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There was a loud resounding bang from downstairs, followed shortly by a rattling crash. He froze, his blood running cold. “Harry?”
The explosion sounded as if it had come from his Potion room. If Harry had caused one to explode, especially onto him, the repercussions could be disastrous. He tried to make a list of everything he had been brewing, as he raced down the stairs. He only hoped it wasn’t something lethal. There were potions to heal physical damage, but he couldn’t reverse death.
He slammed the door to his brewing room open, stepping inside to find two of his cauldrons spilled across the floor, still steaming and bubbling, as they mixed together. Hopping over the spill, he waved his wand, causing the frothing mess to vanish, as the cauldrons righted themselves and drifted back onto their tables. “Harry? Are you in here?”
Maybe they’d blown up on their own. He cast a quick tempus, checking the time. Neither of the potions were due to be stirred for another hour, and they hadn’t looked off, aside from where they had begun to mix together. So, he found that to be unlikely. His potions didn’t just explode. He didn’t make careless mistakes like that. He was always meticulous with his ingredients, making sure they were of the highest quality and that everything was in the proper proportions, before he added them to the pot. He already had his reputation to battle against, it wouldn’t do him any good to have lousy potions on top of that.
Still, he couldn’t see any sign of Harry anywhere. “Harry?”
He hoped he hadn't evaporated. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d do if his husband had simply vanished with no trace.
A quiet sniffle broke through the deafening silence. He looked around, but he still couldn’t see anyone. The sniffle sounded again, so he stepped closer, following the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from his storage shelf, which housed all of his potion ingredients. Some of which were dried and hanging from twine, while others were kept in jars. “Hello?”
He squinted, trying to look behind the jars and roots, as he searched for any sign of his missing husband. Perhaps he’d been shrunk? Or transfigured?
There was another sniff, only this time it sounded as if it was below him. He knelt down, peering beneath the shelf. There was a gap between the bottom section and the floor, giving him enough room to press his head and shoulders beneath it, to get a clear view. The tile was coated in a thin layer of dust, which he tried to avoid breathing in, as he squinted into the darkness.
It took his eyes a few moments to adjust, when they finally did, he found himself face to face with a small child. A rather terrified and dirty child, but a child nonetheless. He had black, curly hair and wide, green eyes. His clothes were hanging off of him, looking more like swaths of fabric than actual clothing. His glasses were skewed to the side, too large for his tiny face. He couldn’t see his lightning bolt scar, as his forehead was covered with stray curls, but he was sure if he moved them aside, it would be there.
Harry’s face was splotchy and red, while his lower lip wobbled, as he watched him closely. Draco wasn’t entirely sure how he had fit himself into such a cramped space, but he supposed a frightened child could get themselves into all sorts of unimaginable places to hide.
“Hey, it’s okay.” He twisted himself, so he was laying on his stomach. “You want to come out of there?”
Harry shook his head, tears rolling down his dusty cheeks, as he pulled his clothes tighter around him, using them as a make-shift safety blanket.
“You don’t need to be scared. I’m not going to hurt you.” He wasn’t sure how he was going to convince Harry to come out, or what he was going to do when he did, but he couldn’t just leave him curled up beneath the shelf.
Harry sniffed, burying his face against his oversized shirt. The longer he stared at him, and the more his eyes adjusted to the dim light, the more he could see that Harry was covered in an unknown potion. He wasn’t sure if leaving it would cause further, more detrimental effects, so he wanted to get it off as soon as possible.
“I know you’re probably confused, but I’m just trying to help.” He hoped Harry could understand what he was saying, he wasn’t sure at what age children gained sentience, but he thought he looked old enough to understand speech. “If you come out of there I can help to clean you up. You don’t want to be covered in all of that gross, sticky stuff do you?”
Harry looked down at his shirt, which was partially covered in green slime. His eyebrows furrowed, as he visibly thought about what he’d said. “Not… Not suppose’ to be here. Did… Did bad.”
He wasn’t sure that trying to explain to Harry that he was actually twenty-four was going to go well, so he made something up, just wanting to get him out from under the shelf that was loaded with potentially dangerous ingredients that could fall and spill at the slightest disturbance. “No, it’s okay. You’re meant… You’re meant to be here. I brought you here. You’re going to be staying with me for a few days, okay?”
Harry leaned closer, staring up at him with a confused, but curious expression. “You did?”
“Yes.” He gestured for him to come closer, starting to grow anxious, as he noticed a scratch on Harry’s hand. “I’m going to be taking care of you. So, you can come here.”
Harry seemed to think about it for a moment, before he crawled closer, but not too close. “How’ I get here?”
“I brought you here.” It took every ounce of willpower he had to not reach out and pull Harry towards him. “Your aunt and uncle wanted me to watch you.”
There was a brief moment where Harry slowed, his lips curling into a frown, before he crawled the rest of the way out, sitting up in a pile of loose clothing. He pushed himself out from under the shelf, taking a moment to look Harry over in the light. He was absolutely filthy, and he kept trying to put the hem of his shirt into his mouth.
Concerned he was going to get sick, he guided his hand away from his open mouth. “Don’t chew on that. It’s dirty.”
Harry refused to look at him, his eyes growing watery, as he tucked his arms against his sides. “S–Sowwy.”
“Hey, it’s okay. I just don’t want you to get sick.” Looking Harry over again, he could see that there were little scratches all over his stubby fingers. And he could also see that dust and dirt were coating those inflamed cuts, giving them a gross, grey complexion. He needed to clean him up before he got an infection and then he could try to figure out what he was going to do.
He had never spent much time around children, and he didn’t have the faintest idea of how to care for one. He knew that they were a lot of work and that they screamed and got into everything, but that was about the extent of it. But he didn’t have a choice, he’d need to figure something out. Harry needed him right now, even if the idea terrified him. There was so much that could go wrong, so much he could mess up.
Harry was staring at him, his eyes wide and still filled with unshed tears. He seemed uncertain, as if he didn’t know what to make of him, and Draco supposed that was fair, he was feeling just as uncertain himself. Only he was sure it was for an entirely different reason. Harry didn’t seem to trust him yet. But he thought he wouldn’t have trusted a strange adult either if he had suddenly appeared in their potions room at the age of– two, three, four? He had no idea. But Harry was certainly young, too young. How was he meant to take care of a toddler? He wasn’t prepared for this in the slightest. He hadn’t even read a single manual on it. It wasn’t fair.
There was another sniff, before Harry wiped at his eyes, turning his attention to a dust bunny on the floor. He looked sad and lost. Draco shook himself out of his thoughts and buried his worries down. He would have to deal with them later, right now he needed to be the adult and clean Harry up before something even worse happened.
“You want to take a bath?” He asked, trying to keep his voice upbeat.
Harry looked down at himself, his lips in a permanent frown, as he surveyed the state of his clothes. His shoes were still stuck beneath the shelf, having fallen off his shrunken feet long ago. A part of him wondered if Harry had pushed the shoes under there in an attempt to hide them, but the thought made him sad, so he quickly dismissed it.
Harry was silent for a long moment, staring at his toes, which were almost entirely hidden beneath the hem of his trousers. He waited for an answer, but Harry remained motionless, reminding him of a statue.
He repeated his question, thinking maybe Harry had been lost in thought and hadn’t heard him. “Do you want to take a bath?”
Green eyes glanced up at him, wary and confused. Harry rolled forwards onto his knees, before he stumbled to his feet, teetering back and forth, before he found his balance. He had to keep one arm wrapped around his waist to keep his trousers from falling off entirely. “I take… Take bath.”
Draco watched, growing more and more perplexed by the child in front of him. He was about to take Harry’s hand, so he could lead him to the bathroom, when the boy started to hobble away, nearly falling over with every step, as he kept tripping over the legs of his trousers which dragged into the distance behind him. After a few moments of shocked staring, he rushed after him. Harry was almost to the end of the hallway when he finally caught up with him. He was sitting on the floor, clearly having tripped and fallen just a few moments ago. His glasses were missing, having been knocked off in the fall. They were almost a meter away, resting near the wall.
He picked the glasses up and moved to put them on Harry’s face, but Harry leaned away before he could even get close, so he just handed them over to him and let him put them on himself. Harry had a distinctive pout on his face, as he stared at the floor.
Kneeling down beside him, he tried to get Harry to look at him. “You okay?”
Harry let out a small grunt, before he hobbled back to his feet. “Take bath.”
