The Menace

"What the fuck is that?"

A tiny gasp escaped from Rose's lips as she jumped down from her chair and stomped towards the two adults in the room. Theodore Nott's eyes widened when the young girl comically placed her hands on her hips and stared him down. Funnily enough, she was terribly small and Theo was towering her, but Draco felt it was the reverse.

"Mama said no bad words, Mister!" she cried, complete with a wag of her finger. Draco lifted an eyebrow, thoroughly amused, and bet his whole Quidditch figurine collections that she was perfectly imitating her mother.

Theo thought so, too, as he now directed his wide eyes at his best mate. "Holy shite," he whispered, almost breathlessly, "Mini Granger."

A snort escaped from the blond. He looked down at the still angry girl and sighed. "Rose," he said. "Why don't you leave these two adults to talk, yes?'

"I'm a big girl too!" she cried, her hair growing bushier and bushier. "I'm an adult! I can talk to you."

Draco rolled his eyes as Theo mouthed another 'holy shite'. "Yes, and big girls like you should be obedient," he offered. When she still stood her ground and even crossed her arms, Draco scowled and gestured at her abandoned playthings. "I think Captain Birch and the Tornados need you right now."

Upon the mention of her favorite Quidditch team, a huge smile broke out of her face and she went back to her seat and proceeded to play with Draco's prized, limited edition figurines. He tried not to flinch as Rose crashed one player with another, their tiny protests falling into the deaf ears of the blissfully happy child. Draco silently apologized to his collections and made a mental note of buying new ones in case his toys died at the hands of the overly zealous fan.

"Okay, adult talking time," Theo said, grabbing Draco's arm and dumping him on the couch. Draco scowled at being manhandled, but the other man ignored him and plopped down beside him. "Care to explain why there's a Mini Granger in your flat?"

"She's a Weasley," he droned matter-of-factly.

Theo waved a dismissive hand. "Technicalities," he flippantly said. He then proceeded to wildly gesticulate towards the general vicinity of the happy child. "Bloody hell, look at her. Save from her ruddy hair, she's the perfect imitation of Hermione Granger."

"She doesn't have her eyes," Draco supplemented.

His best friend gave him a weird look, and then snorted. "Oh right, I forgot how you conveniently know everything about our favorite War Heroine."

Draco chose to ignore his comment and willed his pale cheeks not to color.

"Last time I dropped by, which was yesterday morning mind you, you were a perfect bachelor -living the perfect life and now, look at you, a bloody babysitter." Theo snickered as he shied away from Draco's pointy elbow. "What the hell happened, Draco?"

The Malfoy heir sighed through his nose and slumped on his seat. "Granger happened," he deadpanned. "She and her daughter visited last night." He wearily massaged his temples and closed his eyes. "For the abridged version, she's off somewhere in China with Potter, chasing Rodolphus Lestrange, who was apparently Weasley's murderer."

Theo whistled under his breath. "Blimey," he said. "No offense, mate, but your uncle is batshit crazy like Bellatrix."

"Yes well, it runs in the family," he wryly joked.

"Apparently, you're batshit crazy too for letting Granger's daughter stay with you!"

Draco scowled and crossed his arms. "Well what was I supposed to do?" he snapped back. "Granger was desperate and I had no choice."

He internally flinched, knowing that there was another choice to Granger's favor, but didn't want to dwell on it further. Draco had done a lot of thinking last night and hadn't even slept a wink, trying to make sense why he had agreed to be a bloody babysitter to a bloody child. He could have shunned them away, protest incessantly that he wasn't the right person to take care of a girl, much less her child. But then, he'd remember her eyes – big, wide, and desperate – and Draco hesitantly admitted that he really didn't have a choice.

"Why didn't she leave her with the Weasel's family?" Theo asked with genuine confusion, halting Draco's train of thought. "They're a big bunch. I'm sure her daughter will be well loved."

"They weren't on speaking terms."

His best friend knitted his eyebrows in confusion. A few seconds after, his eyes widened in understanding. "Skeeter's article," he merely replied, but Draco understood he was pertaining to Molly Weasley's infamous interview.

"What about her parents?"

"They don't even remember their daughter," he snarled, growing annoyed with the inquisitions. Knowing Theo for years, though, he knew they wouldn't stop even with Draco's request. "I doubt they will be happy to accept a stranger's daughter."

Theo fell silent, letting the situation sink in. "Blimey this is so fucked up," Theo commented and looked at him with a mixture of amusement, sympathy, and intrigue. "And Granger trusts you - an ex-Death Eater, a Slytherin bully, a Pureblood bigot - to take care of her daughter?"

