Disclaimer: Guesseh what? Come on, guess! I’ll give you multiple choices to make it easy. Guess which of the following ISN’T true. A. I’m working on my art final B. Rowling called me and gave rights to Harry Potter. C. I stabbed myself with a pencil on Friday at lunch. If you said B, absolutely correct!
Parenting Class
Teapots in Transfig, Oh Dear
After Ginny had arrived on the rather amusing scene, Hermione began to regain control of herself, though if she even looked at Draco she’d burst into laughter once more. Ginny, after making sure Harry was all right, bid the three good night and headed back to the Gryffindor Tower.
Right now, the small family was heading back for the Charms corridor, Hermione’s eyes closed and one of her hands clasped in Harry’s, who was leading her through the halls. Draco was walking in front, a pink flush still tinting his cheeks from his recent encounter.
When they reached the portrait, Leviculus grinned, having heard of the tale from his monk friend who happened to be at the scene in a frame across the hall. “Good to see you still have everything intact, Draco,” the jester chuckled, tears streaming down his face as his mirth bubbled over.
Hermione burst into laughter once more, falling to the ground outside the portrait, clutching her sides. Draco sniffed in disdain and muttered the password, the portrait swinging open and catching Hermione in the head, Leviculus never noticing as his frame rammed poor Hermione.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked, bending down next to Hermione and helping her to sit up, the girl still laughing. Shaking his head slightly, Harry helped the Gryffindor into the room and onto the couch, before going into the bathroom and coming back with a damp rag to lay on the growing bump on the back of Hermione’s head.
“Thanks,” Hermione giggled, placing it on the lump. “I normally don’t act like this,” she said, smiling at Harry. “But just seeing Draco like that…it was priceless.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Harry murmured, looking down at his feet.
“Don’t worry, you didn’t really. Only his pride has been deeply injured. Don’t worry too much about it. Draco’s just being a prat right now. He’ll get over it.”
“I don’t want him to be mad at me…”
“He isn’t. I think more upset with me for laughing at him. He‘ll just sulk into his room until tomorrow I‘m guessing.”
“Oh.”
Hermione glanced at the clock across the room. “Look at the time! Eight already! Come on, bath time.”
Obediently, Harry entered the bathroom, and a few minutes later was sitting quite content in a tub full of bubbles, Hermione scrubbing his hair with shampoo. “You have really thick hair, Harry,” she commented. “Close your eyes,” she instructed, dumping a bucket of water over his head.
“Is that bad?” the child asked worriedly.
“No, it isn’t at all. I have really thick hair too. The difference is mine’s a lot longer.”
A little while later, Harry had been dressed in a pair of red and gold striped pajamas (ever a Gryffindor) and Hermione had tucked him into his bed. Currently, she was looking through his shelves for a fun book to read, and Harry was fidgeting in the bed, not quite used to being allowed.
Back home, he’d slept on a mattress on the floor with a blanket in his cupboard. Never in his own room, in a real bed. Come to think of it, he’d never eaten that much food before either or met so many friendly people. He’d been so used to Dudley having friends over and spending the time hiding in his cupboard so he wouldn’t get picked on.
Here, Ron had offered to be his friend, and seemed really nice. And he’d seen other children looking at him curiously, and not in a hate sort of way. He knew there was magic here, and magic was supposed to be bad…but then how come he seemed so much happier now? Maybe not all magic was bad…some had to be good.
“Do you want to read a wizard faerie tale or a muggle one?” asked Hermione, settling herself on the bed next to Harry, two thick volumes in her arms.
“What’s a muggle?” Harry questioned.
“Non-magical people. Like your aunt and uncle and what you thought you were until earlier today.”
“Could you read me a wizard one?”
“Of course. Let’s see here…ah, this one looks good. The Friendly Dragon. Sound good?” Harry nodded his consent and Hermione set the book on her lap so Harry could see the brightly colored pictures and began to read.
“Once upon a time, in a far away land across the sea there lived a giantess and her son in a large, stone house. No one bothered them all the way out there, and the two lived in peace. But one day, a ship appeared on the horizon carrying people to the giant’s home.
