Hey... what do you know? Beta deserves ultimate credit... StarShineDC, she has lovely stories. Second, I'm going out of town for a few weeks with no wifi. I'll write more chapters of Muggle Week soon as the internet allows.
The peaceful morning was disturbed by a sharp, insistent rapping. Draco tried to ignore the sound, telling himself it was probably just an owl. Someone else would get it when they got irritated enough, or perhaps the owl would just pass out or fly away. Irritated that his slumber had been impeded, Draco rolled over and buried his face in his pillow.
Unfortunately, the tapping did not stop. In fact, it gradually grew louder. Impatient owl, Draco thought as he finally, but reluctantly, heaved himself out of the bed. Someone was going to pay for this; his sleep was a vital part of his life and the fact that anyone would have the nerve to cut it short was unforgivable. He walked sluggishly to the window and stood by it for a few moments, trying to figure out why he was still hearing the raps but seeing no winged, letter-bearing creature.
Draco swore silently as he realized that the annoying tapping sound was actually someone, most likely a professor, knocking on the front door. Suddenly very much awake, he dashed down the stairs, throwing on proper robes as an afterthought; god forbid a professor see him in pajamas. But it was thrown on as he went because, if there was one thing Draco had learned in his five years at Hogwarts, it was that his professors did not take kindly to waiting, which is exactly what the four boys had done.
Breathless, Draco took a moment to set himself to rights before pulling open the front door to reveal a cross Professor McGonagall, who immediately swept forward into the house, her dark green witch hat being knocked off her head promptly by the low ceiling. Draco picked it up, unwilling to agitate his professor any further.
"Ten points from Slytherin and Gryffindor, I think. The lot of you should've been up at least an hour ago. This isn't a vacation, Mr. Malfoy." Her tone was as stern and as unyielding as the gaze she took around the small house as she strode down the entryway.
"I believe it was Mr. Potter who drank the potion last night?" she continued, stony gaze flicking to Draco. He immediately nodded his confirmation, hiding his distaste with sheer will. Of course it would be Gryffindor's Head of House... Then again, seeing how the Golden Boy and his best friend were in his group, Draco thought he had a pretty fair shot of passing. He tried not to fidget at the small voice in his head told him that he'd taken such good care of Potter that there was no way he'd fail, anyway.
"I will need to see Mr. Potter now for your grade evaluation," Professor McGonagall was saying as she perched on a chair in the living room. "Kindly fetch the boy and the other students." Draco nodded again before proceeding up the stairs, this time peppering his strides with the careful poise and grace that Malfoys were always supposed to have.
After dressing quickly into black dress pants and a blue button down shirt, Draco decided to have his fun in waking the others, beginning with Blaise. However, as he pushed the door open and took a step inside the room, he realized that the Slytherin was not in his bed. "Good morning, Draco. Get out of my room," came a cool voice from a chair on the opposite side of the room.
Draco looked at his fellow Slytherin apprehensively when he caught sight of him, seated regally on a chair that had been facing the window a moment before. "How long have you been up?" Draco demanded, hardly able to keep the accusation from his tone as he took in the boy's crisp suit, shiny shoes, and steaming cup of what spelled suspiciously like coffee. Where had Blaise gotten coffee?
Sipping his drink, Blaise responded smoothly, "Longer than you have."
Draco had already guessed this much and his unappreciation at the insulting answer was clear in his expression. "Why didn't you answer the door? McGonagall was irate when I got down the stairs." Draco glared. Blaise didn't respond, but simply took another sip of coffee, raised an eyebrow, and smirked. Draco only sighed. Typical Blaise.
"Fine, fine. I'm leaving, but McGonagall wants us all downstairs. I recommend leaving your coffee up here, too." Angling his head in a way that showed that he was still the superior Slytherin in this house, Draco bid Blaise farewell and crossed to the opposite side of the hall, where Ron was definitely still asleep, his snoring loud enough to be heard halfway down the hall.
