Parenting Class Chapter Three

Disclaimer: If you feel the need to say I am claiming ownership to Harry Potter you either A. need glasses or B. to kindly present me with J. K. Rowling's identity.

Parenting Class

Bedtime

The small trio made their way back to the portrait of the jolly jester, currently talking rather animatedly to a monk clad in a brown habit, Leviculus never noticing how the bald man kept having to dodge his wild hands.

"Parvulus," Hermione announced, watching the conversation with slight interest. The jester made no movement to open the portrait nor did he acknowledge the group. "Ummm, Leviculus?"

"Oh, silly me, didn't see you three there," Leviculus chuckled, turning to Hermione while the monk scurried away to the safety of his own portrait. "In you go." He swung open and the three entered into the oddly decorated room, the door closing behind them.

"It's only seven," mused Hermione aloud, flopping down onto one of the pumpkin colored couches. "We should probably do some homework now and then we can put Draco to bed," she addressed Harry, the emerald-eyed boy collapsing next to her.

"And what's he going to do?" asked Harry, jerking his head towards Draco, the young boy standing silently next to the couch, eyes trained on red carpeting. "We can't exactly just let him run loose, can we?"

"Draco, why don't you go get one of your books from your room?" suggested Hermione, smiling gently at the blond. "You can read it out here while Harry and I do our homework, okay?"

"Yes, Hermione," he said, slipping away from the couch and disappearing into his bedroom.

"I don't get it," wondered Harry, "it's our first day back and we already have tons of homework! Aren't the first days supposed to be easy?" To emphasize his point Harry dropped his current assignments on the table, a resounding thud sounding in the piles wake.

"Lighten up, Harry," laughed Hermione, her nose already in her charms book. "It isn't too much...and we'll have a free period everyday in place of Parenting Class, right? You can get it done in no time if you just concentrate."

Grumbling beneath his breath, the jet black haired boy settled himself into a more comfortable position on the couch and picked up his Divination book, a scowl already on his face. "It's kinda hard to find joy in predicting my death," he muttered, flipping the book open to reveal charts of sorts.

"Then why don't you drop the class? I'm sure you'd find Ancient Runes or Muggle Studies much more enjoyable. Who wants to put up with that fraud anyway?"

"You might want to try," the boy-who-lived chuckled. "Remember what Tobin said? Some of our classes our going to be changed around...I bet you that you get stuck in Divination with me for the time Malfoy's a kid."

"Fine," she agreed, eyes glittering with a challenge. "If I win you have to promise to buy me a book every month for the rest of the year. If you win I'll do your homework for a whole week, assuming you're not failing the class. Deal?"

She stuck out her hand and Harry shook it, a devious smirk on his face. "You're going to regret that Mione...I predict that you will be forced to come." She groaned at his rather lame attempt of impersonating Trelawny and went back to her book.

The girl felt the couch sag next to her and turned to see Draco curled up in the corner, a book in his lap. "What are you reading Draco?" He held up the cover and she read aloud, "The Fairy Princess and the Eight Imps. Sounds interesting..."

For the next few minutes the room was relatively silent, the only sounds those of pages turning and the fire, which had started once they'd entered the room, crackling merrily away at the logs.

A dull thud disrupted that silence and Hermione looked over her book to see Draco sitting on the couch, his eyes wide with his storybook lying open on the table, a large ball of fur on the boy's lap.

"He won't bite," the girl assured Draco, smiling at Crookshanks. The ginger cat gave a contented purr as it nuzzled its head against Draco, the tip of his tail brushing against the child's pale cheek. "His name is Crookshanks."

Tentatively, Draco brought his hand and brushed it lightly across the cat's side, the purr rising in pitch. Slightly encouraged the Slytherin began to scratch behind the fluffball's ears, his sweet laughter filling the room.

Even Harry had to smile at the outward display of happiness, dimples appearing in each of his cheeks. Draco's laughter, as Crookshanks began to tickle the small boy with his tail beneath the chin, was contagious and soon Hermione and Harry both found their homework abandoned and themselves rolling madly on the floor.

