Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter in any way shape or form. If I did, I would take him to my house, put makeup on his face, and then make him wear a cute little pink dress when I took him to the movies. Gee, wouldn't that be fun? Now, wait, lemme tell you about my plans for Ron…
It was quite a challenge making enough lunch for twenty something people. Not only were there your friends to provide for, but screaming, howling children as well, who found it funny to bang their silverware against the tables singing, "We Will Rock You." Eventually, the forks and knives, which proved dangerous, were taken away, and sandwiches made in haste. The Weasley twins—Gered and Forge—were, surprisingly the calmest ones at the table, but once their food was finished and they disappeared to the far corners of the upstairs bedrooms, giant crashes and commotions (as well as a few giggles) drifted back down to their parents' weak and reddened ears.
"Nothing's broken!" They screamed, for the fiftieth time that day. Draco didn't care whatever they were doing in the house. He could replace anything—after all, he was a Malfoy, and as far as he knew, so were these four other people living with him. They could afford things…
Scoffing at the absurdity of it all, he ate in silence along with everyone else. Pansy sat up too straight to be comfortable, trying to look superior to all the Gryffindors sitting around the table. Harry was sighing continually as if waiting for someone to ask what was the matter, though no one ever did. He honestly felt like he'd turned into his cousin Dudley, with all the food they'd put on his plate. They'd really overestimated everyone's appetites, and so the fridge filled with leftovers soon enough. Hermione was still rather upset about the entire situation, as she had apparently waltzed right into motherhood and just simply forgotten about it. Graduation, a wedding, childbirth (seven times) were all things one wouldn't normally just forget. They estimated about 15 years of their lives were missing, and they prayed they were overshooting on that number. Ron sat beside her, glancing over ever now and then as he took bites of his sandwich. Worry was clearly written on his features, and he did nothing to hide it.
There was, at least, one person who cared more about their partner than themselves.
Ginny frowned as she noticed the looks Ron was giving Hermione. Concern, worry, and an odd sense of patience one ought to have around friends. But Ginny made a quick glance over at Draco and found him staring off into space, dazed and out of it as he chewed. She almost mirrored his scowl, but was careful not to look too pouty. Again, as he sat in his contempt, she was reminded of his bad temper and bad language and bad manners… all overshadowed, somehow by his good looks.
****
It was amazing what a big lunch could do to a child. After stuffing themselves so full (one of them threw up) they didn't feel like running around anymore. Most of them fell asleep in Jonathon or Ebony's rooms, Gabriel already in dreamland in his crib. All the Weasley children, save the oldest, were softly snoozing, with the last just about to nod off. The little girl who was so fond of "Uncle Draco" conked out on her father's lap as he sat in the armchair, about to fall asleep himself.
Harry saw, finally, golden opportunity.
"I think it might be the best thing to discuss the situation at hand," He announced, taking control of things. He sat up a bit straighter on the brick of the small fireplace, or as straight as one could, and cleared his throat. "What information do we have so far?"
"We live in Florida," Hermione muttered, sorely upset she wasn't even in her own country anymore, or continent for that matter.
"We're old geezers," Ron's mumbling joined Hermione's groans, as he looked down at the redheaded bundle in his lap. "And we all have many, many children."
"And a lot of us are related in ways I wouldn't have even thought possible," Ginny sighed.
Clearly, they had a lot to go on.
Harry clapped his hands and nodded energetically. "Well, it's a start! Ron, Hermione, what did you find at your house that was at all of some informative use?" He was only so chipper because he didn't have a wife. Instead, he had a career. Ah, just what he wanted.
"Calendars. Loads and loads of them. Hermione picked up the first one she saw and freaked out, the next thing you know, we're banging on a strange door with a strange address, seeing Ginny and Draco are married. Of course, the kids were no help, jumping up and down and what with Forge trying to be Tarzan, it was rather difficult to get him into the minivan, which I have a license for, by the way." Ron took another swig of soda. "Our house has no other floors than the ground one, unless you count a basement that's got a really nice mini bar and pool table, and it's large. I think I made some money sometime in my life."
Draco scoffed. Weasley? Money? It was a hilarious concept, but really, now wasn't a time to laugh.
Hermione nodded and just mentioned that children are terrors and should they ever go back to the way things were, she would take a solemn oath to never have any. Ron looked a little disappointed.
