Disclaimer: One week, seven days, 168 hours, or however you want to say it have gone by since I last updated. And I can assure you; absolutely nothing has changed concerning the ownership of Harry Potter.
Parenting Class
Past and Present Events
Fanfics for PC received: None, zilch, notta, zero… T.T
Note to ya angst luvers…I think you’ll like this chapter.
After about two hours of chasing the rather hyper puppy around Hogwarts, Hermione and Harry had managed to get him back in the common room, both humans exhausted but the animal still going full blast.
Currently, Hermione was sprawled out on the couch and Harry flopped on the floor, both watching as Butterscotch tore around the common room with a pillow in his mouth, too tired to stop the dog.
“I didn’t mean for him to be this much trouble,” Harry apologized softly.
“It’s not your fault,” Hermione sighed. “My cousins got a dog like this a long time ago…and it was ever wilder; if that could even be considered possible. He’s just a puppy…he’ll grow out of it later.”
“So you’re not mad?”
“No, of course not! Why would I be mad?”
Harry shrugged and absentmindedly and turned his attention to playing with some of the carpeting fuzz. “I’d better get some homework done,” Hermione mused to herself. “After all, we do have classes tomorrow.” Straightening up from the couch, she headed for her bedroom and came back out lugging her book bag. “Runes first you think?” she asked the child. “Then I can help Draco with his…he isn’t very good.”
In fact, neither Draco nor Harry were any good at Ancient Runes. When the class courses had been switched so that all three partners were in the same ones, some changes had happened that neither boy had liked. Hermione had been put in Divination to her misfortune and Harry and Draco had gotten stuck in Runes. And in truth, neither had any idea what to do.
When Harry was allowed to take the class, seeing as a five year old couldn’t, he was convinced that the marks on the stones were all just dots and chips and nothing could be interpreted. So he spent the entire class counting dots and saying how depending on the number was how long the rock was alive.
Draco was a bit better…he at least got the concept that the markings were symbols and letters. But he couldn’t get it through his head that different languages had been carved; they weren’t all from one culture. And because of that, if he saw an upside down ‘u’ he presumed on every rock it meant the same thing.
But fortunately that was the extent of the changes to their schedules. All three were still in Herbology, D.A.D.A., Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, History of Magic and Care of Magical Creatures. ‘And Harry’s having his first class with Hagrid tomorrow,’ Hermione thought, opening her Runes textbook. ‘I do hope Hagrid doesn’t bring anything too dangerous…I don’t think Harry is going to take as well to a dragon as Draco did. Maybe a unicorn or something tame?’
Positioning her text next to a small bit of stone that the professor had given each student to translate. Eyeing the piece, which was only about four inches tall and two around, Hermione knew that she’d be at the table for at least an hour. Even though it was incredibly small, she’d have to sort through several runes to find out which language it was in. And after that she’d have to translate the entire thing, which would definitely take a while.
Harry settled himself next to her, watching as she carefully consulted the ancient looking book before looking back down at the stone, constantly picking it up and turning it to look at a symbol better. “It’s Greek,” she grinned about twenty minutes later, looking at her discovery with pride.
Taking out a sheet of blank parchment, she carefully began to copy down every symbol on the stone vertically with plenty of room to the right so she could jot down the translation. Harry sat patiently next to her during the entire process, slowly growing sleepier as the clock across the room ticked softly, the scritch of Hermione’s quill and Butterscotch’s slow breathing showing the puppy had at last tired himself out and also fallen asleep.
Elbow sliding forward on the table, Harry prepared to rest his head on his arm when the sound of breaking glass sounded. Jumping back, Harry watched in horror as the ink from the pot he’d broke spread all across Hermione’s almost finished translation, ruining it beyond repair.
“I…I…” he stammered, backing slowly away from Hermione, fearful of what her reaction would be. Before Hermione could say or do anything, Harry tore from the room and into his own. Looking wildly around for a cupboard and not finding one, he opted instead the wardrobe. Throwing it open, he clambered in and pulled the door shut behind him.
Huddled down next to a pair of boots for the winter months and a spare robe at his back, Harry listened intently for any sound of Hermione, his heart thudding rapidly against his ribcage, emerald eyes wide in panic. He hadn’t meant to do that…honest. Hermione was probably going to punish him…what would it be? No food for a day? Clean the whole house (or in this case the whole common room?) Cook all the meals? Lock him in the wardrobe for a while? None of them really sounded too appealing.
