Domestic Drabbles

"--and we looked everywhere for it! James swore he didn't lend it to anyone, and he's not one to lie. I just don't know, Hermione, those gloves are the only memento I have left that belonged to my mother." Harry sighed and ran a hand through his already ruffled hair as he climbed the steps behind Hermione. "At least I have the other glove."

"We'll find it," Hermione said as soothingly as possible. "Maybe I can try putting together a spell that would work to find the duplicate? I'd have to sit down and do the arithmancy, but it should be doable." 

"Thanks, Mione. I was just so thrilled when Dudley mailed the pair of gloves to me. Who would've thought Aunt Petunia would be so sentimental, keeping a pair of her sister's gloves for all these years?" 

"Give me the weekend to work out the equations, and we can try a locator spell on Monday." Hermione opened the door of the flat after executing a series of complicated unlocking spells on the wards. She dropped her satchel on the entryway bench and looked around for Draco. Usually when she came back from an international trip for the DMLE, he had some kind of surprise planned for her. In the last year, her various homecomings had been celebrated by a gourmet homemade candlelit meal, a new bookcase full of rare books on magical theory, and a flat full of vases of her favorite flowers on every surface, or, in the case of the last trip, Draco lying naked on the couch with a velvet throw artfully arranged over his pelvic region. It was this last option that worried her, as she hadn't warned Draco that Harry was with her this time. Poor Harry had been so distraught about the loss of his mother's glove, and since Ginny and James were abroad visiting Bill and Fleur in their French country home this week, she had just invited him home with her.

"Draco? Are you home?" Hermione called as she went into the kitchen. Alas, there were no pleasant smells that would indicate food of any kind. "I'll just order some curry takeaway," she said to Harry, grabbing the phone.

"I'm in the office, getting some work done. I could use your assistance, if you've got a moment." Draco's voice drifted down the hall. 

Hermione glanced over at Harry as she punched numbers into the phone. "Could you go see what Draco needs help with?"

As Harry opened the door to the office, he was greeted with the horrifying sight of Draco in his usual all black, but this time with the addition of a single dark red glove. "Ahh, Granger," he purred as he turned around, "you're late. Looks like you're going to need a spanki--" Draco's face took on an expression of horror as he realized that it was not, in fact, Hermione at the office door, but Harry. 

Both men stared at each other for several beats of embarrassed silence. Harry spoke first. "Malfoy. Please tell me that you did not acquire that embarrassingly small glove at Grimmauld Place. Because it looks an awful lot like the one I'm missing from the pair that belonged to my late mother. The one that's part of the only belonging of my mother's that I have. The one that I almost accused my son of stealing. The one that I've been tearing the house apart looking for for the past two weeks. The one that it looks like you're planning to wear while engaging in weird sexual fantasies with my best friend." The last sentence came out rather garbled, as Harry looked like he was about to throw up.

"Potter. I did not, in fact, acquire it at your house. I found it stuffed between the couch cushions here, after the last time I..." And here, Draco blanched and swallowed audibly. "...After the last time James came over to visit," he finished. "I guess I should take this off then."

Draco handed the glove back to Harry. "I'm sorry, Potter, I wasn't trying to defile your mother's memory. I would never have used this had I known. I honestly thought it was one of Hermione's gloves when I found it." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I wouldn't have even used it except that I couldn't find my own dragonhide gloves, and Hermione likes it when I wear leather for our department-head-and-naughty-secretary roleplaying and...I should just stop talking now."

Harry held the glove gingerly between two fingers and eyed it. "Well. At least you didn't spank her with it yet. Although now that I think about it, my mother might actually have been pleased if she knew her glove was being used in a consensual, loving relationship between a Muggleborn and a pureblood. It would certainly fit her legacy." He grimaced. "Although I could do with having any knowledge of you and Hermione's bedroom...er, office activities permanently obliviated from my mind. If I buy you a new pair of gloves, please do me a favor and never mention anything on this subject ever again."