Soft, strong hands were kneading the muscles in his lower back, and Zach could almost feel himself drooling in bliss. Over and over, fingers pulsed out a tune into the depths of his flesh, sending shivers of delight into the far reaches of his body.
–Mmm, lower,†he moaned into his pillow. When those glorious hands complied, he sighed. –Oh, yeah.â€
–Daddy,†a vague, disembodied voice said.
Zach chuckled. –Ooh, you’re a naughty girl.â€
The voice insisted. –Daddy!â€
–Yeah, I’ll be your daddy.†With a sloppy grin, he rolled over. –Come to daddy.â€
–Daddy, Daddy, wake up!â€
With a grumble, Zach opened his eyes. Cameron’s face was poking over the side of the bed as he persistently shook Zach’s leg. –Daddy, I’m hungry.â€
The fog of sleep began to disperse and the dream faded back into reality. –Merlin’s bleeding beard!†he cried as he bunched up his bedclothes in his lap and shot up into a sitting position. Giving himself a few seconds to shake off the now wildly inappropriate dream, Zach told Cameron, –Go to the kitchen, and I’ll be there soon.â€
As the boy toddled off, Zach peeked under the covers at his midsection and mumbled, –Fantastic.â€
Ten minutes later, he arrived in the kitchen to find a very impatient child pulling open a cabinet door, reaching for a jar of peanut butter. –Oh, no you don’t,†Zach said as he plucked the boy off the floor and deposited him into his booster chair.
–But Ellie-weese lets me make sawwiches,†Cameron pouted.
Faking a tight smile, Zach said through clenched teeth, –Well, she isn’t here, so you’re stuck with me.†He ignored the clamour of protest behind him as he stared at the cupboard and the fridge, wondering which he was supposed to do in the morning. It was then that he found a piece of paper Spellotaped to the front of the fridge at eye-level. It was a list of mealtimes, acceptable foods, and portions — along with a command from Eloise to not feed him macaroni and cheese for breakfast, under threat of dismemberment. –Gods, I love you, Ellie,†he hissed under his breath as he finally knew where to start.
Five minutes later, Cameron was happily munching on peanut butter toast and milk while Zach foraged for his own repast. He frowned when he found another note taped to his favourite cereal, which he could almost hear Eloise saying, –This is garbage, and you shouldn’t be eating it. Try oatmeal and yoghurt instead.â€
Swearing under his breath, Zach defiantly yanked the note off his Magic Marshmallow Malte-Os and pulled out a bowl. However, just as he unfurled the bag inside, he felt a small pang of guilt, and with a string of profanities he only later hoped that Cameron hadn’t heard, he put the box back into the cabinet and pulled out the oatmeal next to it instead.
–How the hell do you make this, anyway?†Zach examined the canister and found instructions that even he could manage. –Garnish with fruit?†He frowned. –What fruit?â€
Cameron piped up. –In the fridge, Daddy.â€
Opening said fridge, though he didn’t recall buying fruit at any point in the past . . . ever, Zach rooted around until he found a large cache of a dozen different varieties, all portioned out for quick use. Snatching a small container of raspberries, he dumped a handful into his cooked oatmeal and hoped that it would taste better than it looked. He had never liked oatmeal as a child and never ate it as an adult.
–Daddy, you should eat,†Cameron said with a bob of his head. –Ellie-weese says good food is ‘portant.â€
Zach glowered at his bowl and said to himself, –Ellie-weeze seems to have a lot to say, considering she’s not here.†With a heavy sigh, he spooned a liberal amount of oatmeal and shoved it into his mouth.
Paper. It tasted like wet paper. He was fairly certain that oatmeal had no redeeming qualities aside from the obnoxiously pleasant raspberries masking the vile flavour sticking to the roof of his mouth. Finally gulping it down, Zach looked at his son, who was licking remnants of peanut butter off his fingers, and asked, –Does she make you eat this?â€
Nodding, Cameron chimed, –I like it.â€
–That makes one of us,†Zach growled as he shovelled an even larger spoonful into his mouth, hoping he would finish sooner rather than later. Merlin knew what it tasted like cold. He shuddered inwardly at the thought as he ploughed his way through the rest of the bowl.
Soon, Cameron was begging Zach to start playtime, which promptly made the latter wish that Eloise had left instructions for that, as well. That was, however, until he reached the trunk of toys and found that, on the wall above it, she had. –Educational games first. Toys second.â€
And, of course, there was a detailed list of which were which. The one that sounded the least boring to him was the memory matching card game, so he shuffled the deck a little bit and laid them out as instructed on the pack. From how quickly Cameron engaged, it was obvious that he played this game often with Eloise.