Draco glared at his insults, and felt aggravated that they were all true anyway. "Like I said, there was no other choice," he grounded out. "Besides, we've been on missions together and I did save her arse a few times."

"A pretty arse, if you ask me," he murmured with a grin.

"I didn't ask you, Nott," the blond retorted with a glare. Not that he was denying, really, but Theo did not need to know that.

Theo made a face and haphazardly ran his hand through his hair. "I would have questioned your sanity by now, but of course this is Hermione Granger we are talking about." He gave Draco a pointed look.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Draco."

Draco's cheeks lightly reddened. "No, I don't," he grumbled, petulantly crossing his arms against his chest.

Theo snorted and lazily leaned against the couch. "Nine years, ladies and gentlemen, and the idiot still denies," he declared to no one.

"Shut up, Nott," he grumbled.

His best friend rolled his eyes, and then raised his arms in surrender.

The Malfoy heir sighed and slumped back on his seat. "What am I going to do, Theo?" he wearily asked.

"Don't ask me, I'm as clueless as you are."

"Then why do I even bother talking to you, wanker?" Draco asked.

The brown-haired Slytherin gave him a dazzling grin. "Because I'm your best mate and you like me a lot," he stated it matter-of-factly. He laughingly dodged Draco's fist. "How long will she be staying then?"

"A week, maybe a month, I don't know. Granger wasn't exactly helpful when I asked her last night," he retorted.

Loud chuckles rang in his flat and it was a strange sound to be heard in his normally silent home. Draco frowned at this thought, shot a bewildered look at the Rose's bushy mane of red hair, and once again wondered if letting her stay with him was a good thing. All right, it was insane, but he'd done a lot of insane things in his life before. He wasn't just sure where this... this babysitting thing stands in the spectrum.

"Granger gave me some instructions and her things, so I'll manage." He conveniently left out the fact that he still wasn't able to read Granger's foot-long instructions. He had this inkling he wouldn't even bother himself with reading it.

"What will you do if the child starts asking questions about her mother?" Theo asked. "She's Granger's daughter, so I bet she's a know-it-all, too, and I'm sure she knows that something is wrong. But she's just a child, Draco. She needs her mother and she's bound to ask questions."

It was one of the worries that kept him up last night. Children were notorious for their terrible tantrums. Draco had no idea how to appease one, especially a child who most likely inherited her father's emotional range of a teaspoon. It didn't help that she was also the spawn of Hermione Granger – she wasn't known for her cool, calm demeanor after all.

His thoughts were disrupted when he felt his robes being tugged incessantly. He looked down with a frown and saw a pouting child.

"Draco, I'm hungry," she said.

A quick look on his watch said it was already lunch time. "I'll let Tippy know that we'll eat soon," he answered.

Rose nodded her head. He expected that she'd go back to wreaking havoc with his figurines but was thoroughly confused when she lifted her tiny arms in the air, towards him.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Up, up!" she exclaimed, wiggling her fingers. When Draco continued to blankly look at her, she started stomping her feet. "Up, up!"

"Mate, call me a child whisperer or something, but I think Mini Granger wants to be carried," Theo whispered, amusement thick in the tone of his voice.

Draco looked aghast. "What?" he growled, paling with the thought of lifting a child in his arms.

"Up, up!" the redhead cried, now utterly frustrated. "Up, up, Draco!"

The blond shot Theo a desperate look, who merely smirked and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, what are you waiting for," his best mate asked, gesturing at the tot.

Softly groaning, Draco lifted the impatient child in his arms. Unsurprisingly, she felt so light. Much to his horror, Rose bubbled happily and wrapped her puny arms around his neck.

Draco knew he looked stupid. Theo's wide smirk was enough proof. Damn it all, he did not even know how to properly carry a child. The closest thing he had carried was a house-elf, and he didn't want any repeat of that experience. His left arm was angled in a weird position; he could already feel pins and needles prickling his arm. But then, he was afraid he would suddenly drop her if he moved his arm a bit.

"Well, this is sickeningly domestic," Theo said, jumping onto his feet. "Please excuse me as I go home and gouge out my eyeballs."

He then toothily grinned and peered at the child who looked exactly like Granger with Weasley's hair and eyes.

"Goodbye, Mini Granger," he said. "I'll see you next time."

"My name's Rose," she pointed out with a pout. "And I don't like you."

Theo broke into a full-blown smile and merely patted Rose's hair. He then grabbed a pinch of floo power, threw it into the fireplace and disappeared soon after.

Rose then tugged Draco's hair to get his attention. "I'm hungry," she repeated.

Draco sighed. He desperately wished that Hermione would be back soon.

