Disclaimer: Harry’s a little teapot short and stout. Here is his handle -points at hand- and here is his spout. -points at mouth- When he gets all steamed up hear him shout “Icy doesn’t own HP, now I’ll pout!” So Harry’s a bit delayed in his song, but oh well. Nor does Icy own Phantom of the Opera, which a small portion will be appearing. :P
Parenting Class
Too Complicated For Words
Harry was not in a good mood. Actually, he was far from it. Far, as in he was the South Pole and the good mood was the day had started off bad and was getting worse. Much worse.
He couldn’t really understand why this was happening. After all, both he and Draco had agreed at dinner the night before that nothing could be worse then yesterday. But how was it possible that today was? They’d gone over the steps, the events and had concluded that today would be much better. So what happened?
Had they jinxed themselves? No…that couldn’t be it. Draco had knocked on wood for them. ‘Fate must just really have it in for me,’ Harry thought miserably, lying flopped out on the couch.
He’d managed single-handedly to get Hermione upstairs and past the Bloody Baron, the Slytherin ghost fortunately noticing neither of them, a strange occurrence since Hermione was shouting at the top of her lungs about cookies.
She, although Harry hated to admit it, was on a sugar high. A very high sugar high. He knew he should have watched what she was eating…but he was tired. Besides, her parents were dentists…she ought to know what was good for her, right?
True, but he hadn’t bargained on the fact that Hermione would throw that useful, healthy knowledge out the window and only eat the cookies, lathered in sugar crystals with bright red sprinkles. So now, after an exhausting day he had an extremely hyper five year old on his hands who had no thought of going to bed.
“Bedtime, Hermione,” he said wearily, hoping beyond hope it would work.
It didn’t.
“ButIdon’twannagotobed!”
“I know you don’t,” Harry sighed. “But it’s almost eight and you should go take your bath.”
“Idon’,Harry!Doyouwanttoplayagamewithme?Pleasewithatoothbrushontop?
“You need a bath,” Harry repeated.
“No!!”
It took Harry a moment to translate. “Baths aren’t stinky. You’re the one who smells.”
“I’mnotsmelly!Youshouldtakeabath!”
“I’ll take one if you’ll take one.”
“Youtakeyoursfirst!”
“I’ll take mine later,” Harry replied evenly. “You get yours first and then straight to bed.” Inside he was thinking, ‘How did Draco handle her?’
“ButI’mnottired!” Hermione protested, pausing her jumping on the armchair to look sternly at Harry. “Iwannaplayagamefirst!”
Harry groaned and massaged his head. “Okay, fine. We’ll play a quick game. Then, it’s bath time and then into bed.”
Contrary to having a calming effect that Harry had hoped, Hermione grew even louder. “Yay!Wegettoplayagame!Whatgamedoyouwanttoplay?Howaboutcoboys?Oh!Orhowaboutwizardsandwitches?’?Doyouhaveanysuggestions?”
Harry stared dumbfounded at the child, mouth hanging open. “How can you talk so fast?” he managed to say, mind still trying to rewind Hermione’s rapid message.
The girl paused and chewed on her lip. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “When I’m really excited I talk fast though…Mommy says it’s hard to understand me…is it?”
Harry rapidly nodded.
“Oh. Should I stop talking so fast?”
Again, Harry bobbed his head up and down.
“But I don’t really want to…it’s a lot ’tyouthinkso?
“No, I don’t.”
Hermione stuck out her lower lip but said, “All right then. I’ll talk normal. So…what do you want to play?”
Harry shrugged. “No idea. Nothing to wild though…I don’t want you all riled up.”
“Can we dance? Please? I love it when Mommy turns on her music and I get to sing and dance to it!”
“I do have a wizarding tape player,” he admitted. “But I don’t think any of my music is…appropriate for you to sing. It’s more for teenagers…”
“I found some music in my trunk! Can we play that?”
Immediately, Harry said, “No.”
“Why not?”