Hermione, her breath coming in large gasps, was the first to recover from her now aching ribs and stomach, her face feeling stretched with a huge grin still upon it. Stumbling to her feet, the brunette managed to pick her enormous pet off of Draco's stomach and set him on the floor, the cat giving her a scowl larger than normal (if that's even possible with the squashed appearance of Crookshanks face) and curled up in front of the fire.

Draco stopped laughing next and went to go sit by the cat, while Hermione helped Harry to regain his breath, the teen having trouble getting any air into his lungs with the force of his laughter.

"He's such a sweetie," Hermione murmured, picking up her book from where it had fallen and settling back on the couch. "I almost wish we could keep him this way."

"Malfoy's certainly easier to handle when he's this small," agreed Harry, pushing his glasses back up his nose and sitting down next to Hermione.

"Draco, Harry," she corrected, giving him a swat to the head. "His name is Draco. Now get back to your work...it's almost seven-thirty and we should get Draco in his bath by eight and then one of us can sing to him and read him a story before he falls asleep."

"You mean we have to give the kids a bath?"

"Umm...yeah...unless you want him to start turning black with dirt...he's a kid, Harry," she said with a sigh, his blank stare still trained on her. "He'll get dirty and need someone to clean him up."

"It isn't him I'm worried about," Harry muttered, cheeks turning slightly red.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well...you're a girl."

"So? He's a little boy for crying out loud!"

"But when you're a kid..."

"I," Hermione said haughtily, "will give myself a bath when I'm a child, understand Harry James Potter? No one is to enter the bathroom while I'm in it, savvy?"

"Completely understood," Harry chuckled, the blush fading. "But what the heck does 'savvy' mean?"

"Haven't you seen the movie Pirates of the Caribbean?" Harry shook his head. "It's this movie where Captain Jack Sparrow, he's a pirate, always says 'savvy.' It kinda means, 'got it?' or 'understand?'. I love the movie and kinda just picked up on it."

"Uh huh." The duo turned back to their homework, happy that they'd gotten an obedient child. They couldn't help but feel bad for Ron and Lavender...Terry didn't seem like the easiest kid to handle.

A few seconds later, the sounds of happy laughter once more filled the room as Draco chased after the large ginger cat, the animal running away with one of the boy's socks. "Give it back, Crookshanks!" The tone was still light though, so Hermione knew there was no cause for alarm. If he'd been in tears she would have grabbed her cat, but Draco seemed to be having fun.

"Oomph!" The Slytherin crashed smack into Harry as Crookshanks darted underneath the couch and the boy plowed straight into his guardian. Harry knelt down next to Draco, surprised by the boy's reaction.

He let out a low whimper and flinched, turning his head so he wasn't looking at the emerald eyed boy. "Draco? You okay?" Harry asked gently, reaching out and resting his hand lightly on the boy's shoulder. Draco didn't answer, his tiny shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed sobs.

"What's wrong Draco?" Hermione slid off of the couch and knelt on the other side of Draco, before the need to hug him won over and she pulled him into her arms, cradling his small form against her chest. "What hurts?"

The brunette gave Harry a puzzled look when Draco merely snuggled deeper into her embrace, the older boy giving a shrug. "Nothing hurts," Draco mumbled after a few seconds into Hermione's shirt. "I'm okay."

He pushed himself out of Hermione's arms and rubbed the sleeve of his robe across his eyes. "Malfoys' don't cry," he murmured softly, staring at the ground. "I'm sorry."

"There isn't anything to be sorry for, Draco," Hermione comforted. "Did Crookshanks scratch you? Where is that mangy cat anyway?" The ginger cat in question came out from beneath the couch and dropped a sock at Draco's foot before leaping into Hermione's arms.

"It's nothing, really," he said, placing a small smile on his face.

"Something is wrong," Hermione concluded, staring at the boy's face intently. "We just want to help, Draco."

