[AN: Hey, guys! Welcome to the end of Bathwater. Thank you so much for getting here. Fortunately, the story continues. The sequel Simple Kind of Life is ready for you guys to enjoy, so please check it out. Thank you for all the love and support.]
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"Once upon a time in a faraway castle there was an intelligent girl with extraordinary powers that met a white, fluffy, bouncing ferret." A gentle voice filled an empty living room. "Now, the ferret was actually a very nasty boy who deserved everything he got in the years to come. Then, one day, two years after they met, the girl got so enraged with the bouncing creature and his git-ways that she had no choice but to slap him across his disgusting face because—"
"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Draco Malfoy entered the room carrying a cardboard box, a frown creasing his sweaty forehead. He had managed to catch the term "ferret" more than once from outside the hall.
With emerald eyes gleaming bright with mockery, Harry Potter said, "I'm telling a story. What does it look like?" He adjusted his glasses, settling himself into a more comfortable position on the chair he had been sat on for over twenty minutes.
"Shouldn't you be helping with these boxes, Potter?" Draco quipped, his frown still stuck on his pale face. "I'm sure I didn't bring you here so you can sit around and tell lies about me."
Harry scoffed, throwing his feet on top of the nearby tea-table. "Oh, I'm sorry, Malfoy. I was under the impression that I didn't sign up to be your house-elf for the day." He smirked now. "If you don't mind, I would like to continue the story of the greatest bouncing ferret that the Wizarding World has ever known."
Turning away from Potter, Malfoy dropped the box angrily on the ground and narrowed his eyes at another. "And what are you doing?" (Bloody good-for-nothing Chosen One. What was his purpose in the world if he was not going to help? Certainly it wasn't to sit around and have his stupid eyes roam around, observing people as they did the heavy work.)
"Nuffin'," a redhead replied casually at Malfoy's nasty hiss, shrugging as he attempted to swallow a handful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans while laying lazily on a couch by Harry's chair; a bundle of pale-blue on his chest. "You?"
"Attempting to bring all these sodding boxes from that Muggle monstrosity you call a car!" the blonde wizard growled, restraining himself from aiming a curse at the redhead and disturbing that bundle laying on him.
At the blond's yell, Ron patted the blue bundle carefully as he swallowed the rest of his sweets. "Well, you've got to blend in, don't you?"
Draco could feel his blood vessels fill with hatred. Why did he ever promise Hermione that he would not kill or severely maim Potter's sidekick? "Choke on your spit, Weasel."
"Uh-oh," Harry dragged out, placing on an award-winning smirk on his face as Ron gave out one loud chuckle as he reached for more sweets from the tea-table. "Someone's a bit aggravated. What do we do with boys who throw bratty tantrums inside of the house?"
"We discipline them!" Ron cheered, whipping out his wand and trying to look ruthless as he shoved the beans into his mouth without taking a breath.
Harry shook his head theatrically, all to keep adding to Malfoy's anger. "No, that's not it."
"Shut it, Potter," warned Draco.
A short, thin arm shot up in the air as Harry waited for the right answer. "He's got to use his inside-voice first!" A squeaky voice exclaimed.
"That's it, Teddy!" The Boy-Who-lived looked down at the floor where a colored-hair child sat excitedly, looking at the three adult wizards in the room with entertained eyes. "That's my lad. Ginny would be very proud of you for that."
Teddy beamed. "Can you continue the story now, Daddy?"
Sneering, the bespectacled man acted like he could not see Malfoy glaring furiously and turning bright red on the face. "Of course, Ted. Now, where was I?"
"Bouncing ferret!" Teddy shouted, clapping his hands with enthusiasm as he scooted closer to his Godfather from his place on the carpet.
Bang.
"Oi!" The door to the room opened once more and in came one of the ferret's fellow Slytherins. "What's this? You thickheads taking a rest without having the courtesy to inform the bloke working in the back with much effort that it was time for tea? This is discrimination! Is this revenge for everything I have said to you lot years back?"
"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Blaise." Draco crossed his arms, impatience etching across his sharp features. "Potter and the Weasel were about to get up from their lazy asses."
Ron and Harry snorted together.
Malfoy kept his eyes narrowed at them, but a wash of satisfaction crawled down his spine when a thought occurred to him that he had forgotten about whilst he let the Daft Duo get the best of him. "Just because Hermione's name is on the deeds to this house, it doesn't mean I don't own it as well. I'm legally granted the right to curse anyone who enters my home." His famous smug, handsome leer took over his face while the two-thirds of the Golden Trio stared back in confusion. "That is the right of a wizard when he buys property," Draco added in a whisper.
