Disclaimer. (Sing to tune of Three Blind Mice) IcyPanther. IcyPanther. See how she writes? See how she writes? She writes and jots down chapters quite fast. Everything she writes must have booms and blasts. We really must wonder how long this will last. See how she writes? (And she doesn’t own HP! It didn’t fit in the song. :P)
Parenting Class
Bath Time for Mione and Flobberworms!
Draco managed to get Hermione to sit down and read from a storybook while he attempted to finish his Charms homework, wand held tightly in hand in case of a surprise that Hermione might decide to attempt. Although after the incident in the Hospital Wing he wasn’t as nervous as he used to be.
“Draco?” Hermione asked, lying on her stomach with feet kicking in the air, the story lying open on the floor in front of her.
“Hmmm?” the Slytherin murmured, jotting down the answer to one of the review questions at the end of the section. (Explain the difference between a cheering charm and a laughter charm.)
“How come fairy tales always have happy endings? Why aren’t there ever sad endings?”
“Would you rather they be sad?” Draco queried, raising an eyebrow.
“No, I like them happy. But then I always know what’s going to happen! Like in mystery stories…you always know the case is going to be solved and it’ll all turn out okay. I want a surprise!”
“You’re one odd kid,” the Slytherin remarked. Hermione bristled, but remained lying on the rug. “Although I think I might have something that might interest you. They’re some wizarding tales I used to read…they don’t all end up with a happy ending.”
“Can I read them, Draco? Please? Pretty please? Please with a toothbrush on top?”
“Toothbrush?” Draco echoed.
“My parents are dentists…”
Draco nodded, although he still had no clue what a dentist was. “Sure, you can read them. Wait right there and I’ll go get them.”
Hermione gave an enthusiastic nod of her head and propped her chin up on her hands, watching Draco expectantly. Feeling like he was under a microscope, Draco entered his room and opened his trunk, where he stored the incredibly valuable as well as loved books.
“Be careful with them,” he cautioned, setting down a small stack next to Hermione. “They’re very old and worth quite a bit of money.”
“Then why do you have them? Shouldn’t they be in a museum?”
“These books have been in my family for years…and they’re mine now. And I don’t really want to part with them; I have plenty of money already and I like these books.”
“Are you rich?” The girl’s eyes grew to the size of galleons as she looked at Draco.
“You could say that,” he said slowly.
“Could you buy a horse?”
“If I wanted one…yes.”
“Can you buy a house?”
“Uh huh…”
“Can you buy a town?”
“Probably.”
“The world?”
“I don’t think so…”
“If you could would you make me queen?”
“Uhhh…”
“Is that a no?”
“Maybe?”
Hermione looked at him and he looked at her, before she burst into peals of laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Draco demanded.
The child just shook her head; now laughing so hard that no sound could be heard.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m…great,” Hermione gasped, laughter gradually fading away. “It’s just…oh…never mind…but you answered my question with a question. Just like my mom!”
“Is that supposed to be a good thing?” Draco grumbled. “I don’t want to be your mom.”
“Well, it’s not a bad thing,” Hermione argued. “Besides…I miss Mommy and Daddy.”
Draco smiled at her. “It’s all right. You can seem them again in two weeks.”
Hermione suddenly jumped up in surprise, the book in her hands tumbling to the floor. “I’m missing school! I’ll fall behind! I have to go home!”
“Don’t worry,” Draco assured. “I’m sure you’ll catch right back up. Why don’t you-” he broke off as his eyes caught sight of the clock across the room.
“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, gently picking up each book and patting its cover.
“It’s nine! You should have been in bed already!”
“I know,” she grinned devilishly. “Mommy makes me go to bed at seven thirty.”
“Then why didn’t you say something?”
“I don’t want to go to bed that early!”
“Well, you’re going to bed now. After you take a bath though…”
“I don’t want a bath,” Hermione pouted, sticking out her lower lip.
“You need one. You smell like jell-O.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“It doesn’t show cleanliness. And I’m not going to have you walking around dirty while I’m watching you.”
“BUT I DON’T WANNA TAKE A BATH!” Hermione wailed, dropping the books she’d gathered and latching onto the table leg. “YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!”