Draco was certain that Harry had no idea where the bathroom even was, so he wasn’t sure where he thought he was going. “The bathroom is the other way.”
A deep scowl formed on Harry’s face, before he turned around and hurried off in the other direction, only to trip and fall again once he’d taken a few steps. Draco reached him and knelt down, offering his hand. “I can help you.”
Harry shook his head, raising a hand to wipe at his nose, while he got back to his feet. “Not… Not bother.”
Draco wasn’t sure whether Harry was trying to tell him not to bother, or if Harry thought he was going to be a bother if he let Draco help him. And he didn’t think asking for clarification was going to get him very far. “It’s not a bother. And I don’t want you hurting yourself. I’ll shrink your clothes down once they’re clean, so you won’t have to be tripping over them.”
Harry just looked confused, his eyebrows furrowed and his nose wrinkled. He looked as if he wanted to ask a question, but he remained silent.
Draco moved closer. “Can I help you?”
Harry thought about it for a long moment, his face screwed in concentration, before he seemed to give in and nodded.
“Alright.” Draco leaned down and picked Harry up, holding him in such a way that his clothes couldn’t slip off of him. For a brief moment, Harry looked panicked, as he latched onto his shirt and peered around. His eyes were wide and wary, but he eventually started to relax, as if realizing he wasn’t going to be dropped.
He carried Harry into the bathroom, where he set him back on the floor. Harry sat down in the corner, a sad expression taking over his features, as he bundled his clothes up around himself. Draco busied himself by starting the water, trying to find a temperature that was perfectly in the middle. He wasn’t sure what it should be, but he thought he’d avoid anything too hot, as he didn’t want to risk burning him. Sticking his hand into the rising water, he decided it was alright and pushed the drain down.
The other issue was that he didn’t have any shampoo that was made for children, but he thought getting the potion off of him was more important, so he decided to just use what he had for now. He could buy more proper things later; he’d have to, as he didn’t know how long Harry was going to be like this for. He was still hoping it was going to wear off on its own. Most potions did, including the ones he had been brewing.
There were towels in the cabinet beneath the sink, so he pulled one out and set it aside for later. He also wasn’t sure if Harry was old enough to be bathing himself, and he didn’t want to risk him drowning, so he just decided to err on the side of caution and help. It was better than the alternative.
He turned to help Harry and found that he had already taken his clothes off and was trying to climb into the tub. He caught him before he could fall face first into the water. “Careful.”
Once his heart had stopped racing, he lowered him into the water and started to scrub the gunk from his face with a washcloth. Harry was completely still. He didn’t splash or play. He just stared at the other side of the tub, his eyes tired and distant. It struck him as odd, even if he couldn’t quite place why.
Now that his face was clean, he worked on the rest of him, only stopping once there was no trace of the mystery potion left. The only thing that was left to clean was his hair, which seemed to be matted and tangled in multiple areas. He wasn’t sure how his hair had gotten so bad, and he was hesitant to just comb his fingers through it, as he knew it’d be painful. It needed a lot of work, and he didn’t even know where to start. All he could do was try to soap it up as much as possible and hope that the tangles would loosen once they were clean. He worked the shampoo through his curls, trying to be as gentle as possible. Harry remained silent, never once complaining, even when he accidentally got his finger caught in a tangle. He could tell it had hurt him, but Harry hadn’t said a word, only winced slightly and returned to staring. It left a heavy, rotten sensation in his belly.
He knew that Harry hadn’t had a great childhood, but Harry had never gone into detail about what he’d experienced. And he hadn’t wanted to pry, so he eventually stopped asking him about it. But he thought he was about to find out more than he’d ever bargained for.
Once he’d rinsed all of the shampoo from his tangles, he pulled the drain up and helped him to get out, wrapping him in the towel, so he wouldn’t be cold. Harry watched him, still completely silent.
He had always been under the impression that children were meant to be loud and obnoxious, but Harry was so quiet, he could almost forget he was there. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he turned his attention to Harry’s clothes. He needed to get them clean and shrunken down, so Harry would have something to wear for now.
Pulling his wand out, he cast a quick, “Scourgify, ” followed by a, “Reducio.” The clothes shrunk themselves down, stopping at the right size and fit for Harry. All of the dust and grime vanished, leaving the cloth looking brand new.
He turned back around to find that Harry had gone completely rigid, his eyes wide and frightened, as he stared at his shrunken clothes. Draco wasn’t sure what had happened. “What’s wrong?”
Harry’s mouth hung open, as he shook his head. “It… It… Bad.”
“What is?”
Harry freed one arm from behind his towel, pointing at the clothes, his expression growing to one of frustration. “Bad.”
“It’s not bad. It’s just magic. Here, let’s get you dressed.” Draco took a step closer, only to freeze a moment later, as Harry had started to yell at him.
“No! It bad!” Harry’s eyes were watery, reflecting the light in large, glossy orbs. “Can’ happen. Not supposed to happen.”
“It’s okay.” He set the clothes down, hoping that if Harry couldn’t see them he’d forget they existed and stop panicking, but it didn’t seem to be working. “It’s not going to hurt you. It’s just… It’s just magic. You’re magic too. It’s not bad.”
Harry’s eyes widened further, as if this news distressed him deeply. “No! Not magic. Not bad. Not bad.”
“It’s not bad, Harry. You’re not bad. It’s okay.” But Harry didn’t seem to believe him.
“Not me. Not me. Not my fault.”
He knelt down in front of him. “It’s not your fault. You’re okay. I was the one who did it. You’re right.”
Harry gulped, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. “Didn’… Didn’ do it.”
“That’s right. You didn’t. You’re not… You’re not in trouble.” He offered his hand, but Harry just stared at it, as if he had no idea what he was meant to do. “Can I help you get dressed now?”
There was a loud sniff. “O-Okay.”
He forced a smile onto his face, before he got back up and grabbed his clothes, helping him to put everything on correctly. Once everything was on, Harry kept tugging at the sleeves, a scowl on his face.
“Is it okay?”
Harry glanced up at him, changing his expression to neutral. “It fine.”
He didn’t think it was really fine, but he could also tell that Harry was on edge, and he didn’t want to push him about it. “Okay. Can I see those scrapes on your hands?”
Harry looked at his hands, as if just noticing that he was hurt at that very moment. His lips curled into an even tighter frown. “Why?”
“I want to clean them up and put some plasters on them. You don’t want to leave them open like that, do you?”
Harry paused again, thinking. “Like… Like Dudley plasters?”
He didn’t know what ‘Dudley Plasters’ were, but he decided to go with it. “Yeah, like Dudley plasters.”
“I get… get Dudley plasters?” Harry sounded as if he couldn’t believe it.
Pushing down his growing concern, he grabbed a box of plasters from under the sink, pulling a few of them out. They were all tan, and he suddenly wished they were multi-colored, as he thought Harry would like that more. Before Harry could see the plasters, he muttered an incantation under his breath and watched as they shifted to purple, red, orange, and blue. “Yes, you get Dudley plasters.”
He grabbed a fresh wash cloth and made sure all of the scrapes were clean, before he grabbed a handful of plasters, making sure he got one of every color. Harry was practically bouncing, as he wrapped the sticky bandages around his fingers and hands. Once he’d finished, he put the box away and looked him over one last time. “Is that better?”
Harry nodded, rubbing small circles over the waxy surface of the plasters, as if he was in awe. “Thank you, s-sir.”
He almost cursed himself for being so stupid. Harry had no idea where he was or what was happening, and he hadn’t even introduced himself. No wonder he was scared. “My name’s Draco. You can call me Draco.”
Harry’s nose wrinkled for a moment, as if he thought the name was odd, but his expression quickly shifted back to normal. “Okay.”
“Are you hungry?” He asked after a few moments of awkward staring.
Harry furrowed his brows, as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He was silent for a long moment, before he nodded.
There were still the left-overs from the roast chicken they’d had last night, so he pulled them out of the fridge and started to reheat them. He avoided using any magic, as he didn’t want to freak Harry out again. Once the chicken was warm, but not hot, he cut it into small cubes. Digging back through the fridge he found an apple, which he also diced, as he didn’t think Harry would be able to eat it whole.
It wasn’t a very exciting meal, and he knew he’d need to go to the shop soon, but he thought he’d at least feed the boy first.
