Parenting Class Chapter Fourteen

Disclaimer: I own the now sixteen years of my life, but still no Harry Potter. A tad disappointed, I was so sure Rowling was going to give it to me as a present XD

Parenting Class

O.o Grandpa?

Hermione knelt down in front of Harry and took his two little hands in hers. “Magic isn’t bad, Harry. Why would your uncle get mad?”

“It isn’t real,” Harry whispered, shaking his head. “Uncle Vernon doesn’t like things that aren’t real…he always gets really mad.”

“Come on,” said the girl, rising to her feet and holding only one of Harry’s hands now. “We’re going to go visit Dumbledore…he’ll know what to do.”

“I’ll stay here,” announced Draco, preparing to settle back on the couch. He still didn’t care much for Dumbledore…the old man scared him somewhat.

“Oh no you don’t.” Hermione grabbed the Slytherin by his ear and dragged him off the couch to the portrait hole. “Harry is your charge too and you’re coming.” Turning to Harry, she asked kindly, “It’s a long walk to Dumbledore’s office. Would you like me to carry you?”

Harry, after a few seconds thought, gave a tentative nod and allowed Hermione to pick him up and settle him on her hip. In silence, they made their way down the hall, only Draco’s occasional curses as he rubbed his sore ear breaking the silence.

“You didn’t have to pull it that hard,” he grumbled. “Now it’s going to be red for days!”

“Quit your whining,” Hermione laughed, punching Draco lightly in the shoulder. “I didn’t even twist it.”

“Are you two married?” Harry asked out of the blue, bright emerald eyes staring up at Hermione.

The reactions were priceless. Hermione stopped walking at once, mouth wide open in surprise and shock, Draco pretty much the same though the expression was much more comical on the normally composed Slytherin.

“We’re only seventeen,” gasped Hermione.

“Sixteen for me,” corrected Draco, “although that really isn’t that young in wizarding culture…Erm, I mean our culture,” he said hastily, seeing Harry’s eyes widen at another forbidden word. “Although,” he whispered to himself, “Hermione would probably be a good match.”

Even though the boy’s voice was soft, barely noticeable, Hermione picked up on it, though thankfully Harry didn’t. ‘What’s happening to me?’ she thought, as her whole body seemed to be filled with a strange, though comfortable, warmth, her fingers and toes tingling. ‘Did those words Draco said really have this effect on me. Oh God,’ she realized, ‘I think…I think I.’

Thankfully, for the sake of Hermione’s sanity before she could come to her heart-stopping conclusion, the trio arrived at the two gargoyles that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore’s office.

“Do you know the password?” Draco asked, completely oblivious to Hermione’s inner turmoil.

“Nugggh,” she said,weakly leaning against one of the stone creatures.

“She doesn’t look so well,” Harry remarked, placing one of his hands on Hermione’s forehead. “She’s warm too.”

Draco pulled Harry out of Hermione’s arms and set the child on the ground, before rushing to catch Hermione as the girl collapsed, legs giving out beneath her. “Is she all right?” Harry queried, eyes holding concern for the Gryffindor.

“I think she’s running a fever,” Draco murmured, scooping Hermione into his arms bridal style. In truth, he was pretty sure he knew why. She must have worried herself sick over all the accidents he got into when he was younger. And it probably wasn’t the best idea for her to run outside without a coat the day before when she went to help Hagrid catch the puffskeins that had gotten caught in a rather strong wind.

“Should we take her to the doctor?”

“Hospital wing will work just fine,” mused Draco. “Follow me, Harry. We’ll come visit Dumbledore after Hermione is feeling a little better, okay?”

“Okay,” the child said agreeably, falling into step next to Draco as the Slytherin set off down another corridor.

“Too good to pass up,” snickered a voice from behind a pillar, flashing a picture at the two teenagers before retreating back into the shadows. “I’ll have to slip this into their pictures later.” Darting off, no one ever realized the picture had been taken.

Draco made sure to keep to the back halls, not quite wanting to show Harry to the public yet. The kid was scared of magic, and being fussed over, seeing as he was a little celebrity, would only confuse and scare him.

They arrived at the clean, sunny hospital room a few minutes later, Hermione starting to stir though still not awake. Gently, Draco deposited her on one of the hospital beds and called, “Madam Pomfrey?”

The mediwitch exited out of her office, stacks of books and medical journals piled high in her arms. “What is it this time, Mr. Malfoy?” she asked, setting down the articles on a nearby table. Out of Draco’s two weeks of being a child, he’d been down in the hospital wing nearly almost every other day because of his accidental injuries.

“Actually, it’s Hermione this time. She has a fever.”

