Disclaimer: Elephants will someday fly and snails will be the fastest creatures ever to walk this earth. But me own Harry Potter? That would be never.
Parenting Class
Revelations
No one moved, no one breathed. Hermione just sat staring at Draco, her honey eyes burning into his melted silver, hand frozen on his face. “How?” she whispered, “is that a bad thing?”
Draco didn’t answer; just cast his eyes down, staring at his hands, shoulders shaking softly as tears once more spilled over, sadness overriding anger. “I’m not supposed to care,” he murmured, still averting his eyes from the Gryffindor’s intent stare. “It’s a sign of weakness, putting someone before yourself.”
“You have it wrong,” Hermione answered, voice still soft. “Caring about someone is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, caring makes us stronger. We gain trust and confidence from our friends and love from our families.”
“Love?” Draco snorted. “Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not,” Hermione said quietly. “You might not have grown up with a loving family, but wouldn’t you consider the time you had with me and Harry as being loved?” Draco didn’t answer. “Look,” Hermione said, picking Draco’s chin up so he had to look at her. “You know what I mean. Harry and I care and love you. Pansy certainly appeared to…she also told me at dinner to tell you she wanted you to feel better. Ginny cares. Snape certainly cares and a lot of other people. Do we all mean nothing?”
After a few seconds, Draco slowly shook his head, before allowing Hermione to pull him into her arms, and embrace him, her presence warm and comforting. “Caring isn’t a bad thing,” she repeated, resting her chin on top of his head.
They sat like that for a while, only the sound of the fire crackling from the common room faintly reaching their ears. Hermione heard the portrait open, but Harry wisely didn’t come in, knowing best to leave the comforting to his friend.
The clock chimed ten, a while later, the bells ringing out softly. Hermione gently eased Draco out of her arms, and onto the pillows and moved to go to her own room. “Don’t go,” Draco murmured, his hand grasping Hermione tightly around the wrist. “Please…just…stay.”
“All right,” Hermione smiled, snuggling back beneath the covers. “I’ll be right here.” Content, Draco drifted off to sleep, one arm around Sparkles and his other hand clasped with Hermione’s.
The Gryffindor girl didn’t fall asleep as easily. She lay staring at the waterfall, watching as the multi-colored streams fell into the basin below. Everything was going to be so much different from now on. And in just two days time, either she or Harry would be five years old…and Draco really didn’t seem to be in any kind of condition to look after them.
After a few minutes, Hermione fell asleep, lulled to the dream world by the soft splashes of water. One person though was still awake. Harry crept into the room, tiptoeing as to not wake anyone up.
“Finally fell asleep,” he muttered, raising his camera. “Say cheese.” A bright flash filled the room, fortunately waking neither occupant and Harry slunk back out, holding his camera protectively to his chest. “My picture,” he murmured, petting the object. “All mine.”
Morning dawned bright the next day, sun streaming through the dark green curtains and directly into Hermione’s eyes. With a groan, she turned her face away and buried her face against the object next to her.
She gave a thankful sigh as whatever she was pressed against effectively blocked the light. Draco on the other hand, had just woken up as well and found himself staring at the light. Also with a groan, he rolled over, his head clunking against Hermione’s, but he fell back asleep as soon as the obtrusive light disappeared. The Gryffindor didn’t though.
With a little gasp, Hermione realized exactly how close they were. Foreheads were pressing, one of his arms was draped around her, their legs intertwined. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Harry snickered softly from the doorway.
“Harry,” Hermione hissed, cheeks bright pink as she attempted to untangle herself from Draco’s grasp. “This is not what it looks like,” she defended, still attempting to move.
“Uh huh,” Harry smirked. “Told you your lightning pattern was right.”
“He asked me to spend the night!” the girl cried out, face now tomato red.
“So he likes you too?” Harry grinned.
“NO! No,” Hermione repeated softer, thankful Draco was still sleeping. “He just didn’t want to be alone…so I spent the night.”
