The Nanny Who Lived

The Nanny Who Lived

Chapter III: The Grandparents.

…

A couple of lullabies later, Scorps finally fell asleep.

Draco caressed Scorpius’ cheek and gave him a little kiss on his temple. He smiled. Merlin, he was proud! Yes, changing diapers was tiring, and he seriously considered petitioning to add Diaper Changing as an official Olympic discipline – But in hindsight, it had been fun.

Stinky, but fun.

“Bonne nuit, mon petit Scorpius.Fais de beaux rêves.”

Very quietly, Draco left the baby’s room and tip toed to his own. The first thing he saw was his sweet Hermione sprawled out on the bed, snoring, with drool hanging from the corner of her mouth. Poor girl looked exhausted. It wasn’t only the constant breastfeeding and waking up in the middle of the night that challenged her, no. The last months of her pregnancy had also been, err… 

…Fun.

Draco remembered the little fights they had when Hermione was pregnant. It was either him getting offended because she cuddled herself up to a giant muggle pillow especially made for pregnant women, instead of cuddling him – or her craving something she shouldn’t eat, and him trying to stop her from devouring it.

But those cravings!

Her cravings had been really frickin’ weird. When he asked her, she told him it was the so-called “Pica Syndrome”, where women had the strangest eating desires. Hermione told him it was normal, and that it would go away as soon as Scorpius was born. In the meantime, though, she had asked Draco to please keep an eye on her, since she didn’t want to eat something that could potentially hurt Scorps.

And keep an eye, he did!

The truth was that Draco had been so curious about those cravings that he had tried them all out.

All. Of. Them.

AND SWEET FUCKING SALAZAR, THOSE CRAVINGS. THOSE SAVAGE CRAVINGS.

If Hermione decided that, say, a slice of a bar of soap was on the menu, Draco would try to secretly eat it afterwards. If she ripped a piece of The Prophet to shreds and licked the ink, he would do the same when she wasn’t looking. And if she wanted to chew on a piece of cloth, he would gnaw on it, too.

An ice cream wooden stick? Those had become regular Tuesdays.

A dry bag of tea, stuffed directly into her mouth? Ah, just a light afternoon snack.

Fluffy quill feathers? She’d devour them for breakfast!

You name it! IT WAS MADNESS.

ABSOLUTE AND UTTER MADNESS.

Whatever Hermione craved – Draco would try it out, too.

And oh, how he regretted those decisions.

‘I certainly had my golden moments.Love knows no boundaries. My stupidity, apparently, either.’

As soon as he covered himself under the fluffy blankets, he glanced over to Hermione. Merlin, she was beautiful. Snoring, drooling, frazzled-looking even when she slept, and yet, breathtakingly beautiful. She could stretch her arms and legs all over the bed and push him over to the edge, she could roll over their bed a hundred times – and she was beautiful.

Draco chuckled.

‘A pillow.’ He cuddled himself up behind Hermione and hugged her from behind, ‘I was jealous of a fucking pillow.’

He yawned and fell asleep, a smile drawn on his face.

…

Ah… The calm, early hours of the morning.

The sun bathed everything in a warm glow. Light blues blended seamlessly with the soft reds, yellows, and oranges, while the gentle lilacs added a touch of beauty to that magical break of dawn. 

The light, fresh breeze of the wind brushed over the rose garden, the gentle rattling was like a soothing lullaby. It was this gentle morning concert, and it was so quiet. So peaceful.

It was all so serene. So placid. So tranquil. So very–

–THUD!

Draco’s clumsy owl almost smashed the window, the glass screeching as the bird slowly slid down the window and feathers rained down like a pillow fight had just taken place.

“ARGH! MOTHERFUCKER!”

“WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Hermione groaned, grumpily getting out of bed and scratching the back of her head, “Achilles is ancient, Draco, give him an owl mojito and let him retire already.” 

“Fuck no, I’m not letting him retire for almost giving me a heart attack…”

“WWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!”

“…And for waking Scorps.”

“Cheers. I’ll go take care of him. And, Draco, love?”

“Hm?”

“While I take care of Scorpius, I suggest you take care of that disaster on wings. Otherwise, I swear to Merlin, there’ll soon be a feast of roasted owl on the menu.”

Grumbling sorely, they got up.

Hermione went to pick up Scorps, while Draco stretched his arms and walked toward the window where Achilles had crashed. The bird gingerly jumped on his forearm and Draco noticed a little piece of parchment attached to its claw, a message neatly tied with a blue velvet ribbon.

“Tell me, Achilles, how have you survived all these years, you indestructible bird? You didn’t create a Horcrux behind my back, did you?”

Achilles hooted mischievously and somewhat sombrely.

“Holy shit. Did you? Wait. Would that be called… An Owlcrux?”

Achilles actually squinted with his eyes and turned his head, as if to say, ‘Did you just make a dad joke at me? Are you fucking kidding me?’