“A one hundred point six to be exact,” the nurse said, waving her wand over Hermione’s unconscious form, the numbers appearing above her head. “Could you hand me that red bottle above you, Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco gave the nurse the short bottle wordlessly, and Pomfrey administered it to Hermione. Harry gave a shout of surprise as smoke began to pour from Hermione’s ears. “SHE’S ON FIRE!” he cried in alarm.

Acting quickly, the child grabbed a vase of flowers off a nearby nightstand, tossed the flowers over his shoulder, and threw the water on top of Hermione. The Gryffindor jerked wildly up, hands flailing and catching Draco in the face, sending him stumbling backwards.

He tripped over Harry, who had backed up seeing that Hermione was getting very close to hitting him as well, and landed on a swivel chair with wheels. Madam Pomfrey stepped backwards to avoid Harry crashing into her and crashed into Draco…hard.

With a yell from the Slytherin, the chair was on a wild rampage, going straight out the hospital wing door, Draco’s shouts getting fainter by the second. Hermione stopped her thrashing and put a hand to her mouth. “Aren’t there stairs out this door?” she gasped.

Loud, bumping noises were heard seconds later and Pomfrey nodded. “It appears so. You stay here with Miss Granger, Mr. Potter. I’ll go check on Mr. Malfoy.”

“I thought you were on fire,” Harry whispered. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” the girl said, attempting to figure out why Harry had thought she was on fire. “What am I doing here though?” she asked, looking around the hospital room with confusion.

“You had a fever,” Harry stated, clambering up next to Hermione on the bed. “And Draco carried you here when you fell over outside of that man’s office.”

Hermione paused to think, trying to remember why she had collapsed in the first place. Sure, she had a fever but that didn’t mean she would just faint. She didn’t faint! She was Hermione Granger! Not some weak little girl!

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey came into the room, levitating a very banged up looking Draco. “Are you all right?” asked Harry, looking worriedly at Draco as the nurse lowered him onto a bed next to Hermione.

“Do I look it?” he growled, gingerly touching a large bump on his head. “I have a broken leg as she tells me, and I’m lucky I don’t have a concussion.”

“Maybe that warning I got in divination was meant for you,” joked Hermione. “Beware of falling stairs…maybe it meant, stairs beware of Draco.”

“He did chip off a good section of marble on the second flight,” muttered Pomfrey handing Draco a cup of a bubbling red liquid. “We’re going to have to remodel the entire set.” Turning to her newest charge, she said, “Drink that up and then you’re going to be here for a few hours. You two Miss Granger.”

“But we need to see Dumbledore!” Hermione exclaimed, attempting to rise from the bed only to be pushed down with a firm hand and another heavy blanket thrown atop her. “It’s about Harry!”

“Neither of you are in any condition to be running about the castle. Those bones of Mr. Malfoy’s won’t heal for a good four hours and he needs some recuperation time for his head injury. I guess I should be thankful he didn’t hurt himself any worse.”

“But it’s urgent!”

The nurse sighed. “I’ll run up and see if Professor Dumbledore can come down for a little while. But when I’m gone you two are to remain firmly in those beds. Harry, could you watch them for me?”

“Sure,” the boy said softly, settling himself more comfortably on the foot of Hermione’s bed.

“Good boy,” she smiled.

Seconds later, the witch was gone and leaving two, handicapped teenagers and a small boy who (though still not known to her) was scared of magic. “So….” said Hermione, her voice breaking the silence.

“Please don’t talk,” Draco moaned, “it hurts my head.”

“Quit being over dramatic,” she snickered.

“How am I being dramatic? Look at the size of this lump! It’s marring my face!” Draco pointed to the gigantic bump rising on the side of his cheek, already a light purple.

“‘Marring my face’,” Hermione mocked, sticking her tongue out at him. “Aren’t you just vain?”

“You’re doing it again,” Harry intervened.

“Doing what?” both asked in unison.

“Arguing like a married couple. Are you sure you’re not married?”

“We are not!” grumbled Draco. “She just likes to pick fights!”

“I’ve seen people tease each other like that,” Harry persisted. “And they’re married or dating…you must be dating then,” he decided.

“We’re just friends!” Hermione cried, though her cheeks were turning a bright pink and she was getting that odd feeling again.

“Hello everyone,” greeted Dumbledore, entering the hospital wing. “I hear you needed to see me about Mr. Potter?”

“That’s right, Professor,” Hermione said earnestly, the blush fading from her cheeks as the conversation steered away from the previous topic. “This is Harry,” she clarified, pointing at the child at the foot of her bed.

“Ahh, Harry,” Dumbledore smiled. “My, you look like your father.”