He helped Harry to climb onto a chair, before he put the plate in front of him. He was expecting Harry to complain about the lackluster meal, but instead he busied himself by inhaling everything on his plate in a matter of seconds, leaving Draco concerned that he might choke. Maybe he was just really hungry.
“Do you want more?”
Harry nodded, so he cut up more chicken and the rest of the apple, setting it in front of him. “I know it’s not much. But I’ve got to go to the shop and pick up some stuff. You can help me pick out some meals you might like.” He paused. “And some clothes and toys, too.”
Harry was staring at him strangely. “For me?”
“Well, yeah. If you’re going to be staying here, you’re going to need proper clothes and things.”
Harry fell silent, although his face was still deeply confused, as he went back to shoveling his food into his mouth. Draco ignored his unease, deciding he could try to figure out where Harry’s insecurities stemmed from later. Right now, he needed to try and find out what kids Harry’s age were meant to eat, wear, and play with. But first, he needed to find out how old Harry was.
“Hey, Harry. How old are you?”
Harry glanced up at him. “Three.”
“Three? That’s…” He swallowed. “Right. Thank you.”
There was a curious expression on Harry’s face, but he remained silent and eventually looked away, staring at his now empty plate.
How was he meant to take care of a three year old? He knew nothing about children. And he hadn’t even had nine months to prepare for one. There had to be books about this stuff, but he was afraid he wouldn’t have enough time to read and find everything he needed to know. He needed to know everything right now, as Harry was here right now.
He needed advice, and he thought he knew exactly who he was going to ask. Hermione was always devouring textbooks in her spare time, so she should know a thing or two. And of course, she had at least a few of her own children by now, that had to count for something. Floo calling would be faster, but he thought Harry wouldn’t like that very much, so he decided to write a letter instead.
Finding some loose parchment, he grabbed a muggle pen, which Harry always insisted on having around. It had always annoyed him, as he didn’t see what was wrong with a good, old-fashioned quill, but now he was glad for it, as he was sure that writing with a feather would bring more questions.
He stared at the blank parchment, trying to think of how he was going to explain what had happened. Should he? Or would he be better off leaving everything vague? He didn’t think Hermione would have much trouble seeing through any lie he came up with, so he decided to just tell the truth. It’d save time, and he needed answers as soon as possible. Once he’d finished with his letter, he read it over multiple times, making sure it all made sense. Or at least, as much sense as it could. He signed his name at the bottom and rolled the parchment up, tying it closed with a bit of string. He’d need to wait until later to send it off, as he didn’t want to let Harry out of his sight.
Putting the letter up for later, he turned to find Harry missing. “Merlin. Where’d you go?”
Harry had just been there. He didn’t understand how he could have vanished in such a short amount of time. He hadn’t even heard anything.
“Harry?”
No response.
He held back a curse and made his way towards the living room. He couldn’t have gone far. At least, he hoped he hadn’t. He didn’t think Harry was tall enough to open doors on his own, but if he’d found something to stand on– He picked up his pace.
The living room was empty. He’d even gotten down on his hands and knees to look beneath the couch, but no one was there. He checked the bathroom, but it was empty too.
Further down the hall, he noticed that the door to his Potion room was still open and his heart dropped. He had forgotten to close it earlier. Almost all of the ingredients he had were toxic, not to mention the potions themselves, which could easily be fatal if too much was ingested. He rushed into the room, finding Harry attempting to climb one of his metal stools, which was partially tucked beneath his shelves. Terror raced through him, as Harry nearly lost his grip and teetered side to side. The entire stool was about to flip over, as it began to rock, the legs clattering against the cement floor.
“Harry!” He grabbed him and lifted him up, before he could fall.
A sharp whimper filled the air, as Harry started to cry, his shoulders bobbing up and down. “I jus’... I jus’ w-wanted to see.”
He took a breath to calm himself, while his heart continued to race, leaving him feeling weak and like he needed to sit down. “I know. I know, but it’s… You can’t be in here, okay? Especially not without me. This stuff isn’t safe for you.”
Harry’s lower lip wobbled, as he stared up at him with wide, watery eyes, and he felt his heart break. “I sowwy. I didn’... I didn’ know. I won’ do it again. I won’.”
“It’s okay.” He held him closer, walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him. “I’m not mad. You just scared me.”
Harry continued to shake, quiet sobs escaping him. “I sowwy.”
He sat down on the couch, wrapping a blanket around him and patting him on the back gently. “It’s okay. You didn’t know. I didn’t mean to… To snap at you. I’m sorry.”
There was a loud sniff, before Harry raised a hand and rubbed at his eyes, his face resting against his chest. He stayed quiet, as he gradually started to settle down. Harry’s eyes were still glossy, but he had stopped crying.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered, his voice barely audible.
Harry curled up tighter, one of his hands clenching into a fist around the fabric of his shirt. He ran his fingers through his hair, which was still tangled and unkempt. Father never would have let him leave the house looking so disheveled. He couldn’t remember any of his friends ever looking like this, even the Weasley’s seemed to be better cared for than Harry had been. The thought made his stomach roll; he couldn’t understand what could possibly prompt someone to treat a child in such a way. It was despicable.
He wanted to fix Harry’s hair right away, but something told him he needed to build up to that point. He needed to earn his trust first; he needed Harry to see that he was on his side, that he wasn’t going to be like his aunt and uncle, and it wasn’t something he could rush. No, he needed to take things slowly, or he’d risk making everything worse.
“I can show you some of my safe ingredients sometime. Would you like that?” But when he looked down, he saw that Harry’s eyes were shut, and he was fast asleep.
He supposed it had been a very big day for Harry, so it only made sense he’d need to take a kip. And besides, he was fairly certain young children were meant to be taking kips during the day, or they got rather cranky. He wrapped the wool blanket around Harry tighter and laid him down on the couch, propping a pillow up beneath his head. Harry wrapped his arms around the pillow, clinging to it, as if he missed Draco’s presence. He cast a quick charm over Harry, which would alert him when he woke up, so he could send his letter.
It only took a minute, but every second he wasn’t with Harry filled him with dread, as if he could somehow escape his charm and vanish again. He passed the letter to his Eagle Owl, who flew out the front door, as he opened it. The only thing that was left was a single, brown feather. He knelt down and picked it up, adding it to his growing collection. He used the flight feathers to make quills, and the rest could be used to make some of his potions.
Harry was still asleep when he returned, his thumb having made its way into his mouth. He sat down beside him and picked out a book, trying to keep his mind off of his growing concerns. He hoped Hermione would get back to him quickly.
While he was waiting, he started to make a list of the things he knew he’d need to get for Harry. He had almost nothing to entertain him with, as he couldn’t use his magic around him. Although, he was hoping that with enough time and encouragement he might be able to change that. All he had were a bunch of blankets and pillows, but he didn’t think they’d be very exciting to play with. Toys were going to be a necessity. They didn’t even have a dog, so he had nothing colorful or loud to distract Harry with.
Of course, Harry had his snakes, but he wasn’t sure that his adult self would be happy with a three-year-old getting their hands on them. Still, they might be something he could show him, if it came down to that or nothing.
Hours passed and eventually, Harry woke up. His face was smooshed and creased, as he lifted it off of his pillow. He squinted his eyes and looked around, as if confused. “Draco?”
“Right here.”
Harry turned and looked up at him, before he pushed himself into a sitting position and rubbed at his eyes, his earlier upset entirely forgotten. “Thought… Thought you left.”
“I wouldn’t do that. Do you want to watch the telly for a while?” It was the only thing he could think of. Harry had insisted on getting it, and at first, he’d been adamantly against it, as he didn’t want the ‘radio-waves’ to interfere with his brain. Harry had laughed at him, telling him that he was being ‘ridiculous’. But Draco still wasn’t too sure about the device, he was convinced it had to have some hidden nefarious purpose. Only, he couldn’t even begin to figure out what it might be, and he was still as smart as he’d always been, so he supposed it couldn’t be too dangerous.
Harry nodded, his stubby legs kicking back and forth against the couch. “Dudley always got to pick the channels.”
“You can pick the uh… The channels.” He paused. “As long as it’s appropriate.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He hopped off the couch and turned the television on, letting Harry search through the flickering channels, until he landed on some animated cartoon. Harry had practically glued his face to the screen, and he wasn’t sure how Harry could stand to be so close to it. Trying to follow the flashing images was starting to give him a headache.
