A/N: Meh. Back from camping.

Prompt #35: 8/12/17

496 words, according to Google docs.

Draco Malfoy stepped into the foyer of Malfoy Manor, stripping himself of his dirty cloak and hanging it on a nearby hook.

"Ginny?" he called, feeling slightly foolish as he stood there, dripping mud and water everywhere.

"Yes, Draco?" He frowned - her voice was coming from the living room. She's usually in the library…

"Er…can I have a bit of help here?" He heard an amused snort quickly followed by light footsteps. The redhead appeared, a smirk firmly on her lips and wand in hand.

"I assume Ron beat you, again?" she asked, waving her wand casually in his direction. He let out a noncommittal grunt. "You should really learn not to accept requests for quidditch from my brothers," she continued. "Haven't you learned that Ron's a wicked keeper?"

"Not nearly as good as you are at chasing," he mumbled as she pulled his shirt over his head and banished it with her wand. She raised an eyebrow.

"You know I can't play, Draco." He grumbled some more.

"Annoying pregnancy." Her smile widened.

"And whose fault was that?" She leaned forward and kissed the side of his mouth before dragging him into the living room where she had been resting. "Now, I'd like you to meet - " She broke off abruptly. "Oh dear. Smokey! Get down from there!" She rushed towards the window, mounting a chair and pulling a small ball of grey fluff off the velvet curtains with a loud ripping noise.

"Smokey?" Draco spluttered, trying to regain his ability to think clearly. "Who's Smokey?"

"The cat," Ginny called over her shoulder, exasperated. "Now, would you mind helping?" She was struggling to balance on the teetering chair, the cat struggling in her arms. Draco's eyes widened.

"Oh, shit," he cursed, striding forward and catching the wobbling witch around the middle. "What were you thinking, romping around like that? You could get you and the baby killed!" Ginny, now safely deposited on the floor, rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, it's not like I'm sick or anything." Nevertheless, she stood patiently still as Draco inspected her closely for injuries. Satisfied, he finally turned around - his mouth promptly falling open once more.

"What happened to my curtains?" he demanded, taking in the long gashes slashing the brown fabric. He whirled around. "That - that cat!" Ginny hugged the kitten close to her chest protectively.

"He's new to the house," she said, stroking his head. "He doesn't know any better." Watching Draco's panicked actions with mounting amusement, she added, "Well? You are a wizard, aren't you?" Grumbling, Draco waved his wand at the ripped curtains, which stitched themselves back together quickly. Turning to his wife, who was now cooing over the cat in her arms, he glowered.

"I'm still muddy, you know," he announced to no one in particular.

"Then go take a shower," came Ginny's reasonable voice. She was still fawning over the cat. Draco stomped off, muttering to himself.

"Stupid curtains. Stupid cat."

And his curtains had been new, too.