'Harry? Sweetie?' I call.
'Mummy?' I hear him reply, seemingly far away.
Moving towards him, I remind him 'No, it's 'Mione, remember?'

God damn, I hate this. His face every time I remind him his mummy's not around. I'm around, but does he care? Ah, now I feel bad. He does care - he thinks I saved him after all. If those Dursleys were around I swear I'd-

'I- 'Mione!' He says hesitantly, reaching to hold my hand.
'Yes sweetie?' I say with a smile, grasping his hand.
'Can you make teddy awake again? Pleeeease?'

I shouldn't have done it the first time. He thinks I'm a god, but I guess I don't mind that too much. He was too quiet, scared even, I had to cheer him up somehow. It seemed like a good idea at the time...

'I'll be good, I pwomise. Pweeese?' He begs, his grin cutely toothy.
I stutter unsurely, 'I- um,'

He's doing the cute 'five-year-old can't speak properly' thing. I hate it when he does that. I always give in. And on top of that he's begging - I hate how those people used to treat him, making him do that. Even at meal times, he looks at me warily like I'm about to banish his plate.

I say in a fake voice of consideration 'Harry, I don't know if that's a good idea, you're already very tired, and so might teddy be...'

Oh shit, Hermione - you've done it now. He's going to cry. But not bawl. Just sit there, tears falling, crying silently. Like those people made him. I blame Neville for all of this - if he hadn't botched his damned potion for the hundredth f'ing time...

'Ok, all right! I'll wake up teddy.' I relent, conceding once again to his childish whim.
'It's ok, 'Mione. I don't wanna annoy him if he's restin'...' He stops me quietly, moving to hold his inanimate teddy bear close.

Now what do I do? I'm so screwed. I'm going to be such a crappy parent - 'books and cleverness' and all that. And he's in the right, too. Using his morals to make me look evil, will he? We'll see about that.

I try to avert his attention, saying 'Do you want to play some more, sweetie? Or-'
'Can we...' he begins.
'Yes?' I ask him, hoping he'll say outright what he wants.
'Can we see Daph'?'

He wants Daphne?! What the hell! I was being a good disciplinarian, wasn't I? Who does he think he is, asking- relax, 'Mione. He only wants to see her because she gives him whatever he wants. And then, like always, he'll crawl over to Susan Bones and sit in her lap and get all warm and cuddly. I wish he'd do that with me. I guess my breasts aren't pillow-y enough for him, the pig.

'I don't think so.' I tell him, my voice sterner than I'd've liked.
He pouts, reasoning, 'But it's not late, or dark out. Dap'ne said I could come whenever as long as it wasn't my bed time.'

He's got a point. I'm going to have to try really hard to hide my fuming anger now.

'I- fine. Get a toy to play with and then we can go visit Daphne.' I say, trying to suppress my bitterness.
'And Susie.' he says with a cunning grin, before running off.

Wasn't I right? Little boy adds little clauses like that before I can refuse and then walks up to me, looking all small and cute as he hugs his teddy bear - which he knows can dance the rumba if he's sweet to Daphne. He's too small for his age; he stands in front of me, as tall as a four-year old, and holds out his hands, teddy bear dragging, as he begs to be picked up. And cuddled as he's carried. 'B'cause that's what Aunt Tuney does to Dudley and he only gets nice things. I'm a freak and a burden and a brat and a...' Oh no, I think I'm going to cry. He was so upset that day, but I told him that he shouldn't copy his cousin. He still does this though. So I pick him up. He rests his head on my shoulder and yawns, badly trying to hide and muffle it with his bear. I gave him that toy - transfigured it out of an old blanket from the girls' dorm. He never lets go of it. I'm walking - he's falling asleep - towards the Room of Requirement, where we've set up camp. Our friendship group that is. It's only a few corridors away from the Gryffindor Common Room, and soon we're right outside. I think for 'a place to be ourselves' - our key phrase for the room - and when I open the door, Harry lights up and squirms to be put down.

'Dap'ne!' he yells, running up to jump onto Daphne.
'Harry! How are you, my special little guy?' she replies, catching him and bringing him up to a hug.
'I'm ok. 'Mione was mean to me.' Harry tells her in a dramatic whisper, giving Hermione a scowl.

I was not!

'I was not!' I argue, huffing at the condescending face Daphne's making at me.
'Aw, what did you want, sweetie pie?' she asks Harry, 'I'm sure if it's appropriate-'
'Make teddy alive!' he begs, jumping in Daphne's arms.
'Harry, ask nicely. And you shouldn't fib.' I scold tightly, frowning at the pouty face he's making.
'Sorry, 'Mione. Pweeese Daphne?'