Now standing in front of Ron's bed, Draco pursed his lips and contemplated his options. Blaise had ruined his plots by already being awake and, in hindsight, Blaise's retaliation would've been ten times worse. Ron, however, was a Gryffindor. He had none of the cunning required for a decent counterattack. The snoring redhead - and that infernal noise would have to stop - was sprawled sideways across the bed on his stomach, completely entwined in sheets.
Draco figured that he could simply punch him, though that was a little crass. He studied his palm, considered the satisfying sound it would make versus the pain meeting that thick Weasley skull would probably cause his fist. No, then. Not worth it.
Draco could also shake him awake to tell him that Professor Snape was downstairs. That would frighten the boy into something embarrassing, Draco mused, but if no one was around to really see it, it would be a waste. Also, the thought of touching the snoring beast had Draco's lips curling into a sneer.
Then he spotted a glass of drinking water on the beside table. Mind made, a slow smile replacing the sneer, he swiftly moved towards the glass, picked it up, and upturned it over the sleeping Gryffindor. The classics were, occasionally, so very satisfying.
Ron shot up from the bed with difficulty - tangled in the sheets as he was - and spluttered something about spiders attempting to drown him before catching sight of the blonde. Draco was now smirking with amusement. He bowed and effectively cut off whatever blabbering Weasley was sure to manage upon being awakened. "One of our esteemed Professors arrived a few minutes ago," he explained, leaving out who it was on purpose. "We are, of course, expected downstairs immediately. And you should probably do something about your hair, Weasel. The color's offensive enough, but now it's dripping all over everything." He swept out as though he didn't care in the least about the sound of Ron gnashing his teeth and found himself in Harry's room.
The child was curled up in a ball with his thumb in his mouth. Draco's smirk disappeared and was replaced with a small smile as his eyes landed upon the toddler again. He reluctantly placed his hand on the small boy's shoulder and shook, expecting Harry to awake easily. Instead, Harry grabbed the hand from his shoulder, still asleep, held it to his chest like a teddy bear, and rolled over. Hand now stuck, Draco attempted to do the same with the other hand with the same result. Draco was at loss of what to do, so he tried to simply remove his hands from the surprisingly tight clutches of the sleeping boy.
Entirely unsuccessful, Draco switched tactics and tickled the boy. At this, Harry's eyes snapped open and he giggled a bit, though he did not release Draco's hands. Curiously, Draco tickled the boy again and gave a laugh of his own as Harry squealed and rolled over on his back, dropping the Slytherin's hands and pulling his legs up for protection.
Refraining from ticking Harry some more, mindful of the professor awaiting them downstairs, Draco scooped the boy up into his arms and told him, "A teacher from my school is checking up on us, Harry. She'd like to meet you, too." Harry nodded into Draco's chest as he settled down, wrapping his arms around the Slytherin's neck, and burying his little face into his shirt. Draco hesitantly patted the boy's back, unable to quell the affectionate smile.
When the two arrived in the living room, Blaise and Ron were sitting silently on far, opposing sides of the sofa and Professor McGonagall was looking at the soaked Gryffindor and the "just woken up, yet fully dressed and awake" Slytherin with raised eyebrows. McGonagall quickly turned her gaze to the toddler in Draco's arms when Draco's cleared throat announced their presence. Harry, in question, sat up in Draco's arms and stared blatantly at the woman's hat. "I like your hat," he said interestedly. "It kinda reminds me of a movie I once saw..." Harry's little lips pursed as he tried to remember the name of the movie.
McGonagall laughed lightly, a strange sound to the boys who were their normal age. "I heard you're name is Harry?" Harry nodded, a bright smile adorning his features. The professor returned the smile easily and continued, "My name is Professor McGonagall. Can you say that, Harry?"
Again, the toddler nodded. "McGona- McGona- McGonny?" Harry asked with wide eyes, giving up on pronouncing the name.
Professor McGonagall sighed, but let it be. She wasn't planning on being here for long, anyway. There were other houses to see to. "So, Harry, have you been happy here?"