“You’re taking a bath,” Draco said, fighting to remain calm. “And I’ll either drag you into the bathroom or you’ll go willingly.”
Well, Hermione took option one. The Slytherin, after muttering a quick prayer for his safety, reached over and grabbed Hermione by her feet and began to pull, hoping she’d let go of her death grip on the table. It was reminding him strangely of a scene a few weeks prior where Hermione had gripped onto a pillar to stop herself from being carted off to Divination. Unfortunately, Draco didn’t see feigning hurt would stop her.
“Let go of the bloody table,” he growled, digging his heels into the carpet and pulling as hard as he could.
“NEVER! I’LL NEVER LET GO!”
“LET GO OF THE TABLE!”
“NOOOOOOOOOOO! YOU’LL HAVE TO KILL ME FIRST!”
“THEN I’LL HAVE TO KILL YOU!”
“YOU CAN’T! THEN YOU’LL BE A MURDURER!”
“WHO CARES? AT LEAST YOU’LL GET A BATH!”
By now, Draco had lost his temper.
“BUT I DON’T WANT A BATH! I LIKE BEING DIRTY!”
“NOT UNDER MY WATCH! YOU’RE GETTING A BATH!”
“DIE!” The small child suddenly let go of the table and Draco flew backwards, the sudden release in tension making him lose his balance. Before the blond could stumble to his feet, Hermione was sprinting across the common room to the portrait. “OPEN!” she screamed when the door refused to allow her through.
“YOU’RE CAUGHT!” Draco cried in glee. “IT WON’T OPEN FOR YOU!”
“LET ME OUT! OPEN UP! OPEN SESAME! BOOM! PLEASE OPEN!”
“IT WON’T! THE PORTRAIT KNOWS BETTER! RIGHT LEVICULUS?”
“I’d rather not take part in this conversation,” the jester chuckled nervously from outside. “But Draco is right, Hermione…I can’t open to you.”
It was Draco’s turn to laugh evilly. “The portrait agrees with me,” he laughed.
“I never said that,” Leviculus said. “I was merely saying that my rules were not to let Hermione out; I never said anything about agreeing with you. It’s you who are agreeing with me.”
“Still,” Draco snarled, “I’ve got her now.”
“NO YOU DON’T! I’LL ESCAPE!” Darting away, Hermione swerved around Draco and ran to the large window. Throwing it open, she glanced over her shoulder at Draco, who was right behind her, and jumped.
“I thought she was scared of heights,” Draco muttered, as Hermione’s scream echoed to the ground below. Then, what the girl had just done hit him. “I’M COMING, HERMIONE!” Looking wildly around the room, Draco pulled out his wand and yelled, “ACCIO NIMBUS 2001!”
The black broom hurtled out of his room and jumped into his hand, as Draco leapt out the window and flew in a downward plunge, thankful their window was several stories up. Although, if it hadn’t been so high then he wouldn’t have been so worried about Hermione becoming a pancake.
Not even twelve feet before the ground impacted Hermione, Draco swung beneath her and caught the girl, one arm wrapped securely around her waist as he flew back up to their room, Hermione sobbing hysterically and clinging to his robes.
“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?” Draco exploded as soon as they’d reached the tower and Hermione was on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Please don’t be mad…”
“DON’T BE MAD? I’M FURIOUS! YOU ALMOST KILLED YOURSELF!” Draco raged. “IF YOU’D DIED, DO YOU KNOW WHAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED? YOUR WHOLE LIFE WOULD BE RUINED!”
“I didn’t…I mean…I…I…I didn’t realize…”
“Didn’t realize what?” Draco asked icily. “That that was over a five hundred foot drop? That you jumped out a window? WHAT DIDN’T YOU REALIZE?”
“My…my room…is on…the ground floor,” she sobbed, rocking back and fourth with her knees drawn up to her chest. “I…like to…climb…out…when Mommy…wants me…to take a…bath…I’m sorry Draco! Please, forgive me! I’m sorry!”
The fury that had been racing through Draco started to smolder until it died entirely, his silver eyes sadly watching Hermione. “I’m sorry too,” he apologized, kneeling down next to her. “I…have trouble…sometimes…”
“Trouble? With what?” she asked timidly, allowing Draco to give her a gentle hug before clambering into his lap.