He went back to reading and planning, as Harry seemed content to just stare at the T.V. for hours. Once the sun started to set, he got Harry a small snack and a glass of water, before he showed him his room. It was a spare room, and it was rather bare, but he wasn’t sure Harry would want to stay in their room at the moment.
Harry wobbled into the room after him, his water-cup clasped firmly between his fingers. Draco brought the blankets from the couch into the room and draped them over the bed. Once everything was warm and soft, he patted the bed. “You can come here now.”
Harry lingered near the doorway, looking rather confused. “I get… I get the bed?”
“Of course, you get the bed. Where else would you sleep?”
Harry glanced at the floor, his eyebrows furrowing. “I don’... I don’ need a big room.”
Draco pulled away from the bed and knelt down in front of him, taking one of his hands and squeezing it between his own. “Hey, it’s okay. No one uses this room. You can have it.”
Harry nodded, his lower lip starting to wobble. “Okay.”
He led Harry over to the bed and took his cup from him, setting it on the nightstand. “You ready to lay down?”
Harry nodded again, so he helped him to climb onto the bed and pulled the covers over him. Harry looked very small, his head the only thing visible beneath the blankets. His eyes were glossy, and he realized that he was on the verge of tears.
“What’s wrong?”
Harry shook his head, trying to hide his face beneath his covers. “Is… Is fine.”
He sat down beside him. “You can talk to me. You don’t have to hide. I’m not going to be upset.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Slowly, the blankets were lowered, as Harry peered up at him. “It… It dark.”
“Oh. You don’t like the dark?”
Harry shook his head, his cheeks starting to turn pink.
He didn’t have any nightlights. Of course, he could conjure one, or he could cast lumos , but he didn’t think that’d help to calm Harry down at the moment. “I’ll get you a nightlight when we go shopping tomorrow. Does that sound alright?”
Harry nodded, his eyes surveying the room. “Are… Are you going to lock the door?”
His heart clenched. “No, I’m not… I’m not going to lock you in here. If you need me, I’ll be just down the hall. You can come and get me, okay?”
Harry didn’t seem very sure about that, as he shook his head and tried to hide his face again, mumbling something unintelligible under his breath.
“You can come and get me. I won’t be upset.” He paused and gently added, “Just like I won’t be upset if magic happens. Okay?”
Harry pulled the very edge of the blanket down, just enough so one eye could see. “I not magic.”
He wasn’t sure that he wanted to start this conversation again so close to bedtime, so he decided to let it go. “No, I was the one doing it. You’re right.”
The blanket lowered further. “How?”
“With my wand.”
Harry frowned, trying to get a closer look. “What… What is a wand?”
“It helps me to focus my magic. Do you want to see it?”
Harry thought about it for a very long time, his eyes partially narrowed, before he finally whispered, “Okay.”
He slipped his wand out of his sleeve, letting it rest against his palm. Harry sat up, leaning closer, so he could see it better.
“It look like a stick.” Harry blurted out, before he seemed to realize what he’d said and went entirely pale, “I mean… It… It… It don’. I sowwy.”
“It’s okay. It does look like a stick, doesn’t it? It is made partially of wood, so you’re not wrong.” He lowered his hand, so Harry could see it easier.
Gradually, Harry started to relax again, as he realized he wasn’t going to be in trouble for what he’d said. “Can…” Harry fell silent, rethinking his decision to say anything.
“What is it? You can ask.”
“Can I touch it?”
“Sure. Just don’t fling it around.”
Harry reached out slowly, as if he expected the wand to bite him if he moved too quickly. “Why not?”
“Well, you might make something catch fire.”
Harry paused, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah. But it’s okay. I could put it out if it happens.” He moved his hand closer to Harry. “It’s okay. You can see it.”
After a few moments of terrified staring, Harry pressed one finger against the wand, before he jerked away again.
“It won’t hurt you. It’s alright.”
Seemingly gaining confidence, Harry reached out again, running his finger over the smooth wood of the wand. “What is it?”
“It’s hawthorn wood with a unicorn hair core.”
“Unicorn?”
“Yeah?” He paused, unsure why Harry was asking and then it hit him. “Oh, that’s right. Muggles don’t know about them.”
“What… What a muggle?”
“Non-magical folk.”
Harry screwed his face up. “Like me?”
He decided that Harry had been taking everything fairly well, so he supposed talking about it wouldn’t be a terrible idea, and he didn’t want to lie to him about it. “No, you’re not a muggle. You’re a wizard, like me.”
“No. I not.”
“Yes, you are. You’re just young. It’ll take time for your magic to develop and even longer for you to be able to control it and cast spells.” He couldn’t help but smile. “You’re going to be a great wizard, you know?”
Harry shook his head, his frown returning. “You wrong. I not magic. I just Harry.”
“Maybe being Harry doesn’t have to be a bad thing.” He gave him a slight nudge. “You’ll see.”
Harry chewed on his lower lip, an uncertain expression on his face. “Are you a good wizard?”
“I’m alright.” He glanced out the window, seeing the last remnants of the sun vanishing behind the sky-line. “I’m good at Charms. And Potions.”
“Is that what was in the big, black pots?”
“Yeah. Some of them can take forever to brew. They’re very finicky though.”
Harry was staring at him with awe and curiosity. “What do they do?”
“Oh, all sorts of things. I can show you some of my finished potions tomorrow, but you’ve got to get some sleep. Okay?”
Harry yawned, as if on cue. “Not tired.”
“I’ll make you a special breakfast tomorrow if you go to sleep for me now. How’s that sound?”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
Harry settled down, his arms wrapping tightly around his pillow. “Okay.”
He smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Thank you. I’ll just be down the hall if you need me.”
He got to his feet and pulled away, only to stop, as Harry had clung to his hand, his eyes wide and fearful again. Harry released his grip and flopped back onto the bed, starting to cry. “S-Sowwy.”
“It’s okay.” He sat back down, balancing on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?”
Harry wiped at his eyes, as if he was trying to hide that he was crying. “Nothing.”
He used the edge of Harry’s blanket to dab at his tear-streaked face. “You can tell me, remember?”
There was a long silence, before Harry whimpered, “I… I scared.”
“Oh. I see.” He tucked the blanket in around Harry, making sure he was secure and comfortable. “Is it the dark?”
Harry nodded, his eyes wide and serious.
“Okay. What if I stay here until you fall asleep?”
Harry thought about this for a long moment and then nodded again, while chewing on his bottom lip and looking rather uncertain. “Thank you.”
“It’s okay.” He offered his hand, which Harry latched onto and squeezed so tightly that his fingers started to go numb. “I could get you a magic night light, would you like that?”
“Magic night light?” Harry asked, his voice small and cautious.
“Yes, they glow on their own and walk around the room. There’s all sorts of them. You can pick some that you like.”
“They walk?”
He couldn’t stop himself from smiling at Harry’s wonder. “Of course. It’s a simple spell really.”
“What kind are there?”
“Well, there’s unicorn ones. Dragons. Hippogriffs. Snitches. All sorts.”
Harry’s nose wrinkled, as if he was confused. “What a… What a Snitches?”
“It’s called a Snitch. It’s a little golden ball with silver wings. It’s part of Quidditch.”
Harry opened his mouth to ask another question, presumably what Quidditch was.
“I’ll explain all about it tomorrow.” He blurted out, before Harry could ask his question. “It’s a lot to go over right now. Lots of rules and such.”
Harry nodded and settled back down, glancing around the room. “Have you ever met a dragon?”
“I saw some at school once. But I wasn’t the one facing them.”
“You saw them at school?”
“Yes. It’s a magic school.” He wasn’t sure how he was going to get Harry to stop talking. He couldn’t leave, because he told him he’d stay here until he fell asleep. But Harry wasn’t falling asleep, and he just kept asking questions.
“Wow. I wish I could go to magic school.”
“You will. When you’re… Er… Older.”
Harry’s eyes widened even further. “Really?”
“Yes. And I promise to answer any and all questions you may have tomorrow. But it’s time for bed now.”
Harry wriggled side to side, as if settling himself. “Can… Can I ask one more question, Mr. Draco?”
“It’s just Draco, but yes, what’s your question?”
Harry smiled slightly, a small, shy smile, but a smile none-the-less. “Am I really magic?”
“Yes, you are. I promise.”
This seemed to calm Harry down, as he rolled onto his side and didn’t ask anymore questions. His grip on his hand refused to loosen, but after a few minutes, Harry’s breathing evened out, and he knew that he was asleep.