Harry face, streaked with dirt that Draco now wished he'd thought to wash, glowed as he answered brightly. "Really happy! Ron scared me a little bit when he was fighting with my Draco, though..." Ron reddened when Blaise and Draco glanced at him. Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows when she heard the "my" in front of Draco's name, but listened as Harry continued. "Blaise is real smart. He figured out how to use a can opener on his own and how to make soup... He and Ron even hooked up the TV!" Blaise looked down quickly, evading the glance McGonagall sent his way. "I had fun with my Draco, too!" Harry went on, resting his head back against the boy in question. "We played tag - kinda - and hide 'n' go seek outside yesterday... We played checkers, but Draco cheated 'cause he was losing real bad. I like it here lots!" Harry finished and beamed up at Professor McGonagall.
The old witch nodded briefly. "And, tell me, Harry, what do you know about magic?"
The boy looked perplexed a moment. "Like... in the movies?" He smiled. "It's in lots of stories."
Professor McGonagall smiled and rose. "Very good. Thank you, Harry." She lifted her wand and waved it, a piece of paper appearing on the table. "Your next assignment," she explained, ignoring little Harry's gasp of awe. "Another professor will be by tomorrow." And with a small nod, Professor McGonagall Apparated to her next destination with a loud crack that made Harry cover his ears.
Blaise immediately rose and disappeared up to his room and chilled coffee and Ron glowered at Draco before striding after him to dry himself off.
Harry quickly squirmed out of Draco's grasp and bounded to the note. "Was she magic, Drcao?" He picked up the little note and waved it as though it would reveal all its secrets that way. Draco lowered onto the sofa where Blaise had vacated, avoiding the wet spot where Ron had sat and held out his hand for the note.
Harry happily climbed onto his lap and offered the note. "Was she? Was she? Huhhuh?"
Draco offered a smile. "It certainly seemed that way," he evaded and read the note.
Congratulations on successfully completing your first chore.
I hope it has instilled some basic knowledge of the Muggle world as well as in child-rearing.
Before you begin your second chore, you must give the child the antidote to the de-aging potion.
This potion is, again, located in the ice box.
Once you are all your proper age, your task is to complete various household and yard chores.
Housework:
1. Dishes.
2. Sweeping and mopping floors.
3. Washing windows.
4. Cleaning your rooms.
5. Clean your washroom.
Yardwork:
1. Rake the leaves.
2. Trim the hedges.
3. Paint the fence.
4. Weed the garden.
5. Mow the lawn.
Necessary tools are provided in the kitchen closet and the garden shed.
"What's it say, Draco?
"She says that you are a very sweet boy," Draco lied. He couldn't very well say to Harry that the note instructed him to take a potion to age the boy, now could he?
A faint frown appeared on Harry's face. "It looks like a lot more letters than that!" Harry commented, studying the note.
"Professor McGonagall likes elaborate wording," Draco stood up and began to walk to the refrigerator, brows drawing together as he thought. This seemed to be a ludicrous amount of chores and he wasn't looking forward to it in the slightest.
Harry trotted alongside him. "What does 'elaborate' mean?"
"Detailed," Draco responded absently as he reached his destination. Yanking open the door, he peered inside, looking for the potions vial. He didn't exactly want the actual Harry back, but he also didn't want to deal with a child and try and leave so much work for Blaise and Ron to take care of. They would all fail for sure. He was also wary, based on little Harry's attachment of him, made the of how Harry would react after he took the antidote. Would he even remember what had occurred while a child? And, if he did, would he hold it over Draco's head? Draco was positive that, had the situation been reversed, Draco would hold it over Harry's.
Draco was frowning when he found the tiny vial filled with a blue, bubbly substance. "Whatcha find?" Draco put the smile back in place when a little tuft of black hair tried to wedge its way to the fridge. Draco nudged him back and Harry folded his arms, pouting up at the blonde.
"Yeah, Malfoy. What did you find?" came Ron's irritated voice from behind Harry. Looking up, Draco shoved the note at Ron. Ron hopped up to sit on the counter as he read, grimacing at the list of chores but glad that he was going to have his best mate back.
Harry looked between the two boys, unused to them not fighting. "So watchu find, Draco?" he asked again.
"Oh, the only thing I found was a drink I tried at school once. It was fantastic!" It was, from Draco's limited experience with small children (i.e. books and the occasional play), probably going to be hard getting Harry to drink the potion without lying somehow. Ron snorted, unimpressed by Draco's attempts.