"You're no fun, mate," Harry grunted as he rose from his comfortable seat. "We were told this was a small brunch to welcome you into this lovely new home—not to help you unpack without the right to rest."
"Oi, if anyone gets the right to rest it's going to be me!" Blaise added with a deep frown. "I have been up since before the sun arose doing things to my wife that take loads more energy than it takes you two get out of bed on a daily basis!"
With a mouth open, little chunks of un-chewed candy showing, Ron shook his head. "Actually, Zabini, Pansy likes it when—"
"Not in front of my cousin, you bloody troll," Draco snapped, pointing a finger at the child who was still smiling widely at all of them.
Ron grinned largely at the blond as he registered the fact that he referred to Teddy as family. (He had about a year to get used to it now, but Ron fancied drinking several shots of Firewhiskey with the blokes and then laughing hysterically at Malfoy's attempts to baby-talk Teddy.) "But just know, Malfoy, that I want some sort of food after I'm done unloading boxes like a foolish Muggle."
"As if the dozen sweets you ate aren't enough, I'll take pity on you, Weasley. After all, I'm sure with Pansy as your wife you're stuck eating whatever disgusting thing you can conjure up." Draco leered as the redhead wizard frowned, lowering the small bundle in his arms to the blue-haired boy.
This time pretending he didn't hear Malfoy, Ron said, "Here you go, kid," as he made sure Teddy handled what he gave him with great care. "Take care of Vicky. You know how mad Bill got when you left her unattended last time he let us borrow her. He almost had my head because of you."
"Why are you even taking care of Victoire, Ron?" the bespectacled man asked as his godson frowned at the blonde one year-old veela in his hold. "Last time that you and Pansy took care of her she didn't stop crying for ages. Fleur says she's certain that the girl saw something that'll make her loath you once she grows up and never look you in the eye."
Ron shrugged at his best friend as they both followed the two Slytherins out of the living room. "Dunno, mate. But whatever Victoire says, she saw nothing. I've learned to cover up, haven't I?"
Victoire opened her blue eyes when the adults left, a glint of light flashing in her orbs as she stared up at Teddy. The little boy glared back at her. Carefully, Teddy rose from off the carpet, holding on to the bundle of blue so he wouldn't drop her.
"Stop it," he said to her sternly, sticking his tongue out at her as she smiled at him. "You're so annoying," he huffed, turning on his little feet to exit the room.
A devious plan bubbled in his head as he began to walk faster on the wooden floor of the hall.
XXXXXXX
"Finally," Draco breathed as he lowered himself onto a black armchair that sat positioned in his brand new, full equipped living room. "I never thought those filthy creatures would ever leave."
From the floor, forgetting for a moment the assignment in front of her, Hermione Malfoy glanced up through her lashes at her husband.She gave him a disapproving stare as she let the Malfoy anger—that she immediately inherited when she took the surname legally—settle on her cheeks. "Oh, do shut up, Draco."
Rolling his eyes, Draco scoffed at his wife. "Honestly, how can you be so peachy about it? It was a horrible experience that I never wish to repeat again."
"They're our friends," Hermione reminded. "And it was just a simple meal. Don't get your wand in a knot, there was no harm done."
Scoffing again, Malfoy adjusted himself in his armchair a little more comfortably. (This might well turn into a full-on fight and he rather be comfortable when she hexes him.) "We had to separate Zabini and Weasley when they began to fight for the seat closest to the food. We had to hex both of them until Weasley's fat hands were released from Blaise's chicken and he released his from around Weasley's neck."
"That was nothing," his wife returned offhandedly.
Draco raised his brow. "We had to handle Ginny's mood swings as she complained to Potter that she was repulsed by his presence—which, let's face the fact, that redheaded menace is pregnant."
Hermione snickered loudly at his observation. He has spent so much time around Harry, Ron, their waves, a Ravenclaw, and three children—Blaise included in that category—and despite him denying it, Draco was very well tuned with their friends' behavioral patterns.
"Pansy couldn't stop squealing and shouting for us to allow her to decorate our new home, demanding that she knows more of the subject since her 'Ronnie-Pie'—which made a piece of me want to strangle her to her death—had already bought her a house in Muggle London that provided her with creative ideas, " Draco continued on with his rant, ignoring Hermione's grin. "Chang wouldn't stop sulking in the background because we didn't invite Luna and Thomas no matter how many times Potter tried explaining to her they were currently on their honeymoon."
"That's nothing," she chimed, further fueling his anger. She wouldn't admit it to him, but Hermione loved watching her Slytherin Prince get all worked up.
