Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Let There Be No More Curse	By : lexiatel Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 61015 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to Jk Rowling, I do not make any profit in writing this story what so ever, I am just having some fun.

Chapter List
- 39
- 40
- 41
Hermione looked from her daughter to Draco in mild irritation. She narrowed her eyes, upset with Draco over the performance he was currently doing. By the way he was acting, she had been so worried that something was absolutely wrong with their daughter. Something serious. Something… fatal.
But this? A Squib? That was it? That was all? Draco was on his knees, freaking out, all because Talli had no magic properties flowing through her veins?
Why should Hermione expect anything different with Draco though, a Pureblood, through and through.
But still! He was overreacting, if just a bit…!
"Get up, Draco," she demanded softly, putting the baby back into her crib. "You have no idea how concerned I was. You had me thinking the worst." Her voice was a little shaken caused by the anger she was holding inside in conjunction of the fear from moments before. "A Squib?" she hissed. "That's what has you on your knees, acting as if the world has come to an end?!"
His head snapped up, face red from actual crying. "This will ruin us!" he wailed.
One of Hermione's eyebrows lifted up. "Us?" she questioned. "How will our daughter being a Squib ruin us at all? We're both smart, we're each successful, we have two amazing children, and we all love each other. We're never hungry, we're quite wealthy, and last I knew, there's no such thing as a tax for having a Squib as a child, nor is it a crime."
His shoulders slumped, thinking her words over. "What I said might have come out wrong…" he admitted. "I didn't mean it like that—"
"I know what you meant," Hermione said, sighing, glancing at Talli. "How would they know anyway! It takes a while for a child to show any sort of magical attributes!" she huffed and bent down, picking up the letter that Draco had discarded when he felt the need to hold Talli. She looked the letter over, reading the words that explained why Talli was not a magical baby.
She rolled her eyes. It was just typical of Draco— of most people really. "Love, did you even read this entire letter?"
"Of course!" he said, slightly insulted by her question.
"So then, you just assumed the worst?"
"They say she is eighty-seven percent Squib!"
"Giving her thirteen percent chance of being a witch."
"Yes, but, you read it! They say that Talli has no signs of a magical core—"
"The letter also says that this is new technology, and it may not be quite accurate for babies like Talli."
"I—" Draco stood up, a small light of hope shined in his eyes. "It does?"
"So you just skimmed over this part?"
He looked a little guilty. "I sort of panicked after the 'We believe your daughter is a Squib,' bit."
"Even if she is— which we won't know for several years— we'll manage," Hermione assured him. But then she bit her lip, thinking. "We should prepare her for it though, just in case. She might end up being very different, and we don't want her feeling left out. I remember what it was like being different. I can only imagine what she's going to feel if she's the only one in the family who can't even do a simple nox out."
"What about our reputation?" Draco asked.
"Your family's reputation didn't get ruined when you got bonded to a Muggleborn—"
"Oh, but this is so much different, Hermione!"
"Are we really going to be shunned from society over having a child who can't cast magic?" she asked doubtfully. "Seems rather harsh, and this isn't the 60s anymore, you know."
"Hermione," Draco addressed firmly, but gently, "Squibs are the Muggleborns of the Muggle world in the Wizarding one— they're freaks, and people consider their family the same way. Hell, it wasn't that long ago where one family literally sent their eleven-year-old son— their only heir— to some Muggle orphanage because his letter to Hogwarts had never arrived!"
Hermione's hands went to her hips. "Let me make myself clear to you: I am not going to throw my daughter away like she's some piece of rubbish, all because she can't do magic—"
"No!" Draco sputtered out quickly. "Oh, Merlin, Mione! I would never do that to Tallistar. No. I would relocate before that! No matter what, she's my baby— our daughter— I would not get rid of her! Never."
Hermione sighed in relief and threw her arms around her fiancé. "Then we'll all be fine."
"But what will happen to her?" he asked worriedly. "I mean… if she is a Squib…?"
"We'll love her and help her with her lack of magic, and she'll grow up strong and perfect!" Hermione told him encouragingly.
"What if she turns out like Filch? Angry, mean, and terribly abusive?"
Hermione pulled from him, seeing that his face had paled at the thought. "She would never turn out like Filch! Talli has a family who supports and loves her! Oh, Draco, you need to relax! Talli will be just fine! Witch or Squib!"