Harry didn't catch the lie, however, and he eagerly asked, "Can I try some?"
The blonde acted as if he was considering the question carefully. Only when Harry asked again did he shrug. "I suppose if you really want to."
"I really want to!"
So Draco removed the cork stopper and smirked at Ron when Harry grabbed the vial with both of his hands and drank it quickly. Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"It tastes like blueberries!" the little boy commented happily with a smile that disappeared within second. The vial smashed on the floor as Harry dropped it and staggered backwards slightly, all the child-like bliss gone from his face. Draco and Ron both moved forward quickly out of concern that he would fall, but it wasn't necessary. Harry's features quickly morphed from those of a three or four year old boy to those of a fifteen year old.
Draco immediately retracted his steps when Harry Potter at his natural age stood before the two, blinking in confusion. The Slyherin paused and spun on his heel, stalking out of the kitchen and tried not to let his disappointment show. How odd to suddenly realize that he'd wanted Harry to remember. He didn't notice Harry staring after him.
Ron broke into a grin, oblivious to both of them, and slapped Harry on the back with a happy welcome back to normality. He went into the explanations of what had occurred (barring his attachment to Draco) without bothering to ask if Harry remembered anything about being a toddler. He, like Draco, assumed from the confused look he'd worn when first transformed back that he was clueless.
Both blokes were very much mistaken, but Harry didn't want to admit to anything, not until he actually knew why it had happened. He let Ron chatter on about the previous day, largely ignoring him and retreated to his own thoughts, contemplating Draco's behavior from the past day. He was also considering his own behavior. He'd been so... drawn to Draco. Because he'd seemed the safest of the three at first, but even after that had settled, Draco had still seemed the best choice. And he'd been ridiculously nice.
Harry thought of playing around outside and scrubbed a hand over his dirty cheek. Draco had done a cartwheel. The oh, so perfect and prim Malfoy had done cartwheels, played games with him, and had climbed a tree to get him out of it. He'd tried opening a can of soup for him and had smiled so much...
"...Then McGonagall left this note on the table," Ron was saying. "See, Harry?" The brunette was brought back to earth when Ron repeated his name and forced a piece of parchment into his hand. Looking down, Harry saw the instructions for the day and gladly seized them as a distraction. He stood, Ron stopping midsentence when Harry simply walked out of the room towards the front door.
Realizing what Harry was doing, Ron quickly followed him out the door while yelling to the other occupants in the house, "Get yourselves down here! Harry and I are not cleaning this house on our own!" Harry decided to take it as a good sign that he hadn't used the word "arses" to call them.
Blaise and Draco appeared on the doorstep minutes later, still dressed in the expensive looking dress pants and shirts. Ron and Harry, both dressed comfortably in jeans, exchanged looks and smirks, but made no comment.
Smiling mischievously, Harry handed a pair of hedge shears from the from a small garden shed to Blaise, who began to eye it with an appraising stare. Harry tried not to regret that fact that he'd just given Blaise Zabini giant, sharp scissors. Ron dove inside the shed and pulled out a rake. Harry averted the Slytherin's gaze as he handed a trowel to Malfoy, not realizing that Draco was also not looking his way, before going back into the shed to find something for his own task. There were only a few things remaining in the shed... Another trowel, several flowers, two buckets of white paint, and four paint brushes. A short note was attached to the first jar of paint, which Harry read with some distaste.
All occupants of the home are required to participate in painting the fence.
Harry looked around the confined space, searching for another tool that he must have missed. Surely he was not expected to work with Dra... with Malfoy, of all people?
Unfortunately, that was exactly what Harry was expected to do. Sighing, Harry picked up the trowel and a crate of flowers before exiting the shack. Harry placed the flower crate by Draco and sat on the ground near where he was standing.