Pansy said she woke up beside a strange man (whose name was not mentioned) got into some strange clothes (though she didn't remember her husband's name, she remembered all the labels on those) hopped into a strange car and drove off down a strange street. After taking some strange turns, she ended up stopping, not of her own free will, at a house that had balloons tied to the mailbox. She waited for a moment, and was surprised to see two children running towards her, saying "Hello, Mrs. Pansy!" Apparently, they called her by her last name, but she still refused to give that tidbit of information. She then somehow found her way to this house and saw Draco answered the door, and somehow knew the children were his. Half of her story couldn't be explained, and it was told in a horrible manner. She might as well have been sitting at a campfire holding a flashlight up her nose, because it sounded like something a six-year-old would come up with.
Harry relayed his story about his walking past various newsstands and seeing his face on the front of a magazine for Quidditch, and autographing little children's shoes and such. Really, his wasn't all that interesting, and they could see why he wasn't as nervous as they rest were.
"I woke up next to Draco and it scared the crap out of me."—Draco scoffed at this—"Gabriel was screaming at the top of his lungs, but I managed to burn some eggs and eat them. Then Ron and Hermione and all their children came, and when little people you don't know are calling you 'Aunt Ginny' it's really scary… I felt like Dorothy out of the Wizard of Oz, surrounded by all those little munchkins…"
At this, Harry giggled, though he tried to pass it off as a chuckle, it came out really high pitched.
"And we're in therapy," Draco announced, in a monotone sort of voice. Ron was impressed—Draco was actually participating.
"Well I knew you needed it, but what do you mean 'we'? As in, you and Ginny?" Harry grinned.
With a scowl, Draco opened his mouth to say some very nasty things in words that should not be printed or spoken in any language, but in a swift motion, a delicate hand covered his mouth. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, wiping her forehead with her free hand.
"Harry, I saved you from a cursing," She said happily, and scooted closer to Draco, so she could keep his mouth covered until she could smother him with the pillow.
Seeing this only infuriated Harry. Where once he thought he had given a good insult, all he had really done was encourage interaction between the most innocent girl he'd ever met, and the vilest snake that crawls upon the earth… All Harry's opinion, mind you.
Draco, who wasn't one to be controlled by a little Gryffindor girl, pulled her hand away and was about to speak, when she tossed the pillow in his face. Grabbing one off the couch for himself, they soon started a war, trying to kill each other, literally. As Ron was cheering on his sister and jumping up to choke Draco for trying to murder her, the girl on his lap awoke, saw the commotion, and grabbed a pillow of her own to start playing too. As she jumped in, giggling and squealing, hitting her Uncle Draco's back where he sat on his knees, cutting off all oxygen from Ginny's throat, all conflict stopped. Ginny gained a moment to breathe and see the girl fighting her uncle and having fun, before she threw her pillow at Draco's face again, catching him off guard as he was distracted by the insane little Weasley.
Now Ginny was laughing.
He was about to throw the pillow back at Ginny, but the little girl jumped in between them. Before he knew what was happening, Draco was smacked in the back of the head by Hermione, who was screaming "Don't you hurt my little girl!!" and Ron, who screamed at Hermione "DON'T SCREAM!!" Everyone was involved in the biggest pillow fight of the century, and none of them, save all the children that ran down the stairs to join in, had really good intentions. Half the participants were trying to kill Draco and the other half were just bopping each other on the head to see who could be knocked off the coffee table first (this was the child half.)
No one really heard the door open or anyone step in until the man cleared his throat as gently as possible. The frustrated screams of the adults and the inane squeals of the children died down as all gazes turned to the entryway.
"Pansy, dear, you never came back home. The baby was crying," Neville Longbottom stood on the tile, holding a small carrier in his right hand.
Pansy burst into tears, and Draco into laughter until being smothered with yet another pillow by an angry Ginny who claimed he was "very rude!"
****
Dumbledore closed his eyes and cleared his throat before taking off his half-moon spectacles. He put them against his sleeve's fabric and gave each lens a gentle rub until he thought them cleaned. Doing this in front of the entire student body only increased their anticipation for the coming news, as Dumbledore seemed to want to keep it a secret as long as possible. The mass of teenagers seemed to fidget simultaneously as every student squirmed in his seat. The anxious house members wanted to take out all their pent up energy on an opposing team—Slytherin vs. Gryffindor, to be specific. The inter-school war was raging, even now in the Great Hall as the headmaster was addressing it.