*/*
Scorpius didn't understand what was going on, but he didn't fail to notice that his parents (Derbla mostly) were overly worrying about Talli. They spent more time with her too, sometimes hardly even acknowledging Scorpius, though it was only for short moments at a time. But he didn't sense anything wrong with his baby sister, and he had his own things to worry about, so a lot of times, he barely acknowledged them too, lost in his thoughts.
Everyday after his birthday, after finding the necklace, Scorpius had been busy trying to come up with a way to get back to Diagon Alley in hopes to see the sick man again, but neither Mina nor Derbla needed to go. They had all they needed at home. So then Scorpius got a little desperate, realizing he had to do anything to save that man with the blue hair.
Nearly two weeks passed before he came up with a plan that actually worked. He felt a little guilty for what he had done, but it was for a good cause, he decided. And as long as no one ever knew, no one would end up feeling bad. Well, no one besides himself anyway.
That day, when he set his plan in motion, Talli was screeching unhappily as Derbla changed her nappy. Scorpius watched his father talk to her, trying to soothe her cries, but Talli hated being icky and poopy, so it wouldn't matter what Derbla did, she'd still cry until she was dry and clean.
Scorpius sat at Derbla's feet, playing with the hems of his slacks.
"Watch out, Chomper," Derbla warned him when he took a step away from the changing table, distracted with trying to calm down Talli. Scorpius followed his father over to the rocking chair where he sat down and began rocking the baby, rubbing her back.
"Hot," Scorpius told Derbla, letting the chair tap his outstretched hand when it came forward with each rock.
"Scorpius, don't mess with the chair. It can smash your fingers. Stay out of the way of it, son."
"Hot!" Scorpius repeated more firmly. "Uck, Derbla!" he said, brushing his messy hair out from his eyes.
Derbla brought the chair to a slow stop and felt Scorpius's forehead. "You're not running a temp, and it's quite cool in here."
"Hot, hot, hot!"
"Settle down," his father scolded, eyeing Talli over in concern. She had been drifting off to sleep until Scorpius did that. Derbla sighed. "Chomper, you have to be quiet right now; Talli's tired!"
Scorpius sat back pouting, but he waited, impatiently, fidgeting in his place, watching his father and sister. "Now?" the baby asked every so often just to remind Derbla that he was there.
"Okay, now," his father finally said, putting Talli into her crib to sleep. He then picked up a smiling Scorpius and carried him out of the room, making sure to cast a spell so they could hear when Talli was to wake from her nap.
"Hot."
"Maybe some ice cream will cool you down," Derbla offered, misunderstanding Scorpius.
"High, fur!" Scorpius said, pulling at his hair.
"When did that pull loose?" his father asked, eventually noticing that Scorpius's mane of hair was all over the place, out of the tie that Mina had put it in that morning. "Gosh, chomper, your hair may look like a Malfoy's, but it is becoming as wild as your Mother's!" He set the boy down and began bunching it up, grunting as Scorpius wiggled this way and that, unable to hold still.
"Yes! High, fur!" Scorpius agreed. "High hair! Hot!"
"Is that what you mean?" Derbla finally clued in. "Your long hair is making you too hot?"
"Yes!" Scorpius clapped excitedly, happy that his father knew what he was trying to tell him.
"Alright, then," Derbla said definitively. "I've been putting it off for a while now. I apologize, things here are just a mess right now, but I'll arrange you a visit to the Clipper."
Even though Scorpius honestly liked his hair the way it was, he was smiling, all because he'd get to go back to Diagon Alley now!
*/*
"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Draco asked one last time. Hermione was surrounded by several books with a stack of letters and blank parchment in front of her. She was writing with a quill, mumbling under her breath.
"I just can't, Draco, I got so many responses, and so many of them aren't written in English or French. I hadn't expect that— I should have expected it, why didn't I?! Of course house-elves around the world would need help! How bigoted am I?!"
The poor woman looked worn out, feeling as if she had personally promised to help each and every house-elf in existence, now using an abundance of books to learn new languages. "I don't even know what language this one is!" she cried out frantically, waving a piece of parchment into the air.
Draco said nothing, having earlier warned her to wait until after their wedding before starting on the campaign to give house-elves more rights. She only started less than a week ago and had gotten hundreds of letters both from supporters and opposers. Some of those letters had even been addressed to himself, chewing him out for becoming more 'liberated', all thanks to his 'murky' wife.
