13*J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter!
*So, I was inspired by a lot of my readers' questions to write this story. I thought this would be a fun and original way to answer, them, and a lot better than a bland one or two sentence statement. This one was inspired by people asking what it was like for Draco and Blaise when they raised Isobelle when she was younger. Hope you enjoy it!
*Leave a review! If you want any other short stories, let me know!
Blaise needed a drink more than anything. After a hectic day of watching his best friend's daughter, he needed something to calm him down. Not to get him wrong, Blaise loved Isobelle dearly, but she was certainly a handful. How a four-year-old had so much energy, he would never know.
Settling down on the plush sofa in Draco's flat, Blaise unfolded The Daily Prophet and lazily scanned the first page. He scoffed as he skimmed over yet another article speculating as to who Isobelle's mother could possibly be. Admitted, Blaise didn't know himself, but Draco had always seemed touchy about saying anything. If Draco didn't want to say anything, Blaise knew better than to ask. He trusted his best friend.
Blaise checked his watch. Draco would be home in a few minutes. Isobelle had already eaten lunch and taken a nap, and the two of them played a ridiculous game that involved him chasing her around the flat for the better part of a half hour. It was still beyond him how Draco managed to do this every day. He had to give him a mental round of applause.
Light footsteps echoed from the hallway as Isobelle wandered slowly into the living room. She didn't look quite like herself. Her nose was red, and her movements were lethargic. She'd looked much livelier an hour ago.
"When's Daddy coming home?" Isobelle questioned, climbing onto the sofa beside Blaise and cuddling up to him.
"In a few minutes," Blaise answered, closing his newspaper and looking down at the little girl. Although she was definitely Draco's daughter in personality, they barely resembled one another at all. Isobelle had a mane of curly brown hair, not at all similar to Draco's pale, pin-straight locks. The younger Malfoy's face was composed of round lines rather than Draco's angular ones. She looked absolutely sweet and innocent, nothing like her solemn, brooding father.
Isobelle groaned and tucked her feet under herself. "My tummy feels funny," she complained.
That got Blaise's attention. Children, he could deal with. But sick children? Definitely not his forte.
"What do you mean?" Blaise asked hesitantly.
Isobelle clutched her stomach and turned to him. "And my nose feels stuffy. Yesterday Daddy and me played outside and I didn't wear a cloak."
Blaise cursed inside his head. He had no doubt in his mind that Draco was a great father, but there were times when he definitely made some questionable choices. This was one of them.
"Er, do you think you'll be all right until you father makes it home?"
Isobelle shook her head. "No. Uncle Blaise, I'm sick," she whined. "I want my Daddy…"
"He's going to be home soon," Blaise assured her, trying to calm himself as well. He dearly hoped Draco hadn't secretly planned on working late this evening. "He's just got to work to finish up, and then he'll be straight on his way."
Isobelle stared back at Blaise with dubious brown eyes. "How soon?"
Blaise opened his mouth to repeat himself. "He'll be home in a few-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Isobelle closed her eyes and sneezed dead in his face. Blaise had to restrain himself from screaming like a little girl. Who the hell didn't put a cloak on their child in the middle of December?
Sheepishly, Isobelle wiped her nose with the sleeve of her robes. Blaise knew Draco would have had a near fit had he ever seen his daughter do such a disgusting thing. Blaise stared at Isobelle for a moment in pure shock.
"Sorry," Isobelle apologized. "I couldn't hold it."
"You know you're supposed to cover your mouth when you sneeze," Blaise chastised her, trying to keep his patience.
"I know. Sorry," Isobelle apologized again. She grimaced. "My tummy still hurts bad."
"But you were fine earlier."
"But now I feel bad," Isobelle said in an exasperated tone. Why didn't Uncle Blaise understand how sick she was? "I want Daddy. Can you use Floo?"
"I can't. I'm sure he's going to be home before you know it."
Isobelle nodded slightly, and then looked at Blaise again. He had a strong feeling that he wasn't going to like what was about to come out of her mouth.
"I have to throw up," Isobelle said quietly, clutching her belly.
This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening! Blaise did a double-take. "Are you sure?" he questioned.
Isobelle nodded.
"Can you make it to the bathroom on your own?" Blaise questioned desperately.
Isobelle shook her head. "Nope. Can you carry me, Uncle Blaise?"
Blaise knew he had no choice, but attempting to carry a sick Isobelle to the bathroom would not end well for either of them. And where the hell was Draco?
Blaise sighed. He wasn't prepared for this. "Come on." He stood and lifted Isobelle off the sofa, holding her in the air at arm's length as he hurried her to the bathroom.
"Stop shaking me!" Isobelle grumbled in a whining tone. Suddenly, she grew quiet and her cheeks puffed up. Blaise prayed to all the higher beings that he was in the midst of a horrible nightmare.
"Keep it in! Keep it in!" Blaise ordered desperately, nudging the door of the bathroom open with his foot. He hastily set Isobelle in the bathtub just as she emptied her stomach's contents. Blaise felt a little sick himself, and instantly regretted allowing Isobelle to have so many sweets at lunchtime. But damn it, he had to give it Draco for having such a cute kid. How could he say no to her?
He couldn't just let Isobelle sit in the bathtub like this. What if Draco came home and saw her with vomit down the front her robes? He definitely wouldn't approve of that. Only he would be smart enough to leave his wand in the other room.
In a desperate attempt to clean her off, Blaise turned on the faucet. Water rushed all over Isobelle, drenching her robes and hair.
"It's cold, Uncle Blaise!" Isobelle shrieked, coughing and crying. "Turn it off! I'm cold!"
"I'm sorry," Blaise apologized distractedly, more focused on keeping his stomach calm.