Draco awoke the next morning to the sound of furious tapping at his window. He blinked his eyes open, rubbing the sleep from them, as he sat up, still groggy and disoriented. His eagle owl, Gilderoy, was at the window, slamming his talons against it with growing ferocity, a crumpled letter clamped tightly in his beak.
He leapt out of bed and threw the window open, letting Gilderoy glide to his dresser, where he landed and let out a rather cross hoot.
“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” He took the letter from his beak and ran his fingers through his head feathers. “How long were you out there for, Buddy?”
The owl fluffed up his feathers, letting out a series of sharp trills, before he attempted to nip Draco’s hand. He yanked his fingers away before he could succeed. “I said I was sorry!”
Gilderoy waddled towards the edge of the dresser and leapt off, gliding to his perch in the far corner of the room. Draco ignored him and opened the letter, sitting back down on the edge of his bed to read it. He knew immediately that it was from Hermione, as he didn’t know anyone else who had such elegant hand-writing, yet still managed to sound disappointed.
‘Dear Draco,
Your letter was most concerning. I do wish you had brought Harry over, but as you have not, I will assume you are handling the situation. To answer your questions, no, you most certainly should not leave him on his own, even for a little while. He should be taking at least one kip a day, otherwise he’ll be very grumpy.
As for foods, he can eat most things, just make sure you cut everything into little pieces and that it’s nothing too spicy. He’ll need toys, of course. I suspect he’ll know nothing of magic at this age, so it might present an issue. Although, I’m sure you’ve discovered this by now. If he’s not taking to magic well, there are muggle ways to keep him entertained. A blanket fort may prove to be a favorable option, as is the T.V. You do have one, if I remember correctly. Building blocks and plushes might also be a good idea, just make sure he doesn’t choke on anything. As for clothing, he’ll need something to sleep in and at least a few changes for the day time. And maybe a jacket or a coat, if you intend to take him out with you. Don’t forget shoes and socks.
Just keep an eye on him and be patient. He didn’t have a good childhood. He’s bound to be scared. If it becomes too challenging, you can always bring him by. I’d be more than happy to look after him until this mystery potion has worn off.
If anything else develops let me know. And Ron says hi.
Sincerely,
Hermione’
He folded the letter back up and tucked it away. He couldn’t send Harry away, not now. They were just starting to get along, and what would he say to Harry? ‘Sorry, I’m sending you to live with a stranger now, bye.’ He couldn’t do that. Harry would never forgive him.
Quickly, he got dressed, putting on some casual robes, before he made his way towards Harry’s room. Harry was still asleep, his fingers curled tightly in the fabric of his pillow. He looked peaceful and content for the moment, so he backed out of the room and made his way into the kitchen.
He’d told Harry that he’d make him a special breakfast, but he still had no idea what that would consist of. Digging through the fridge, he pulled out a carton of eggs, as well as a package of bacon and started to fry them up. Once everything was almost ready he started the toast and got the jam out. Feeling as if something were watching him, he paused what he was doing and looked around, finding two, wide green eyes peeking out from behind the corner.
“Morning, Harry.”
Harry disappeared with a gasp.
“Where’d you go?”
Slowly, Harry leaned forwards, his green eyes appearing once more. “Sowwy, sir.”
“It’s Draco, remember?”
“Oh. Right.” Harry took a step closer, staring longingly at the breakfast he was preparing.
“Hungry?”
Harry looked guilty and stared at his feet, before he nodded.
“That’s okay, it’ll be ready in just a few minutes. You want to have a seat?”
Harry wobbled over to the kitchen table and pulled himself up onto the closest chair, his legs kicking back and forth as he waited. Draco finished cooking everything and divided it up among two plates, taking a moment to cut Harry’s into small pieces.
“Here you are.” He set the plate down in front of Harry, taking the chair next to him.
Harry stared at his plate. “This is all for me?”
“Yeah, you don’t have to eat it all if you’re too full.”
Harry shook his head and started to shovel the food into his mouth.
“You don’t have to eat so fast, no one’s going to take it.”
Harry had finished within a matter of seconds, staring at his empty plate with longing. So, he scraped some of his eggs onto Harry’s plate. “Here.”
His eyebrows furrowed, as he stared at the eggs. His hesitation only lasted a few seconds, before he started to swallow them down. “Thank you, Mr. Draco.”
“It’s just Draco.” He repeated.
Harry took a drink of his water and wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. So, Draco handed him a napkin.
Once they’d both finished eating, Draco put their plates in the sink. “You ready to go to some shops?”
Harry glanced up at him, looking confused all over again. “I... I going?”
“Of course. You have to help me pick things.” He didn’t mention the fact that he thought Harry would probably find a way to kill himself if he left him alone for too long. The house wasn’t exactly child-proof.
“I… I never gone before.”
“Oh.” His heart sank. “That’s okay. It’s… It’s nothing scary. I promise.”
Harry wiped his mouth again, leaving the napkin forgotten on the table. “Dudley alway goes.”
“Well, it’s Harry’s turn to go.”
There was a slight pause, as Harry contemplated this, before he slid off of the chair and dropped to the floor. “Okay.”
“We’ll go to some muggle shops first.” He thought that might be easier for Harry than going straight to Diagon.
Harry nodded and hurried back into his room, putting his shrunken shoes on. He waited in the hallway for him, counting the seconds as they passed by. Eventually, he started to worry that Harry might need his help with something, so he stepped into the room, looking around for him.
Harry was laying on his belly, his head and chest hidden beneath his bed. He seemed to be fiddling with something. Draco watched him for a moment longer, perplexed. “What are you doing?”
There was a sharp whimper, as Harry flinched and went rigid, before he scrambled out from under his bed. His eyes were watery and red, while his lower lip started to wobble. “N-Nothin’.”
He knelt down, so he wasn’t towering over him. “You can talk to me. What’s wrong?”
Harry shook his head and covered his eyes with his hands, as he started to cry, his shoulders shaking up and down with every breath.
Realizing that he wasn’t going to be getting any answers out of Harry, he bent over and looked under his bed, and he felt his heart sink. Shoved in the far, back corner was a pile of food which was starting to go bad. He could see remnants of the chicken he had given Harry and the eggs and bacon from this morning. Harry started to cry harder, his tiny body trembling with fright. “I s-sowwy. I sowwy, Mr. Draco.”
He pushed himself back up, feeling slightly sick. “It’s okay. It’s alright. You’re not in trouble.”
Harry continued to cry; it was as if he couldn’t hear him.
“Harry, You… You know you’ll always have food here, right? You just have to ask.”
There was a loud sniff and Harry’s fingers parted just slightly, so he could look up at him.
“I promise, okay? You’re always going to have food, as much as you want. But you can’t keep it under your bed, it’s going to make you sick eating that.” He offered Harry his hand, as he got to his knees. “Here, what if we keep some safe food where you can always reach it? Would that help?”
Harry nodded and grabbed his hand. His eyes were still glossy, but he had stopped sobbing. “Thank… Thank you, Mr. Draco.”
Pushing himself to his feet, he led Harry back into the kitchen, where he found a large, plastic bowl which he placed various apples and fruits in. He set the bowl on a chair, so Harry would be able to reach it. “Okay. If you want something, you just have to bring it to me so I can cut it up for you. Does that sound okay?”
Harry took a tentative step forwards and picked up one of the apples, as if he couldn’t believe it was real. “I… I get these… whenever I want?”
“Whenever you want.”
Harry raised a hand to wipe at his eyes, sniffling. “Thank you.”
He grabbed a tissue and dabbed it around his eyes, until they were dry. “It’s alright. Are you still hungry?”
“Not… Not now.”
“Okay. Do you still feel up to going shopping?”
A glimmer of a smile appeared on Harry’s face, as he nodded. He looked uncertain and a little scared, but Draco thought he also seemed excited. So, he took his hand and led him towards the door.
Draco wasn’t sure that Apparating would go well, so they took a taxi to the nearest shop. He decided to get clothes first, as he thought Harry would appreciate having muggle clothing.
Harry was clinging to the leg of his trousers, his eyes wide and frightened, as he looked around. A loud rattle sounded, as someone rushed past with a cart. Harry whimpered and cowered from the sound.
“Hey, it’s alright.” He knelt down and took Harry’s hand. “Would it help if I held you?”