“Showing people I care…I can’t express it…I’m not used to it. So I get angry.”
“Why can’t you show people you care? All you need to do is give them a hug!” She emphasized this point by turning around and hugging the Slytherin.
“I wasn’t…brought up…oh, never mind. You wouldn’t understand this kind of thing.”
“Yes, I would,” Hermione said stubbornly.
Draco smirked. “I know you’d try, but you’re too young. And speaking of which, you should have been in bed, by your mother’s watch, almost two hours ago. So, into the bath you get.”
“All right,” Hermione sighed. She knew much better then to argue this time. “But you stay out here, okay?”
Draco held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, but make sure you wash your hair really well.”
Sticking her tongue out at him, Hermione went into her room and grabbed a small bathrobe and then went back to the bathroom. Draco settled down on the couch with his Charms book again and his parchment, Crookshanks coming out from beneath the couch and hopping onto the cushion next to him and Butterscotch joining both a second later.
For some reason, both the cat and dog managed to get along with each other, and Draco had to suspect it was something to do with the fact that Butterscotch had offered Crookshanks one of his dog treats when they were training the puppy.
A few minutes later, the soft, crackling of the fire was overpowered with Hermione’s shouts. “DRACO?”
“Yes?” he called back, sticking a bookmark between the pages.
“Can you help me wash my hair? It’s too thick!”
“I thought you didn’t want me in there…”
“Please? It feels yucky…and there’s a knot!”
“Coming…” Placing the book into his bag, Draco made his way into the bathroom, the mirrors completely steamed up and the vapor wafting around the room. “Why did you make the water so hot?” he asked, carefully making his way over to the bathtub, where Hermione was sitting with her back to him.
“I like it hot,” she smiled. “The shampoo is right there,” she said, pointing to a bright pink bottle on the ledge. “And the conditioner is in the purple bottle.”
“Close your eyes,” Draco warned, squirting the fruity smelling shampoo into his hand and lathering it into the girl’s hair. “You don’t want it to sting.”
Obediently, Hermione did so and sat quite calmly, occasionally wincing as Draco’s fingers pulled apart a knot or dug too deep into her scalp. “All done,” Draco said cheerfully, dumping one last bucket of water over the girl’s head.
“Thanks you,” Hermione said quietly.
“No problem.” Getting stiffly to his legs, Draco lumbered out of the bathroom and into his room to change into his pajamas.
Just as he was pulling a tee shirt on over his head (normally, he wouldn’t but with Hermione here…) soft knocking sounded on his door. “Yes?” he asked, opening it to see Hermione standing in front of him, a pink shirt on her with a panda bear and matching pants.
“Can you sing me a bed time song? Please? It helps me fall asleep faster.”
Draco hesitated. “I don’t sing very well,” he admitted. “I’d probably give you nightmares.”
“Please? With a-”
“-toothbrush on top? All right, you win,” Draco sighed. “But if you do have nightmares it’s not my fault.”
“Okay!” she bubbled.
“Did you brush your teeth?” Draco asked as Hermione skipped towards her room.
“Yup. And I flossed. Is it okay if I put your books in my room? I promise I’ll be really careful.”
“As long as you’re careful,” Draco replied, looking fondly at his books sitting on the girl’s desk. “And did you comb your hair?”
Hermione looked guiltily at her feet. “No…”
“Why not?”
“It hurts! I only like it when Mommy does it!”
“If I promise to be gentle will you let me?” The Slytherin couldn’t even imagine the fact of not getting rid of the knots in his own hair and was not going to let Hermione either.
“Promise?”
“Promise,” Draco smiled, picking up a comb from the girl’s nightstand. “Now sit down so I can do this.”
Hermione hopped into her bed and sat in the middle of it, Draco right behind her, armed with the comb. “That hurts,” she whimpered a few seconds later.
“Sorry,” Draco apologized. “I’m trying not to hurt you, but your hair’s so thick.”
Patiently, Hermione waited until Draco finally pronounced her done, the deep brown hair now lying smooth down her back. “Now will you sing me a song? It’s already ten…”
Draco yelped. “No song! Too late!”
