Ficlet: Everything You Never Knew You Always Wanted
Title: Everything You Never Knew You Always Wanted
Rating and Word Count: PG, 757
Summary: Hermione has the fever, and Draco's next.
Notes: Written for the dramionedrabble "Welcome to My Nightmare" Halloween 2008 Challenge Day 2. Prompt: She just goes a little mad sometimes. We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven't you? --Psycho and #025 "Too Much" on my 100quills table.
Poking his head inside the library, Draco spotted his wife hunched over the ornate desk his father had given her as a wedding present.
“Hermione!” he barked, marching into her sanctuary. She whirled to face him, blanching as she noticed the brown-paper wrapped package Draco was carrying.
“What is this?” he demanded, shaking the box in her direction. “You got more post, despite the fact that you said you were going to stop. What have you bought now? What is...wait,” he paused in mid-tirade when he saw the strange yellow box behind Hermione. “What is that?
Made from Muggle “plastics” and covered in apparently pointless decals, it perched incongruously on the antique desktop. It was lit faintly from within and making a faint ticking sound. He inhaled sharply when he saw steam coming from a slot on one side and noticed a strange odor that he blamed on the device as well.
Hermione turned pink and mumbled something unintelligible.
“It's what?” he asked.
“It's an Easy-Bake Oven,” she said clearly, lifting her chin. “It's just like the one I had when I was little, the one my mother and I played with all the time.” She gave the box an approving pat. “When I saw it, I had to have it.”
Draco decided to ignore the strange Muggle appliance for the time being. “This is what I'm talking about. It has to stop.” Hermione refused to look at him. “You're worrying me. I know we all go a little mad sometimes, but exactly how much are you spending?” He was dismayed by the way Hermione promptly hid behind her hair-always a sign of a guilty conscience with his bride.
He held up his hand and began ticking off on his fingers. “This week alone I know you've bought more books, more handbags, that weird stone frog that's now in the back garden, this toy--” he pointed one accusing finger at the oven “--and a set of six antique egg cups. Oh, and whatever this is!” He held up the package and tore one end of the brown paper off.
“That's supposed to be a surprise!” Hermione tried to wrestle the box out of his arms.
“Oh, really?” He grunted when she deliberately stomped on his instep. “What's the surprise? Is it that the Malfoys are drifting into poverty because of your spending habits?”
“I'm not that bad!” She struggled to pry his fingers open. “Oh, fine!” Changing tactics, she shoved the box at him and stormed around to the other side of her desk. Throwing herself down in her chair, Hermione glared up at him from over the top of the Easy-Bake Oven. “Open it, then. It's for you anyway.”
Ignoring her mutinous expression, Draco tore off the brown paper and opened the box within. Peeling back the tissue paper, he paused at the sight of a supple black leather coat. Fingering the lapel, he pulled the coat open and saw the brilliant blue and white lining-like the Swedish flag. “What is--” he lifted the coat completely out of the box and raised his eyebrows at the shining Snitch embroidered on the back. It was covered in a dozen signatures.
“It's a 2000 Quidditch World Cup Commemorative Millennium jacket signed by the entire winning Swedish team.”
Draco stared at her, flabbergasted.
“If you don't believe me, check the box again. There's supposed to be a Certificate of Authenticity in there.”
Unable to help himself, Draco tried the coat on. “It's pristine,” he murmured, running his hands over his forearms.
“It should be,” a hint of excitement crept into Hermione's voice. “It's been in a warded box in the seller's smoke-free, pet-free home since the game.”
Draco slipped his hands into the coat pockets. “I thought this was a Muggle store.”
“There are plenty of wizards there if you know where to look.” She twirled a long brown curl around her finger and blinked innocently. “They sell family amulets, potion ingredients, cauldrons, rare brooms--” his eyes widened “--professional quidditch memorabilia--” he coughed slightly “--all sorts of things.”
“Um, could I see? Just to take a look, not to buy anything,” he clarified quickly.
“Sure.” Hermione swiveled her chair toward her computer and pulled up the Internet. As the brilliant eBay logo popped up, she felt Draco lean over the back of her chair and suppressed a smile.