Harry nodded, so he wrapped an arm around his middle and lifted him up, balancing him against his hip. Tiny fingers gripped his shirt, as Harry clung to him.
“Alright, we’ll just look at the clothes. It should be quieter back here.” He carried Harry towards the back, where the kid’s clothes were displayed. “You see anything you like?”
Harry glanced at the colorful shirts, shaking slightly. “I… I dunno.”
“Okay, that’s okay.” He grabbed a few small t-shirts with funny designs on them and picked out different colored trousers, before he moved to the sleepwear. Harry hid his face against him the entire time and wouldn’t give any input on his selections when he’d ask. He figured he was just overwhelmed and scared, but he was worried that Harry wouldn’t like the outfits he was picking.
Even so, it had to be better than having no clothes at all, and Harry clearly wasn’t ready to be giving any input. He’d only been in the shop for a few minutes, before he had all of his clothes picked out. Finding shoes that fit had been a struggle, as Harry started to cry every time he tried to set him down to try them on. Eventually, he just eye-balled it and picked out a few pairs, hoping they’d fit when they got home.
He’d found a cute maroon jacket that zipped up the front and had a hood in the back. He also bought a green version, just in case Harry didn’t like the color. Once his basket was full of all sorts of cute accessories, he made his way to the front and fumbled with his muggle money. He always forgot what the different notes were worth. Luckily, the cashier took pity on him and pointed out which ones he needed. Harry normally helped him with it, if he didn’t do it all himself, so he left feeling rather flustered and embarrassed.
The next shop he went to was for groceries. He held Harry the entire time, and once again, he received no input or help with his selections. He tried to pick out a mix of healthy foods, while also getting things he thought Harry might like to snack on. When he’d finally finished shopping there, he ended up with a variety of vegetables and fruits, as well as the fixings to make hamburgers and hotdogs. He’d also bought a large bag of chips to make with the hamburgers. Before he’d left, he also grabbed some bottles of shampoo and conditioner that were labeled for children and had funny drawings on the front, only they didn’t move and were entirely stationary. He thought it was rather boring.
Before he went to his final destination, he paused outside under the shade of a tree and set Harry down in front of him. “You ready to go to the last place? There’s going to be wizards there and magic.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Magic?”
“Yeah, remember? We talked about it last night.”
Harry’s cheeks flushed slightly pink. “I thought it was a dream.”
“No, it… It wasn’t a dream.”
Harry’s lips twitched into a smile. “Okay.”
“Ready to go, then?”
“Yes. I wanna see magic.”
He lifted Harry back up, holding him close, so he wouldn’t accidentally drop him. “You’ll see some, don’t worry.”
“You do magic now?”
“Not now. The muggles will see. I can show you magic when we get to Diagon.”
Harry clapped his hands together and then stilled, looking deeply embarrassed.
Seeing as how he couldn’t Apparate with Harry, they had to access Diagon through the underground entrance. Harry gasped and stared in awe as the bricks started to move aside, rearranging themselves to reveal an opening that led onto the bustling street of Diagon Alley.
Witches and Wizards were hurrying past, packages and parcels floating after them. Other wizards shrunk their packages down and stuffed them into their pocket, before they swished their wands and vanished with a pop. Harry was watching in wonder, looking around at the colorful fixtures and signs that hung from the shop fronts. An owl hooted at them, as it drifted by, a letter clamped firmly in its beak.
“Wow. A owl!” Harry gasped.
“Yes, we use them to deliver our mail. I’ve got one at home.”
“You do? Can I see?”
He smiled. “Sure, you can. Once we finish here.”
Harry was practically bouncing, as he made his way down the street. So far, no one had recognized Draco, which was good. He didn’t feel like dealing with the hushed whispers and jabs today, not with Harry like this. He didn’t want to have to explain everything to a three-year-old. It’d just scare him, and there’d be no point.
He slipped into a toy-shop, before anyone could spot him. Harry seemed much more interested in looking around here, and he was glad to see the change in his demeanor. He picked out a set of self-building blocks, which the main goal was to be knocked over. Next, he grabbed a bucket of clay, which came to life and ran around, once it was formed into a shape. By the time he’d finished, he had a self-blowing bubble blower, a set of action figures that came to life, a stuffed-dragon that walked and roared, and three different night-lights, a dragon, a unicorn, and a snitch.
He was about to leave, when Harry spotted a plush owl which let out a soft hoot and flapped its wings every few seconds. “That! That!”
Harry froze and lowered his pointed finger. “Sowwy, Mr. Draco.”
He didn’t understand what had happened, or why Harry was suddenly sorry. “No, it’s okay.” He plucked the stuffed-owl off of the shelf and put it in Harry’s hand. “I wanted you to pick things, remember?”
Harry hugged the owl against his face. “Thank you.”
He brought everything to the front and passed a handful of galleons to the store-keep, who glared at him the entire time he was checking out. The man stared at Harry, his eyes thoughtful and cold. “Who’s the kid?”
Draco wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but he knew exactly why he was asking, and he didn’t need a rumor spreading that he’d kidnapped a child. “Friend of the family. Babysitting.”
“Surprised anyone would trust you with their child.” But the man checked everything out anyway and didn’t say anything else as he left.
Harry was staring up at him curiously, and he knew he must have hundreds of questions. “I’ll try to answer your questions when we get home, okay?”
Harry nodded and turned his attention back to his new owl. “Okay. Thank you, Mr. Draco.”
He gave up on trying to correct him. When they returned home, he put all of Harry’s things up in his room and spread his toys across the floor, so he could play.
Harry knocked the blocks over a few times, watching as they floated back into a stack that vaguely resembled a castle. Although, he seemed to grow bored and turned his attention back to his owl, hugging it tightly.
He sat down next to him and began to shape a hippogriff out of the clay, once it was formed it glowed and started to gallop through the air. Harry watched it fly, his eyes wide, before he grabbed a chunk of the orange clay and started to roll a long snake into existence. It flopped about and rolled over the floor, before it seemed to realize it was meant to be a snake and started to slither. Watching Harry play, he was struck with the realization that he was too quiet. It was almost eerie.
“You uh… Had questions for me?” He prompted.
Harry glanced back up at him and dropped his clay, clutching his owl once again, before he nodded.
“Okay. You can ask.”
“What… What did the man mean?”
He took a breath, focusing on making a dragon out of the clay in his hand. He hadn’t wanted to have this conversation. Harry was scared enough already, and he was just starting to trust him. But he couldn’t refuse to answer. He hated the man for asking such pointed questions in front of Harry. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone to Diagon at all, but he’d wanted Harry to have some magical toys. He deserved that much.
“Well, most people don’t like me much.”
“Why?”
“Because I… I did some stupid things when I was younger.”
“Oh.”
And to his relief, Harry didn’t ask anymore questions. He took the chance to change the topic to something more positive. “You wanted to know about Quidditch?”
Harry nodded and began to play with his blocks again, knocking them over with a well placed slap. They formed a bridge this time, being held together by nothing more than magic.
He explained all of the rules, using his hands to demonstrate the sizes of the different balls and what their roles were in the game. Once he’d finished, he added, “I used to play Quidditch.”
“You did? What it like?”
“It’s wonderful. There’s nothing else quite like it.”
“Why you stop then?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Outgrew it, I guess.”
“Adults don’t play?”
“They do, but it’s… Well, you have to be really good to get on the team. And I don’t think anyone would want me.” He left out the fact that he was sure Harry could have gone on to play professionally. Harry had said he wasn’t interested in it anymore, but he knew that wasn’t the real reason. He knew Harry didn’t want to play when he couldn’t.
Harry reached out and patted his knee. “I sure you good at Quidditch.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you. I bet you’ll be great at it.”
Harry shook his head. “I don’ think so.”
“Why not?”
“I not good at anything.”
“Well, that’s not true.” He pointed at the lumpy, clay dog in Harry’s hand. “You’re good at making animals.”
Harry stared at the shape in his hand and frowned. “I dunno.”
“Well, I think you’re brilliant. And I’m sure you’ll be great at loads of other things too, once you give them a try.” He passed the roaring dragon to Harry, who took it and smiled, while he stared at the floor.
There was a tapping at the closest window. At first, he tried to ignore it, but it rapidly grew in intensity, until it was starting to frighten Harry, who was currently hiding behind him with his plush owl crushed against his chest. “Is it a monster?”