“Sure didn’t look like that,” piped up Ginny, appearing from behind Harry, an identical grin on her face. But then, the grin faded and she asked softer, “How’s he doing?”
“He was really upset last night,” Hermione murmured, temporarily lying still. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so confused before, not even when he was little. He didn’t know what to do at all.”
“What do you mean?” the redhead asked, coming into the room and sitting on the edge of Draco’s bed, careful to avoid the tangled legs.
“He told me he cared about me…and then he wasn’t supposed to. He was just very…emotionally unstable I guess would be the best way to put it.”
“And I was right again,” crowed Harry triumphantly. “Remember I told you he would change? If he actually cares about you, then we did do something right.”
“I hope he feels better,” Ginny whispered, crawling up on the bed till she was by the Slytherin’s head, admiring his peaceful features. “He deserves to be happy.”
Hermione, now successfully free, rolled out of the bed. “Why don’t we all head down to breakfast? Draco will probably be up when we get back.”
“All right,” Harry agreed. “Come on Ginny.” The fifth year held up her hand for a minute and tucked Sparkles back into Draco’s arm, while Hermione pulled the blanket back over him. Harry shook his head; a bemused smile on his face as the two girls fussed about making sure Draco was comfortable. Seconds later, they left, the door closing softly behind them.
As soon as it was silent, Draco sat up, tears he’d been hiding behind closed eyelids spilling over. “Hermione was right,” he whispered, hugging the stuffed dragon. “They do care…and I was happy. And I still will be,” he decided, crawling out of bed and to his trunk, where he knew he had quite a new assortment of clothes, though Sparkles was still held tightly in his hands.
“I’m different now…and I’ll probably always see them differently. Not just Scarhead and Mudblood. But as people,” the Slytherin said to himself, grabbing a pair of blue jeans and a deep green tee shirt out of the trunk.
“Hermione…she’s really nice. Caring like a mother should be. Forgiving too. And friendly. And Harry…he’s fun, not scared to have fun. That dumb Gryffindor pride I’d guess,” Draco muttered to himself, pulling on a pair of socks.
“And even Ginny’s nice. Never thought that about a Weasley before. And Pansy…we’ve always been friends. I guess this just made us closer.” Now finished dressing, Draco pulled one of the jackets Hermione had boughthim and stuffed Sparkles in the pocket.
It might seem childish to continue to carry around the dragon, but it just made the Slytherin feel better. To have something to remember those happy days always close by chases away the worries. But there is one thing that would help even more.
Picking uphis trusty Nimbus 2001 from where it sat inthe bedroom,Draco exited the room quietly, the jester fortunately snoozing in his frame. Avoiding all the main halls, the blod managed to sneak out of the school by a back exit by the Transfiguration room.
Crossing quickly over to the Quidditch field, thankfully empty, Draco kicked off into the air, climbing higher and higher in the sky, the wind rushing against his face, making him actually feel alive as the adrenaline pumped through his blood.
Doing a sudden dive, Draco was surprised to see another person riding up to greet him. Immediately, the Slytherin tensed, not quite wanting to face anyone yet. “Hey,” Harry smiled, leveling his broom in front of Draco’s. “Are you feeling better?”
Draco shrugged, not sure of how to answer.
“I was just wondering if you wanted to practice,” Harry said, pulling a small gold ball out of his pocket.
“What’s that?” asked Draco curiously.
“A False Snitch,” Harry grinned. “Hermione made it for me. It works like a regular snitch, but if no one catches if after a while, I can summon it back to me.”
“Interesting.” Draco said nothing more, simply watching Harry, who squirmed beneath his gaze. “Aren’t you going to throw it?”
“Oh…yeah, right,” Harry laughed, rubbing the back of his head. “But first close your eyes so the snitch can get a head start.” Obediently, Draco did, and Harry sent the golden ball out. Counting to ten, both opened their eyes. “First one to catch it wins,” Harry stated, before taking off.
Draco surveyed the stadium, watching as Harry randomly darted across, emerald eyes scanning the field for any sign of the snitch. A small glimmer of gold caught the Slytherin’s eye, shimmering in the opposite corner Harry was in.