Well, he couldn’t say that it was the music that older Hermione listened too…and he didn’t know if any of it would be suitable for a five-year-old. But…this was Hermione he was talking about. Even older, she couldn’t listen to violent music, right?
“Scratch that. Find something that looks nice and bring it out here, okay?”
“Okay!” Hermione raced inside her room and came back a minute later with a CD. “I found a CD player in there too…but it’s too heavy. Can you go get it?”
“What CD did you find?”
“The Phantom of the Opera! It’s one of Mommy’s favorite musicals! I like it too!”
“All right…” ‘That doesn’t sound too bad. Aunt Petunia went to see that with some of her friends…and she seemed to like it…although I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. In any case, it won’t have anything bad in it.’
A little later, Harry had lugged out Hermione’s CD player and set it up on the table. Hermione was bouncing around him, waiting impatiently for Harry to load the CD. “Go to song number five,” she commanded, once Harry was getting ready to press play. “That’s my favorite one!”
Harry smiled as a large blast of piano came on, but absolutely nothing too loud that would have portraits down the hall complaining. Settling back on the couch, he watched with amusement as Hermione picked up a roll of parchment and held it to her mouth like a microphone. “Ready, Harry? You sing the Phantom’s part!”
“But I don’t know it!”
Hermione threw him the CD case, which contained the lyrics, and began.
Her voice was a tad too high and squeaked in some places, but overall Harry was okay with it.
“In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came.”
Harry chimed in with the next line, “That voice which calls to me and speaks my name.”
“That’s not your part!” Hermione screeched.
‘And do I dream again?’
“Then what is?”
‘For now I find’
“You’re the Phantom! That’s Christine’s part! Sing when the guy is!”
‘The Phantom of the Opera is there--- inside my mind.’
“You made me miss my part,” Hermione wailed as the music continued on. “Your part is next! Don’t be late!” she called as musical solo sounded.
“Sing once again with me, our strange duet.”
“You have the entire tempo messed up! Flow with the music!”
‘My power over you…grows stronger yet.”
“I’ve never heard how it goes!” Harry argued. “How am I supposed to sing it?”
‘And though you turn from me, to glance behind…’
“Try and picture it!”
“But I’ve never seen it!”
‘The Phantom of the Opera is there--- inside your mind.’
“Okay, my turn,” Hermione said as another instrumental solo came on. “Come in when you hear the Phantom.”
“Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear…I am the mask you wear…”
‘It’s me they hear…’
“You missed your cue!”
‘Your/my spirit and your/my voice…’
“It’s a little hard when I don’t know where to start!”
‘In one combined…The Phantom of the Opera is there…inside your/my mind…’
Hermione stuck out her tongue. “No excuses! Christine’s part is coming up, so just be quiet and I’ll sing.”
The girl began to let out the high-pitched vibratos as the Phantom said ‘Sing my Angel.’ Harry relaxed on the couch, before clamping his hands over his ears. As the real singer’s voice got higher, Hermione got closer and closer to screaming.
As Hermione rose with each note, Harry dug his fingers deeper into his ears and buried his head under the pillows on the couch. Butterscotch, in Harry’s bedroom, howled mournfully.
And then…came the loudest, shrillest, scream Harry had ever heard. And with every ounce of his strength, he crammed his fingers into his ears. And then…there was blissful silence.
Looking up, he saw that the song had ended and Hermione flipped off the CD player. Her lips moved and she smiled at him, doing a little curtsy. He shot her a puzzled look, wondering why she was only mouthing the words.
“What are you trying to say?” he asked, his eyes widening in amazement when he heard nothing. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.
Hermione said something and laughed, but again Harry heard nothing. “CAN YOU SPEAK LOUDER?” he shouted, praying he’d hear some sort of noise.
Nothing.
Hermione unrolled the parchment she’d been using and wrote in neat print, Can you hear me?
“NO!” Harry yelled.
You don’t need to speak so loud…you’re breaking my eardrums!
