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Confessions of a Disgruntled Husband by Queen Sabreen
Chapter 1 : Confessions of a Disgruntled Husband
 
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Author’s Note: Here’s a little one-shot for you guys. I’m not sure if you could dub it funny, but it’s a little fluffy, and I’d say one of the most spontaneous fics I ever wrote. Really, it just came to me…out of no where practically.

Warning: HBP spoilers

Confessions of a Disgruntled Husband
By Queen of Serpents


Outside, the stars were absent. Even the moon abandoned him. It wasn’t really a surprise. Everything always was against him. He thought maybe having a wife and expecting a child would change things, add some luck on top of his ill-fated head. But even the child who wasn’t even born couldn’t see him happy for more than a minute.

It was cold outside. He forgot his cloak. He was just about the luckiest guy in the world.

In a few months, there was to be the start of a new season. Spring. The trees were going to stretch towards the life-giving sun, the birds would chirp their morning song, all to greet the arrival of spring.

Only, it was winter now, and it was futile to even think of the wonderful, life-giving spring. Not unless he got rid of his pregnant wife and her ill-timed cravings. He swore, one more time she was going to wake him up in the middle of the night to get Bartty’s Cinnamon flavored chocolate ice cream, he was going buy millions of pounds worth of Bartty’s Cinnamon flavored chocolate ice cream and shove it down her throat, pregnant wife or no. He would shove that down, and lamb’s stomach too.

He was getting queasy just thinking about it and remembering the last time she wanted that foul thing.

Sometimes, he wondered how he landed up in this position in the first place. Ever since Potter miraculously killed the late Dark Lord, and got that snake off his back, life was beginning to finally grow normal. Father was back to being his old, bullying, rich, snobby self and he was the happiest man in the planet.

But of course, nice things never last to good guys like him.



Oh okay, to bad guys like him.

So next thing he knew, he was no longer running for his life following the glory-stealing Severus Snape, but married to Hermione Granger. And now, here he was next to her in triple her size, walking outside Muggle London looking for Cinnamon flavored ice cream. Next thing he knew would happen was he was going to be woken up to get her dog-food.

Okay, so there’s a story between how he was a happy, single guy to a frustrated, trapped, married idiot. But being a long story, it would be a bore to go on with the details, so its best to forget them. Let’s just say, Hermione slipped in some sort of Love Potion in him (a skill which she was so surprisingly apt in) and now even though she was triple sized, even though she bossed him around and went through annoying mood swings, he couldn’t say he hated her.

He did regret losing that lovely, arm-squeezing, Pansy Parkinson, his trusty, super-sized body-guards Crabbe and Goyle, and the bigoted, pompous, and absolutely dashing Blaise Zabini. It would have been nice to have them around. Maybe it would even help him cope with his hot-tempered witch-wife.

He didn’t regret loving her, of course, though sometimes he wondered if he really was himself because the old normal, non-love-struck, Draco wouldn’t ever go about looking for ice cream in the middle of the night in the ever pleasant Muggle-world.

The elves could have made it for her, but no, she insisted on having them freed, as if the elves were protesting up and down and wouldn’t leave them alone until they got their equal rights! Gah!

And since this was a Muggle brand, he had no choice but to look for it and give it to her himself.

“Love, I’m tired. Do you really need that ice cream now?” he knew it was probably pointless to ask, but there wasn’t really much to loose.

“Yes, Draco. I need it. How many times must I tell you the same thing? I need Bartty’s Cinnamon flavored chocolate ice cream! I need it! I need it! I need it!”

“Okay, relax,” he told her, gently touching her shoulders. “No need to get hyper.”

“Hyper? You’re calling this hyper? I’ll give you hyper!” she shrugged his hands of her and tuned around to glare daggers at him. She took a mighty breath and just….screamed on top of her lungs.

“Hermione! Hermione, stop it, you’re going to wake up the whole city. You’re gonna wake them up, and I’m going to be sent to Azakaban because they’ll think I’m trying to rape you!” he yelled at her, putting his hand over her mouth to shut her up.

She stopped screaming, finally, and he eased his hand away from her. “We’re in the Muggle world, Draco. They can’t send you to Azakaban.”

Oy…

He slammed his hand against his head. He shouldn’t have been surprised when she said that. Since when did Hermione Granger Malfoy ever leave an opportunity to point out his errors being such a know-it-all? The day that would happen, Dumbledore would rise from the dead and bring them all Bartty’s cinnamon flavored chocolate ice cream. Well, it wasn’t too surprising since the late Headmaster loved Muggle-candy and maybe would like ice cream too, but he was dead so it was pretty much out of the question.

“But, anyway, Draco. I really want my ice cream.” Her voice was hoarse from all the screaming. Her eyes were glossy when she looked up at him.

Oh boy, she better not cry.

“I really want it,” she continued. Her lower lip began to tremble.

Oh, please don’t cry, please don’t cry, please don’t cry, he chanted to himself.

She sniffled, and rested her head against his chest.

And let the waterworks begin.

“Oh crap, Hermione, stop. Please!”

If there was something in the world he really hated when he was younger, it was crying girls. They looked absolutely gross and he’d never look at them properly ever again after that. Not only did they get red, puffy eyes, mascara-stained cheeks, and a snotty nose but if you didn’t try to comfort them, they’d either get pissed off or worse: cry even more.

It was okay if the crying girl was Moaning Myrtle. At least he didn’t need to hand her his precious handkerchief with his initials stitched with gold-thread. If he did give it to her, it would pass right through. And, he didn’t need to hold her in his arms and calm her down, it would be pointless to hug a ghost really.

Now he was stuck with his crying wife. He couldn’t stop looking at her after this, he couldn’t ban her from his bed, and he couldn’t run away from her and leave her to her misery. She was his wife, damn it!

“Are you sure there wasn’t some Bartty’s cinnamon flavored chocolate ice cream in the freezer?” he asked her gently.

She froze in his embrace, then apologetically looked up at him, “Hmm…I forgot to check. But now that I think of it, I did leave some in there the last time…”

He swallowed his reply and sighed heavily. Yes, it was true: the whole world was against him.

But he didn’t really care, because it didn’t matter if she was triple-her size, that he couldn’t wrap his arms around her fully due to the obstacle that was her stomach in his way, or the fact she was cranky most of time. Sure he was a bit grumpy, who wouldn’t be in his position, but it didn’t make him stop loving her. Past her large stomach, her cravings, and her annoying attitude, she was the most beautiful woman in the world and he loved her every moment of his existence.

...

Well, most of the time.




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