Casually looping down as to not attract the Gryffindor’s attention, Draco steadily made his way toward the snitch. His hand reached out to grab it, but the snitch shimmered and then faded. “What happened to it?” Draco shouted.
“Looks like I forgot,” Harry chuckled, flying over to Draco. “There are two mirage images on the field that move just like the normal snitch. I mean, it wouldn’t be as much fun with only one snitch and no bludgers.”
“You could have told me that before,” Draco grumbled.
For the next two hours, the boys flew around the field, never seeming to find the real snitch. From the ground, Hermione and Ginny watched, seated comfortably on a blanket and bundled up.
“When are we going to tell Dumbledore about Lucius?” asked Ginny, nibbling on an apple she’d brought out.
“Maybe later this evening…if Draco wants too. We don’t want to force him into anything.”
“Uh oh,” the redhead murmured, pointing at a figure crossing over to them. “Uncle Sev is coming.” Both laughed softly at the nickname they’d given the Potions professor, believing it didn’t make him seem so evil.
Both boys also saw Snape and descended, landing next to Hermione and Ginny, the snitch still floating around the arena. “Draco, could you come with me please?” Snape asked, voice slightly strained.
Draco looked around at the group, as if seeking assurance. Hermione nodded and Draco walked over to Snape, following up to the castle, one hand gripping his broomstick and the other in his pocket, where Sparkles currently resided.
Through the gloomy halls Draco followed his godfather, all the way to the man’s office. Once Draco was inside, Snape closed the door and gestured for the boy to take a seat, conjuring up a pot of tea.
“What did you need to see me about, Professor?” Draco asked.
“There isn’t any reason for you to be so formal with me, Draco,” said Snape, pouring the Slytherin a cup and handing it to him. “I’ve been talking with Professor Dumbledore about you.”
“What about me?” he asked, instantly on guard.
“Lucius,” was all Snape said. Draco hung his head down, realizing that his secret had been found out. “I’m not asking you here to talk about it,” Snape smiled. “If you want to do that, I’m sure we could find you a counselor. But I am here to offer a proposition.”
“Yes?” Draco whispered, a small ray of hope entering his eyes.
“Professor Dumbledore and I were discussing how you seem to have a talent, shall I say, at Potions. Would you perhaps like to spend the summer with me and continue to work on that skill?”
The hidden message was received. Would you like to get away from Lucius? Draco didn’t even bother with words, just simply launched himself at Snape and hugged him, the Potions teacher wrapping his own arms around the distraught boy. “Thank you,” Draco murmured into Snape’s robes, shoulders shaking.
“You’re very welcome,” Snape replied; pulling Draco off of him, and studying the boy, silver eyes bright with tears. “Look at you,” he murmured. “You’ve grown so much in such a short time. I’m so proud of you.”
Hermione and Harry were lounging out in the common room when the portrait swung open and Draco entered, a smile on his face, almost a skip to his step. “What did Snape want?” asked Harry, setting aside his book.
“He’s invited me to stay the summer with him,” Draco grinned.
“I’m so happy for you!” Hermione exclaimed, rushing forward and engulfing the Slytherin in a hug. “And you’re going to have the chance to get ahead of all of us in Potions!” He smirked and she laughed.
Hermione released him from her embrace and Draco smiled at her and Harry. “I wanted to tell you both…thank you,” he whispered. “You’ve done so much for me…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.”
“You already did,” Hermione smiled. “You became our friend.”
The next two days passed by in a blur, of going to classes on Monday and relaxing later by the fire. Draco appeared to be doing well, although some of the students were teasing him (in a friendly way) about the stuffed dragon they’d found sticking out of his book bag. Most of the girls though, found it positively adorable that he carried Sparkles around.
During mealtimes, Draco sat at his own table, Pansy and Blaise his company then. Every evening, he and Harry both went out to play Quidditch, Ginny and Ron sometimes joining them while Hermione watched from the ground.