"Then," the blond wizard added, glaring more roughly as he could see the amusement on the Gryffindor's face, "I had to pay Teddy fifty galleons so he could tell us where he left Victoire. And I got punched on the nose by Potter's wife when I had to go get the girl from the gnomes in the garden when she accused me of giving Teddy the idea that selling your family to magical creatures is alright—What?" he yelled as Hermione started laughing loudly.
"Oh, Malfoy, you've honestly never been around people before, have you?" She shook her brown waves at him as she looked back down at the tea-table to continue with her self-appointed assignment. "That's just all of them being friends—It's them being the eccentric family that they've been all along."
Draco had to find a way to reduce his red emotions from his pale complexion when Hermione's dulcet tone carried around the room. He wouldn't tell her so—because he would never live it down with her—but he could admit, sometimes, that that infuriating lot were their family. After everything he had been through to be with Hermione, he could not forget their support.
With a deep breath, Draco slid from his comfortable armchair to sit beside his wife on the carpet floor. Hermione smiled at his new proximity.
"I'll agree with you only because my aunt was demented, my cousin was a dog, and my parents were servants of the Dark Lord," said Draco. "Although, if I would've had a normal family, I assure you none of them would have disgraced the guest bedroom how Blaise and his wife did."
Scooting to the right to make more room for her husband, Hermione cleared her throat as he lovingly put an arm around her shoulders. "Wouldn't doubt it, Malfoy, but I suggest you get used to it. Cho mentioned that they've been trying to conceive since we left Hogwarts. And they're finding it a bit difficult so every time Cho is ovulating they get right to it. And as a former Ravenclaw, you can't imagine Cho not trying to succeed in her assignments, can you?"
Malfoy cringed. "Can't I just invest in a Muggle priest? I'm sure they can soak the entire house with holy water, repelling both of them and their urges to produce their beasts."
"Don't be so mean."
The wizard rolled his eyes. Like he was the only one that knew Zabini can't seem to keep it zipped up, and that he's completely gifted on breaking charms and opening doors. Disinfecting sprays can only go so far, they were going to need a little more help by the man upstairs in the Muggle World because Merlin himself wouldn't want to touch anything contaminated with Zabini's juices.
"What is this, anyway?" Draco asked, looking at what his wife was too preoccupied with. "You've not stopped rampaging through these stacks of rubbish since we got Potter to unload the boxes they came in."
"Well, darling, " Gryffindor sarcasm came out to play with a Slytherin, "if you would've put a stop to all the frowning and the moment of once-enemies-now-brothers conversation you had with Harry, you would have heard Ginny and I talking about beginning a photo album."
"Photo album?" her husband question, his interest fading away already. "Why would you need an album? I'll buy you a pensieve from Diagon Alley and you can travel in your memories all you like without having to reach for a bloody—"
Smack.
"Take a look at our surroundings, Draco!" Hermione withdrew her hand from the side of Malfoy's head, pointing her finger to the furthest window of their new home. An echo of children playing and cars passing outside of their Muggle neighborhood emerged through the crack of the window of their living room. "Does it look like we can have a pensieve hanging about? And I don't need you to buy me anything. If I wanted a pensieve I could get one on my own."
"Fine," Malfoy sighed, giving her shoulder a squeeze even though he rather be sending a nonverbal curse at her. (Only because he was sure that by the time he thought of a spell, she would've summoned a counter-jinx before he could blink.) "Need help?"
Rolling her eyes at his left hand reaching for the photographs, Hermione sighed, too. "Well, you can help me separate them into piles. I want about four pages dedicated to our wedding."
"Just four pages?" he asked as he saw a stack dedicated to the Weasel. Frowning at the redhead, he flicked the photos away and grabbed her hand instead. "Shouldn't we just make the album about us? I mean, our wedding was practically history made. I'm sure it's an anecdote we will get to read in a book years from now. Shouldn't we have one of these ruddy albums ready for when the Daily Prophet storms in here demanding for the intimate moments?"
"How incredibly sweet of you, Malfoy," Hermione snorted as she reached for the photographs with her free hand as the sarcasm, again, poured out. "But like I said, they are family and they deserve a part in this even if they aren't blood related."
Draco scoffed. "I hate it when you're so sensitive towards others."
"And I hate it when you act like such a brat when nothing is about you."
Giving her a shove back and gripping her arms, Draco closed the distance between him and Hermione with such force that she landed with her back slammed on to the carpet. "I hate it that you make me want everything that has to do with you to be about me," he whispered with a bit of irritation as he pressed his forehead on hers. He let one hand snake up to the side of her face, pushing those loose curls behind her ears. His heart gave a satisfied sigh deep within him as his silvery eyes met her brown ones. A mixture of cool and warm ignited the flame of bliss in his chest.