He threw those ones away. Actually, he burnt them, as it was much more satisfying to watch. Draco supported Hermione's cause. She was absolutely right: house-elves shouldn't be treated like they were crud. Toogy was family, and the other house-elves who had been in his life were his friends. They deserved to be treated a lot better than they were, especially since many of them would sacrifice themselves for their masters— for practically any human, now that Draco thought of it. It wasn't right that goblins got more privileges than house-elves.
"Oh, love," Hermione called out when Draco turned to leave her to her business.
"Yes?"
"I would very much love a lock of Scorpy's hair after his cutting. And would you film it—"
"I already thought of that, sweetheart." He kissed the top of her clammy head.
"Thank you, Draco," she murmured, sighing. "You're the best."
And before he could reply, she was opening up a book on the Brazilian language.
"Come on, chomper," Draco said when he got to the nursery where the babies were. He picked him up, and set him at his hip, then picked up Talli in her child's seat, filling both his arms.
"Thanks, Toog," he told the house-elf who had offered to watch them while Draco spoke with Hermione. "Mother should be here in just a moment."
"Oh, it's no problem at all, Master! Toogy loves the babies. Miss Talli is so very cute, and Young Scorpius is fun to plays with!"
"And I'm sure you have other things to do besides watch two little children all day."
"Oh, but Toogy loves it! Toogy loves babies, sir!"
Draco had been on his way to the flooing room when he stopped in his tracks, a realization hitting him. "Toog…" he addressed slowly, slightly guilty for not thinking of it before now. "Is there anyway to track your daughter down? To see her again?"
Her eyes watered a little. "Toogy hopes Master won't get upset, but Toogy tried, yes."
"Of course I wouldn't get mad, Toogy!"
The elf looked at the floor of her feet. "Toogy took the years while Master was at school and didn't need Toogy for much. Toogy searched and searched…" her voice broke off, and a sobbed escaped her throat.
Draco set Talli and Scorpius down to free his hands and tapped his elf on the shoulder. Obviously, Toogy gave up hope in finding her daughter. Or… Draco swallowed hard. Or little Toogy had found her daughter…
"No cry!" Scorpius said, hugging Toogy. "Tootie, no cry!"
Toogy laughed then, sniffing heavily. "Oh, Young Scorpius, you are so sweet, so much like your father."
"Yes, Derbla!" Scorpius agreed, smiling wide at Draco who pet back his messy hair.
"Toogy's daughter died, Master," Toogy informed him quietly, with forced strength to her voice. "Toogy's daughter died in the war, sir."
Draco nodded slowly. His curious mind wondered which side she died fighting on, but he thought it was better not to ask. Better not to know.
"Your mother is at the Floo," Toogy announced then, popping off, leaving Draco standing there in immense relief that the conversation didn't have to go any further.
He continued down to meet his mother, who took no time at all to first take Scorpius from him and plant several kisses everywhere on his face, making the baby burst out into giggles before giving him back to Draco and doing the same with Talli.
"Murmada!" Scorpius squealed out his name for his grandmother.
"Grandmother loves you so much!" Mother told Scorpius. She then handed the boy a blue lollipop.
"Mine!" Scorpius said happily.
"We'll be gone for an hour or so. Mione's busy in the study room; I would stay clear from there."
"Take all the time you need," Mother told him, bouncing Talli gently in her arms.
"Mooma!" the baby hummed, liking how her voice sounded while being bounced.
Draco looked at his daughter, frowning. He had yet to tell his parents of her possible condition yet. Mother would probably handle it better than his father. He dreaded when Father found out, as the man had been raised as a strict Pureblood. Draco and his father had been getting along so well these last few months, and he knew this would dampen their relationship severely. The day that Lucius Malfoy found out that Talli was most likely a Squib was going to be a nightmare.
"Something wrong, honey?" Mother asked softly, eying him over.
"I'll tell you later," he promised. "I have to get to the appointment." He kissed his daughter and told her he loved her, and Mother sneaked a kiss to his own cheek, giggling when he gave her a dirty look for doing it.
"Love you, Draco," she said triumphantly.
"Love you too, Mother," he grumbled, though Draco smiled once he had turned around. He'd never admit it to anyone, but he did love his Mother's kisses.
