The Golden Apple [Drarry]

Chapter 8

"I can't believe you two quit your prestigious jobs of being an Auror and a Healer just to teach at Hogwarts solely for the reason that I'm going there to study," the now 10-year-old Camelia Potter-Malfoy rolled her eyes. "You're such a weirdo. I can't believe that I have such dramatic arse parents." She then turned to look at the ceiling. "Can I get a receipt to return them, whoever that's listening right now? Please? I desperately need to return them. I can't bear 7 years of school with my parents as my teachers. They'll drive me nuts."

Harry chuckled at her dramatic behaviour. "I'm not as dramatic as Draco. He's a different level kind of dramatic. But admit it, you love us still even with our dramatics, Camy," he patted her head. She playfully glared at him. "You bet I do. I tolerate your arse, Harry Potter-Malfoy. You and your husband are gonna get me diabetes from all the sweetness this household has! I'm too young to have diabetes!"

"Definitely your father's drama you inherited."

~

"I'm ready to punch someone," the 11-year-old girl barged into the room, fuming. "Namely one Riley Harris from Ravenclaw. Think he's such a Know-It-All. Think he's so perfect. Just because he's the Golden Boy from Ravenclaw doesn't mean he's all golden! It's disgusting how the girls throw themselves at his feet as if he created the cure for Muggle cancer! Pathetic." she spat.

Harry threw a look at Draco. "She sounds just like you. Truly your child," he smirked as he sipped his tea calmly.

Draco just rolled his eyes. "But she has your temper."

"Want some tea, Camy?" Harry poured some for her into a fine China cup that Draco adored. "So, my dearest tiny Slytherin, what did Mr Harris do to you now?"

"He has the audacity to show his face within 1 kilometre of my personal space that he's not welcome into! That's what!" she plopped on the chair with a groan. "It's ridiculous how he thinks he owns the world by being an idiot. A pathetic one too!"

"Just like your dad then," Draco chuckled.

"Hey! I'm not pathetic!"

"You were and you still are but I learn to adapt to your pathetic arse," the blond grinned. "Yeah, you love me and my arse," Harry huffed.

Camelia looked at her two fathers with disgust. "Can you please not flirt in front of me while I'm having a major crisis of my life right here?" she whined. "I need attention at the moment. You can make googly eyes at each other later. Jesus, I have such sappy parents."

Harry just laughed while Draco rolled his eyes at her.

~

Fourth Year through and Camelia was ready to give up.

"I don't get why you won't get me a tutor instead of having me going to classes like this," she sighed.

"Lia," Draco said patiently, smiling at her as he combed through her hair with his fingers, pressing a kiss on her head gently. "We just want you to have a normal childhood, you know? Make some friends. Having fun with them. Developing your social skills, one would say."

"But I hate socialising," the child slumped against her father tiredly. "I don't want to be friends with people who only want to be friends with me because of Dad."

"I know. Harry hates socialising too, exception for the people he loves, obviously. If you don't want to have that kind of people to be your friend, then find a friend that doesn't worship the ground you walk on. God knows I never put up with Harry's crap. We were arch-enemies before we even become remotely close to fiancé to friends to husbands. I'm sure you know that."

"Yeah, I know that," she smiled lightly, letting herself be swept away with nostalgic emotions. "That's my favourite bedtime story. Tell me how you two met each other again? Please, Father?"

"Of course," Draco laughed as they watched Harry trained the Gryffindor Quidditch team by the stands. "So it all started with a Hogwarts Letter being owled and needing a few sets of school robes at Madam Malkins..."