The giants were ready to welcome the visitors, but instead they were told that unless they moved away, the people would kill them. So, the mother and her son packed up and moved across the mountains that surrounded their home. In there new home, they settled down and lived peacefully there with the other creatures of the mountain.
As winter set in, the mother giant grew sick and could no longer go out into the cold for firewood. Her son, Titus, offered to go instead and was soon seen every day wandering through the dense pine forests on the mountain gathering wood.
Far into the chilly days, he began to take longer and longer, the snow growing deeper and harder to walk through while his mother continued to get sicker. On his way back to the cave, one day, he fell into a large pit in the earth. Surprised, but unhurt he made to leave when he heard a voice call out.
‘Wait…please, come over here,’ the voice whispered from the shadows of the pit. Curious, the little giant went over. Curled up in the corner was a black dragon, its ruby red eyes the same color as the blood covering it. ‘Help me,’ the dragon called. ‘Please help.’
The giant knew that dragons were evil and dangerous creatures. Why should he help it? But the caring, compassionate side of the giant won over and he cared for the dragon, bringing it food and cleaning its cuts. A week later, the dragon was all better and was waiting when the Titus came to visit.
‘I thank you,’ the dragon said, bowing his head. ‘My name is Kaida and I am forever in your debt. If there is anything I can do for you, let me know. Take this,’ Kaida said, handing the giant one of his scales. ‘Stroke it and call my name if you are ever in need of my assistance.’
With a mighty roar, the dragon took off into the sky, disappearing into the distance. Titus went back to the cave and told his mother what the dragon had said. She merely nodded, much too sick to speak. She was not built for the mountain’s coldness and needed to go back to her rock house on the other side.
The next day, Titus pulled out the scale and stroked it and said, ‘Kaida.’ Minutes later, the mighty beast had landed outside of the cave, great wings folded.
‘You called?’ he asked.
‘Yes. Please Kaida, could you make the people in the little house on the other side of the mountain leave? My mother grows ill and needs to go back to her home.’
‘Your request shall be granted,’ Kaida said taking off into the sky as quickly as he had come. Two days passed before the dragon returned. ‘Your house now awaits your arrival. Is there anything else I can do?’
‘Could you take my mother back there? I don’t think she can make it on her own.’
‘Your request shall be granted. Help her onto my back and you climb on as well.’ A little while later, both giants were back in their home, and Titus was making his mother a cup of tea over their little stove. Soon, the giantess began to get better until soon she was completely healed.
Years passed, and Titus treasured the dragon scale, never calling on the magnificent creature ever again. He was happy now and had all he needed, his loving mother. But from a distance, the dragon watched the family, thankful to know he’d been able to repay Titus for all that’d he’d done for him. The end.”
“That was a nice story,” Harry said softly, curled up against Hermione with his head resting in her lap. “I’m glad everyone was happy.”
“Me too,” Hermione whispered, kissing the boy softly on his forehead. “Time for you to get some sleep.”
“Good night, Hermione,” Harry yawned, curling up deeper under the covers. “But…”
“But what?” the girl asked, looking at the child with confusion.
“Is it okay for me to sleep here?”
“Where else would we have you sleep? This is your room.”
“I mean in the bed.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Would you like to sleep on the floor? I can get you a sleeping bag if you want.”
“But I’m allowed to sleep in the bed?”
“Why wouldn’t you be?”
“Uncle Vernon won’t let me…I sleep on a mattress on the floor.”
Hermione regarded the child carefully, incidents of the child Draco springing up. “Does he ever hurt you?”
“No…but he does yell a lot.”
Hermione breathed a small sigh of relief. “Do you get fed enough? Scratch that, of course you don’t,” she scolded herself. A sudden thought hit her. “If you don’t sleep on a bed, do you have a bedroom?”
“No…I sleep under the stairs in a cupboard.”
Hermione’s face contorted with rage and Harry shrunk back in fear, afraid he’d said something to upset her.
“You’re scaring him,” observed Draco, leaning against the doorframe, silver eyes flicking between Harry and Hermione.