“Please? With a toothbrush on top? You did say you would…”
“I did,” Draco admitted. “Okay, I’ll sing you a wizarding one, okay? I don’t know any muggle ones like Harry.”
“That’s fine,” Hermione grinned, snuggling beneath the covers and clutching a teddy bear to her.
“Remember, if you have nightmares, not my fault.”
“Mmmm.”
Taking a deep breath, Draco began.
“Across moonlit pastures and over the sea,
A unicorn grazes, on grass growing green.
Silver coat gleaming, bright as day,
She frolics about, ready to play.
But with the whisper of the wind,
The young foal settles down.
To listen to her mother sing,
Her voice as soft as a dove’s wing.
A haunting lullaby fills the air,
Filled with battles long fought and deeds dared.
Of tragedies and miracles, that happened long ago,
The great happiness or the stories of woe.
And the little unicorn listened enchanted,
Ears pricked forward to catch every word.
But as the last part of the tune died away,
The foal closed her eyes, preparing to welcome the coming day.”
“That…was beautiful,” Hermione yawned, chocolate eyes warm. “Thank you, Draco. I’ll have good dreams now…”
“I’m glad,” Draco whispered. “Night, Mione.” He got no response, the girl already sound asleep.
Draco headed towards his own room and climbed beneath the covers, nearly screaming when he found Butterscotch on his pillows and Crookshanks curled up next to the puppy. But sleep came shortly and Draco slept.
Although not for long, as his nightmare grew until he was screaming bloody murder in his sleep, Hermione running in with her eyes wide in panic, just as Draco woke up.
“Are…are you all right?” she whispered, watching as Draco put his face in his hands.
“No, I’m not,” he frantically said, arms waving in the air. “The Bloody Baron caught us! And he was going to feed us to a gigantic monster made of jell-O! Instead of eating the jell-O, it was going to eat us!”
Hermione giggled. “It was a nightmare. I’m sorry I made you eat so much jell-O…that’s probably what caused that.”
“You think?”
The girl nodded and laughed again, before jumping up and climbing into Draco’s bed. “What are you doing?” Draco asked as she snuggled beneath the covers next to him.
“Whenever I have a nightmare I always stay with Mommy and Daddy. But I don’t think both of us will fit in my bed, so I’ll join you!”
“Okay…” Draco said, moving over slightly, thankful Butterscotch had gone back to Harry’s room with Crookshanks so he could have a pillow. “Night then, Hermione.”
“Good night, Draco.”
Minutes later, both were sound asleep, no more nightmares of jell-O monsters, just the image of the two unicorns underneath the sky.
LINE! LINE!
THUMP!
Draco groaned and looked up at his bed from the floor, wracking his brain to try and figure out how he managed to fall out of a queen sized bed. Reaching up, he felt for the comforter, but came away with nothing. Now curious, he stood up and felt a smile come to his face as well as a vein to his forehead.
Hermione was completely wrapped up in his blanket, and was directly in the middle of the bed, though it appeared she’d just rolled away after shoving the Slytherin out. “You’re lucky it’s about time for us to be up,” Draco growled softly.
Hermione mumbled something beneath her breath. “What?”
Sleepily, she cracked open an eye. “G’ morning, Draco.”
“What’d you just say?”
“Why are you on the floor?” she asked, ignoring Draco’s question and looking at the Slytherin.
“You shoved me out!”
“So that’s why I was thinking about monkeys,” Hermione grinned.
“How do I resemble a monkey?” Draco queried, clearly offended. He looked much better of a monkey, he was certain of it.
“Haven’t you ever heard of the monkeys jumping on the bed?” Draco shook his head. “Here, I’ll show you. Climb back up on the bed and stand up.”
Draco did so; thankful the ceiling was so high. “Now what?”
“We jump and I’ll recite the rhyme. Although we’re supposed to have five monkeys…oh well. Ready? Go!”