Cameron squealed with delight when he matched two pictures of brooms together. A matronly voice said enthusiastically, –That’s right! You have two brooms. B-R-O-O-M, broom.†Zach was moderately impressed with how quickly Cameron managed to find matches, nodding in approval when he spelled along out loud with the cards he knew.
After that, much to Zach’s enjoyment, Cameron wanted to play with the Quidditch action men. They played a spirited match in which Zach, with surprising little reluctance, allowed his son to win. It was only when Zach looked up at the Miggs the Mad Muggle clock on the wall that he noticed that it was snack time.
Zach and Cameron both had yoghurt and fruit, which was not nearly as vile as the oatmeal had been, and the granola topping was shockingly edible considering its beastly resemblance to oatmeal. While he would never concede to eating oatmeal on purpose again, Zach mused, he hadn’t realised how much he actually did enjoy the taste of fruit. Both he and Cameron favoured the strawberries, which Zach hoped that Eloise would keep on buying. He would never complain about her money requests again.
With the random, detailed notes sprinkled about the flat, Zach found it surprisingly simple to keep Cameron fed and occupied throughout the day — the only real roadblock being when Cameron decided he wanted to use the toilet and wouldn’t leave the loo for twenty minutes. Zach was less than impressed with the wet toilet roll sculpture of what looked like a Dementor left for him on the counter, or that his toothbrush was sticking out of it like a flagpole.
Finally, it was naptime, which Zach had been looking forward to since the loo incident. An hour all to himself, without the obligation to curb his tongue or entertain small people, was a wonderful boon, and he refused to waste it on cleaning up in the kitchen. That could wait until later. Instead, he slouched back on the sofa and enjoyed a respite of his own.
This time, when small hands were yanking on his trouser legs, begging for a snack, Zach was prepared. Armed with carrot sticks and peanut butter, as per Eloise’s instructions, Zach did the dishes while Cameron was distracted by food.
This is actually kind of relaxing, Zach thought as he mopped up the remnants of breakfast and lunch. Cameron was happy and not out of sight, and Zach felt like this was something he could actually manage twice a week. And on a beautiful Saturday afternoon when the sun was actually shining for once, he felt like a quick trip to the park down the street wasn’t out of order.
Zach had to admit to himself that the smell of fresh air was good, and judging by Cameron’s persistent tugging on his hand to go faster, the boy liked it as well. The park was crowded, but not so much so that Zach couldn’t find an unoccupied bench looking out over the play area. Together, Cameron and a set of twin girls who happened to snare him spelunked the maze of large plastic tubes, with giggles emanating from their depths almost constantly.
It was then that Zach felt the warmth of the sun blanket him, and the lack of stimuli drew his attention towards the birds flitting from tree to tree and then to the bulbous clouds and the ever-changing shapes. And then his mind wandered to Eloise. He wondered how she would feel, watching him right then as he dutifully followed her instructions and more without either of them ending up in St Mungo’s.
Eloise was a different person than he remembered at Hogwarts. She had always been a target — easily honed in on and easily struck. He hadn’t realised she had a strong sense of duty or a well of patience with both himself and Cameron, not to mention a litany of domestic skills Zach had found hitherto useless or impossible. She was, in short, the perfect nanny. He could even get used to her bossing him around or maligning his favourite cereal.
And she wasn’t half bad-looking, either, considering her previous acne affliction. He would’ve been surprised if she hadn’t found a household spell for that, as well. Shrew or no shrew, even after the Pixie incident, he was genuinely sure he was happy she was around.
The sun glaring into his eyes alerted Zach that dusk was fast approaching, and with that, he looked around to find Cameron. He scratched his chin when the boy was nowhere in sight before poking his head into the crawl tubes. –Cameron!†he called into every open space. –Cam, you in there, kiddo?â€
Frustration soon gave way to panic as he couldn’t, no matter where he looked, find his son.
A Muggle police officer approached Zach as he tore through the park grounds. –Can I help you, sir?â€
–My son!†Zach barked, shoving his fingers roughly into his hair. –He’s gone missing!†At the officer’s prompt, Zach gave a description of Cameron and the last place he had seen the boy. Once he could get himself free, he frantically searched and searched again, roving every square visible inch of the park, but to no avail. Cameron was gone.
Realising for the first time that he was truly scared for the life of the child that had been thrust into his care, Zach did the only thing he could think of doing:
He called Eloise.