"I understand you are upset," It sounded as though he were talking to one individual instead of such a large group. His quiet tone somehow carried above the heads of all the children so he was heard well enough, but it didn't always guarantee their comprehension. "… But let me reassure you," He continued. "That your friends will be alright."
Cheers went up to the Great Halls ceiling, as the students stretched their arms to the sky in victory poses.
"…. Eventually."
They were silenced and the children froze in their positions.
"You see, children, they are suffering from a very rare sort of paralysis. The comatose they're in makes them believe they're living in the future… we don't know much right now, but we do know they're going to get the best treatment possible, and all the problems regarding their health shall be solved."
****
"Now, we don't know everyone's individual situation, but we do know you're all going to get the best treatment possible, and all the problems regarding your relationships will be solved! Just remember, we're here to help you!" The man's bow tie seemed to reflect every bit of light in the room, as it did much more than just dazzle the hall's occupants with its silvery sequins. Blinded, the people tried to get a good look at his face, but it didn't do much good to try. From the amount of light surrounding him, one might think he was a heavenly being, but once his mouth opened and a high-pitched voice came out, Satan was the only thing that came to mind. The man's drone wasn't low enough to comfort anyone—it was as though this fellow hadn't gone through puberty.
A woman shook her head and led each couple to a large, square room in which chairs were placed all around. The seats were lined up in pairs, with chains attaching two together, so they couldn't be pulled apart or attached to another chair. Ginny rolled her eyes, seeing the entire idea behind it all.
They made the ladies walk in on the man's arm, to which Draco objected to so much, he just marched to his seat by himself, and let Ginny did the same. The man with the silvery bow tie smiled, seeing a challenge. The woman they had seen in the grocery store waved at them from across the room, her arm attached to a giant, grotesque bald man in black leather, who was currently spilling beer all over his goatee. He waved as well, but it was more to display all the chains looped around his wrist and arm than to greet the couple.
Draco wondered if it would be too late to fake some sort of illness…
After some agonizing pleas, the leader of the therapy session took off his bowtie and had his seat at the head of the room where everyone could see him, microphone in hand.
"Hello New York!"
No one made any sound, except a cricket, which was impolite enough to chirp.
"Oh yes, it's lovely this time of year. And speaking of cannibals—"
"Excuse me!" The woman from the grocery store eagerly waved her hand. "Is Dr. Edgeworthe going to be back again this week? I loved her tips on confronting your partner about addictions, habits, and such, and—"
"Well, did you do that?" The man asked, sporting a handlebar moustache and looking sorely disappointed that the lady had ruined the beginning of his joke.
"Uh—well, I did confront, but the results weren't positive."
"Please, share," This man looked like he'd just walked out of the twenties, even the way his hair was styled. The part was in the middle exactly… Ginny wondered why she could never get her hair that perfect as she admired the man's red pinstriped vest.
"As you who have attended for a while know, my husband Robert—"
"Bob. I'm Bob," The man corrected, guzzling down some more beer.
"Bob…" The woman's face turned red as though she were trying to control the urge to slap the man's bald head silly. "Will not give up beer and someday it will kill him. Last week, I talked to him about this after our last session and he said—"
"I said it's none of her business whether I live or die." He received a couple cheers from other men scattered across the room, and slaps resounded quickly after them. Bob's wise words were revered silent, as none of the women had really paid attention, and the men were now scared to. Draco's eyes widened as he saw a large bruise form on one whimpering man's jaw.
Bob finished his beer and crushed the can against the side of his thick head.
"Well, that's my story," The woman finished. She smiled pleasantly at the man who looked like he had walked out of a different century, but in response, that man just shook his head.
"Bob's got no job."
The woman nodded slowly, as there was scattered laughter around the room. Her pleasant smile slowly began to droop.
"Bob's pretty much a slob."
One couple began to hum a tune that sounded like something that would have been played out of a harmonica in a jail cell.
"Mary's got some good taste, but all her time she does waste, buying beer cans up to the door knob."