Draco was too busy fretting over the state of his appearance to notice Harry right away. He would sit down briefly, only to stand back up and brush offending dirt from his trousers. He was contemplating rolling up his sleeves, but his cufflinks were so pretty today and designed to be shown off. Blaise was having a similar problem as he trimmed the hedges; the boy was beginning to sweat, which was utterly ruining his pressed suit. He had shed his jacket, only to put it back on when the sweat became visible on his once crisp green button down. Ron watched his progress with laughter as he slowly raked the yard.
Harry watched Draco, who had still not given up on his battle to remain clean, out of the corner of his eye as he lazily dug small holes into the ground. How could the boy that Harry was staring at now and the boy from yesterday possibly be the same person? The boy he was staring at now looked and acted like same one that had tormented Harry for five years... But, then again, the boy who had kissed his forehead yesterday after putting him to bed looked the same and had the same dry, sarcastic personality that Malfoy had always had.
Harry rubbed his forehead where Dra- Malfoy had kissed, had to shake his head at Ron's pointed look. No, it's not my scar was the silent message. Ron nodded, going back to work, and Harry turned his attention back to Draco. Maybe... Maybe it was the same person. Maybe... maybe the boy whom Harry knew and despised for five years was not actually a terrible person. It was a scary thought, really, but he couldn't deny how kind Malfoy had been to him the day before.
The single, forced kiss they'd shared came into his mind, unbidden, when Draco's lips parted to let a sigh slip through, and Harry surged to his feet. "Do you want to borrow a jeans and a shirt?"
Draco was surprised by the offer, the expression quickly masked by a scowl. He had yet to plant a flower due to his distress (his outfit was being ruined and Harry was staring at him) and he really didn't own anything more casual than what he currently had on. He'd just been contemplating whether or not to just fail in lieu of ruining his clothing when Harry had spoken.
"Do you want to or not?" Harry asked again and Draco nodded. The bespectacled boy spun on his heel and strode inside, intending for the other boy to follow.
Minutes later, Harry quietly handed Draco a folded pair of faded jeans and a cheap red and gold t-shirt, deliberately choosing Gryffindor colors. Draco winced at the obvious choice, but mumbled a "Thanks, Potter" and accepted the clothing.
They stood in silence awkwardly for several moments before Harry spoke. "So, what's different about today, Malfoy? You're not acting like an intolerable sod." Harry wondered at what answer he would receive and leaned against a wooden bed post, watching Draco closely.
Draco flushed slightly, but glared. Harry obviously didn't remember the previous day's events and Draco decided that perhaps he should just forget them as well. "I'll have you know that I am never an intolerable sod," he declared indignantly.
Harry lifted an eyebrow. "Of course not, what was I thinking? I'm going back outside," he muttered, striding towards the door. And then he stopped in the doorway and looked back because he was a Gryffindor and he wasn't going to just let this pass. "Oh, I think I forgot to mention: you're good with kids."
Draco went visibly still. "I had nothing to do with you yesterday. Weasley will second that notion, if you don't believe me."
Harry turned around and walked back to Draco, not willing to tolerate a flat lie like that. It was insulting to them both. "That's a lie, though, isn't it?" he accused and was met with silence.
Damn, thought Draco. Damn, damn, damn. But Harry wasn't looking away from him and he was backing up either. Draco could've backed away, but Malfoy pride burned in him and kept him in place. "I didn't want to fail my courses," he eventually spat.
Harry's mouth quirked and Draco cursed his eyes for being drawn by the motion. "Give it up, Draco. I remember everything," came Harry's light response.
Draco's mouth went dry (He called me Draco) and he began to storm out of the room, but was stopped by an unexpected arm blocking his path. "I remember everything," Harry repeated, his eyes determined and lit with something Draco didn't recognize. And it was startling to be so close to him and realize that he still had to look down. Harry was a few inches shorter than he was and, well, for the large presence the Golden Boy seemed to exude, it was a little a surprising.
Though not half as surprising as what followed. "Even this," the brunette said quietly and lifted slightly to press warm, gentle lips to the Slytherin's brow. "It was fun watching you outside... today and yesterday." And then he disappeared so quickly, Draco wondered if he'd used magic. And then, left standing in the middle of the empty room holding a pair of ratty jeans and a t-shirt, Draco lifted quivering fingers to where Harry's lips had been.