A Little Bundle Of Hell 3
After their failed attempt at using Barty as a baby sitter, the Carrows decided it was time to get rid of their unwanted guest.
Alecto scooped up the baby dementor while she was taking a nap and unceremoniously dumped her in the garbage. "There. All gone," she said, turning and walking away from the now rattling rubbish bin.
The rubbish bin tilted and shook, the trapped dementor trying desperately to escape. It was nearly falling to the ground when Amycus caught it with his tongue, preventing it from spilling all over the driveway.
As troublesome as this creature was, he couldn't bear to see her thrown away with the trash. So he curled his tongue around the dementor, wincing at the taste of sour milk and dampish bread that had adhered to the dementor's cloak, and placed the infant in a cardboard box.
He wrote the words "free dementor" on a sign and stuck it to the cardboard box, then carried the box far from home, leaving it on a picnic table where it was later discovered by a sniffy old lady named Druella.
"Now who would throw away a perfectly good dementor?" she said, placing her hands under the creature's arms and lifting her from the box.
"You stranger!" the baby burbled, tilting her head a fraction. She appeared to consider the sniffy old lady, wondering who she was and what she tasted like. "What stranger doing? You here to let me suck face?"
"Oh dear!" Druella exclaimed, holding the creature at arms length as the squirming infant attempted to latch onto her face. "That behavior is most unacceptable! You must learn manners, you must learn how to carry yourself in a decent and respectable manner, and most of all - " She broke off in midsentence, the smell of the decomposing garbage curling her nose hairs. "You need a bath."
Les looked at her and giggled, amused by the look of disgust on her face. "Dementor stinky." She then opened her mouth and inhaled a fly that was buzzing lazily about her head. And then she belched. "Excuse me."
"Well," said Druella with an airy sniff, "at least you know how to excuse yourself." She then held the infant against her chest and Dissapparated, taking her home so she could clean and educate the little critter.
.oOo.
Bathing a dementor turned out to be a difficult task. The infant inhaled four bars of soap before Druella finished running the bath water, and the minute her back was turned the dementor inhaled the soap dish too.
Druella placed her hands on her hips, frowning at the baby dementor. "Are you about finished, young lady?"
Les hiccupped and giggled, then burped up a flurry of scented bubbles.
Druella rolled her eyes, then summoned a fifth bar of soap and started scrubbing the dirty dementor. She was pleasantly surprised to see that the infant enjoyed bathing, allowing the sniffy old lady to clean the filth from behind her ears. The only trouble she had was when Les attempted to inhale the scrub brush, which Druella managed to rescue just in time, though it was now missing half its bristles.
She dried the infant and wrapped her in a warm, fluffy towel. Delighted by this new development, the dementor cooed and snuggled against the soft fabric, using it like a sleeping bag as Druella rocked her in her arms.
Before long the gentle motion started putting the dementor to sleep, her head resting against Druella's shoulder as she sucked on the corner of the towel. A few strands of hair fell into Les' face, which she promptly inhaled, only to feel herself being lowered into a laundry basket a minute later, her lean form cushioned by a layer of clothing.
"You don't mind me using this as a crib, now do you, little one?" Druella queried, watching as the dementor lifted a hand and stuffed a shirt into her mouth.
Silence, followed by more sucking. The dementor seemed content, so Druella left to go about her day.
It wasn't long until the infant begin to stir, peering out from underneath layers of fabric. She blinked and looked around, sucking on the sleeve of Druella's shirt. The bathroom wasn't far from where she was resting, the door wide open, giving her full access to Druella's bathing facilities.
This woman was kind enough to take her in, giving her a bath and a comfortable bed to sleep in. Perhaps there was a way to repay her kindness, but how exactly could she do that? She was just a little dementor. What could she do to make Druella happy?
The towel fell to the floor as Les drifted towards the bathroom, her gaze landing on the toilet brush in the corner. "Brusha brusha," Les gurgled, one scaly hand closing around the handle of the toilet brush. It felt so good to get clean. Maybe, if she cleaned Druella's house, Druella would feel good too.
Giggling, she lifted the lid on the toilet and came face to face with moist shreds of toilet paper. "Streamers!" the dementor exclaimed happily, dipping the brush in the toilet.
The brush slapped against the wall, spattering the surface with drops of water and soggy bits of toilet paper. She then proceeded to paint the walls with toilet water, gliding from floor to ceiling, scrubbing every inch of the bathroom before moving to the living room. She managed to coat the chandelier with hanging pieces of toilet paper before Druella walked in and nearly dropped her wine glass.
"You filthy little heathen!" Druella shouted, startling the dementor and causing her to drop the toilet brush. "How dare you spread your filth all over my nice clean house!"
"Not dirty, clean," the dementor insisted, pointing to a clump of toilet paper clinging to the wall. "Dementor make clean with brusha brusha."
The next thing she knew, Les was being chased out of the house by Druella. The unfortunate dementor tried fleeing towards the attic, only to be caught by the back of her cloak and hauled outside onto the lawn, where she was deposited on a moist patch of quack grass.
"You can just stay out here until you learn some manners, young lady," said Druella, turning on heel and marching into the house. But the dementor had other plans.
She rummaged through the pockets of her cloak and came out with a scrap of material she had torn from Barty's pants, then brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply.
"Mmm, Barty smell good," she cooed, relishing the smell of Barty's manly aroma.
She was smart enough to know that she had overstayed her welcome, and decided to leave in search of newer, greener pastures. Pastures where she could suck Barty's face all day long if she wanted to. And so she sailed off into the sunset, following the scent trail that would lead her to her beloved Barty.