“You know, because it’s a Hoooooorcrux? And you’re an oooooooowl? Eh? Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh?”  

Achilles frowned and actually hid his head under his wing. The owl made it official: Draco had reached a new low. Achilles had just fucking facepalmed at him – Owl style.

Draco rolled his eyes and snorted, not without feeling the slightest bit offended, “Oh, shut up, Achilles.”

While he was busy untying the ribbon, Hermione came in with little Scorps in her arms. He was sucking on his little thumb and looking at his father with big mercury eyes. Draco gave him a good morning kiss on the forehead and teased him a little bit about how he’d been up almost all night long, and then his attention went back to their winged friend.

He took the note attached to Achilles’ claw, and the owl hooted happily as Draco then scratched his head, “Ah. It’s from Mother.”

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him, “Narcissa? What does she want?”

“Well, let’s find out, shall we?”

Draco unfolded the parchment and dramatically cleared his throat before reading aloud in a mock French accent.

“Bonjour à vous, mes beautés endormies ! 

How was your nightly dose of diaper changing and breastfeeding? I hope Scorpius and Hermione are getting enough sleep!”

“Yeah, no, don’t worry about me, Mother. I survived, I’m fine. Not sleep deprived at all. I’m just the Sleeping Beauty of the Wizarding World.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “If you’re whiny and you know it clap your hands!”

And Draco, sleep deprived as he was, actually clapped, and instantly realised it, snapping out of it in horror, “Wait, what? Wait, no– Granger, no, that doesn’t count–”

“Oooof course not, Draco. Of course not.” Hermione snorted, “Now shut up and keep reading.”

“Lucius and I are coming over today, there are important matters we need to discuss with you. Besides, we want to see our precious grandson and make sure he’s a healthy, chubby baby. 

We will be here by midday.

Ta-ta!

Narcissa.”

…

It had been a rather… stressful morning, full of comedy and drama. No, seriously. Genuinely full of it.

THRICE – Not once, not twice, but THRICE – had Draco and Hermione tried to change Scorpius into a fresh new onesie. Lo and behold, the baby would, like a tiny projectile vomit wizard, puke on it without prior warning.

Every. Single. Time.  

It was the rebellion of the baby milk, with Scorpius Malfoy as its indisputable leader, its commander-in-chief, a strategist with innate tactics in regards to milk-spewing – His fresh onesies were his fallen victims; they were battle scars worn with pride.

Scorpius ruled over his milk-soaked kingdom with a gurgle and a triumphant burp.

THIS. WAS. MALFOY MANOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOR!

But finally, the fourth onesie was the one that survived – The one that stayed fresh until finally, FINALLY, midday came, and Lucius and Narcissa arrived to see their impeccable baby grandson.

Gingerly, they went on to greet Scorps, completely ignoring the exhausted parents.

“Come here, you little snake!” Narcissa picked Scorpius up from Hermione’s arms and gave him a big, red-lipstick-rich smooch on the cheek, “How’s Nana’s boy?”

“Gaaa, go geeee! Gagagagagaga!”

Little Scorpius happily kicked his feet and giggled, his big, mercury eyes shining bright. He made baby noises and waved with his hands, as if trying to tell her how his morning had been. Narcissa gingerly followed his game: If the toddler talked, Narcissa would answer.  

“Oh, really, darling? And what happened then? Que s'est-il passé?”

“Tooooooooo. BEBEBEBEBEBEBE! Brabf.”

“Brabf. Yes, I see. Interesting. Fascinating, really.”

“TATATATATATATATATATATA!”

Lucius was thrilled with his grandson as well. As stoic as the man looked on any other occasion, his heart would melt when he was around his grandchild. There was something about his angelic blonde curls and those doe mercury eyes that would make a big old softie out of Lucius Malfoy.

“Hello there, Scorpius. Oop, what’s that on your chin?” Lucius put his finger on Scorpius’ chin, and as the baby looked down, he poked him lightly on the tip of the nose, “Did you miss grandpa, as well?”

Again, Scorpius was filled with joy by his grandparents’ visit. He moved with his whole body, laughing and smiling and squealing; and Merlin, he was a happy little baby. Narcissa kept giving him smooches and Lucius tickled him and played “got your nose” with him.

Laughter, laughter, laughter.

Joy, joy, joy.

Scorpius was the star of the show, and Narcissa and Lucius were his biggest fans. They ignored Draco and Hermione like they didn’t even exist and continued their grandparent-grandchild spectacle.

Until suddenly, time stood still.

Blushing, and feeling a tad bit embarrassed that that would be the way they greeted their son and their daughter-in-law, Lucius and Narcissa turned to Draco and Hermione. They both awkwardly smiled and nervously laughed.

“Well…” Lucius started.

“…The baby peed himself.” Narcissa completed his sentence.

Draco wanted to faint. He had just changed Scorpius into a new diaper.

…