door of their humble abode to welcome the Malfoy matriarch, Ronald Weasley discretely leans toward the similarly-clad Draco Malfoy, who was still holding on to the tulips (supposedly to be placed on the vase), to hand him the roses, (which, on the other hand, supposedly to be presented by the said Malfoy to his mother upon arrival). But alas, it all happened in one fateful instant.

Just as Narcissa enters the household, she takes in the appearance of the unruly haired man (Harry still hasn't managed to tame his hair, I see.) who opened the door. She looks beyond him to notice a red-headed man (Ron Weasley, isn't it?) discretely hand her son a bouquet of roses, who accepts it and adds it to his – armful of pink tulips?

Something is wrong here, Narcissa decides. She scrutinizes the scene before her once more.

Harry Potter at the door, smiling in his own shy way… Ronald Weasley in boxers, looking at me rather embarrassedly… he has just given my son a bouquet of roses… Draco, darling boy, in boxers, holding on to a lot of flowers, with the red roses on top… he hasn't hugged me yet, hasn't he? Hmmm… Nothing seems amiss… Wait a minute!

Wrinkling her perfect eyebrows, she stares.

Ron Weasley, ruffled hair, red face, clad in boxers, just gave red roses to Draco Malfoy, similarly ruffled hair and boxers-clad, holding the roses and seems to have forgotten a vital habit – greeting, hugging and kissing his mother.

Narcissa's eyes widen.

Draco attempts a smile.

Oh dear, me…

Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü Ü

I am also sorry for the delay.

I feel terrible.

I sound like a telegraph.

Darn it.

Thanks for reviewing.

By the way, up next:

Narcissa decides to let her son know about her wishes on having grandchildren.

Sorry I didn't get to include it at this chapter.

- Just-leaves -