Mums Know Best
Title: Mum Knows Best
Author: kansol_encore
Rating: G
Word Count: 745
Notes/Warning: Halloween2011, prompt two, faux princesses
A person of short stature burst through a set of antique Oak doors. She skidded clumsily hedging off a collision with a gleaming chrome desk, inhaling and exhaling in animated breaths. This little person had news of the most excellent sort, and the only obstacle erroneously defying her, the desk, would be easily overtaken. Well, the desk and her bubbling excitement which at any second, threatened to explode and coat the floor in glitter.
Underage magic had never been more sparkly.
Taking a moment to collect herself as she had been taught, "young ladies must never act in haste" the little girl readjusted her floral robes and patted her untidy mop of auburn hair down to a level her grandmother would casually deem “a semblance of propriety.”
Calmly, she walked around the desk tracing its contours with a gooey hand, and a brilliant smile crowding her dainty features.
“PAPA!”
The father in question had since abandoned his work, the loud scurrying outside the study entrance alerting him to his exuberant first child. Draco swiveled the chair to face his daughter.
He was putty.
“Yes, Rosie?”
Rosalind Lyra Malfoy beamed. “Papa! Ask me a question!”
But, still a Slytherin.
“I believe I did just ask you a question.”
“But it wasn’t the right one!” She stressed, “Give it a try. Ask another, please?”
“Alright. What’s for dinner?”
Rosie sighed. Her father just didn’t get it. “Do you need a clue?”
Her astute frankness reminded him of his wife, no doubt an accomplice with her fingerprints all over the cauldron. “Your assistance would be immensely appreciated,” Draco conceded, finally accepting the gravity of the situation.
“Okay, ask me ‘what am I going to be for Halloween?’”
“That was quite the clue, my darling girl,” he said confirming ‘Gryffindor’ in his head. Unperturbed, he went on, “Whatever shall you be for Halloween?”
If possible Rosalind’s smile tripled in size, her chocolate irises barely visible.
“A princess!” She declared very loudly, jumping up and down, thrilled at her own good fortune. “Isn’t it wonderful?” she asked, innately seeking his approval.
Draco picked his daughter up and sat her on his knee, “I’m certain it’s the best news I’ve received all year. Tell me, shall you be Cassiopeia or perhaps Morgana? Maybe even Calypso or even Amalthea?” He was confident that his bookish wife had taken the opportunity to immerse their child in the rich and vibrant culture presented within the magical community, and he was wrong on all accounts.
“No, Papa. I’m going to be Cinderella!”
The muggle commoner?
“And I’d like pumpkins and a glass slipper-two pairs incase one breaks-a bit of lace, pink,” she paused from compiling her lengthy list, “maybe the elves could play dress up and help? Or I could get a pet mouse?” Her mind apparently whirling as her imagination took over. One thing was certain. “It’s going to be brills, Papa. I know it.”
Stars were shining in her eyes. Rosie grabbed her father’s cheeks.
“And best of all, I want you to be my fairy god-mother.”
Draco spurted, then coughed, and finally wheezed out around a choking sound, “Perhaps your mother ought to…should be your fairy god-mother, no? And I’ll be your dashing knight in armor to rescue you from your Uncle Charlie’s dragon?” The best Weasley was still, the farthest one away.
Though her mind was fixed, Rosalind considered her father’s words. Jumping down from his lap, she turned to him, “I’ll ask Mummy.”
Racing away, she returned even faster with a reply.
“Mum says that you’re a chauffeur-”
“Chauvinist.”
“-and that men and ladies shouldn’t be force to keep their antique and,” she stumbled over the word, “mis-o-gist-ness general roles because some people can’t embrace change.” Satisfied, she thought over her mother’s message, tiny gears turning, “and are gits!”
Draco thought over his daughter’s painstakingly minced message. From all appearances, Hermione Malfoy was now livid. In attempts to make a peace offering,-he would deliver candy later-Draco told his daughter that she could bring along friends (event the Potter brats) for the Halloween festivities. Also, that he knew of a great costume store called Disneyland where they could buy a princess ball gown and probably pumpkins too.
Elated, Rosalind ran to invite her mother.
Heavy with child, Hermione stood slowly, “Rosie, be a good girl and remind your father that ladies wear pants too, and I’ll be down as fast as your brother allows.”