__________

Handling the Malfoy business was terribly taxing and complicated. Draco hated every second of it.

He glared at another letter, surprisingly written on Muggle paper, which was about a stockholders meeting he had to attend to in Geneva for a company selling cars.

Cars, the Muggle contraption for transportation.

He sneered. His family was notoriously anti-Muggle; he was sure that wasn't news to the whole Wizarding World. He remembered how his father almost had an aneurysm when Draco brought home toy cars after urging one of his house-elves to buy one. Suffice to say, he never saw that poor house-elf ever again and Draco did not dare breathe anything Muggle-related in the Malfoy Manor, unless if he was degrading them.

Turns out his family had been stockholders to not only one, but numerous Muggle companies, for centuries now. He understood, as soon as the business was passed onto him, that the most probable reason why the Malfoy riches had been stable despite the expensive war was because they had external sources - Muggle sources. He sure as hell knew his father would not stoop that low as to interact with these Muggle companies. The proof was the existence of a department in Malfoy Enterprises that handled all the dirty work for him.

He could not help but feel embittered how a Muggle car, which gave him trouble as a five-year-old, had been actually supplying them with money.

If the media got wind of the ultra-secret Malfoy business, they would have a field day.

He crumpled another paper, this time the typical wizard one, and threw it away. He hated this. He did not want to work at home, behind a desk, passively waiting as their vaults filled up with galleons and gold from all the companies they were affiliated to. Draco missed the action, the rush of adrenaline, the anticipation for danger, and he would gladly trade everything just to encounter one.

He had always wanted to become a Curse Breaker. After the war, however, he did not attempt to apply. After all, who could hire a notorious Ex-Death Eater, one that almost killed Albus Dumbledore, champion of the poor and downtrodden? He had worked incessantly to redeem himself, but the world was still unforgiving. In the eyes of the people, he was still the same sixteen-year-old boy who made stupid decisions in life. It was unfair, but his five-year-old self who had been fascinated by Muggle toy cars already learned that life was simply just that.

A knock resounded in his study and he distractedly let the intruder in. Small pattering of footsteps reached his ears, and he assumed it was just Tippy, about to clean his study area. When he glanced behind him and saw no one, he frowned.

"What are you doing?"

He flinched in surprise, eyes now moving below him, and saw the menace. She was honestly so tiny it was a wonder she had not lost herself in his vast flat.

"Working," he deadpanned, grabbing another letter to read.

"What are you working on?" she asked inquisitively, trying to peer on his mahogany table but her height had hindered her from doing so.

"Some adult stuff a child like you shouldn't concern herself with," he answered, scowling darkly at the offensive letter. A Wizarding company demanded compensation for his absence for three consecutive meetings. 'As if they were productive meetings,' he thought with a frown, remembering the particular CEO hounding on and on about his accomplishments in life. If Draco had a say, he would have cut ties with this company already. Well, he did have a say, but he already felt tired with the possibility of bombarded questions from the Board of Directors.

"What adult stuff?"

Draco groaned and glared down at the little girl. "Go away, I'm busy," he snapped, also crumpling the said letter and throwing it away.

Rose immediately ran to the direction of the paper, grabbed it with her hands, and gave it back to him.

"You dropped this, Draco," she said with a sweet smile, looking very proud of herself. Draco could already feel a headache forming.

"I threw it away," he corrected, but nonetheless snatched the paper from her hands and hid it in his drawer. "Out of sight, out of mind,' he sneered. Then, to the girl, he frowned and asked, "What are you even doing here?"

Little Rose rocked on her heels and pouted. "I'm bored," she declared.

"Go play with my figurines," he said with shooing motions. 'More fittingly wreck them, you menace.'

"I don't wanna play anymore," she whined, tugging her curls in frustration.

Draco sighed. "Then what do you want to do?" he asked.

"I wanna watch the telly."

"The what?"

"The telly," she repeated, using a tone that was reserved for five-year-olds like her, and not him. "Mama usually allows me to watch one cartoon before she tucks me to bed."

He did not even know what a cartoon was. "Look, Mini Granger, this isn't your home and I don't have this telly with kartowns - ."

"Cartoons -."

"What?" he asked, scowling once more.

"They're called cartoons," she simply said.

"I don't bloody care," he exclaimed in exasperation. "So if you could just go away and let me do my business..."

She comically placed her hands against her hips. Granger would be so proud her daughter was aspiring to be like her.

"My name is Rose, and you're not nice," she pointed out with a glare.

"Yes, well, I don't do nice," he drawled with his infamous smirk. "Now if you'd just go and leave the adult alone..."