Feeling stupid, Draco began to jump lightly on the bed, his feet never leaving the comforter while Hermione tried to go as high as she could go. “FIVE LITTLE MONKEYS JUMPING ON THE BED! ONE FELL OFF AND BUMPED HIS HEAD! That’s where one of us is supposed to fall off but we’ll keep going until we get to two, okay?” Draco nodded. “SO MOMMA CALLED THE DOCTOR AND THE DOCTOR SAID: NO MORE MONKEYS JUMPING ON THE BED! You sing the next verse Draco. It’s just four…and jump higher!”
Extremely glad Harry wasn’t there, Draco began. “FOUR LITTLE MONKEYS JUMPING ON THE BED! ONE FELL OFF AND BUMPED HIS HEAD! SO MOMMA CALLED THE DOCOTOR AND THE DOCTOR SAID: NO MORE MONKEYS JUMPING ON THE BED!”
Hermione took over, both now jumping extremely high; Draco’s head nearly brushing the ceiling. “THREE LITTLE MONKEYS JUMPING ON THE BED! ONE FELL OFF AND BUMPED HIS HEAD! SO MOMMA CALLED THE DOCTOR AND THE DOCTOR SAID: NO MORE MONKEYS JUMPING ON THE BED!”
“TWO LITTLE MONKEYS JUMPING ON THE BED! ONE FELL-HEY!” Draco shouted as Hermione pushed him off, the boy’s unsteady momentum carrying him right over the edge.
“Keep singing!” she shouted back, still hopping madly around.
Grumbling, Draco did. “OFF AND BUMPED HIS POOR ACHING HEAD! HERMIONE IS EVIL AND WOULDN’T CALL THE DOCTOR, SO DRACO SAYS: NO MORE HERMIONE’S JUMPING ON MY BED!”
“THAT’S NOT HOW IT GOES!” Hermione shouted back.
“I CHANGED IT! NOW SING YOUR VERSE!”
“FINE! ONE LITTLE MONKEY JUMPING ON THE BED. ONE FELL OFF AND BUMPED HER HEAD!” Hermione flipped and landed on top of Draco. “SO MOMMA CALLED THE DOCTOR AND THE DOCTOR SAID: NO MORE MONKEYS JUMPING ON THE BED!”
“Is that how it ends?” came Draco’s muffled question, his face squashed into the carpeting.
“Nope, let me finish,” she exclaimed, climbing off. “NO LITTLE MONKEYS JUMPING ON THE BED! NONE FELL OFF AND BUMPED HIS (OR HER) HEAD. SO MOMMA CALLED THE DOCTOR AND THE DOCTOR SAID: PUT THOSE MONKEYS BACK IN BED! Come on Draco! Back we go!”
“Noooo,” the Slytherin moaned. “No more.”
“Bravo! That was great! And I got the entire thing on tape with pictures!”
Suddenly, Draco wasn’t so tired and content to lie on the ground. “GIVE ME THAT CAMERA, GINNY WEASLEY!”
The redhead laughed and darted nimbly out of Draco’s reach. “This is blackmail for life,” she crowed, sticking her camera (which was actually Harry’s) into her robe pocket.
“Who are you?” asked Hermione. She’d seen the girl briefly the previous night at dinner, but had never gotten the chance to speak to her.
“I’m Ginny, Ron’s younger sister and Harry’s girlfriend.”
“She’s also dead,” Draco growled, lunging again for the Gryffindor.
“Why are you so upset?” Ginny asked, once more dancing out of the way. “It’s cute. Besides, it’ll give me a smile for a long time.”
Draco snorted, and sat down on his bed, glaring at the redhead. “So, exactly what are you doing here?”
“I went up and saw Harry this morning…he informed me that you forgot his first-aid kit and I was to bring it down.”
“First aid kit?”
“For Care of Magical Creatures. You never know…speaking of which, shouldn’t you two be at breakfast? Classes start in fifteen minutes.”
Draco jumped to his feet, a look of wild panic in his eyes. “FIFTEEN MINUTES! YOU HAVE TO BE JOKING!”
“Look at your clock,” Ginny said calmly. Draco did so, and burst into a new round of hysterics.
“Okay, Ginny, ? Makesureshegetsdressed!Thanks!”
Not even giving Ginny a chance to reply, Draco tore from the room for the bathroom, a clean set of robes in hand. “What’d he say?” Ginny asked.