And the next thing I know, I'm nursing a butterbeer as Harry giggles, interacting with his loving bear. Which is dancing, no thanks to Daphne. Susan arrived a few minutes after me, and poked fun at my disdain. When she got here, Harry seemed to remember that he was tired, and yawned. He still looked cute.

'Look at the poor thing. Wiped out he is.' Said Susan as she hugged his tired frame.
'Yeah, Hermione. You should put him to bed early.' Daphne said, failing to chastise me.
'I was going to! Then he got all upset and he wanted to see you two and I was stressing out-'
'Hermione, calm down. He's fine; I mean, look at him. All tuckered out and cuddling his wittle teddy bear!' Assured Susan.

And he's curled up in Susan's lap. Again. And he likes it. I can tell. She goes all baby talk on him, even if he's a nineteen-year-old in his five-year-old body. She's squeezing so hard it looks like he's going to break-

'Loosen up, Susie!' Daphne warned, almost getting up to pull Susan's arms away.
'Alright Daphne, calm your knickers.'

I relax, glad to know Daphne saved him, and that his breathing a nice and calm. He's cute when he's sleepy...

'Hermione?' Susan says, trying to get my attention.
'Uh- huh, what?'
'Are you sure you're not the one that needs some sleep?'
'Yes I'm sure, thanks very much.'
'Right.' Daphne says with an eye-roll.
'Daphne! Please.'
'Ok, ok.'

I put my butterbeer down on a small table and frown at Susan, who was rocking Harry back and forth as he fell asleep. His hold on the bear was steadfast, and his thumb was planted firmly at his lips. It's sweet, I know, but I know that the real Harry hadn't been like this when he was actually five. He'd been timid, scared, submissive, abused. But maybe this is his second chance? Annoyingly, I don't know what to think. Maybe he's more comfortable in Susan's warm embrace than mine - I don't remind him of his evil bitch of an aunt, do I? Susan and Daphne are going to spoil him. I know it. Harry whimpers a little in his sleep and buries his head unconsciously in Susan's arms. I'm frowning, Daphne's frowning - even 'Miss Chipper-tits' is frowning.

'Here. Pass him over.' I say, reaching out for Harry.
'No way- why?' Susan says, quite selfishly in my opinion.
'Because I've known him the longest. Harry has nightmares a lot.' I say, knowing that I know how to comfort him.
'So? This Harry doesn't even know you that well.' Daphne argued.

That hurt. He only likes Susan because she's got red hair like his mum and comfy tits, and Daphne lets him get away with anything and everything. He'll thank me later, I guarantee it. Nevertheless he's going to start screaming and crying, and only I'll know what to do.

'He's shaking.' Susan observes, and the temptation to hit her grows.
'I know, so let me hold him.' I insist.
'Don't move him around. Let it pass.' Daphne suggests, sitting back in her seat like she's used to it.
'Daphne, I don't think-'
'Hermione, trust me, I-'
'No! You trust me!'
'Both of you, quiet-'
'MUMMY!'

Harry's awake; bawling, crying his little eyes out hysterically as he jumps away from Susan and into my arms. Am I a bit smug at that point? Sure. But I'm preoccupied with the crying little boy in my hold. I caress his arms, murmuring sweet nothings into his hairline. But he hardly quietens. He's screaming for his mummy, and begging his aunt not to tell, but he's holding onto me like I'm his lifeline.

'Harry, shh, it's alright sweetie.'
'Please! I'm sorry.' He sobs. 'I swear I'll be better. I promise!'

He's so upset, it makes me upset too, but I swallow the lump in my throat. All he wants is his mummy, but neither Daphne, Susan nor I can fill that gap. We just aren't the same. I want to quash his fear of the lime green light, but he doesn't understand. Just the other day I was telling Ron what Harry'd told me; about the scary green light that 'made mummy go away', because he'd been a 'good for nothing freak'. He didn't understand. But how can I explain it to him?

'Harry, shh, it's ok. I promise you'll be ok. You aren't in trouble, sweetie. Please don't cry?'
I'm hopeful, because my words manage to quieten Harry down. He's still crying, but his shoulders are relaxed and his head is buried into my neck - he's not going anywhere. I cuddle him and then stand up, his legs instinctively wrapping around my torso. I look at Daphne and Susan sadly.
'We're going to bed, okay? See you tomorrow.'

Daphne gets up and smiles, patting Harry's head. 'Yeah. Bye.'
'G'night.' Susan adds.
'Night.' Harry's tired voice sounds, before his even breathing is tickling Hermione's collarbone. He sniffs in his sleep, and his arms loosen around me. I hold him tighter, and with a grimace intended as a smile, I leave the room of requirement to trek back to the common room, glad that Harry knows better than to choose attention other than from me.