On Tuesday, Hermione was awoken to Leviculus shouting for someone. With a groan, she crawled out of her nice warm bed and went to open the portrait. “Finally,” McGonagall sniffed, entering the room. “It’s nearly six already Miss Granger, why is no one up?”
“We enjoy sleeping,” Draco muttered, exiting his own room, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and trailing on the ground, Sparkles beneath his arm. With an over dramatic sigh, the Slytherin flopped onto the couch, Hermione moving his feet so she too could sit.
“I’ve just come to bring these,” the Transfiguration Professor said, placing two small vials of purple liquid on the table. “When Mr. Potter wakes up, I suggest you give him this. Best of luck to you Mr. Malfoy, and whoever your partner will be.” With a graceful flutter of her robes, McGonagall left, the two vials sitting innocently on the table.
Hermione picked both up and held them up to the light. “Do they look different to you?”
“Nope,” Draco snickered. “Guess you’re going to drink by chance.”
“I don’t want to turn little,” Hermione moaned.
“We all have to do it,” Draco pointed out.
“But I don’t want too. Not saying I don’t trust you and Harry, but I’m concerned about how you’re going to manage me.”
“Why do you sound so worried?” Draco asked. “We won’t kill you or anything.”
“It isn’t me I’m worried about…it’s you.”
Draco looked at Hermione strangely, but before he could ask what she meant, Harry lumbered out of his room, awoken by the talking. “Those aren’t what I think they are, are they?” he queried, looking fearfully at the vials.
“It is,” sighed Hermione. “Take one, Harry. Professor McGonagall said to drink them as soon as you woke up.”
“What if I don’t want too?” the boy said stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest.
“It’s for a class, and you will drink one,” Hermione insisted, thrusting one of the vials at Harry. “Now drink it.”
Draco settled back across the couch and watched with amusement as both downed the grape juice, both hoping that theirs didn’t contain the potion. “I don’t look any different,” Hermione bubbled, starting into the mirror.
“It might take a while,” Draco and Leviculus said together, before the jester burst into laughter. Harry crossed his fingers and prayed it wasn’t him. Hermione continued to stare at her reflection.
“I still haven’t changed,” she remarked, “and neither has Harry. Do you think the potion was a dud?”
“I think you might want to look again,” Draco chuckled. Whirling around, Hermione looked for her best friend, unable to find him. “Look down.” Doing so, Hermione found herself staring at a small child, his black hair a spiked mess over his head, his glasses on the floor, the emerald eyes shining brighter then before.
The chibi Harry eyed the two warily. “Where am I?” he asked after a moment of silence.
“You’re at Hogwarts, Harry,” Hermione smiled, sticking Harry’s wand, which had appeared in her hand at the start of Harry’s transformation, in her robe pocket. “I’m Hermione and this is Draco,” she said, gesturing to the blond, who was now making his way off the couch.
“What’s Hogwarts?”
“A school for magic,” Hermione smiled. “Isn’t that neat?”
“You said the M word!” Harry gasped, backing away from Hermione.
“What? Mudblood?” Draco asked, face puzzled, before Hermione bonked him upside the head. “That hurt,” he growled.
“That is a rude word too,” Hermione reprimanded. “And I won’t don’t want to hear you saying it again.” More gently to Harry, the girl asked, “What M word, Harry?”
The child shook his head. “If I say it Uncle Vernon will get mad,” he whispered. Then, his eyes widened. “Where is Uncle Vernon? And Aunt Petunia? And Dudley?”
“They’re at your house,” Hermione assured. “Professor Dumbledore, the head of Hogwarts, had you brought here for a little while. But your relatives know you’re here, don’t worry. But you’re going to be in our care now,” she smiled.
“But you said the M word!”
“And what word is that?”
“Magic,” the child breathed, before quickly clamping a hand over his own mouth, as if expecting a lightning bolt to come shooting out of the ceiling and strike him.
“I think,” Draco muttered, catching Hermione’s eye, “we have a problem.”
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