Draco sighed in frustration at his newest predicament “ babysitting Hermione ‘the Mini-Mudblood’ Granger. He knew he wasn’t suited to take care of a four year old
I shouldn’t have lost my patience like that, he thought, but the bloody wench asked for it! Who throws books at people when they’re not watching? Who throws bloody books in the first place?!
After Granger had been put to bed, Mrs. Weasley had a stern talk with him about watching his language around an impressionable young girl. They had quietly discussed the repercussions of his actions. Well, Mrs. Weasley had talked about the repercussions, while Draco had settled for an icy stare as she prattled on about the situation at hand. It was agreed that Draco would have to research what potion they had accidentally created when the cauldron exploded, the consequences, and whether there was an antidote. Then Mrs. Weasley had gone on to give him ‘parenting tips,’ since he was the one who had to actually watch the Mudblood. Upon taking into consideration all the responsibility he had on his shoulders, Mrs. Weasley had insisted that his sleeping arrangements be moved from the third floor to the second, across from Granger’s. Startled, he had realized that he hadn’t even had a conversation with the toddler, and now he had to move his meagre belongings to suit her needs. Draco couldn’t comprehend how he was expected to care for a child. He didn’t even like children. By Merlin, he didn’t have siblings to relate with “ how was he expected to understand the complexities of toddlers and parenting?
With a deep sigh, Draco turned in his new bed and gave into sleep.
“Wake up Fewat!” screamed tiny-Hermione as she jumped up and down on the tiny bed. The bed squeaked and groaned under the weight of her over-excited jumps.
Harry had told her that ‘Fewat’ was a grumpy boy, but she liked him.
After a minute of continuous jumping, the young girl scowled at the fact that the blond haired boy was not getting up.
“Fewat! Wake up!” she screamed again as she grabbed a pillow, and slammed it across his face with joyful glee.
Draco was hovering between sleep and consciousness when he heard a banshee like scream penetrate his eardrums. Then he became vaguely aware that a small body was jumping on him or more likely the bed. He realized it was the Mudblood, and thought that if he ignored her then she would go away. That is, until he felt the pillow slamming into his face.
“What the bloody hell!” he shouted at the young girl.
“Fewat!” she screamed in delight.
“Shut up, Granger!” he scowled; immaturely he pushed her off the bed where she landed in an undignified heap on all the extra pillows he’d thrown on the floor.
Rubbing the sleep away from his eyes, Draco heard Granger sniffling. He looked down at the young girl, and recognized the signs of a temper tantrum, having thrown some of epic proportions himself. The Mudblood pouted her lips, her chin began to quiver, and the tears threatened to fall.
“Tantrums don’t work on me so just stop while you’re ahead,” he snapped.
“You bad boy, you go on time out!” the young girl cried, anger flashing in her eyes.
“Tell someone who cares, Mudblood,” he spat, climbing out of bed to get ready for the day.
“I’m telling on you!”
“Oh, really? Who are you going to rat me out to?”
“Mum Weazy! She told me to tell her when you call me Mudwud again,”
“What?!” cried Draco, swivelling on the spot just in time to see Granger get up from the floor.
“Mum Weazy!” bellowed Granger as she ran out of Draco’s room, slamming the door in her wake.
“Wait! Granger!” Draco shouted, and ran to the door, only to find it “ jammed! Quickly, he tried to unlock it but found that it would not budge. He began kicking the door, frantically trying to open it, but finally realized that it would not open. The door was stuck.
After an hour, Draco heard footsteps in the hallway before the door was rattled.
“Draco Malfoy, open this door! You may not be one of my children, but by all that comes with the title of Mother, you will not treat one of my adopted children in the manner you’ve decided to do so.”
“I can’t open the door Mrs. Weasley,” Draco curtly answered, offended that this woman would reprimand him of all people.
“Child, open this door before I blast it open,” she warned tersely, “I’ve raised six boys and know more than one way to get into a spelled locked room.”
“It’s jammed. It seems you’ve forgotten that I do not have a wand in my possession so I couldn’t have possibly spelled locked the door…Mrs. Weasley,” he answered, his voice dripping with disdain.
Draco heard the Weasley matriarch muttering under her breath before the door creaked open. Relief washed over him until he saw the angry expression on the older woman’s face. She calmly walked in, carrying the Mudblood, who now appeared to be sleeping.
“Draco,” she began in a clipped tone, “I understand that you’re not happy with your current situation, or that you don’t particularly give two knuts about respecting me, but Hermione is only four years old. You cannot treat her like Hippogriff dung, especially since she’s under your care.”
Draco scowled at her before responding, “Well if Hermione hadn’t so rudely awakened me with a mouthful of pillow, then perhaps I would have needed to push her or call her names.”
Mrs. Weasley smiled wryly at the petulant Slytherin, fondly remembering her own hot-tempered children. If she had thought that Draco was going to have a hard time taking care of Hermione before, now she knew that babysitting one of his enemies would test his patience. Instead of giving him the long-winded lecture she had intended, Molly opted to let the incident be swept under the rug.
“Draco, I don’t wish for this sort of behaviour or events to be repeated,” Mrs. Weasley warned. Sighing quietly, she handed Draco the sleeping girl, and walked out. The older woman turned around at the door to see the young man holding the little girl at arm’s length, a bewildered expression on his face.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” he squawked, stirring the young girl from her slumber.
“Shhh, do you want to wake her up?” Mrs. Weasley warned. “Put her to bed,” she ordered, and left him with the grumpy toddler squirming in his reluctant arms.