“You knew my dad?” Harry asked, a grin filling up his face. The child immediately took a liking to this old man, who said he knew his father. That was the first person Harry had met who’d said that without disgust, like his aunt.

“Oh yes. He was a student of mine here before.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “But my dad…he..he isn’t a…a…”

“A wizard?” Dumbledore asked gently. “He was Harry, and so was your mother.”

“But Uncle Vernon says magic isn’t real…he wouldn’t lie, would he?”

“Your aunt and uncle don’t like the idea of magic and they don’t want you to believe it either. Do you know why, Harry?”

“You said the ‘M’ word,” Harry whispered, eyes growing as round as beach balls.

“Yes, I did,” chuckled the headmaster. “It isn’t a bad word at all. Mr. Malfoy here grew up surrounded by magic. And you yourself are in a school that teaches how to use magic. Why? Because you are a wizard, Harry.”

The ivy eyes, if possible, grew larger. “I’m a…a wizard?” he gasped.

“That’s right. Although you aren’t allowed to do magic yet; much too young.”

“I can do…magic?” Harry breathed, the last word coming out as barely a whisper.

“When you get older you can. But you have magic blood in your veins. Your relatives didn’t want you to know because they didn’t want you to come here.”

“Why? You seem very nice.”

The old man laughed. “They don’t like the idea of magic. To them, it is a strange and dangerous substance.”

“You can do tricks with magic, right?” Harry said slowly.

“Of sorts. But we don’t teach card tricks or how to pull a rabbit out of a hat I’m afraid.”

“Can you do escape tricks?”

“Well, there is the apparating charm that transports the witch or wizard to wherever they want to go…”

“Then why didn’t my parents use it? Uncle Vernon told me they died in a car crash…if they could get away, why didn’t they?”

“I thought his parents were mur-” Draco started, before Hermione reached over and clamped a hand over the Slytherin’s mouth.

“I’m afraid to say your uncle lied about your parents to you too,” Dumbledore sighed.

“You mean they’re alive?” Harry asked hopefully.

“No…your parents were both killed by a very bad wizard when you were just a baby.”

“You mean they were murdered?”

Dumbledore bowed his head. Harry’s lower lip trembled and his eyes filled with tears. Without warning, he launched himself at Dumbledore. “Oh, Grandpa,” he sobbed into the periwinkle robes. “Why did anyone want to murder them?”

Hermione and Draco both raised an eyebrow, though Draco winced to keep up with his ‘in immense pain’ act. “Grandpa?” they echoed.

Harry peeped out of Dumbledore’s robes, his tears already starting to end. “A few nights ago,” he said softly, “I had a dream about a giant and him,” he said, pointing at Dumbledore. “And I was there too…and I was talking to them. I don’t remember what I said, but I called him Grandpa and the giant Uncle Haggy.”

“As for your first question, Harry, this bad wizard didn’t like your parents or you for that matter. He tried to kill you as well, but you escaped with just that scar on your forehead,” said Dumbledore, pressing his finger against the tiny lightning bolt. “And as for the dream, you must have had a flashback to the night when Hagrid, the gamekeeper here at Hogwarts and Care of Magical Creatures teacher, brought you to your relatives house. I was there as well as Professor McGonagall…although I can’t perceive where you got your nicknames for us from.”

“Can I still call you Grandpa?”

“If you’d like,” Dumbledore chuckled.

“He is going to be so embarrassed about this later,” Draco snickered softly to Hermione, the girl nodding in agreement.

Then, a thought occurred to her. “I thought you were in a lot of pain.”

Draco immediately began to moan and clutch his head. “Oh, do be quiet Mr. Malfoy,” ordered Pomfrey, coming back into the room. “Now hold still so I can reset that bone of yours.”

Seconds later, Draco was howling in pain (fake of course to get attention) as the nurse bustled around, propping up his pillows and forcing a nasty drought of bone strengthening into his mouth to seal his newly set bones back together.

“It doesn’t hurt that bad!” growled Hermione holding her hands over her ears to stifle the cries. “And if you don’t shut up I’ll let you know what pain feels like.” Wisely, Draco quieted down.

“Both of you need to get rest now,” the nurse instructed. “Now lie down, close your eyes and sleep. Or I’ll have to give you very yummy sleeping draught.”

“I think I’ll pass, thanks though,” Draco murmured, obediently following the nurse’s orders.

“But what about Harry? Who’s going to watch him?” Hermione panicked.

“Can you think of anyone who would like to watch him?” asked Dumbledore.

“I do…but she’s a year younger…and Professor Tobin said only sixth years and older could watch the kids.”

“We can make an exception,” Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling. “Poppy, could you please call down Ginny Weasley? She has someone to meet.”