“Draco Malfoy!” came the angry shout down the corridor leading to his study.
He jumped up from the sofa he was reclining on, the latest edition of Quidditch Pitch falling to the floor as he observed his wife in the doorway, her hands on her hips, an angry expression on her face, and Scorpius peeking around her legs.
Damn, he thought. Busted!
“How come I just found Scorpius skating around the drawing room, dusters tied onto his feet whilst Tilly cleaned the windows when I specifically asked you to clean that room?” she asked
There was a brief pause until his Slytherin instinct to lie and manipulate his way out of trouble kicked in.
“Well, darling, I was cleaning the drawing room, dusting all the books that have somehow started to encroach in there despite us having a fully stocked library, when Tilly came in looking for Scorpius’ toy broom. You know how distressed Tilly gets if she sees me doing anything remotely manual and I didn’t want her to distress herself, knowing how much that would upset you, so I let her talk me into allowing her to clean the windows. I was devastated not to be able to help, but I thought you would agree that the welfare of our elves is more important,” he said, finishing with a charming smile.
Hermione’s foot continued to tap on the floor and his smile faded.
“Would this be the same toy broomstick that I put away in Scorpius’ room not more than an hour ago?”
“Hermione,” he started to say, his hands spread out in confession, a contrite expression on his face.
“Every year, Draco, every year you pull this stunt. I ask you to do one task and somehow Tilly ends up doing it. Enough is enough! I’ve sent Tilly out to the garden to relax and you get to do all her work for the day.”
Draco blanched. “But,” he stuttered.
“No, you’ve gotten away with this for far too long. Now, chop-chop,” she said, handing him a feather duster.