"Hold still, chomper," Draco pleaded the boy when they got to the Clipper's. Scorpius was not cooperating at all, moving this way and that in a raised chair, appearing to be looking for something.
"Sick!"
"You're not sick," Draco told him, growing impatient when Faucheux (the Clipper) sent him an annoyed look.
"If you can not get your child to be still, I will be forced to do it myself," Faucheux said in his French accent.
"Sorry," Draco hastily said, knowing how serious the man took his job. He was strict, but very good at his job. Draco had been using him since he was a young teen.
"You leave me no choice, son," Draco said regrettably, freezing his son's neck in place so he couldn't move it.
"Ack?!" Scorpius demanded. "Nada!"
"It'll be over before you know it," Draco told him, and then instructed Faucheux to cut Scorpius's hair into layers but to also get rid of the unnecessary length of it.
Scorpius started fussing; he didn't like that he couldn't move his neck. Draco tried distracting him with a book, but the boy didn't want anything to do with it. By the time Faucheux was finished, Scorpius was wailing so loud that Draco was sure the people outside the building could hear.
"I do apologize," Draco said to Faucheux when the cutting was finally over. "He's normally not like this."
"Like father like son," the man replied with a smirk, accepting Draco's hefty tip.
"You didn't cut my hair when I was little, how would you know?"
"My mother did though," Faucheux explained with a chuckle. "I was around for most of the clippings she did. And I remember, you were what she called a cauchemar, and I agreed with her. Your mother refused to put you in any restraints though. It made the job tiresome, but your family were always good tippers, so my dear mother never complained— outwardly."
"It's not that I like restraining my child." Draco frowned, wondering if perhaps he reacted the wrong way. Scorpius was no longer in a fit, looking out the window that allowed people to see the busy streets of Diagon Alley. He was standing at Draco's feet with a finger in his mouth, drool was pouring out of it, making Draco sigh and dig out a rag to wipe him down.
"Here's your souvenir, Mr. Malfoy." Faucheux held up a fancy looking pouch that contained plenty of Scorpius's hair from his first cutting.
"Thank you," Draco said, smiling down at Scorpius's new hairstyle. About five inches had been removed. It looked much more comfortable for the boy to move around with.
"I shall expect you in about seven months?"
Draco nodded. "About that, yes, though, it depends on how fast his hair grows."
"Three months then," Faucheux teased. "It doesn't look it, but he does have a bit of his Mother's hair in that mix. Silky when at an appropriate length and styled, yet frizzy if kept naturally flowing."
"Unfortunately," Draco muttered, slightly amused.
"Oh, but it's a beautiful combination; the girls will go crazy for him."
"Not for many years to come." Draco felt Scorpius tugged at him.
"Sick!" The boy was pointing. "Sick!" he squealed excitedly, trying to pull loose from Draco's hold.
When looking up to see what his son was interested in, Draco saw a man with long, blue and thick fur-like hair approach the Clipper's door, crashing it open.
"Clovis!" the man hollered, making Draco jump. "You said— You said it'd work!" Draco hauled Scorpius into his arms and darted out of the man's way as he stormed up to the counter, anger shining in his bright, blue eyes. "It didn't! I spent nearly nine hundred Galleons on your bloody product, and you promised guaranteed satisfaction! Well, Clovis, mate, I'm not satisfied!"
Faucheux didn't appear to be affected by the man's outburst. He remained calm and spoke with the same tone he just had with Draco, "Esav, I keep telling you that your problem is out of my hands, I only said the product would be guaranteed satisfaction if you first went to a Healer to see what is causing your problem and if it really is something that my profession could cure."
"I have been to a Healer— multiple ones, different ones! Each of them has said that this blue hair is not caused by anything they can handle, and every one of them has referred me to a Clipper! Now I'm tired of being called a Smurf—"
Faucheux let out a snort. "Now, Esav, who has really called you a Smurf?"
Esav relaxed some. "Well, only my nephew, he's five, but Clovis, you should see what a Smurf is, it's these little blue men, they kind of remind you of dwarves—"
"I actually pictured them more as elves—"
"So you know of them?"
"My daughter loves The Smurfs."
"Well, I don't want to walk around with this bloody hair anymore! And I'm tired of the itching!" Esav frantically scratched at his head, using both hands. "Now please, Clovis, they said it's a hair problem; fix it!"