He heard her enter the room, her footsteps soft on the carpeting, slow and careful. “Harry?” she whispered, turning around in a circle, eyes scanning for the child. “It’s okay,” she comforted, “I’m not mad at you.”
Harry still stayed silent, not wanting to go out and face her. Hermione had always been nice to him and now he ruined her homework that she’d been working so hard on. And he hurt Draco because he tried to fly. And Professor Scary when he landed on him. And he scared everyone when he went to Diagon Alley. All he did was make people sad and unhappy. Even if his real family didn’t like him, at least he never felt as guilty as this when he did something wrong.
The small shaft of light that had been coming in through the crack between the wardrobe doors disappeared as Hermione stepped in front of it. Shivering, Harry pulled into the deepest corner of the dresser as Hermione slowly opened the doors. “It’s okay,” she murmured, dropping down to her knees so she closer to Harry’s height. “I’m not angry with you…you can come out.”
Timidly, Harry inched his way forward, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor so he didn’t have to look at her. “Why are you in there?” she asked quietly, wanting to reach out and hug the boy but afraid he’d pull away.
“I couldn’t find a cupboard,” he replied, voice so soft she had to strain to hear it.
“A cupboard?” she repeated. She knew from earlier that Harry slept in a cupboard because his relatives didn’t want him sleeping on a bed, but it wasn’t even close to bed time. “Why were you looking for a cupboard?”
“It’s safe there,” he whispered. “When Uncle Vernon locks me in I don’t have to worry about getting in anyone’s way and then I can’t get in trouble.”
“He locks you in?” Hermione queried, voice beginning to grow slightly angry.
“Only when I do something wrong,” Harry said quickly, very frightened of the rage Hermione was building up.
“And what,” she asked, voice dangerously soft, “would be considered wrong?”
“Making Dudley sad,” he said, “or getting him angry. Not washing all of the dishes perfectly. Forgetting to dust the top shelf in the dining room…stuff like that,” Harry whispered.
“He locks you in for that?” she cried, voice growling louder. “How dare he? That…that…” Taking a deep breath, Hermione refrained herself from saying exactly what she thought and instead turned her energy back to the child, who was cowering slightly. “It’s all right…I’m not angry with you. I’m mad at your uncle.”
“But I ruined your homework,” Harry murmured. “And I hurt Draco and Professor Scary. I should be punished.”
“No,” Hermione answered firmly. “You’re just a kid, Harry. Only five. You don’t need to be that responsible or mature yet. You should be happy…playing games and laughing. Having fun with your friends. Don’t worry over little things like my homework; they don’t matter. What does matter is your happiness. And that’s all I want you to be, okay?”
“But I hurt Draco and Professor Scary,” Harry insisted. “If I hurt Dudley, Uncle Vernon wouldn’t feed me and lock me up!”
“He…what?” Hermione ground out, flames once more dancing in her eyes. “I’m going to go kill that bloody uncle of yours!”
“Don’t!” Harry cried, latching onto Hermione’s arm. “I don’t want you to go to jail! Please don’t hurt Uncle Vernon!”
The fury etched into Hermione’s face died as she looked down at the small child, crying softly and gripping her arm. “I won’t,” she assured, picking up Harry and giving him a tight hug. “I don’t want you to hurt anymore.”
They stayed like that for a while, Hermione rocking Harry gently back and fourth, forcing the anger she felt at Harry’s family out of her mind and concentrating solely on making the small boy feel better. “How bout we go visit Draco?” she suggested. “I’m sure that if he’s awake he’d like some company.”
Harry nodded his agreement and the two left, after making sure Butterscotch was safely in the cage Hermione had conjured with a bowl of water and his toys. “Don’t worry,” Hermione reassured Harry, as the boy looked at his puppy with sorrowful eyes, “as soon as he learns some basic manners and not to chew everything, we won’t have to cage him.”
The two arrived at the Hospital Wing a few minutes later to hear the stern voice of Pomfrey ordering a disobedient Slytherin back into his bed. “You broke your back, Mr. Malfoy, and I refuse to let you leave! And you miraculously managed to again hurt your head! If you don’t like still I’ll put you in a body bind!”
“Hello Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione greeted, stepping into the room with a grin. “Is someone being a bad patient?”
“Ah, hello Miss Granger and Harry,” the nurse said, smiling at the little boy who in turn gave a shy smile back. “Mayhap you could talk some sense into Mr. Malfoy or at least keep him lying still?”