Immediately, the anger that had filled Hermione’s eyes faded, though they were now filled with tears. Without warning, she launched herself at Harry and pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “so sorry.”
“What are you saying sorry for?” Harry asked, voice muffled against Hermione. “You didn’t do anything but be nice to me.”
That only made Hermione cry harder and squeeze Harry tighter. “You’re going to kill him if you don’t let him breathe,” said Draco, still leaning against the doorframe.
“Sorry,” Hermione whispered again, loosening her grip on the child. Unwrapping her arms, she re-tucked Harry into the bed and pulled the blankets up to his chin. “Sleep tight,” she whispered, giving him another kiss. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
Harry nodded and snuggled against the pillows as Hermione left, Draco closing the door softly behind her and following. “Did you hear?” she asked, settling herself down on the couch and throwing a pink and orange-checkered blanket over her lap.
“Yeah.”
“I feel so bad for him. I’m supposed to be his best friend…and I never knew. I mean, I knew he didn’t like living at his aunt and uncle’s, but I never imagined he grew up like that.”
“Who would ever have? He’s the famous Harry Potter. We all thought he grew up being treated like a prince.”
“I know…but still…and tomorrow we have classes…Transfig first. That really isn’t a good thing…”
“Why? I thought you liked Transfiguration.”
“I do…it’s just that…well, Harry’s scared of magic, or some of it now. He seems to be getting a little better around it…but, we morph things in there. He’ll be terrified when he sees us transforming things.”
“It’ll be good learning experience. Maybe if he sees harmless things happening he’ll feel better about it.”
“Who ever knew you could be smart?”
“Was that an insult?”
“No, it was a compliment.”
“But you said it like an insult.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did. “
“No, it was a compliment. Look,” Hermione said, holding up her hand for silence. “Let’s not get into another pointless argument. We’re seventeenand shouldn’t be acting like children.”
“I’m only sixteen.”
“Close enough. Your birthday is in June, right?”
“Yes…but how do you know?”
“Remember when you fell into the cauldron in Potions? You took in a lot of Dreamless Sleep Potion and Harry and I had to bring you to Saint Mungo’s. The doctors needed information on you, and he told me, when I said I didn’t know when your birthday was that it was in June…I just can’t remember the day.”
“It’s the fifth.”
“It feels good to be older,” snickered Hermione, a yawn coming from her a second later.
“When’s your birthday?” Draco asked.
“September ninteenth(1- See A/N at bottom). I’m a year older than Harry and a few months older then Ron.(2- See A/N at bottom)” The Gryffindor yawned again and curled up on the couch.
“Looks like you need to go to bed too.”
“I’m just going to stay on the couch…too tired to go to bed.”
With a sigh, Draco leaned over and scooped the girl into his arms, Hermione uttering a soft cry of surprise. Entering her room, he dumped her unceremoniously on the bed.
“You didn’t have to drop me,” Hermione grumbled, pulling off her robe and climbing beneath the covers, not caring she was still in her clothes.
“You can’t expect me to be a perfect gentleman,” Draco countered, picking up the discarded robe from the floor and hanging it on the back of Hermione’s desk chair.
“You can still…be nice,” the brunette murmured, eyes closing in sleep.
“That…I’ll try to do,” Draco promised, blowing out the candle on Hermione’s nightstand. Exiting the girl’s room, Draco entered his own and after changing into his pajamas, crawled beneath the covers, Sparkles tucked under his arm. “I’ll really try, Sparkles,” he said softly to his dragon. “I will.”
At midnight, the blond woke with a jolt as thunder crashed outside, lightning flashing and illuminating the various objects in his room before a mad torrent of rain began to patter against the window. “It’s just thunder,” Draco whispered to himself, huddling beneath his blanket. “It can’t hurt you. It can’t hurt you.”
Another loud crash sounded and Draco shivered, suddenly feeling very cold and very alone. When he’d been a child, he knew Hermione would be there to comfort him…hug him and tell him everything would be all right. But he was older now…and he shouldn’t be scared of such a little thing.