"Oh!!" A very old woman in the back end of the room began applauding, orange lipstick on her forehead. "That was very clever!" The man nodded and held up his hand as though fending off the small claps she was giving.
"Like the one about the man from Peru!" Her partner shouted, equally disoriented in old age.
The man who had formerly worn the most horrid bowtie in the history of the earth suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, and instead persisted, "What I'm saying, Mary is that you bought your husband all the beer he consumed this past week. Why do you encourage this sort of behavior?"
Apparently these words were too long for Mary, and she had to stutter a minute to break them down. Once done, she began to think to herself and really question the logic in what he had just said. That being done, the man continued.
"Okay, let's all start back at the beginning. Let's just pretend it's week one… we'll all go around and introduce ourselves, all right? Nice… and slow," He laid a hand on his chest and sat straighter in his chair, proudly. "I am Thomas Dirdle, this is my wife Greta—" He pointed to a plump woman in the corner of the room, who was setting up a refreshment table. "And we have one son, little Tommy."
The old woman in the back with the lipstick on her face clapped again.
Draco slumped back in his chair and pressed his finger tips against his forehead as he felt yet another migraine arrive. This, he thought, was going to be a looooong night.
****
"Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!! Jonathon got a new block set, come see!!" The energetic little girl (who had a real sense of originality) had come to be known as Rose, probably for her cheeks, as she was always running around. She had a habit of tugging on Hermione's pants leg repeatedly or jumping up and down when she wanted attention. Her jump rope in one corner, and a discarded doll in the other, she preferred things that took up time and energy and wasted good resources, like oxygen.
This was the child that never left Hermione alone for more than five seconds.
The twins were currently begging Ron to be named directly after their other Uncles—Fred and George, maybe you've heard of them—instead of Forge and Gered. Gered was upset, since the traditional soft 'g' had been kept at the beginning of the name, and it sounded like "dread" of which he had just learned the meaning, and now utterly despised. Forge didn't know what forge really meant, but he thought Fred or George would be catchier, and Neville somehow told him it would get him more women when he got older.
Ah, Neville. As he was currently arguing with Pansy (who had apparently, locked him in a closet out of pure embarrassment) no one really asked what his day was like or what he thought of the entire situation. They had spent all their time until seven just taking care of children and trying to figure out what they would do with the Malfoy flock when the parents left home for counseling. Difficult decisions were made, and though Ginny had felt guilty about leaving Hermione to take care of such a large brood, she had expected Ron, Harry, Neville, and Pansy to help.
However, things didn't work out this way.
Hermione was setting things in the kitchen on fire, proving to herself once and for all that she really couldn't cook. In her haste, she ordered a pizza and forgot to tell them it was supposed to be delivery, so she had to pile all the children (who followed her) into her gigantic mini van and go all the way across town for food that was half way eaten by the time they got home. The adults, who complained about pieces of pizza with little teeth marks in them, were soon sent away in their own respective cars to find their own take-out. Harry came back with Chinese, Ron with a sub sandwich, Neville with a wide variety of doughnuts, and Pansy with a salad. As they all picked at their food, Hermione realized she didn't have any, and went without dinner for the night.
****
Ginny looked around the room at all the expectant stares coming from the circle of chained chairs. With a nervous little laugh, she found herself fidgeting with sweaty palms.
"Oh…" She muttered. "Our turn?" She hadn't really been paying attention. Draco rolled his eyes and looked off to the side, as if saying 'there is no way I am related to her by choice. no one could make me commit such a sin.' In a span of two seconds flat.
"Well, we're… the Malfoys. I'm Ginny, and this is Draco," Many people around the room smiled, somehow delighted by her accent. "We have three children: Jonathon, Ebony, and…" She paused, a bead of sweat dripping down her freckled cheek.
"Gabriel. An infant," Draco mumbled, slumped in his seat. With a slap on the arm from Ginny, he quickly sat up and crossed his arms to show how uncomfortable he was, giving her an odd glare. Again, the man at the head of the room grinned at the couple and went onto the next pair.
****
Yay! That was out sooner than the last one was—goody! Okay, gee, that was fun. I'm glad I got that out so soon… I couldn't really help it, I was inspired. I hope you guys liked it, and keep checking back for the next chapter. Hopefully I'll have that one out soon too. Hey, Christmas break is coming up!
…. After finals week.
Truly,
Maura Belle