“We’ll try,” Hermione laughed. “Come on Harry. Let’s make sure that Draco stays in bed where he belongs.”
“You’re not my mother,” Draco pouted, glaring at Hermione. The Slytherin was dressed in fresh white pants that the Hospital Wing was famous for and his whole torso was wrapped in bandages. His forehead had another bandage wrapped about it and a large bruise could be seen on the back of his right shoulder where he’d collided mostly with the wall.
Harry stared at Draco in dismay, guilt overwhelming him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
Draco gave Harry a smile. “It’s all right, Harry. I know you didn’t mean it, right?” Harry nodded his head quickly, relieved that Draco didn’t appear to be mad.
“How long are you going to be here for?” Hermione asked, staring at Draco with concern.
“That bloody witch is trying to make me stay for the night.”
“Watch your language,” Hermione reprimanded. “There are children present. But the whole night?”
“That’s what she says,” Draco said, glaring at Pomfrey. “But I feel fine.”
“Good,” Hermione grinned. “I brought you some of your homework and since you feel up to it, time to get started.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. I won’t have you falling behind in your studies.”
“It’s Sunday! I don’t do homework on Sunday!”
“And why not?”
“Because…because…”
“Because why?” Hermione prompted.
“Because it’s Sunday!”
Harry laughed softly as Hermione shook her head. “Draco,” she said slowly, voice sweeter then honey, “why do you not do your homework on Sunday?”
“Because it’s my day of rest,” he said stubbornly, folding his arms across his chest. “So there.”
“Then it looks like I’ll take this,” she smirked, taking Sparkles off of the nightstand. “After all, it’s work before play. And if you don’t want to do the work, then you don’t get to have fun. Harry, be a dear and hand me those quidditch books.”
“Hey! Don’t touch those!” Draco cried, making a wild lunge for the books that had just been transferred to Hermione.
“Naughty boy,” she said, shaking her finger in his face. “Madam Pomfrey said no moving.” Shoving him back on the bed, Hermione picked Harry up and set the child on Draco’s stomach to hold the blond down. “That should work,” she smiled, proud of her own handiwork.
“You’re lucky I don’t have any bruises there,” Draco grumbled. To Harry he said, “Don’t move too much, kay? I’m still quite sore.”
“Do you want me to get off?” asked Harry, already preparing to slide down.
“You can get off if Draco promises not to move,” Hermione declared.
“I promise not to move,” Draco grumbled, relieved when Harry jumped down to the floor. “But seriously Hermione, can’t you let up a little? I’m not on my deathbed here.”
“But you’re hurt,” she insisted. “Now, I’ll read you a passage from History of Magic and you take notes.”
“I thought you didn’t want me moving.”
“Moving your hand will be okay. Harry, come over here and we’ll read together. I’ll start and you go at the second paragraph, okay?”
“Okay,” Harry said brightly.
“Got your parchment and ink, Draco?”
“Yes, Mother.”
Clearing her throat, Hermione began. “Dragon War of 1682. In the beginning of 1681 the Lion dragons, more commonly know as the Chinese Fireball, were hunted almost until extinction because Chinese wizards hunted the eggs without mercy for their spell casting. In fear, the Fireballs fled their native homes to seek shelter elsewhere. Your turn Harry,” she smiled, passing the book over.
“The Fireballs found the home of the Swe…Sweed…”
“Swedish,” Hermione corrected.
“Swedish Short-Snouts who had been living in the App…apple…how do you say that, Hermione?”
“Appalachian,” she smiled.
“Appalachian Mountains,” Harry continued. “These dragons were being pooked? Is that right?”
“Poached.”
“Poached for their skin; which made gloves and shields. The Short-Snouts agreed to try and help the Fireballs if they would help them.”
“I’ll take it back from here,” Hermione grinned. “Excellent reading Harry; where on earth did you learn?”
“From books,” he said softly. “I like to read…but not as much as you.”
“That’s good to hear,” remarked Draco, jotting down a final note. “We don’t need another Hermione.”
“Everyone should read like me,” Hermione argued. “If everyone did then we’d all be much smarter. Imagine if you set aside quidditch practice for a week and devoted it to studying. Don’t you think you’d do better in classes?”
“That,” Draco growled, “isn’t even funny. And besides, we’re not starting quidditch up until February. So I have been devoting time to my studies.”
“But when quidditch rolls around maybe you should cut back on practices. You do want to keep your grades up, don’t you?”
“I don’t really care.”