"It has something to do with me, doesn't it?" asked Harry softly, his bright eyes peering into Draco's until the blond was forced to look down at the floor. "Did I do something wrong?"

"N-no," Draco hiccupped. "Can I go to bed? Please Hermione?" he begged, turning to look at the girl. "I'm really tired."

Hermione saw the act as a way of avoiding whatever was troubling the small boy, but she knew that they would figure it out in time. After all, he was going to be with them for two weeks...they were bound to find everything they had questions about then.

"All right then. But first you need a bath. Harry? Could you go get a pair of Draco's pajamas? Draco, you come with me." Without giving the boy a chance to protest, she picked him up and settle him on her him before turning and entering the bathroom.

No one had had a chance to look around the bathroom before, but it was quite obvious Leviculus hadn't decorated. Dark blue tiles formed a pattern with white across the floor and a lighter blue made up the wall paper border around the room.

A shower was in the corner of the room with a drain that closed so a bath was also possible. "How do you want the water?" Hermione queried, setting the boy on top of the toilet. "Warm, hot, or cold?"

"I don't want a bath," Draco said sullenly, swinging his feet. "Can't I just go to bed?"

"Sorry, but you're going to have a bath every night. It improves your hygiene to get into the habit and you also won't smell."

"But I don't want one."

Hermione blinked in confusion. Draco had been completely agreeable all day, but since that incident with her cat he'd been on his toes and quite evasive, strange for someone of his age.

"But you're going to get one," she said firmly, the bathtub now filling with warm water. "You can either get in the water agreeably or I'll put you in it myself. Which is it going to be?"

Like the stubborn brat he was acting like, Draco crossed his arms over his chest and stayed seated, the action reminding Hermione quite a bit of the Draco she knew of the present time.

"Looks like I'm going to you," she announced, rising from beside the tub. With purposeful steps she strode towards Draco and picked him up, the boy putting up quite a bit of fight.

First, he sunk his teeth into her arm and she yelped, dropping him to the floor to clamp a hand over her bleeding wrist. Draco took that moment to scramble for the door only to run smack into Harry for the second time that day as he came in carrying a pair of black pajamas.

"Get him, Harry!" cried Hermione, lunging for Draco. The boy backtracked from Harry and darted around Hermione, causing the two teens to crash into each other. "He won't take a bath!" the girl wailed over the sound of water sloshing over the edge of the tub as it reached its full capacity.

Draco skidded on the puddle of water and fell over into the water, a large spray of mist coating everyone. Slipping and sliding her way over to the bathtub, Hermione turned the faucet off and let out a sigh of relief.

The Slytherin remained silent in the bathtub, now just sitting silently in the corner, his head drooping onto his knees. Harry rose to his feet only to step on the bar of soap that had made its way onto the floor and down he went again.

Draco visibly shuddered as the ground shook with Harry's fall and Hermione once more wondered why the child seemed to be frightened of one of her best friends. Unsteadily, the boy-who-lived arrived at the bathtub, his hands grasping onto the towel rod for balance.

Dropping to his knees, Harry tentatively reached out and touched Draco on the head, a terrified shriek emitting from the child. "Since you're in the bathtub you may as well take a bath now," said Hermione quietly, pulling the drain to let some of the water leave the tub. "Let's get your clothes off," she said, reaching for the boy who only backed further into the corner.

Reaching out, Hermione forcefully dragged the tiny boy to her, now strangely subdued and quiet. Pulling the soaking wet robe off of his body, she let it drop into one of the puddles, the splash the only noise besides the gurgling of the drain.

The black tee shirt he wore beneath his robe was much harder to remove though, as it clung him like a second skin. After a few seconds of pulling and yanking, the garment came off, a startled gasp rising from the both teenagers.

A rather large blue and black bruise covered Draco's stomach where a smaller, healing yellow one was on his lower back. "What happened?" Hermione demanded, her voice as gentle as she could make it.