"The itching implies a problem with the sculp, not the hair. Now… I've tried giving you things to make your hair stop growing and turning blue, but Esav, I don't think I can help you any further."
"So I'm just stuck like this?!"
Faucheux gave a sympathetic shrug. "No one knows what's causing your problem, mate. I'm sorry. I'll give you the money back for the tree worm oil though."
"I just…" Esav was hopeless. "I can't… I can't live like this anymore…"
"Hep!" Scorpius said from Draco's arms. He was nibbling on the amulet. Draco gently removed it from his mouth, but Scorpius just put it right back in.
"This is a priceless family heirloom—" Draco started to lecture the boy, not being the first time he had done so, but he was interrupted by the man with blue hair.
"Oh, you again?"
The man was actually smiling. Draco had to keep himself from backing up as he approached them with his arms out.
"Can't I hold him again? Scorpius, yes, I remember your name: the Malfoy heir."
"You've held him before?" Draco asked, having trouble keeping his son secure in his arms. Scorpius seemed to like the man as much as the man liked him.
"Sick, Derbla!" Scorpius said, smacking at his father's forearm in protest to Draco wanting to keep his son from the stranger.
"Miss Granger didn't tell you? Oh, but it was in the paper too—"
"No it wasn't," Draco argued firmly, taking a step back.
"It was! The Quibbler! The Prophet would never report your son with a… well, with someone with my condition, anyway. They would never make little Scorpius look bad!"
"Sick!" Scorpius said to Draco, pointing at the man. And then Draco remembered when his son first asked about the necklace, which later ended up being the amulet. And the story Hermione told about Scorpius breaking out of his pushchair and going up to a stranger— a stranger with blue hair.
And his son insisting that he had to help a man with blue hair.
Draco looked at Scorpius who was staring at him with near matching coloured eyes, drool dripping down his chin, the amulet hanging from his mouth, as if he were a dog with a bone.
"Alright," he finally said, considering himself crazy mad for trusting his gut for what he was about to do. "Scorpius wants you to hold him; if you're still willing?"
Esav smiled widely, and he nodded, taking Scorpius from Draco. "Hi, there, little one. You remember me, don't ya?"
"Yes!" Scorpius said, finding the man's ear interesting, looking at it and touching it.
Esav laughed. "That tickles!"
"Tick!" Scorpius then tugged at Esav's hair and put a bit of it into his mouth.
"Scorpius!" Draco demanded, suddenly thinking that what this man had could be contagious. "Don't do that!"
But then Draco thought that if it was contagious, Scorpius should have whatever Esav had already. No doubt Scorpius had gummed some of the blue hair the last time he had been with Esav; he seriously had a thing for hair, no matter if it came from person or animal.
A scream of pain filled the room then. Draco hastily grabbed Scorpius from Esav who was clutching his ear.
"What's wrong?!" Faucheux asked, rounding the counter to assist Esav.
"It's hurts!" the man with blue hair cried out. "It's like my ear is being torn apart!"
Draco's eyes widened, and he backed up, bumping into a chair, nearly tripping over it. Something was wiggling in the gaps of Esav's fingers. And as the man continued to scream in excruciating agony, the thing became more visible, now thrashing its way out from between his fingers.
There was a thunk when it hit the floor, gravity taking control of it, Draco was able to hear the hideous sound even with all the surrounding noise. He curled his lip up in disgust, watching the large, green, worm-like creature— bigger than a fishing worm (the type they call nightcrawlers)— flop around in its place.
*/*
"A what?" Hermione looked up from her work, an odd look on her face.
"A hideous worm-looking thing. I have never seen that type before. The worm's body was bigger than the size of his earhole. I felt real awful for him, he was bleeding a lot after that; the worm literally tore him apart when it was crawling out of it. Amazingly though, Esav's hair immediately shortened, and the blue went away! He actually has really dark and straight hair."
"Oh gosh," Hermione said. "That poor man! I've never heard of a worm doing that— itchy head, long, blue, animal-like hair…?"
"Neither have I. So I collected it into a jar, and I told Faucheux to have Esav take it to Lovegood when he got the chance. That's her type of thing, she knows all about rare, extinct and unheard of creatures."
"Indeed she does," Hermione agreed, setting her quill down to pick up Scorpius who was at her knees, tapping at them for attention. "We can't just have a normal day anymore in Diagon Alley, can we?"