"Stop it!" Isobelle whined in a shrill voice that drilled a migraine into Blaise's head. What else was he supposed to do?
Isobelle sneezed again, and Blaise didn't have it in him to wipe her nose. "You got water in my face!" she screamed, thrashing wildly in the bathtub. Water was getting everywhere.
"Isobelle, calm down," Blaise said with a clenched jaw, in an effort to keep himself calm as well. On the inside, he was just as frazzled as Isobelle, if not more.
"I'M COLD AND I WANT MY DADDY!" Isobelle screamed, beating her fists against the water so that it splashed into Blaise's face.
"I WANT DRACO, TOO!" He shouted back helplessly. So much for remaining calm.
"What was that?" A voice called from the other room. Draco was home. Blaise couldn't decide whether he was relieved for this, or immensely nervous. "Blaise, where are you?"
"I'm in Isobelle's bathroom!" Blaise called back urgently. "For the love of Merlin, help me!"
Draco hurried into the bathroom. "Is everything- are you drowning my daughter?" Draco now had his attention focused on Blaise trying to hold Isobelle into the bathtub. He ran his hand through his hair, wondering why he could never come home to anything normal.
Isobelle reached her hands up for her father. "Help, Daddy!" she cried. Draco hurriedly grabbed a towel from the rack in the corner and shooed Blaise out of the way. He lifted a shivering Isobelle out of the bathtub and wrapped her in the towel. He pressed her close to himself, seeming unbothered that his robes were getting wet as well.
"Care to explain what happened?" Draco asked testily, his eyes trained on Isobelle as she buried her head into his shoulder with a small whimper.
"She got sick, and she vomited, and- Merlin, Draco, she sneezed in my face!" Blaise complained in a more feminine voice than was necessary.
Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. First idiots at work, and now this? Blaise had a knack for being overly dramatic.
"If she's sick, putting her in an ice cold bath is only going to make things worse," Draco informed him bitterly. He laid the back of his hand against Isobelle's forehead. "She has a fever. And I'm sure her robes are ruined now."
"Well, she told me that you let her run around outside with no cloak on. It's snowing, Draco! That most likely wasn't a bloody smart idea, either." Blaise argued, accidentally cursing in front of Isobelle. He was certain she wasn't listening, though. Isobelle had her head rested against Draco's shoulder and her eyes were closed. She shivered occasionally.
Draco opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it. "I'm going to give her a proper warm bath, and then lay her down for another nap. I suppose after that I'll see if she can stomach some soup. Excuse me."
Blaise didn't need to be told twice. He gratefully left the bathroom and made sure to shut the door.
Around twenty minutes later, Draco finally made his way out of Isobelle's bedroom. He slumped down on the sofa with a sigh, drying his robes with his wand as an afterthought.
"How's she doing?" Blaise questioned.
"She v another time, which resulted in me having to give her another bath. She's sleeping now," Draco answered, finally shrugging off his cloak. "The poor little thing could barely make it into her pajamas. I suppose I'll take her to see her Healer tomorrow."
"I hope she feels better," Blaise said with concern. Granted, he didn't particularly enjoy rushing Isobelle to the bathroom in a mad dash to prevent her from vomiting all over the place, but he really did care about her, and he babysat her more often than anyone else. It was almost as if Isobelle were his daughter, too.
Draco nodded and turned to his best friend. "So do I. I only have one question, Blaise."
"What's that?"
"What the hell was going through your mind when you decided to throw her in the bathtub?" Draco asked with a small smile. Blaise didn't yet have the luxury (at its finer moments) of being a full-time parent, and that made for some rather interesting moments. He reminded Draco of himself the first couple years of Isobelle's life. Parenting was definitely a trial-and-error process.
Blaise shrugged. "I didn't want her to vomit on me. And I really didn't want her to ruin the carpet."
"Thanks, Blaise… for Isobelle and the carpet."
"You're welcome. It's a very nice carpet."
Draco shook his head in appreciation for his friend. "What would I do without you?" he asked.
"Date and eventually get married?" Blaise suggested. He couldn't remember the last time Draco had gone on a date. "I'm sure that would be a lot less… suspect than two men in their early twenties raising a little girl."
Draco frowned slightly. It always came back to this. "I don't think so, Blaise. Not right now."
"Why not? According to Witch Weekly, you're 'One of the Wizarding World's Fittest Bachelors', child or no child."
Draco wrung his hands. "But I do have a child. She comes first, you know that," Draco reminded him firmly.
"I know, mate. I know. I'm only saying that it may not be such a bad idea for Isobelle to have a mother in her life. It's not that you aren't doing a great job, because you just proved you're a hell of a lot better at parenting than me, but you can't replace a mother."
Draco stared blankly at the copy of the Prophet on the coffee table. Blaise instantly cursed himself for not getting rid of it. "Isobelle's mother is gone. She's out of the picture, Blaise. There's no question about that. And there isn't anything some woman can do for Isobelle that I can't."
"I'm aware. The only thing is, at this moment, being a single father isn't so terrible. What about ten years from now when she starts dealing with hormones and all that shit?" Blaise shuddered just thinking about it.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Draco resolved. "Right now, I've got a very sick four-year-old on my hands. I'm sure I'd prefer a hormonal fourteen-year-old any day."
Blaise chuckled to himself. "Be careful what you wish for."
Draco waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. Are you staying for dinner?"
Blaise nodded. "Might as well. Besides, I think I've earned it after surviving such a vicious sneeze to the face."
Draco rolled his eyes at Blaise. His best friend was such a little girl. "Now you get to survive my cooking as well."
(A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this one! It was just to get the ball rolling! I'll take requests on any other short stories you want to see! Leave a review )