"I...I fell of out of the tree," Draco muttered. Both Gryffindors realized this wasn't true as their was a distinct image of a hand on the more recent bruise.

"Who did this to you, Draco?"

"I fell out of a tree," the boy repeated, his voice laced with tears.

"Your father did this, didn't he?" Harry mused aloud, eyes darkening. "The hand is too big to be Narcissa's...and it would explain why you're scared of me. You see me as your father at the minute, don't you?"

Hermione's eyes lit up as she realized she'd figured out the problem, but slowly they started to dim like Harry's, the honey orbs smoldering in unleashed anger at Lucius. "Is that true, Draco? Does your father really hit you?"

"He doesn't mean too!" Both Hermione and Harry were shocked at the sudden outburst of the small boy. "He was just angry and I got in the way," Draco said softer, eyes shimmering with tears. "My father loves me! I know he does!"

Giving Harry a sad smile, Hermione reached forward and plucked Draco out of the bathtub, the child automatically burying his face into her robes, the tears once more leaking from his eyes. "No bath tonight," Hermione whispered, rocking Draco in her arms. "Not tonight."

Rising carefully to her feet, the witch picked her way across the water strewn floor to the door, beckoning with her head for Harry to follow. The boy did so, picking up the pajamas where he'd dumped them on the counter, before exiting the room.

Hermione entered Draco's room and sat down on the bed, the small form still cradled protectively in her arms. Silently, she took the pajamas Harry handed her and dressed the boy, tears glistening in her own eyes.

"Neither of us will ever hurt you Draco," she said kindly, wrapping both arms around him in a hug as he leaned his head back against her, eyes warily watching Harry. "While you're with us we intend to make sure you're happy, okay?"

He gave a silent nod, followed by a tiny yawn. "Do you want to go to sleep now?" Another nod. Picking up the comforter, Hermione slid Draco beneath the blanket and tucked it in around him. "Good night, Draco," she murmured, placing a light kiss on his forehead.

"Good night," Harry echoed, flicking his wand at the waterfall. The water turned into a glowing silver as it fell, now a nightlight for Draco. The two left the room silently, leaving the door open a crack incase Draco needed them.

"Isn't it terrible?" Harry looked up and nodded, face in a frown.

"I thought living with the Dursleys' was bad...but they never hurt me like Lucius does. I mean, I did live in the cupboard but at least I wasn't beaten by someone you should be able to trust. Aunt Petunia always stepped in if things got to rough and Uncle Vernon would stop yelling."

"Do you think Lucius still does it?"

"I hope not...it's kinda strange, Mione. All our lives since we've met Malfoy we always wished he would possibly die or move away...but now that something terrible has happened, or had, I actually wish it hadn't."

"Me too...I guess Draco always just put up a barrier and that's why we've never been able to see what he's really like. Lucius probably made him do all of those mean things."

"Not meaning to change the subject, but can I see your Potions notes, Mione? Snape took mine when he found me doodling..."

"I think we should both go to bed and do homework in the morning." Harry looked at her, mouth agape. "What? I'm tired and we've had a long day."

"Never thought I'd see the day," Harry smiled, shaking his head. "Well, good night then." Rising from the couch he gave Hermione a hug and disappeared into his room.

Hermione followed shortly after, thankful to be sliding beneath her warm blankets to ward off the chill. "Tomorrow," she vowed, "we're all going to do something as a family...a real family."

A light knocking on the door sounded, and Hermione forced herself out of her coccon of blankets to open it. Draco was standing there, rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Can I stay here, Hermione?" he asked, softly, hugging himself.

Without a word, the witch picked the child up in her arms and put him in her bed before snuggling up next to him. "Thank you, Hermione," Draco whispered, his hands clutching her nightshirt.

"You're very welcome, Draco. Good night."

"Good night, Hermione." After a split second, Draco gave her a hug and she hugged him tightly back. With a content smile on his face, the little boy fell asleep, wrapped securely in Hermione's arms, a place he knew would always be safe.