Hermione shrugged. “No idea.”
In record time, Draco was out of the shower and hauling Hermione down to the Great Hall, Ginny trailing behind as the packhorse with Draco’s bag, seeing as the Slytherin was carrying Hermione. “I can walk!” Hermione protested, stomach churning as she looked at the ground below. “Put me down!”
“Eat,” Draco commanded, setting the child down on the Slytherin bench.
“But my stomach hurts,” she moaned.
“Eat the food,” he growled, reaching over and pouring her a glass of orange juice.
Glaring, Hermione obeyed and peeled a banana, while Draco helped himself to a muffin and Ginny (arriving a minute later) grabbed a plate of toast. “Done?” Draco asked, glancing at the clock. They had three minutes to get all the way outside, down the hill, and to Hagrid’s cabin.
“Yup,” Hermione smiled, stuffing a last piece of toast she’d stolen from Ginny (who had left for her class a few minutes earlier) into her mouth.
“Hop onto my back and hold on tight, okay?” Draco asked, grabbing his book bag and draping it over his neck.
Eagerly, Hermione did so, so tight she nearly cut off Draco’s air supply. “Ready! Go pony, go!”
The Slytherin broke into a jog, which quickly turned into a sprint, Hermione’s shouts of ‘faster pony!’ actually working. Students stared at the odd spectacle, but decided to ignore asking if they were all right since they were also running late for their own classes.
“We…made…it,” Draco panted falling onto the grass next to Pansy, Hermione letting out a squeal as she went down.
“There you are!” Harry said cheerfully. “What took you so long?”
“Shut…up…Harry.”
“We were busy playing Monkeys Jumping on the Bed,” Hermione clarified, climbing off of Draco and going over to Blaise, who backed away and hid behind Neville. “What’s wrong with him?” Hermione asked, peering over Neville’s shoulder at the tiny Slytherin, but Blaise ducked out of site.
“Nothing’s wrong,” said Pansy. “Remember what we learned earlier in the year?” she asked, turning to Harry. “Bout Blaise? Well, because of that he doesn’t talk much…he hasn’t spoken more then four words in a sentence and he’s very shy.”
“I’m Hermione,” the girl said proudly, standing on Neville and hopping over his shoulder to stand next to Blaise. “Don’t worry, I just want to talk to you.”
“Hi, Hermione!” a little girl chirped, leaving Ron and Terry. “Hi, Blaise!”
Blaise merely looked at her, while Hermione gave her own hearty hello. “Do you know what we’re doing today?” Hermione asked. “I hope it’s dangerous!”
“Of course she’d hope that,” Harry chuckled.
“I hope it isn’t,” Lavender shuddered. “I don’t want to be eaten!”
“And it isn’t dangerous,” Hagrid beamed, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Yeh all are goin’ to be doin’ a make up lesson.”
“Make up?” Harry echoed. “Did we fail something?”
“Yeh all failed the Flobberworm unit,” the half-giant announced. “So, yeh get to do it again.”
Moans of protest rose, though Hagrid took no notice. “All yeh have ter do is feed ‘em. And don’ kill ‘em. The Flobberworms are righ’ here,” he said, pointing at a large trough of dirt. “An’ lettuce is next to ‘em. Get started!”
“This is so boring,” Draco groaned.
“At least it isn’t dangerous,” Harry pointed out. “I’ll go get the worm, you wait here with Mione.”
Hermione was actually sitting next to Lavender and playing a handclapping game, while Blaise watched, curiosity in his eyes though he still hung back.
A little while later, Draco and Harry were both lying on their stomachs next to the Flobberworm, stuffing lettuce down the poor thing’s throat. Blaise, miraculously, had asked in three words (Can I play?) if he could join them. So, Hermione had ducked out and Lavender was handclapping with the Slytherin.
Hermione sighed. She was bored. There was absolutely nothing to do. Wandering around the students, she peered into the trough, where several Flobberworms were covered in dirt. “You need a bath,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
Taking off her robe (now wearing a pair of blue jeans and a long sleeved purple shirt) Hermione placed each Flobberworm on the black material and wrapped it up. “Where am I going to find water?” she mused, grabbing the corners and tying them into a knot.