Ears…that was it. Harry stuck a finger in his right and wriggled it around.
But nothing happened. ‘I must have pushed my fingers too far in when Hermione was screaming,’ he realized, horror dawning on his face. ‘I destroyed my hearing!’ “HERMIONE! I DESTROYED MY HEARING!”
And you’re going to destroy mine, Hermione scribbled furiously. Should you go to that hospital place? Maybe the nurse could help you.
“GOOD IDEA!”
Speak softer! I can hear you fine!
“Sorry.”
That’s better.
Both made their way out of the common room, Hermione grinning from ear to ear. She was out of her bath! And she didn’t have to go to bed yet.
Harry on the other hand was moaning softly to himself, although he couldn’t hear it. It got worse. Somehow, against all odds, his day had gotten worse. Now, he was deaf. And that wasn’t such a good thing while he was with Hermione.
Halfway to the Hospital Wing, Harry became suddenly aware of Hermione tugging furiously on his robes and pointing a shaking hand down the corridor. He peered into the gloom, shrugging when all he saw was the Bloody Baron.
But as he watched, the ghost said something and then flew towards them, hands outstretched and stained with silver blood. Harry, although he didn’t know why he was being attacked, scooped Hermione into his arms and ran, screaming at the top of his lungs.
Draco, who had been resting comfortably in his hospital bed jerked up when he heard the very familiar noise.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“Sounds like Hermione,” he smirked, putting away the book he’d been reading. “I wonder what Harry’s doing with her out so late at night.”
“YOU WILL DIE, MORTAL GIRL!”
“And the Bloody Baron is back too, how nice,” Draco said, shaking his head in amusement. “Isn’t that right, Pansy?” His fellow Slytherin didn’t answer him, the sleeping draught he’d snuck into her water glass having knocked her out cold.
A cold grin crossed over his face. There had been a side effect to the potion…when she woke up, poor Pansy would be covered in huge electric blue spots that would continue to multiply every time she blinked. Oh yes…he was getting revenge. She would pay for putting up those pictures of him. She’d pay dearly.
But back to present matters…why was Harry screaming bloody murder when it was almost eight thirty and he should have had Hermione in the bath or reading her a story? The door to the Hospital Wing burst open and Harry rushed in, before slamming it behind him and locking it.
Several of the other patients in the room (a second year Hufflepuff in for cracked ribs she attained falling down a staircase and a Gryffindor fourth year covered in animal fur that had been the result of a Slytherin hexing him) looked up in surprise, but then turned over and tried to go back to sleep.
“DRACO, YOU HAVE TO HELP ME!” Harry shouted. “THE BLOODY BARON IS AFTER US! AND I CAN’T HEAR ANYTHING! WHERE’S MADAM POMFREY?”
“I’m right here, Potter. Kindly keep your voice down, I have sick patients. Now, what is it you’re saying?”
Hermione held up a piece of paper to Harry’s face that read: Talk normal! You’re shouting again!
“I lost my hearing…can you make it come back?”
“Sit down and let me take a look.”
Harry remained standing.
“He can’t hear you,” Hermione said. Stepping behind Harry, she gave him a firm push in the direction of one of the beds and he stumbled over there, sitting on the edge of it.
Madam Pomfrey bent down next to him and shined her wand in his ear. “It’s just an ear bubble,” she sighed. “Those aren’t hard to fix at all.”
“So you can cure him?” Hermione asked.
“Of course.”
“Darn.” Taken aback my Hermione’s wish for her guardian to remain deaf, Pomfrey cast a strange eye on the girl.
“Surely you don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do. Because once he gets his hearing back he’s going to give me a bath.” Draco, once more behind his book, chuckled. “Think that’s funny?” Hermione bristled, marching over to the Slytherin.
“Unfortunately enough, yes.”
“CAN I BE CURED? WHY ISN’T ANYONE SAYING ANYTHING? AM I GOING TO BE LIKE THIS FOREVER?” Harry asked, when no one turned to talk to him had assumed the worst and had begun to yell.