Rating and Word Count: PG, 757
Summary: Hermione has the fever, and Draco's next.
Notes: Written for the dramionedrabble "Welcome to My Nightmare" Halloween 2008 Challenge Day 2. Prompt: She just goes a little mad sometimes. We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven't you? --Psycho and #025 "Too Much" on my 100quills table.
Poking his head inside the library, Draco spotted his wife hunched over the ornate desk his father had given her as a wedding present.
“Hermione!” he barked, marching into her sanctuary. She whirled to face him, blanching as she noticed the brown-paper wrapped package Draco was carrying.
“What is this?” he demanded, shaking the box in her direction. “You got more post, despite the fact that you said you were going to stop. What have you bought now? What is...wait,” he paused in mid-tirade when he saw the strange yellow box behind Hermione. “What is that?
Made from Muggle “plastics” and covered in apparently pointless decals, it perched incongruously on the antique desktop. It was lit faintly from within and making a faint ticking sound. He inhaled sharply when he saw steam coming from a slot on one side and noticed a strange odor that he blamed on the device as well.
Hermione turned pink and mumbled something unintelligible.
“It's what?” he asked.
“It's an Easy-Bake Oven,” she said clearly, lifting her chin. “It's just like the one I had when I was little, the one my mother and I played with all the time.” She gave the box an approving pat. “When I saw it, I had to have it.”
Draco decided to ignore the strange Muggle appliance for the time being. “This is what I'm talking about. It has to stop.” Hermione refused to look at him. “You're worrying me. I know we all go a little mad sometimes, but exactly how much are you spending?” He was dismayed by the way Hermione promptly hid behind her hair-always a sign of a guilty conscience with his bride.
He held up his hand and began ticking off on his fingers. “This week alone I know you've bought more books, more handbags, that weird stone frog that's now in the back garden, this toy--” he pointed one accusing finger at the oven “--and a set of six antique egg cups. Oh, and whatever this is!” He held up the package and tore one end of the brown paper off.
“That's supposed to be a surprise!” Hermione tried to wrestle the box out of his arms.
“Oh, really?” He grunted when she deliberately stomped on his instep. “What's the surprise? Is it that the Malfoys are drifting into poverty because of your spending habits?”
“I'm not that bad!” She struggled to pry his fingers open. “Oh, fine!” Changing tactics, she shoved the box at him and stormed around to the other side of her desk. Throwing herself down in her chair, Hermione glared up at him from over the top of the Easy-Bake Oven. “Open it, then. It's for you anyway.”
Ignoring her mutinous expression, Draco tore off the brown paper and opened the box within. Peeling back the tissue paper, he paused at the sight of a supple black leather coat. Fingering the lapel, he pulled the coat open and saw the brilliant blue and white lining-like the Swedish flag. “What is--” he lifted the coat completely out of the box and raised his eyebrows at the shining Snitch embroidered on the back. It was covered in a dozen signatures.
“It's a 2000 Quidditch World Cup Commemorative Millennium jacket signed by the entire winning Swedish team.”
Draco stared at her, flabbergasted.
“If you don't believe me, check the box again. There's supposed to be a Certificate of Authenticity in there.”
Unable to help himself, Draco tried the coat on. “It's pristine,” he murmured, running his hands over his forearms.
“It should be,” a hint of excitement crept into Hermione's voice. “It's been in a warded box in the seller's smoke-free, pet-free home since the game.”
Draco slipped his hands into the coat pockets. “I thought this was a Muggle store.”
“There are plenty of wizards there if you know where to look.” She twirled a long brown curl around her finger and blinked innocently. “They sell family amulets, potion ingredients, cauldrons, rare brooms--” his eyes widened “--professional quidditch memorabilia--” he coughed slightly “--all sorts of things.”
“Um, could I see? Just to take a look, not to buy anything,” he clarified quickly.
“Sure.” Hermione swiveled her chair toward her computer and pulled up the Internet. As the brilliant eBay logo popped up, she felt Draco lean over the back of her chair and suppressed a smile.