Her eyes spotted the lake; only a few minutes walk away. Making sure no one was watching, Hermione took off for the glistening water, worms clutched safely to her. “Here you go,” she smiled, dropping each worm into the water. “You’ll be clean in no time!”
After scrubbing each one, Hermione put them back on her cloak. “You need to dry,” she concluded. “I can’t put you back in that trough all wet; you’ll get dirty again!” Noticing a large boulder quite close to Hagrid’s house, the girl took off and clambered up on it, heat seeping into her fingers.
“This is perfect. Now, I’ll put you all right here, and come back in a few minutes to get you, kay?” After making certain each worm was completely on the hot rock, Hermione made her was back to Lavender and Blaise.
Unfortunately, she lost track of time as she doodled pictures in the dirt with a stick. “You’re pretty good, Blaise,” Lavender remarked, looking at the dog Blaise had drawn. “My horse is all messed up.”
“I love my rainbow,” Hermione beamed. “Although I wish I could color it…you can’t really tell it’s a rainbow.”
Hagrid’s shout drowned out whatever Lavender had been about to say. “WHERE’D THE FLOBBERWORMS GO?”
“Oops!” Hermione laughed. “I’ll go get them!”
Jumping to her feet, she raced over to the rock, face growing puzzled as the once green creatures were now a toasty looking brown. “I guess you got sunburned,” she observed. “Oh well, time for you to go back into the dirt.”
Reaching out to grab one, Hermione was surprised when the worm fell apart as soon as she touched it. “That can’t be good,” she muttered, noticing the same result with each of them. “Draco? Harry? Can you come here?”
The Gryffindor of the pair rose and made his way over to the rock. “What did you do?” he gasped, looking at the remains of the Flobberworms.
“They got too much sun! Can you put them back together?”
“They’re dead, Hermione.”
“They…died?” Tears came to the bright brown eyes. “I’m…a murderer?”
“No, you’re not a murderer!” Harry said, kneeling down next to her. “It was an accident…don’t worry, it’s all right.”
“But I killed them,” she sniffled. “They’re dead.”
“Hagrid will understand. Besides, they’re rather boring. No one’s going to miss them.”
Wrong thing to say, Harry.
“BUT I’LL MISS THEM!” she wailed. “I WANT THEM BACK!”
Lavender, although she didn’t know what Hermione was crying about took it up. “I MISS THEM TOO!”
“I KILLED THEM! I SHOULD DIE TOO!”
“KILLED WHAT?” Hagrid bellowed.
“It was an accident,” Harry said quickly. “Hermione killed the Flobberworms…she was trying to give them a bath.”
“Then we’ll have a funeral,” Hagrid said. “’Arry, dig a hole for their remains, I’ll go get a jar. Someone else, carve a gravestone.”
Hermione perked up. “Yay! A funeral! Do we get cookies?”
“Funerals are sad events,” said Draco, pulling out his wand and starting to burn a message into a piece of stone. “You shouldn’t cheer.”
“But at my Great Grandma Granger’s funeral, I never knew her, we had cookies and cake afterward.”
“Not here,” Draco said firmly. “You just ate breakfast anyways.”
“Everyone gather ‘round,” Hagrid said tearfully, standing by the hole Harry had dug, a pot with the dead Flobberworm pieces in his hands. “It’s time to say a short prayer for the Flobberworms; Henry, Squirmy, Daisy, Wriggler, Dirty, and Sam.”
“I’ll miss you!” Hermione cried, looking up at the jar. “And I’m sorry!”
“Your death was a great loss to us all,” Draco said, fighting to keep a straight face.
“Have fun in the afterlife!” said Lavender. “Say hi to my grandpa for me!”
Hagrid lowered the pot into the hole and Harry shoveled the dirt back over it. Draco handed Hagrid the gravestone, which read:
Rest in peace, Flobberworms.
Born?
Died: October 4th.
After that, Hagrid did produce his famous treacle tart and brownies, though Harry and Ron didn’t touch them, knowing Hagrid’s experience with cooking.
They had a rather quiet morning after that, since Hermione’s teeth were cemented together. But come afternoon, it would get very loud. That’s a promise.
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