“You’ll be fine, Potter, as long as you be quiet. And I have just the thing…silencio! That’s better.”
Harry, on the other hand, had no clue he’d been silenced and continued to shout, but this time he was
allowing the other patients to sleep.
“How’d that happen?” Draco asked Hermione, as Pomfrey bustled about the room, grabbing some potions
off of shelves.
“We were singing,” she said, settling herself on the foot of his bed. “And then, when it was over, I found
Harry covering his ears. He couldn’t hear me after that.”
“What were you listening to?”
“Phantom of the Opera,” Hermione grinned. “We were doing the song when the Phantom takes Christine through the mirror!
Draco actually knew the musical Hermione was talking about. After all, it had been a favorite of his parents and he was required to watch it as well. It hadn’t been too bad, now that he thought about it…and he could clearly remember the scene in which Hermione was talking about.
“And who sang Christine’s part there?” he queried, although he had a gut feeling Hermione was about to say…
“Me!” Hermione said happily. “And I did really good too! Harry kept missing all of his cues and ruined it!”
“And did you successfully manage to hit the last note?”
“Uh huh. But Christine sounded better.”
Draco didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was her singing that caused Harry to lose his hearing. So, instead he said, “Then I guess the music didn’t like Harry.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the wizarding world, different music can decide if the listener should be allowed to hear it. I can only assume that the Phantom was displeased with Harry’s singing and made him so that he couldn’t hear it.”
“That makes sense,” Hermione agreed. “But will the Phantom let him have his hearing back?”
“Yes…Madam Pomfrey will fix him in a few minutes. See, she’s already at work.” Indeed the mediwitch was. Poor Harry was having potions crammed down his throat to pop the insanely large ear bubble Harry had given himself.
“Those don’t look like they taste too good,” Hermione commented, watching as Harry gagged on a mint green potion.
“Most of the stuff here doesn’t.”
“Can you hear me now?” Pomfrey asked, rapping her knuckles on Harry’s head.
“I can!” Harry cried joyfully, hugging the nurse.
“Good,” Pomfrey said stiffly, prying Harry off of her. “Now, head back to your common room. I’ll send you a pass…it’s past nine and you should have been in bed already.”
“But I don’t wanna go back!” Hermione whined. “Then I have to take a bath!”
“Can I go back with them?” Draco asked. “My ankle feels a lot better now.” In truth, Draco merely wanted to get away because as soon as Pansy woke up, she’d be ready to kill him…and he wasn’t quite ready to go yet.
Pomfrey picked up Draco’s ankle from the pillow he’d had it resting on. “All right, go along too. But take it easy for the rest of the night and tomorrow. If you come back, I can guarantee I won’t fix it as fast as I did today.”
“I understand,” Draco said, carefully climbing out of the bed and placing both feet on the floor, his left ankle only aching slightly. “Good night, Madam Pomfrey.”
Harry, after taking the pass, followed Draco out of the room, Hermione clambering on top of Harry to ride piggyback, just in case the Bloody Baron came by. He’d have to get Harry first to get her.
“You do know,” said Harry as they walked down the corridor, his eyes scanning for the evil ghost at every intersection. “That you are taking a bath when we get back.”
“Do I have too?”
“Yes,” Draco and Harry said together.
“Fine then,” Hermione pouted. “I’ll take the yucky bath.” Draco and Harry gave triumphant grins.
When the trio arrived back at the portrait, Leviculus was sleeping soundly and Draco had to poke the poor jester to wake him up…their shouting getting them nowhere. “Don’t go poking a sleeping jester, young lad,” Leviculus reprimanded, after receiving a hard jab from Draco’s hand on his arm. “But hurry up and go in,” he yawned. “You should have been in there ten minutes ago!”
They all hastily scrambled in, Hermione going to her room to pick out a pair of pajamas and then into the bathroom. Harry and Draco flopped down on the couch, Butterscotch bounding out of the Gryffindor’s room and slobbering kisses all over Harry’s face.