“No. It’s not a monster.” He picked Harry up and set him down on the couch, placing a blanket over him. “Probably just an owl with a letter. I’m going to check. Just stay here, okay?”
Harry hugged his owl tighter and nodded. “Okay, Mr. Draco.”
The closest window was just in the other room. There was a sleek barn owl, banging its talons against the glass and letting out frustrated shrieks. The second thing he noticed was the bright, red letter in its beak. He tried to turn around and walk away, but the owl had spotted him and began to scream.
The owl wouldn’t give up until he’d taken the letter, and the longer he waited, the more likely he’d be bitten. Reluctantly, he threw the window open, allowing the barn owl to glide inside, dropping the letter on the kitchen table, before it flew out again with one last, lingering screech.
The howler was starting to smolder, if he waited much longer it was bound to explode. Not wanting his kitchen table to be vaporized, he flipped it open and covered his ears. The floor rattled and a sharp clinking sound could be heard from the kitchen, as all of the plates and cups knocked against each other.
“FILTHY DEATH EATER SCUM! GETTING OFF WITH NOTHING MORE THAN A FEW MONTHS OF HOUSE ARREST, HIDING BEHIND YOUR DADDY’S MONEY, ARE YOU? IF IT’D BEEN A FAIR TRIAL YOU’D HAVE NEVER SEEN THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN!”
The howler went on and on, a never-ending, ear-splitting shriek, until finally it caught fire and burnt itself into ash. The silence was deafening. He rubbed at his ears sorely, as if he could soothe the ache that had started deep in his head. He’d not received a howler in months, most of the time the wards caught them, but there was still the occasional letter that would slip through.
Once he had composed himself, he rushed back to where he’d left Harry on the couch, only he was nowhere to be found. For a brief moment that felt like an eternity, he felt his blood run cold, and he had to fight off panic. How could he have been so stupid? He never should’ve left Harry on his own like that, the howler must’ve scared him to death. He could be anywhere in the house by now.
He was about to move onto the next room, when he heard a frightened whimper from close by. “Harry?”
The whimpering sound grew louder, until it broke into sobs. It was coming from the couch. He sat down and peered behind it. Harry had wedged himself between the back of the couch and the wall and was currently curled into a ball, as he hugged himself and sobbed.
“Hey. It’s okay.” Harry was far out of reach, so he would have to wait for Harry to come out on his own. “It’s all over now. I promise.”
Harry shook his head, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, as he sniffled. “Who… Who here?”
“No one’s here. It was just… A rather not nice letter. A very loud, not nice letter. But it’s gone now. You can come out.”
Harry curled up tighter, which seemed impossible. “Don’... Don’ like yelling.”
“I know. I’m sorry. There won’t be anymore yelling, I promise.”
“No… No yelling?”
“None, I promise. No one will ever yell at you again. Okay?”
Harry furrowed his brows, looking rather confused by this statement. “But… But Uncle Vernon yell a lot.”
He pushed down his growing anger. “He’s not here. He won’t yell at you anymore. It’s okay.”
Looking around, he spotted Harry’s plush owl on the floor, its face buried against the carpet. He got up and retrieved it, before he sat it down near the back of the couch. “Here’s your owl.”
Harry wiped at his eyes with his hand, sniffing. For a long moment, Harry remained still, before he inched closer and grabbed his owl by the tail-feathers, dragging it back towards him.
He sat next to the couch for a very long time, allowing Harry the space to calm down, while he hugged his owl. Once Harry had stopped crying and had crawled almost all of the way out, he asked him, “Do you want hot chocolate?”
Harry squeezed out from behind the couch, still clutching his plush. His cheeks were splotchy and pink from crying, as he leaned against him, burying his face against his shoulder. “Don’... Don’ go.”
“I won’t go anywhere, it’s okay.”
Harry grabbed a handful of his sleeve, so tightly he thought it might tear if he attempted to pull himself free. “Want… Want hold.”
“You want me to hold you?”
Harry nodded, so he pulled him onto his lap, letting one hand rest against the back of his head. For a brief second, Harry released his grip on his sleeve, only to cling to his shirt again, once he was settled. “Dudley… Dudley get hold.”
“They didn— don’t ever hold you?”
Harry shook his head, a tremor racing up his body. “Bad. No… No get hold.”
“You’re not bad, Harry.”
“I… I a freak.”
“You’re not. You’re just magic, that’s all. Like me.” He pulled Harry closer, hugging him gently. “It’s not bad.”
Harry looked even more confused. “I… I not bad?”
“No. You’re not.” He paused. “They’re just jealous.”
“Of me?”
“Of course. You’re wonderful, you know?”
Harry looked away, his lips wobbling, as if he was fighting back a smile. “I not.”
He poked him on the nose. “You are.”
Harry put his hands over his nose, as if shielding it. “Mr. Draco?”
“Yes?”
“Can I see your owl now?”
He got to his feet, lifting Harry up with him. “Sure. He’s just in my room.”
Harry bounced up and down excitedly, as he made his way towards his bedroom.
After that, Harry took every opportunity that presented itself to ask to be picked up and would often cling to him, his lip wobbling dangerously, whenever he tried to put him back down. Harry had just finished eating his hamburger, which had been cut into small cubes, when he slid off of the chair and raced over to him.
“Up! Up!” Harry yanked on the leg of his trousers impatiently.
He held back a sigh and lifted him up, spinning him in a lazy circle, before he balanced him against his side. “You want to see something neat?”
“Is it magic?”
“No. Not magic this time.” He bounced Harry slightly, receiving a sheepish smile. “I wanted to show you some of er… My other pets.”
They were really Harry’s, but he wasn’t about to try and explain everything to him now. Harry should remember everything once he turned back, so he wasn’t that worried about it.
“You have other pet?”
“Yeah, there’s lots of them. They’re ball pythons.” Seeing the confused look on Harry’s face, he elaborated further, “Snakes.”
Harry’s eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Are you afraid of snakes?”
Harry thought about this for a moment, his lips curled in concentration and making him look much older than he was. “No. Should I be?”
“No. They’re harmless. Most of them, anyway. Do you want to see them?”
Harry nodded, so he carried him towards the snake room. Draco didn’t know nearly as much about the snakes as Harry did; he only knew a few of the different morphs, where Harry had memorized them all and knew exactly which snakes he needed to breed to get the coloration he wanted. Or at least, which ones would give him a chance at getting the morph he wanted. It was never guaranteed. Harry had tried to tell him about ‘genetics’ multiple times, but he didn’t know what genetics had to do with squares, so he always got lost along the way.
He opened the first bin and slid it forwards out of the rack. All of the bins were magically elongated, giving the snakes ample room to hide. He lifted an empty rock and looked beneath it, but there was nothing. Pulling the bin out further, he flipped over a half-log, finding a bright, yellow ball python curled up beneath it, its snout hidden beneath its coils.
Carefully, he lifted it up with one hand, balancing it on his palm, so Harry could see. “This is a Banana Ball Python.”
Harry grinned. “It yellow!”
“Yes. They’re normally brown and green. Maybe, there’s a normal type in here somewhere.” He looked around, scanning the different tags on the tubs.
After taking three steps, he paused and turned back around, realizing he was still holding the snake. Once he’d placed the snake back into its home, he showed Harry a normal Ball Python. This one was much larger and was clearly an adult.
“See. This is what they normally look like.”
Harry was bouncing up and down against him, trying to get a closer look. All of a sudden, Harry went very still, his eyes widening, as his mouth fell open. “It… It talk. It talk. The snake talk!”
Of course, he’d almost forgotten. Harry was a Parselmouth.
“Yes. Some… Some people can talk to snakes.”
“Can you, Mr. Draco?”
“No. It’s… A rare gift.” He cleared his throat. “What’s the snake saying?”
Harry opened his mouth and a sharp hissing sound filled the room.
“I uh… Didn’t get that, sorry.”
Harry frowned and tried again, staring at him intently. “It said it hungry. It want a… A rat.”
“Oh. Right.” He tried to keep himself from grimacing. Harry always handled the snakes. He’d never had to feed them before. “Can you tell it it’s going to have to wait?”
There was another rasping hiss, as Harry turned to look back at the snake.
Before the snake could become too angry at the lack of food, he put it back under its hide. After that he moved on, showing Harry as many different morphs as he could, before his arm started to get tired from supporting his weight.
“Hey, Harry. Why don’t we make a pillow fort?” After Hermione’s recommendation, he had looked into what pillow forts were and how to make them. Of course, he thought he could make things a little more interesting with magic, as long as Harry was okay with it.