All of a sudden, Hermione was standing with one hand wrapped around Draco’s neck, her hair seeming to crackle with electricity and her eyes sparkling with lightning bolts and had gone mysteriously dark. “You didn’t mean that, did you?” she asked, voice venomous.
“No, of course not! I love studying!” Draco squeaked. Hermione settled back down in her seat, all anger vanishing.
“That’s good to hear. Shall we continue reading?”
Harry looked at her with fear, afraid she’d electrocute him if he touched her. “Oh don’t worry,” she laughed. “I just performed the Candeo charm that Professor Flitwick showed us last year. It just made me look like that, like a mask.”
Gingerly, Harry reached out and touched Hermione, greatly relieved when he wasn’t shocked. And so, the history lesson continued, with Hermione and Harry switching off every few paragraphs.
“Dinner should be soon,” Hermione announced, stretching and placing the book on the nightstand. “You must be hungry Harry since we missed lunch. Let’s head down, shall we?”
“And here’s your meal, Mr. Malfoy,” Madam Pomfrey said, placing a tray of soup and some crackers in front of him. “Eat it all or I won’t let you leave tomorrow.”
“Can I please leave tonight?” Draco begged. “I feel fine.”
“We’ll see,” the nurse said evasively.
Hermione and Harry left, the Gryffindor snickering as she heard Pomfrey telling Draco that if he didn’t stop moving around so much she’d spoon feed him. That would definitely hurt the Slytherin’s pride.
Dinner was a peaceful affair, seeing as Ron was up in his room with Lavender and Terry was making a stop to pick up dinner for all three of them. Lavender, despite her promise when she thought Ron had died, had extended his punishment and had decided that for the next two days he would eat dinner upstairs so he couldn’t see Harry and Neville and get them in trouble.
As soon as Hermione was satisfied with the amount of food Harry had consumed (she still thought he was too skinny and needed to eat more) they went up to their common room, to find Draco sprawled out on the floor and using Butterscotch as a pillow, Sparkles tight in Draco’s grasp.
“It looks like they’re finally starting to get along,” Hermione observed. “But what is Draco doing back here? I thought he was supposed to stay in the Hospital Wing.” Kneeling down next to Draco, she poked him lightly.
Draco yelled and jumped to his feet. “What was that for?”
“What?” Hermione asked, quite confused.
“You hit me!”
“I poked you. If it hurts that bad you should go back to the Hospital Wing. I can’t believe she let you out!”
Draco mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘she didn’t.’
“SHE WHAT?” Hermione screeched. “Do you mean to say you snuck out of there, Draco Malfoy?”
“She was being a bloody bitch!”
Hermione smacked Draco upside the head and headed for the bathroom, emerging a second later with soap. “Open up,” she ordered. “I am completely disgusted with your language…and in front of Harry too!” Wrenching Draco’s mouth open, she squirted in the anti-bacterial soap and shut it. “Now swallow.”
Draco gagged as Hermione forced him to drink the soap. Turning to look at Harry she said, “Whatever you do, don’t ever repeat those words Draco just said. They’re bad.”
“You’re evil,” Draco coughed, sitting up and spiting out some bubbles.
“And your mouth was dirty and needed to be cleaned. I don’t want to hear you swearing again or there will be more then soap in your mouth. Now, you head straight back for the Hospital Wing.”
“I’m fine,” the Slytherin whined, flopping down on the couch. “Don’t make me go back to that bi-”
Hermione glared.
“-rd,” he finished.
“Nice save,” she remarked dryly. “Well then, if I can’t make you go back I’ll take you myself.”
“Oh come on!” Draco protested as Hermione cast a levitating charm on him. “Seriously Hermione! Put me down right now!” Hermione ended the spell and Draco fell to the floor. “I didn’t mean like that,” he muttered, wincing at the impact.
“The only way I won’t send you back is if you go to bed right now.”
“I’m going, Mother,” Draco said sarcastically, heading for his bedroom. “Night,” he called over his shoulder before entering his room.
“We should probably go to bed too…it is a school night,” Hermione mused.
“Can Butterscotch stay with me?”
“If he behaves.”
“He will…come on Butterscotch!” The puppy jumped up and followed his master into his room. When Hermione came back to tuck Harry in a few minutes later, she found the child sound asleep with Butterscotch curled up at the foot of the bed.
“Pleasant dreams,” she whispered, tiptoeing out. Peeking into Draco’s room, she saw that he was already asleep too, the waterfall he’d had as a child still going strong and preventing the room from going pitch black. Going into her own bedroom, Hermione gratefully collapsed, glad that the day was finally over.