Less then ten minutes passed before Hermione called for Draco’s assistance in her hair washing and the blond went off to answer her summons. Harry, while Draco was gone, packed up the CD player and put everything back in Hermione’s room, although he was sorely tempted to throw the CD in the fire.
A little while later, Draco exited the bathroom and Hermione made her way out a few minutes after, her hair wrapped up in a towel and a cute little pair of pink pajamas with several Disney princesses’ on them.
“Who are those people on her shirt?” Draco asked, nodding at the clothes.
“That’s Snow White,” Hermione said proudly, pointing at the girl in the yellow. “And the one in pink is Sleeping Beauty! And the one in blue is Cinderella! I don’t have Jasmine though…she’s on my pillow back home though.”
Draco nodded, although he still had no idea what Hermione was talking about. “Time for bed,” Harry announced. “Come on, Hermione.” Reluctantly, the child entered her room and crawled beneath her covers, picking up a teddy bear from the nightstand and clutching it to her.
“Can I ask you something?” she questioned as Draco and Harry sat down on the foot of the bed. “I heard two girls talking about it two nights ago at dinner.”
“Ask away,” Draco said, resting his back against the footboard.
“What’s sex?”
Harry’s mouth dropped. “It’s your gender,” he said. “Like male or female.”
“No…they weren’t talking about it like that. What is it?”
Draco eagerly opened his mouth to speak before Harry clamped a hand over it. “I think you should wait until you’re older to hear about this, Hermione,” he said evenly.
“Why? It’s not bad, is it? The girls sounded like the liked talking about it.”
“It’s not bad at all,” Harry assured her. “In a manner of speaking.”
Draco wrenched Harry’s hand away. “Should we give her the G-rated version?”
“I’m not going to stop bugging you until you tell me. Otherwise, I’ll just go ask Pansy. She’d probably know.”
“Okay, fine,” Harry said irritably, throwing a glare in Draco’s direction, the Slytherin feigning innocence. “Sex is…anyone have a dictionary?”
Draco pulled one off of Hermione’s bookshelf. “I don’t think I’d better give the definition in here,” he said, closing it shut. “Too complicated. Listen up, Hermione. Sex is-”
“-when two people love each other very much,” Harry interrupted. “They do…certain things that make them happy.”
“Like eating candy?”
“Let’s go with that.”
“But then why didn’t you want to tell me?”
“It’s a bit more…complicated then eating candy. It makes them really, really, happy. As long as its done right, I suppose.”
“What’s done right?”
“The thing they do,” Harry said, clearly growing frustrated.
“But what do they do?”
“In general terms, it’s called sleeping together,” Draco smirked. “What really happens is-”
“Oh! I get it!” Hermione smiled. “Then Mommy and Daddy have sex every night!”
“THEY WHAT?” Harry screeched.
“Well, they sleep in the same bed all the time.” Both boys visibly relaxed. “And that’s what sex is, right?”
“One hundred percent correct,” Harry said, before Draco could go saying anything else that would ruin this perfect explanation. “And that’s all there is to it. We just didn’t want to tell you…you’re not supposed to know the official term at such a young age. Promise you won’t tell anyone?”
“I promise,” Hermione said, crossing her fingers over her heart. “I just have one question. If I crawl in bed with Mommy and Daddy, does it mean I’m having sex too?”
“No! Nonononononono!” Harry said quickly. “It only works for people who are near the same age. You’re too young…don’t worry.”
“Oh, all right then. Do I have to go to bed now?”
“Yup, bed time. Good night, Hermione,” Harry said, thankful the conversation was over.
“Good night,” Draco echoed, throwing a glare at Harry. He ruined Draco’s definition. Stupid Gryffindor…
“Don’t I get a good night kiss?”
“You’re demanding, aren’t you?” Draco asked, placing one on her left cheek and Harry one on her right. “Now go to sleep, all right?”