“Yes!” Harry bounced against him. “Big pillow fort!”
“Okay. We’ll make a big one.” He left the snake room behind them and carried Harry into the living room, before he set him down. “Is it alright if I use magic?”
Harry thought about this for a moment, before he nodded. “Okay.”
Draco pulled his wand out and flicked it in a broad circle, watching as all of the pillows and blankets around the house soared towards him and deposited themselves in a pile at his feet. Harry clapped his hands, his eyes wide with wonder and awe.
Next, he had all of the pillows and blankets drift upwards, forming a make-shift dome, where they hovered. Harry got on his hands and knees and crawled beneath the dome, so Draco followed after him. The inside of the fort was massive, it had many twisting passageways, all of them lined with pillows and blankets.
Harry spent many minutes running around and exploring the maze, before he decided he had seen enough and plopped down on a pile of pillows. Draco summoned all of the toys he’d purchased for Harry and spread them out over the floor. Harry seemed drawn to the magical clay, as he started to form dogs and cats, which glowed and raced around him, giving him something to chase through the maze.
Once he’d spent nearly half an hour trying to catch his clay creations, he turned his attention to his roaring dragon which he made walk across the floor with big, lumbering steps. Draco was laying down on his back, staring up at the dark ceiling, as Harry raced around him. He’d nearly dozed off, when he felt something slam down on his stomach.
Trying to stifle his yell, he stared up at Harry, who was sitting on top of him. “Can you do more magic, Mr. Draco?”
He took a few seconds to catch his breath, still feeling as if he’d been punched in the gut. “Sure.”
Finally being able to breathe properly, he sent tiny bubbles of light into the air, serving as makeshift fairy lights, which illuminated the dark space. Harry leapt off of him, kicking him right in the ribs, as he attempted to catch the shimmering bubbles. He sat up, rubbing his aching side gingerly.
After a few minutes, the conjured lights began to dim and eventually died out. Harry pouted and sat down, so he sent glittering butterflies into the air. His scowl vanished immediately, and he once again attempted to catch them, as they flew away down a distant corridor.
When Harry finally returned, he knew the butterflies must have vanished as well. But Harry didn’t seem upset and instead sat down next to him, taking his plush owl into his arms. His chin was resting atop the owl’s head, his eyes thoughtful.
“Hey, Harry? Could I work on your hair some?”
Harry glanced up at him, confused. “My hair?”
“Yeah. It’s uncomfortable like that, isn’t it?”
“I… I guess.” Harry mumbled, as he raised a hand and attempted to rake his fingers through his tangled curls.
“It won’t hurt. I can use magic.”
At the mention of magic, Harry sat up a little bit taller. “Okay!”
He started by straightening out all of the tangles, it took much longer than he was expecting, as he didn’t want to rush anything and risk hurting him. Focusing on one section of his hair at a time, he poked the end of his wand against one tangle and then the next, watching them straighten and melt away into springy curls.
Harry was incredibly still the entire time, still clinging to his plush owl, which let out a peppy hoot every few seconds.
“I’m sowwy, Mr. Draco.” Harry whispered, after a few minutes of concentrated silence.
“For what? You’ve not done anything.”
His head shook minutely. “My hair… is… it a mess.”
He paused, his hands going still. “Harry, that’s not your fault.”
“It is. It alway… It alway like this. Petunia… Petunia is alway mad.”
“I’m not going to be mad. I promise. It’s not your fault. It’s not… It’s not supposed to be your responsibility.” He prodded another tangle, watching it disappear.
Harry fell silent, and he kept working, not stopping until his hair was clear of all tangles.
“Alright. How does that feel?”
Harry ran his fingers through his hair again and his lower lip started to wobble, his eyes going very watery. “G-Good.”
He took Harry’s hand, holding it within his own. “What is it?”
“I… I don’... I don’...” Harry couldn’t finish his sentence, as he started to bawl and crumpled forwards against him.
He wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer. “You can tell me. It’s okay.”
“I don’ wanna go back!”
“Oh, Harry.” His heart ached, and he leaned back, so he could see his face clearly. “You’re not. You’re never going back there again. Okay?”
“B-But… I though’… I though’…”
“It’s okay. I’m going to take care of you. They’re never going to go near you again. I promise.” He summoned a rag, so he could wipe the tears from Harry’s face.
Harry clung to him, his fingers twisting into the fabric of his robe. “Wanna s-stay.”
“You can stay. It’s okay.”
Harry sobbed, his back heaving up and down endlessly. He didn’t say anything else; he just cried and cried, until he seemed to deflate against him, shivering softly.
“It’s okay.” He whispered, rubbing soothing circles over his back. “This is your home.”
After what felt like hours, Harry fell asleep. His cheeks were still red, but he seemed calm and peaceful, so he picked him up and carried him to his bed. Harry latched onto the blankets, as he wrapped them around him. He tucked his plush owl beside him, before he stepped out of the room to let him sleep.
He collapsed against the couch, feeling heavy and light all at the same time. It wasn’t fair, how Harry had been treated. He’d never known. How could he not have known? Why had it been allowed to happen? Why hadn’t anyone stopped it? Surely someone had to have known?
Before he realized what he was doing, he was pacing back and forth, his fingers curled into trembling fists. Harry deserved better, far better.
Eventually, he had paced all of the frustration out of him, and he fell back against the couch, feeling exhausted and empty. He tried to stay awake, but before long, he could feel himself starting to drift. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.
When he opened his eyes, he could see that the light had changed outside. It was much darker than it had been earlier. Panic flared through him, and he leapt to his feet. How could he have fallen asleep like that? What if Harry had woken up? What if he had left?
He rushed to Harry’s room and pushed the door open. He nearly tripped over his own feet, as he saw Harry sitting on the floor, a distant and dazed expression on his face. Only, Harry was no longer a child. He was the age he had been before he’d spilled potion all over himself. He was the age he was supposed to be.
Seeing as how his clothes fit, Harry must have enlarged them once he’d turned back. How long had it been? How long had he been sitting there like that?
“Hey.” Draco said, the words feeling hollow in his mouth.
Harry flinched and looked up at him. “Oh. Hi.”
“You… You okay?”
Harry nodded, although it was slow and controlled. “Yes. I… I’m alright.”
He lowered himself into a sitting position beside him. “You sure?”
“Yes. I just… It’s a bit… Strange.”
“Do you remember everything?”
“I think so.” Harry ran his fingers through his hair, his hand was shaking. “Forgive me. I just need a moment to come back to myself.”
He nodded, suddenly wondering if he should vanish all of the toys he’d bought for Harry. “Do you want to sit on the couch? I can… I can turn the telly on and…” His voice died.
“Okay.” Harry got to his feet and led the way into the living room. He stared at the pillow fort as he passed it, a strange expression clouding his face. “It’s… So strange. It feels like it happened years ago and yesterday at the same time.”
Draco sat down near the end of the couch, while Harry took the seat next to him. He didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded, feeling himself frowning.
Harry shook his head and turned his attention to the telly. “I’m okay.”
Draco wanted to say something, wanted to ask something, even if he couldn’t figure out what that was. He felt like he should be saying something, but Harry didn’t seem like he wanted to talk. And he didn’t want to make things worse for him.
Gradually, as the hours passed, Harry seemed to relax and his stiff mannerisms started to disappear. He even got up and started dinner, as he usually did.
Draco watched him from a distance, not sure if Harry wanted him to join him or not. Harry was bustling around the kitchen, seeming to pull out every pot and pan that they owned. Once he couldn’t stand to stay away any longer, he got up and made his way over. “Can I help?”
Harry paused in his movements and looked up, smiling slightly. “Okay.”
They both knew he couldn’t cook, but he felt odd just watching. Harry gave him some simple, easy jobs to do, such as cutting up vegetables.
He was halfway through dicing up a carrot, when Harry suddenly froze and looked at him, his mouth falling open and then freezing. “I…”
“What is it?”
“I just...” Harry stepped closer and pulled him into a crushing hug. “Thank you.”
“It’s okay.” He gasped out, hardly able to breathe.
Harry loosened his grip. “Sorry.”
And as Harry turned back to his cooking, he thought he could see tears shining in his eyes. Although something told him that he wasn’t sad or upset this time, as Harry was still smiling and had started to hum, while he worked on his gravy.