The Slytherin was just happy that he at least wasn’t scared of the dark anymore. Actually, scratch that. Right now, he was afraid of the blackness that filled the room. As he’d grown older, his fear of the dark had faded, especially when he’d been sorted into Slytherin and was made to live in the dungeons.
But as soon as a storm started, both fears returned full force, leaving him feeling so much like he had when he was five. Most people had a reason for being afraid of something…but he didn’t. All he knew was thunder scared him. Lightning, no problem. But thunder…
Normally when it stormed, Draco would place a silencing charm on his bed so no one would here his occasional shrieks of terror, and he’d stay awake the entire night, tossing and turning with no amount of sleep as the thunder continued to crash.
And he’d do that now…but it really didn’t make a difference. Here, he had his own room so no one would hear him. As the lightning flashed again, followed by a large roll of thunder, Draco buried himself deeper under his covers and hugged Sparkles to him.
“Draco?” Hermione stepped into the pitch-black room, a burst of lightning making her stand out for a second. Her brown hair hung down her back, a red bathrobe pulled tight around her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” the Slytherin whispered.
“You’re lying,” Hermione stated, sitting down on the bed next to Draco’s head. “Is it the thunder?” Draco remained silent, shaking though when the storm rumbled outside. “It is,” Hermione concluded. “Being scared is nothing to be ashamed of,” the girl continued.
“Yes it is,” Draco said softly.
“Everyone’s afraid of something. Ron’s terrified of spiders. You’re afraid of thunder. It’s all right.”
Draco shook his head. “I don’t even know why I am scared…it can’t hurt me. It’s just a loud noise…but I am.”
“And someday your fear will be gone. You just have to face it.”
“But I don’t want to.”
“Tell you what. Let’s make a deal.”
“A deal?”
“Yes. I’m scared of heights…very scared of heights. That’s why I don’t like flying…it scares me. How about, if I face my fear of heights, you have to face yours of thunder.”
“How?”
“Well…you could take me up on your broomstick…that’d be really two fears for me to face. And next time it storms, we’ll go outside and watch the rain together.” Hermione held out her hand expectantly.
Easing himself to a sitting position, Draco stared at the offered hand before lightly grabbing it and giving it a shake.
“Good, that’s settled.” Hermione rose to get off the bed, when Draco grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down.
“Can you stay…just for tonight?”
“Leviculus said we weren’t supposed to unless we were staying with the child…”
“It’s not like we’re going to be doing anything,” Draco grinned, before the smile faded when another rumble of thunder sounded.
“All right,” Hermione agreed, climbing into the bed and slipping beneath the covers. “You’re just very lucky Harry doesn’t seem to need either of us right now. He is our main priority.”
“I know…how is he doing?”
“Sleeping like a log. The storm doesn’t seem to bother him at all….now be quiet, it’s time for my beauty sleep.”
“Yeah, you’re going to need a lot of that.” Hermione thwacked Draco upside the head. “I was just kidding,” Draco laughed.
“Ha ha, very funny,” Hermione snorted. “Now sleep.”
Draco did so, after pulling Hermione to him like a teddy bear. The Gryffindor rolled her eyes but soon succumbed to sleep as well.
The next morning dawned bright and early, the storm having vanished overnight with sunlight now pouring through the window. “Time to get up sleepyhead,” Hermione smiled, shaking Draco by his shoulder. “Come on, get up.”
“Five more minutes,” Draco muttered, pulling the blanket up over his head to hide from the bright light.
Smirking, Hermione grabbed the end of the thick blanket and pulled, delighting in hearing Draco shriek. “It wouldn’t be so cold if you’d wear more then a pair of pants to bed,” the girl said. “Now get up, we’re going to breakfast in fifteen minutes.”
A sudden thought occurred to the Gryffindor as she was walking into Harry’s room. ‘He was only half clothed! Oh God…what would have happened if Harry had walked in? Or if McGonagall stopped by for some reason?’
“Good morning, Hermione,” Harry chirped, already fully dressed with his bed made.
“Good morning, Harry,” Hermione grinned. “You sure are an early bird. Did you brush your teeth?”