Within minutes, Hermione was sound asleep and Draco and Harry were both curled up in their beds, Butterscotch resting on the foot of Harry’s and Sparkles tucked safely in Draco’s arms. And then they too drifted off into the world of dreams.
With a parched throat Hermione woke up around two in the morning. Reaching for her water glass, she raised it to her lips, but no water came out. Frowning, she sat up and looked into it, only clear crystal gleaming up…no water.
Hopping out of bed, she made her way to the bathroom, rubbing her eyes sleepily with her left hand and grasping the cup in her right. Climbing on top of her stepstool, she began to fill it with water from the sink. As soon as it was almost at the rim, Hermione jumped off the stool. But as she landed, the glass slipped from her hand and landed on the floor with a sickening crash, glass shards and water spraying everywhere.
Now wide-awake, Hermione looked around for some way to clean up her mess. Opening up the cabinet door beneath the sink, she emerged with paper towels and began to sweep the glass into a pile and mop up the water. Using a dustpan and a small broom, she swept the crystal up and threw it in the garbage can.
As she was putting the paper towels away, her eyes lighted on two boxes in the back. Curious, she pulled them out. ‘Who would put stickers in the back of the bathroom cabinet?’ she wondered, looking over the boxes. One contained ‘stickers’ and the other contained long tubes.
Opening the sticker box, Hermione pulled one out, surprised when she found it wrapped up. Undoing the plastic on it (and wincing at the loud noise) Hermione was left with a long, white item that was sticky on the back.
“I could decorate the common room with these!” she giggled. “Except I only have one box. Darn it!” Kicking the box next to her, Hermione almost yelped in alarm as about thirty more appeared, all stacked up in neat rows around the bathroom.
Being still a child, Hermione’s accidental magic was bound to kick in. And it had. Just like Harry’s had done when he was upset, hers did too and to soothe its mistress, her magic created several more boxes for her amusement.
“What are you called, anyway?” she asked, reading the label on one box. “I have to ask Harry and Draco to get more…pads, huh? That’s an odd name. And what are these?” she wondered, picking up the smaller box. “Tam…tampons? Okay then. I don’t know what I’ll do with you but I’ll find something.”
Humming softly, Hermione exited the bathroom with several boxes of her newfound stickers and began to cover the walls with them, as far as she could reach. “It looks much better now,” she smiled, surveying her handiwork.
About three feet up the wall in a solid line were the pads. “They’re squishy too,” she bubbled, poking one. “If Harry and Draco crash into the wall it won’t hurt as much! But I have a ton left…what to do…” Slowly opening Harry’s door, Hermione felt a grin split across her face.
Tiptoeing nearer to the sleeping boy, she opened her box and began to plaster them all over Harry. A soft growl to her right made Hermione jump and she turned to see Butterscotch. “I can’t leave you out of all the fun,” she whispered, slapping one of the puppy’s muzzle, and then all over the golden fur. “There you go.”
Once she was done with Harry (he now resembled a mummy…but she had left a spot over his mouth so he could breathe) Hermione made her way into Draco’s room, the Slytherin receiving the same treatment. “They’re all gone now,” she said sadly, looking down into her empty box. “But I still have the log things left…”
Opening up one of them, Hermione got a sudden idea. Going into her room with the box, she pulled out her case of markers and set to coloring them. “You look like submarines!” she said happily, examining her small naval fleet. “Now you need water to float in…”
Going back into Draco’s room with three of her precious submarines, Hermione dropped them into the waterfall in the corner. “Much better now,” she said, surveying the bobbing vessels.
Having a sudden idea, Hermione went into the bathroom and turned the sink and bathtub on, after making sure to close the drains. Within a few minutes, the sink had overflowed and the bathtub was getting close. Putting the remaining submarines in either the sink or the bathtub, Hermione exited the bathroom and crawled back into her bed.
She couldn’t wait to see their faces the next morning.
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