FIN
Author: kansol_encore
Rating: G
Word Count: 745
Notes/Warning: Halloween2011, prompt two, faux princesses
A person of short stature burst through a set of antique Oak doors. She skidded clumsily hedging off a collision with a gleaming chrome desk, inhaling and exhaling in animated breaths. This little person had news of the most excellent sort, and the only obstacle erroneously defying her, the desk, would be easily overtaken. Well, the desk and her bubbling excitement which at any second, threatened to explode and coat the floor in glitter.
Underage magic had never been more sparkly.
Taking a moment to collect herself as she had been taught, "young ladies must never act in haste" the little girl readjusted her floral robes and patted her untidy mop of auburn hair down to a level her grandmother would casually deem “a semblance of propriety.”
Calmly, she walked around the desk tracing its contours with a gooey hand, and a brilliant smile crowding her dainty features.
“PAPA!”
The father in question had since abandoned his work, the loud scurrying outside the study entrance alerting him to his exuberant first child. Draco swiveled the chair to face his daughter.
He was putty.
“Yes, Rosie?”
Rosalind Lyra Malfoy beamed. “Papa! Ask me a question!”
But, still a Slytherin.
“I believe I did just ask you a question.”
“But it wasn’t the right one!” She stressed, “Give it a try. Ask another, please?”
“Alright. What’s for dinner?”
Rosie sighed. Her father just didn’t get it. “Do you need a clue?”
Her astute frankness reminded him of his wife, no doubt an accomplice with her fingerprints all over the cauldron. “Your assistance would be immensely appreciated,” Draco conceded, finally accepting the gravity of the situation.
“Okay, ask me ‘what am I going to be for Halloween?’”
“That was quite the clue, my darling girl,” he said confirming ‘Gryffindor’ in his head. Unperturbed, he went on, “Whatever shall you be for Halloween?”
If possible Rosalind’s smile tripled in size, her chocolate irises barely visible.
“A princess!” She declared very loudly, jumping up and down, thrilled at her own good fortune. “Isn’t it wonderful?” she asked, innately seeking his approval.
Draco picked his daughter up and sat her on his knee, “I’m certain it’s the best news I’ve received all year. Tell me, shall you be Cassiopeia or perhaps Morgana? Maybe even Calypso or even Amalthea?” He was confident that his bookish wife had taken the opportunity to immerse their child in the rich and vibrant culture presented within the magical community, and he was wrong on all accounts.
“No, Papa. I’m going to be Cinderella!”
The muggle commoner?
“And I’d like pumpkins and a glass slipper-two pairs incase one breaks-a bit of lace, pink,” she paused from compiling her lengthy list, “maybe the elves could play dress up and help? Or I could get a pet mouse?” Her mind apparently whirling as her imagination took over. One thing was certain. “It’s going to be brills, Papa. I know it.”
Stars were shining in her eyes. Rosie grabbed her father’s cheeks.
“And best of all, I want you to be my fairy god-mother.”
Draco spurted, then coughed, and finally wheezed out around a choking sound, “Perhaps your mother ought to…should be your fairy god-mother, no? And I’ll be your dashing knight in armor to rescue you from your Uncle Charlie’s dragon?” The best Weasley was still, the farthest one away.
Though her mind was fixed, Rosalind considered her father’s words. Jumping down from his lap, she turned to him, “I’ll ask Mummy.”
Racing away, she returned even faster with a reply.
“Mum says that you’re a chauffeur-”
“Chauvinist.”
“-and that men and ladies shouldn’t be force to keep their antique and,” she stumbled over the word, “mis-o-gist-ness general roles because some people can’t embrace change.” Satisfied, she thought over her mother’s message, tiny gears turning, “and are gits!”
Draco thought over his daughter’s painstakingly minced message. From all appearances, Hermione Malfoy was now livid. In attempts to make a peace offering,-he would deliver candy later-Draco told his daughter that she could bring along friends (event the Potter brats) for the Halloween festivities. Also, that he knew of a great costume store called Disneyland where they could buy a princess ball gown and probably pumpkins too.
Elated, Rosalind ran to invite her mother.
Heavy with child, Hermione stood slowly, “Rosie, be a good girl and remind your father that ladies wear pants too, and I’ll be down as fast as your brother allows.”
FIN