“Yep.”
“All right then. We’ll be heading down for breakfast in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay.”
After Hermione got dressed, she went into the common room and was quite surprised to see Harry already there, straightening the pillows on the couch and folding the blanket she’d used the night before. The child didn’t notice her, as he took out a dust rag and began to run it over the bookshelves, Hermione’s mouth dropping in amazement.
“Harry? Have you been cleaning the common room?”
The boy started and turned guiltily. “Yes…”
“Oh honey, you don’t have to do that.”
“But my aunt always makes me clean the house.”
Hermione bristled in anger. Then, realizing she might frighten Harry again, forced the anger away and put on a smile. “You don’t have to clean here…others do that.”
“But-”
“No buts. Your not cleaning this room anymore…only your bedroom, okay?”
Harry nodded, though he was still confused. Since he could remember, he’d always cleaned up after everyone at home…and being told not to clean was like telling him magic was real…insanely wrong. But he liked Hermione…so he’d listen to her…even though what she asked him to do was very odd.
Draco exited his room a few seconds later and the three began to make their way to the Great Hall. Breakfast was, strangely, a rather calm affair. No huge accidents, explosions, or anything that could be classified under dangerous. When the three got to breakfast, they sat down and seconds later Ron and his group entered, the little redhead claiming a seat next to Harry.
After making sure Harry had eaten a filling meal, they left with Ron’s group for Transfiguration. Entering the class, Hermione was looking around to see what students had been changed this time. “Oh, look,” she whispered to Lavender, taking a seat in the front of the room. “Neville’s little.”
Indeed, the accident-prone boy was now much smaller then he’d been before, although it didn’t look like the clumsiness had worn off. Already, he was apologizing to Pansy rapidly for stepping on her foot.
“May I have your attention please?” called McGonagall from the front of the room. “Thank you. Today, we will be working on transforming mice to teacups and teapots. Please come to the front of the room and select a mouse from the box.”
“Stay right here,” Hermione said to Harry, before she and Draco both left their seats and proceeded to grab one of the small rodents. Once everyone was seated, McGonagall began to speak.
“The spell you’re about to perform isn’t very hard at all as long as you pay attention. In both cases of a teapot or a teacup you must say ‘yunomi jawan’, accent on the first a in jawan. For a teacup, swish your want up and then sharply to the right. For a teapot, swish down, up, left, up, and then right. Bonus points on your grade if you do make a teapot. Any questions? Yes, Miss Granger?”
“Professor, I read that you can perform this spell on other animals. Is that true?”
“It is. Small birds, cats, and surprisingly humans, can all be turned into a teacup or teapot. But if I see anyone attempting to turn anyone here into one, you will be severely punished. Let’s begin then. You have until the end of the hour.”
Hermione looked down at her mouse, which was squeaking and running in circles on the desk. “You aren’t going to hurt it, are you?” asked Harry worriedly, reaching out and petting the rodent.
“No, don’t worry. They don’t feel a single thing when they transform. And McGonagall always puts a charm on them so the mice still aren’t thinking as teapots. Otherwise, it would be very cruel.”
Beside her, Draco was muttering the words and flicking his wand at the mouse, and much to his dislike it wasn’t changing.
“You’re saying it wrong,” scolded Hermione. “It’s yun-O- Me, not yun-ah-my.”
“So sorry.”
After several times of practice pronunciation, Hermione was feeling confident enough to do it. Flicking her wand at the creature she cried, “Yunomi jawan!”
But as soon as the words had left her lips, she felt someone collide into her and the spell went off center, the mouse unharmed.
“I’m sorry,” squeaked Neville, looking nervously up at Hermione. “I didn’t mean to bump into you, honest.”
“It’s all right, Neville,” Hermione laughed. “No harm done.”
“You might want to rephrase that,” said Draco, eyes wide.
Hermione followed Draco’s eye path to a spot on the floor next to her desk. Sitting there was a small black teapot with a green lightning bolt design on the edges. “Don’t tell me I did that…”
“You did,” said Draco. “Congrats Hermione. Harry is now officially a teapot.”
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