"It all can't be about you, Malfoy," she murmured, not bothered about the manner she ended up laying on the floor. "My world revolves around every part of me." Looking into the small glint of sadness in her husbands' eyes, Hermione leaned into his palm. "Fortunate for you, Draco, most of me can only see you."
Moving his fingers to caress her cheek, Malfoy flipped her around so she could straddle his lap as he peered up at her. "And I don't see anyone else who isn't you. Remember that I love you more than my own life."
"Oh, Malfoy, it's just the bond of marriage making you say that," she added, "but, I love you too." She gave a giggle at his disagreeing scowl, leaning down to press her lips onto his.
Her blood rushed thick as their lips moved together in such a soft manner that when they connected in the sweetest of gestures the lion nor the serpent existed, only Hermione and Draco.
As both of them melted into each other, being as sneaky as he could be, Draco pushed the hem up of her shirt and let his fingertips trace the soft skin of her abdomen. He reminded himself how much he loved the silky texture of her body, of how much he loved to feel that she was real and completely his.
And even though she shared the same love of his feel alike he of hers, Hermione pulled away. "No," she breathed.
"Why not?" the Slytherin mumbled in the same light tone his wife had, his lips now on her collarbone.
"We're expecting company, Draco," Hermione said as he continued to trace patterns on the skin hiding behind the fabric of her shirt.
"We'll lock the door."
"Draco."
"They can stay outside for a couple of hours." He smirked into her hair as he squeezed her thigh with one hand. "There can't be anything more important than—"
Smack. Smack.
What the bloody hell?" Malfoy hissed, pushing the brunette back from his chest when her hands started flying. "Why are you always smacking me?" He rubbed his head with one hand and swapping her palms away with the other.
"—Because she can." The door to the living room opened, and this time Narcissa Malfoy marched in.
"Because I can," the brunette repeated mockingly at her husband. She let the smirk that appeared turn into a beam as she looked towards her mother-in-law. Hermione jumped up to greet her.
As the two women embraced in greeting, Draco retorted with, "you need to stop encouraging her, Mother." He narrowed his eyes as both of them rolled theirs. "Seriously, one of these days she is going to curse me and I shall end up in St. Mungos without a heartbeat."
"Well, next time behave, darling." Mrs. Malfoy gave a scolding look at her nineteen year-old son. "Hermione wouldn't have the need to discipline you if you would just act like the proper young man I raised you to be."
"But she viciously attacked me!"
Before his mother or his wife could reply to his outburst, a deep drawling voice invaded the room. "The most dangerous thing upon Earth," a tall man—resembling an older version of Draco—entered the living room quietly and undetected, "is one's infuriated wife. They can torture and correct us as they please and we are not granted permission to do the same. Remember that, son," Lucius Malfoy said with a serious expression, but with glowing eyes as he carried a bundle of emerald in his arms.
"Although he can have his moments of vulgarity and thickheaded ways, I do not wish to correct him, Mister Malfoy." Ending the stand next to her mother-in-law, Hermione took steps towards her husband's' father. "I just needed to remind him that he is not the king of this household."
She extended her arms towards the man, who she still properly addressed, and waited for him to hand her the bundle. A year passed since her and Draco's union, becoming a Malfoy by law, but there were things no one in that family could ever forget. One of those being that Lucius tried murdering her and those she cared about years ago. For the sake of her marriage and the love she had for Draco, Hermione learned to put it at ease. Never forgetting, but learning to forgive. Despite her tensed relationship with Lucius Malfoy, Hermione couldn't help to smile when he pressed a tender kiss to the bundle's forehead.
"Of course Draco is not king," Narcissa agreed, bending down slightly to spread the photographs on the tea-table. "My darling Scorpius is."
Hermione smiled, her love pouring out in bursts of light as she looked adorling at her son now in her arms.
Grabbing a photograph from the tea-table, Narcissa turned to her husband, flashing him the photo. "Oh, can you imagine, Lucius, our grandson when he grows into an even healthier toddler? He'll be one in a couple of months, and before we know it he'll be running all over this place." As she concealed her urges to squeal gleefully—because it was something that a respected Pureblood would never do—Narcissa peered down at the photograph of Scorpius a few months back.
"Once he begins to stomp on everything we'll send him directly to you, Mother," Draco said, standing up swiftly and walking towards his wife and child. "The Malfoy Manor was build to sustain anything, so I'm sure once he starts developing his magic and can't seem to keep it under control, the Manor will resist a few explosions."