She stomped her feet in frustration, blew a raspberry, before turning away and running out of his door.

Once she was gone, Draco rolled his eyes and went back to his business letters. After reading another one, he finally gave up and called it a night. Those corporate bastards were still going to fill the Malfoy Gringotts account anyway so he did not bother finishing everything tonight.

__________

She sat on the carpeted flood, amidst the chaos, with an innocent, sweet smile on her face. She was deceptively charming, Draco could give her that. He wondered if the child would be sorted to Slytherin once she started school.

"What, in the name of all the good deeds Merlin did, happened here?" he quietly demanded, trying to keep his composure as two paper maches of characters he did not recognize tried to have a competition on who could climb his trousers the fastest.

His right eye twitched, angrily shaking them away. Little screams escaped from their paper mouths and Draco scowled. If he was not enraged, he would have marveled Granger's child's accidental powers.

"Ma-Master Draco," his personal house-elf tittered. "Tippy will e-explain."

Or maybe his house-elf also did something to help Rose. His scowl darkened; it was official - she was a menace. How dare she drag his personal house-elf in all of this... this chaos. Draco had to ball his hands into fist and concentrate on them to keep his temper in check.

The house-elf then bowed extremely low, nose almost touching the floor, in fear of the wrath of his master. Draco noted the silly, frilly dress he was wearing. No doubt Rose had forced him to wear one. There was even a silly hat perched on his head, which was unable to keep his huge ears in place.

"I'm having a tea party," the little girl simply said. "And you're not invited because you're not nice, right Barbie?"

She was talking to a stick-thin, model-like doll seated right beside her. Blinking, Draco noticed that there were other toys gathered around her - a yellow bear with a red shirt with no shorts, a yellow square stuffed toy that looked hilariously like a sponge, another lanky toy that was dressed like a Muggle cowboy, and three, little girls each wearing the same clothes of red, blue, and green respectively.

His eyes roamed all over his living room - or what was left of it, really. He had this inkling Rose forced Tippy to transfigure the whole room with frills, and pinks, and anything sickeningly sweet and happy and colorful. Draco felt sick, flashbacks of Dolores Umbridge's room invading his memories.

He hated that sodding toad.

"Ti-Tippy is sorry, Master Draco," his house-elf blubbered on. "Tippy will now return everything back. Tippy is a bad elf." He then proceeded to slam his head against a nearby lamp.

At the same time, Granger's daughter jumped onto her feet, knocking off her tea set, and exclaimed an indignant "No!" Her animated toys flinched at her outburst and comically clung to each other.

'I don't have time for this,' the weary blond thought. He made a disgusted face as he spied a huge portrait of kittens playing around on a dandy field. Stupid Umbridge came back into memory once more.

"You can't!" Rose continued, running closer to Draco. "I'm playing!"

"You ruined my room," Draco warned, nostrils flaring.

"I made it pretty," the girl corrected with a pout. "Barbie and the Powerpuff Girls like it very much." She pointed at her said toys, the model and the three girls, who vigorously nodded their heads. He spied the cowboy making a face.

"Tippy," he curtly said with a glare.

Instantly, his house-elf snapped his fingers. Everything returned back to normal and his nausea thankfully abated.

"NO!" Rose tearfully cried, stomping her feet in frustration. "TIPPY!"

The house-elf was torn, looking between him and the furiously crying girl.

"You may go," Draco ordered, and Tippy did not need to be told twice.

Big, fat tears rolled down from the little redhead, and Draco felt a little uncomfortable. Crying girls made him feel awkward. What more if it was a crying child? But he was a Slytherin. Gryffindor's would have cracked by now and appeased the seemingly inconsolable girl. Gods, Hufflepuffs would have coddled her right now. No, he was Slytherin, and he was going to handle this situation like the perfect Slytherin he was.

For starters, he sneered.

In return, Rose Weasley scowled, tears streaming down her big, blue eyes, and proceeded to kick him in the shin.

"Mother of -!" he cried, doubling over to massage his smarting shin, but the little girl was already running away.

"I DON'T LIKE YOU!" she wailed, as she climbed up the stairs. He cringed when she loudly slammed her door shut.

"Bloody girl," he muttered. She gave a mean kick, his scowl darkening. Of course, what was he to expect? She was the daughter of Hermione Granger.

His nose made an involuntary twitch from a particular memory involving Granger's fist.

__________

Draco was jerked awake, right hand blindly grasping his wand under his pillow and sat up. The war had improved his senses, especially when he was sent to missions that required constant vigilance. Mad-Eye Moody would be proud of him.

