Future Parents Program

Battle Plan

Draco Black Malfoy was not a coward.

He was a Slytherin, a strategist, if you will. Strategy relied on logic. Logic told him that his mother had lost her jelly beans and that a full on retreat was the best course of action.

He spent the next two weeks avoiding his mother like the plague. It wasn't that hard considering the size of the manor, but there had still been a close call or two that required he jump into a nearby closet or dive under one of the guest beds. He felt a twinge of disgust for his behavior for only a nanosecond, tops.

After all, his mother was a former Slytherin herself. Just because her son wasn't around to listen didn't mean that she couldn't find alternative avenues of getting her point across.

It started out innocently enough. A random baby bottle here, a pacifier there. The longer Draco held out, however, the bigger and more elaborate his mother's "hints" became. He told himself he could handle the pram permanently affixed to the floor in front of his bed. The new wallpaper in his bathroom depicting disgustingly cheerful baby ducks could be avoided, all he had to was close his eyes. The baby clothes intermingling with his boxers was a bit annoying, but he held his tongue. He nearly fell down the stairs when he stepped on one of the hundreds of bouncy balls littering the carpet (how did his mother even know he was going to use this of all the staircases in the house?), but what was a sprained ankle in the face of continued bachelorhood?

The straw that broke the proverbial camels back, however, was when he woke up from yet another disturbing dream involving a particular female Gryffindor. It had been a rather platonic dream, thank the heavens. Some random moments where he watched her read a book or laugh or whatever else she bloody well did with her day is all. Draco dreaded the day when he would dream about her *gulp* naked. He was busy thanking his lucky stars that even he didn't have enough imagination to picture what she looked like under those baggy witch's robes when he opened his eyes for the first time that morning.

There, painted in horrifying detail on his ceiling, was a baby. Not just any baby. Oh no. It was big, it was laughing, it had a picture of Draco's head as a baby affixed over an anonymous baby body. Maybe his mother decided that without a potential mother in sight she couldn't really rely on guesswork to picture the baby.

Underneath the giant, bouncy, cubby cheeked Draco-of-the-ceiling were the words "Make Me, Draco" flashing in what amounted to neon lights.

Everyone who is remotely familiar with science understands this one principle-for every action, there is a reaction.

So one can begin to understand the nature of Draco's reaction.

Drastic barely described it.

He went back to school EARLY.

What was the world coming to?

***

Draco was so eager to escape-ahem, tactically retreat--that he wasn't too specific about where in Hogwarts he wanted to go when he used the floo powder. He landed with a violent thump and a cloud of dust heralding his arrival....

Right in the middle of the Headmaster's office.

Malfoy bit back a groan. Why??

Dumbledore stopped his writing to quirk an amused brow at his escapist--strategist--student. "Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco sat up and dusted himself off. "Afternoon, Headmaster." He was striving to sound like he hadn't made one of his more undignified entrances.

"I trust you had a pleasant summer?"

"I was," Draco muttered as he stood up.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"My mother's gone barkin' mad!" Draco burst out. Damn, he hadn't meant to say that. He opened his mouth to save the situation when he found himself pouring out the rest of the story as though his mind had sprung a leak. "If she's not crying, she's following me around begging me to have babies!"

The Headmaster nodded sagely as he indicated that Malfoy should sit. A difficult task for a man, even a wizard."

"What?" Malfoy asked, bewildered. Then, "No, not me personally. She wants me to find a wife so that she can have grandchildren. Something about the wonder of family or some such."

"And this is unacceptable?" He held out a bowl.

Malfoy took the offered sweets from Dumbledore without stopping his tirade. "Even if I had someone in mind, which I don't, I'm too young. I'm too handsome. I'm too wrapped up in being selfish. I have no idea how to deal with a steady girlfriend, much less a wife. And babies? Don't get me started!"

Dumbledore was looking at him with a serious expression. That was never good, as far as Malfoy could tell. "Mr. Malfoy, would you say that you are alone in your predicament as far as your age group goes?"

"Um...what?"

"Do you think you are the only one who knows nothing about babies at your age?"

Was this a trick question? "Of course not," Malfoy replied with disdain. "I doubt even your precious Gryffindors know the first thing about babies."

Dumbledore didn't say anything. This was worse than his serious expression, Malfoy thought. He could practically see the wheels turning in his head. After a moment he nodded to himself. Malfoy watched him with the intensity of one watching a rabid animal, not knowing what the next move was going to be but having the distinct feeling it didn't mean anything good for himself. "Mr. Malfoy, you have given me an idea."

Dare he ask?

He didn't get the chance. "Am I to assume that you wish to remain here until school begins?" Dumbledore asked smoothly.

Malfoy could do nothing but nod. He wasn't going to beg. "I left Mother a note."

"I'm sure your luggage will arrive quite soon. In the meantime, why don't you inform Professor Snape of your arrival and get a bit to eat?"

Malfoy walked out of the office with a sense of impending doom.