Frowning in a disapproving manner as her husband moved the blanket around, exposing the entire face of their son, Hermione managed to swat him on the arm. "Draco, don't be so—"
Almost as if on cue to spare Draco from a lecture from the almighty Brightest Witch of the Age, deep, gray eyes opened and fluttered up at the faces of Hermione and Draco.
"We just bought this place, Hermione. With the brains that our child has, can you imagine the destruction he can cause?" Malfoy added carelessly as he looked at the open eyes that were exactly like his, but that had the same wide-shape of his wife's.
"We are not letting your parents handle this."
Snapping his fingers and startling the bundle at the same time, Draco laughed as an idea came to mind. "You're absolutely right. We'll send him to Blaise and Cho's place." Ignoring the piercing scowl he was sure the brunette was giving him, he settled his palm gently on Scorpius' head, moving his fingers lightly over his thin blonde hair. "How would you fancy that, son? Destroying your Uncle Zabini's house?"
"Oh, you're unbelievable," Hermione huffed, looking upset as little Scorpius smiled at his father's comment. "Now I am convinced you told Teddy to sell Victoire to the gnomes."
"That's unfair," Draco grunted, looking at his son with pride as he already managed to annoy the Gryffindor Princess. "Ted has a mind of his own and spends most of his days with the Weasleys. They practically encourage him to break the rules, even as Potter and his witch try to contain his rebellious ways. Accept it, that boy is already messed up."
"Well, he is related to you. That there explains everything," Hermione retorted, turning on her heels. "Come on, Scorpius, time for a nap."
"Hermione," Draco groaned, following the footsteps of the two people he most adored. (Even though he loathed to admit it, he deserved those hits. How could he ever forget that Scorpius, his son, was more important than sex with the woman he loved? Curse that jumped-up seducer with her creamy skin and lack of morals.)
Clearly ignoring her husband, Hermione's voice was heard from the hall, "long ago in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, there roamed a bouncing, white ferret—"
Laughing softly at the loud curse her son gave, Narcissa lowered herself on the carpet of the new house. "Well, we better get started."
"On?" Lucius replied, raising his eyebrow at his wife.
Patting the space next to her, Mrs. Malfoy said, "finishing these albums, of course." She grinned up at her husband, handing him a stack of photographs of their grandson. "We know perfectly well that they will never get it done with the way those two are."
Hesitantly, unwillingly, Mister Malfoy gave a solemn nod and joined his wife. "Who could have thought, Cissy," he began to say as his eyes zeroed in on a picture that included the three of them: his son, daughter-in-law, and the warmth of his heart, "that those two would have ever made it through to create such a magnificent being?"
"I never doubted it," Narcissa said in a light tone, her ears picking up the giggling coming from a room away. The sound of Scorpius' laughter mixed with Hermione's while Draco ranted about murdering The Chosen One for spreading lies to all the children. "They were meant to be, as oddly as the combination is. And whether they chose to see it from the beginning or not."
Crack.
"Drake!" And then Mister and Mrs. Malfoy's warm moment was interrupted. "Oh, Cissy, Lucius."
"Blaise," the two elder Malfoys nodded their heads in greeting; neither of them stirred by the shout and loud sound of apparation that had just invaded the sitting room.
Narcissa rose an eyebrow, silence taking over the room.
Blaise looked a little frazzled. "Draco?"
"He's in Scorpius' room, dear."
"Thank you!"
But right before the dark-skinned boy could leave, Narcissa called out, "is something the matter?"
"Cho's pregnant!" Zabini inhaled through his ragged tone. "Yes?" he questioned as they stared at him oddly.
Narcissa cleared her throat. "Blaise, dear, you aren't wearing any trousers."
Slapping his palms over the center of his middle, Blaise nodded rapidly and acknowledged the fact. "Yeah, well...It vents my....special places. You know, these Muggles and their methods of keeping everything nice and flowing."
"Although I can see the excitement and the need to tell Draco about this, shouldn't you be with your wife, Zabini?" Mister Malfoy pointed out, looking away from the boy and onto the pictures of his grandson. (There was something about looking at a scrappy boy in his boxers with knee-long socks that repulsed him and the need to look away was merciful.)
"Yeah, well—Drake!" Zabini shouted once more, his voice squeaking with his yell. "Guess what, mate? I'm going to be a father!" He took off running down the hall, jumping over some of the boxes that were yet to be unpacked. "And I need a place to sleep! She was so excited she threw me out!"
The story was finally complete.
________________________________________________________________________________
The End.