“You really think you were safe, didn’t you?” the man hissed, ruby eyes glinting in the firelight. “Thought Dumbledore could protect you?”
“Who are you?” Harry asked fearfully, backing across the stone floor, the dampness soaking into his pajamas. “What do you want?”
“It’s so sad,” he continued, “that you don’t remember any of our past encounters. But I tell you this time, Harry Potter, it will be our last. Because tonight you’re going to die.”
“Get away from me!” Harry cried, pressing a hand to his head, which had begun to pound, the pain increasing in dizzying waves. “Who are you?” he whispered as the wizard knelt in front of him and picked the child up by his neck.
“Your murderer,” he grinned, “and your parent’s as well. Too bad their sacrifice was wasted…I’m going to kill you tonight and then you won’t be the boy-who-lived any longer…because you’ll be dead.”
“You’re the bad wizard!” Harry gasped, kicking his legs and squirming to get out of the iron grasp. “You killed my parents!”
“That I did,” Voldemort sneered. “And now it’s your turn.”
“Please! Don’t,” Harry cried. “Hermione! Draco! Help me! Please!” he begged.
“Goodbye, Harry Potter.”
Butterscotch jumped to his feet and looked at his young master, who was whimpering softly and had both hands wrapped tightly around his throat, his face turning blue. Leaping off the bed, the dog began to howl and paw at the closed bedroom door, that Hermione had shut so the dog couldn’t get out.
The Gryffindor came tearing out of her room with Draco on her heels both knowing something was wrong by the frantic barking. Throwing open the door, Hermione literally ran over the dog and flew over to Harry, who by now as an odd shade of purple.
“HE’S SUFFOCATING!” she screamed, attempting to pry Harry’s hands away to no avail.
“WAKE HIM UP!” Draco shouted, pointing his wand at Harry. “INUNDANTIA CONSISTO AQUA!” A mad torrent of water burst forth, soaking both Hermione and Harry, but having the effect Draco wanted. With a gasp, Harry sat up in bed, eyes wide with terror.
“It’s okay,” Hermione whispered, pulling Harry to her and rubbing his back. “It’s okay.”
The child trembled in her arms, and clung to Hermione like a lifeline. Draco sat himself on the bed next to them and Butterscotch jumped up and gave Harry a lick on his cheek. After a few tense moments, Harry took his face out of Hermione’s over large tee shirt and looked around the room, assuring himself he was safe.
Draco conjured an icepack and placed it on the back of Harry’s neck, where some large bruising was beginning to appear. “What happened?” Hermione asked softly.
“I…I don’t really know,” Harry sniffled. “I woke up somewhere else…and the bad wizard was there.”
“Voldemort!” Hermione gasped, arms tightening around Harry.
“He said he…wanted to…kill me. And then I woke up here.”
“He did try to kill you,” Draco said gravely. Looking at Hermione, he asked, “I thought he was protected here. How did he do that?”
“I don’t know,” the brunette said softly. “We’d best talk to Dumbledore in the morning. I’ll stay the night with Harry. I don’t want anything like that to happen again.”
“Can you stay too Draco?” Harry whispered, looking at the Slytherin hopefully.
“All right. But your bed is soaked,” he observed. “Should we go somewhere else?”
“Your room will work,” Hermione decided. “I’m going to go get changed; Harry, you go with Draco, kay? I don’t want you alone…” Harry nodded and taking a pair of dry pajamas he went with Draco to his room.
Hermione joined them minutes later and scrambled beneath the covers on the other side of Harry. Butterscotch leapt up on the foot of the bed once more and settled down. “You okay?” Hermione asked Harry softly, one of her arms wrapping around him.
Harry nodded sleepily and cuddled closer to Draco and dragged Hermione closer to him. Minutes later, he was sound asleep.
“You need to go to sleep to,” Draco advised, seeing Hermione still lying awake with her eyes wide open a few minutes later.
“But I don’t want anything to happen to him,” she murmured, running her fingers through the unruly black hair. “I already feel so guilty letting what happened earlier happen.”
“Neither of us could prevent that. But I’ll watch him for now and I’ll wake you up in a few hours. I had enough sleep at the Hospital Wing to keep me going for a while.”
“You know Draco,” she whispered, turning to look at him over Harry’s head. “You’ve really changed…and I’m so glad you did.”
“Me too,” Draco said softly, a smile tugging at his mouth as he returned the gaze. “Me too.”
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