"Lumos," he whispered. Instant light illuminated his room. Peering suspiciously around his room, his molten eyes finally landed on the sniffing, small bundle standing in front of his door.

"Rose?" he asked with a frown.

The crying girl noiselessly pattered on his bedroom floor, dragging what appeared to be a stuffed toy behind her.

Every part of him said that he should ignore the crying girl. Tears made him wholly uncomfortable and Rose had honestly been a handful today. Draco just wanted to rest, perhaps put a Silencing Charm on the menace, and blissfully snooze himself into oblivion. This was why he didn't understand why his bloody mouth opened and spouted, "What's wrong?"

Rose haphazardly wiped her face. "When will Mama be back?" she asked in a tiny whisper.

Draco internally groaned. He had braced himself with this question, but had been hoping it wouldn't come too soon. Not even a day passed, but she was already asking about her mother. He mentally released colorful swears, trying to rack his brain for a decent answer to the distressed child.

"Soon," he finally said, thinking it was the best answer to her question.

"When is that?" she questioned, more tears welling from her eyes. Up close, her eyes were already swollen and snot was running down from her nose. Draco wrinkled his nose in slight disgust, but conjured a tissue out of thin air and offered it to the child.

Rose grabbed it from his hand and haphazardly wiped her face, but had only successfully managed to smear it all over and not remove it. Scowling, Draco conjured another tissue and did it for her instead.

"Your mother will be back," he told her with a twinge of irritation. He was tired and annoyed, mostly to her mother that had chosen him, of all people, to take care of her child. He was perfectly happy of how things were before she came back into his life and he'd be damned if he'd be stuck with her daughter for a very long time. He adamantly refused to even consider that Granger wouldn't come back.

She sniffled and hugged her stuffed toy tightly against her chest. "I miss Mama," she cried.

How the hell was he to talk to a child? Looking back, the only decent conversation he ever had were with his house-elves. Mother had tried to coddle him, but Father ruled with an iron fist. During his times of distress, the only comfort he got were toys and food prepared by the house-elves. His experience with distressed children would be understandably abysmal.

The redhead looked worried and inconsolable. Draco was reminded of a stray kitten, abandoned and ignored under a torrential storm. A slow frown soon formed on his face, feeling a brief pang of pity for the child. It was brief, but he had felt it.

Without putting much thought in it, he lifted her onto his bed and placed her beside him. Rose's blue eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't climb back down.

"Yes, well, I'm sure she misses you too," he murmured in discomfort, wondering if it was the right thing to say.

It took exactly five minutes before Rose's small voice whispered, "You promise?"

Her face had considerably brightened, her eyes still shining from tears and now hope. Draco took that as a good sign. "I do," he grunted with a stiff nod. He frowned, carefully thinking of his following words that would be understood by a five-year-old. "Your mother is... busy fighting bad guys right now, but I'm sure she always thinks of you."

Rose sniffed and leaned against Draco. The blond, with a frown, awkwardly patted her back. Never in his life did he imagine he would be consoling a child. Making them cry, sure, but comforting one... well. How the mighty, magnificent Slytherin Prince had fallen.

Trying to think of a distraction, for Rose's distress and for his uneasiness, he quickly pointed at the plush dragon clutched against her.

"He wasn't in your tea party," he stated.

The little girl, to his relief, giggled. "Sir Ginger doesn't like tea parties," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Sir Ginger?" he asked, lifting an amused eyebrow. What an odd name for such a ferocious beast.

"My best friend," she said, presenting her stuffed toy with a proud smile. It was actually a sickening cute toy, with a dark shade of green for scales and purple spots near its tail. "He keeps away the monsters when I sleep."

He smirked. "I'm sure he does," he replied, slightly condescending which the child did not thankfully hear. He noted, however, that her tears had finally abated and felt proud of himself for diverting her attention from her mother.

A sudden gurgling sound emitted from Rose's tummy, prompting the girl to giggle again.

Draco stared at her in bewilderment, before a small smirk stretched on his face. "Well, someone's hungry," he said. She had refused to eat dinner a while ago, apparently still throwing a tantrum from her disrupted tea party.

"May I eat cookies, Draco, please?" she politely asked, hope shining in her blue eyes.

"Does your Mama allow you to eat cookies after bedtime?"

Mini Granger sheepishly grinned. "Mama gets mad if I do," she admitted, albeit still a little hopeful. "Especially after I brushed my teeth."

He was thoughtful for a while, before a wicked, sneaky grin appeared on his face. "Then cookies you shall have," he declared, prompting the girl to squeal excitedly and race out of his room.

Granger would have his head for breaking one of her rules, but she did not really need to know that.