"Guess not…"
"Faucheux did a wonderful job on his hair, Draco." Hermione brushed her hand through their son's feathery, soft hair. "It almost matches yours."
"I did that on purpose," he told her with a smile.
"I figured so."
"Mow fur!" Scorpius said, pulling at a bunch of his hair, proudly showing it off.
"Yes," Hermione laughed, "It's much shorter now!"
*/*
"Would it be alright if Draco and I excuse ourselves from the table a little early?" Lucius asked. He and his wife were over for dinner, but now he had an important detail to discuss with his son.
"Of course, you two go on, I'll take care of this mess here," Hermione said, picking up her plate.
"And I'll help," Narcissa added quickly to busy herself.
"We'll clean up after the little ones then," Draco offered, tak8ng Talitha in her child seat.
"Excuse me; we?" Lucius questioned with a raised brow. He hadn't cleaned up after a baby since Draco was little, and even then, the house elves had done most of the clean up work.
"You talk, I'll clean," his son said, escorting Scorpius out of the kitchen by the hand. The tot's hand was messy from his mashed vegetables, but Draco didn't seem to mind nor notice.
Lucius was impressed, his son had come a long way.
He followed the trio up to the room that Draco and Hermione had converted into a nursery, and walked into the bathroom off of it. Draco appeared to have some sort of routine down, undressing both children without any trouble, and setting them each into the large tub where he sat down on his knees at the edge, washing each one of them: Talitha in a pink baby bath, and Scorpius near it, Draco making him sit on his bottom.
"What was it that you wanted to talk about?"
Lucius rolled his eyes. "Really, I don't think now is the time, not while you're playing with a… what is that anyway?"
"This?" Draco squeezed the body of a yellow toy, making it squeak. The children loved it, laughing loudly.
"More!" Scorpius pleaded, slapping at the water.
"Moog!" Talitha gaggled.
"Yes, that. If I had know that it was capable of such an obnoxious sound, I would not have asked!"
Draco snickered, amused with his father. "It's a rubber ducky!"
"Dooky! Sing, Derbla!"
"No." Draco's face turned Gryffindor red. "I'm not going to sing that song!" He avoided Lucius's eyes for a short bit.
"Danpada, read!" Scorpius said when he was dressed for bed. He had toddled up with a book, setting it into Lucius's lap and climbing up onto the sofa next to him.
"I'm off duty, boy," the man said dryly, even though he was opening it up to begin. "Alright, but let's get Talitha here too. It would be unfair for her not to see the pictures to this… Muggle storybook."
Draco set the baby into Lucius's arms, and the grandfather took a moment to look at her precious, happy face. "You do not cry as much as your brother did," he told her.
Talitha grinned and lifted up a foot. Then she burped.
"So lady like you are."
"Abah!"
"Danpada!" Scorpius stood up to his feet next to Lucius, tapping his shoulder with the book.
"Alright," Lucius told the boy. "Sit down then, and I'll read you… Chicka Chicka…" He looked up at Draco who appeared to be holding back a laugh. "Boom Boom?"
"Hermione's doing, not mine," his son chuckled.
When the story was over, Draco put a yawning Talitha into her crib in his and Hermione's room, and they piled into Scorpius's room, tucking him into bed too. Hermione came by to kiss the boy good night, allowing the men to find a place to talk privately in.
"The wedding gift," Lucius started immediately, having been patient enough all night to wait before he could discuss it. "Have you started thinking about it at all?"
Draco sighed. "Of course I have… but, you know Hermione, she's so… hard to shop for, short of a book, and then go and try finding one she doesn't already own."
"Perhaps a custom one then? I was going to suggest a unicorn."
"No… that doesn't suit her at all."
"Maybe you can seek a Muggle who makes snow globes. I think that would… show a lot to both she and your mother."
His son sent him a look that made Lucius believe that he had shocked him. Lucius shrugged. "The goal is to keep your wife happy, what better than to mix a little of her blood history in with yours."
"It's a brilliant idea, Father," Draco praised. "I quite like it— love it, really! Thank you!"
Lucius nodded. "Of course, it is my duty to assist you with this, after all."
"So are you going to come with me to the Muggle world and search for the perfect snow globe for the future Mrs. Malfoy?"
"Don't press your luck, son."
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Let There Be No More Curse