A/N
Another day, another instalment. So here goes ... as I'm sure you all know, this belongs to JK, who came up with the original idea. If anyone is interested in trying to scrape together some cash and buy the rights off her, let me know. As for the story, well, I still don't know completely where this is going to end up, though I'm fairly sure it's going to get darker. I'm still taking guesses about the identity of Draco's new 'friend' and should be in a position to reveal just who he is in Chapter 8. My heartfelt gratitude goes out to my wonderful reviewers, also to Capital FM London, who keep me sane as I write.
Chapter 6. In which, if you haven't worked out who he is - we learn of the mystery boy's identity, and Ron eats a slice of delicious fruit cake.
They crowded around him. The boy seemed to be in the grip of some massive internal struggle. His bottom lip was quivering, and he looked as though, any minute, he might be about to burst into tears.
"I ... don't know if I should say," the boy murmured.
"We want to know love," said Hermione, sincerely. "Nobody's cross with you darling."
The boy blushed to the roots of his hair, "Someone is," he said, his voice barely audible.
"Who?" asked Hermione.
The boy shook his head, "I don't know who he is," he said.
"Did he do this to you?"
"I don't know," the boy breathed, "I can't remember."
Harry wrung the water out of the flannel, and put it back in the bowl, "You shouldn't make him talk about this now," he said to Hermione. "Do you want a drink, something to eat?"
"I'd ... a glass of water ... please," he whispered.
Harry turned to William, who was standing in the doorway, "Run downstairs and get some water will you?" William departed on his errand. Harry turned back to the strange boy. "Are you feeling any better?" he asked.
The boy shook his head, "My arm really hurts."
"I'm not surprised. You don't have to talk if you don't want to," said Harry, quite calmly. "But we do need to find out where your parents are."
"They're dead," said the boy.
Harry paused, and swallowed hard. This child was scaring him. First the bloody wound to the forehead, which now cleaned, revealed a thin, jagged cut. Now he had learned that the boy's parents were both dead. He felt as if he was looking into his own eyes, albeit different coloured ones.
"Yours are too," the boy breathed. "I know, you see."
Harry froze, "How do you know that?
"I'm right, you see. You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"
Harry turned to Hermione, as if seeking confirmation of his identity. Hermione nodded gravely, "Yes, you are," she whispered.
Harry took a deep breath, and nodded.
"You see, I know who all of you are," said the boy, his eyes brimming with tears, "you're Hermione Granger, except you're a Potter now ... I remember you very well. He's Ron Weasley, and she was Fleur Delacour."
"How does he know this?" asked Fleur. Ron held tightly to her hand.
Harry looked the boy in the eyes, and raised his eyebrows. "You seem to have the measure of us young man. Perhaps you'd like to tell us your name?"
The boy shook his head, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Tell us where you live then," said Harry. "There must be somebody we can contact."
"My parents ... I, used to live, near Bristol."
"You don't anymore?"
The boy shook his head again. "No, not for ages."
"Well, where do you live?"
"I guess, wherever now. In London," he said.
Hermione looked even more concerned, "We need to find out who you belong to," she said.
"Nobody."
"That can't be right. There must be some relatives, someone must be looking after you."
"I look after myself," said the boy.
Fleur spoke up. "How can this be. He is just a little boy."
Harry waved her into silence, "We really need to know your name. If we can help you, we will."
The boy looked desperate. "You have to believe me," he began, a lone tear tricking down his cheek. "You wouldn't understand what's happened to me. Who I am, or where I came from."
"Try me," said Harry. "I'm not just a pretty face."
"Promise you won't laugh?"
"Why would we laugh?" asked Harry, looking at him quizzically.
"Because of my name. It's Draco ... Draco Malfoy."
Ron snorted. Hermione stared at her feet. Even Harry tried hard not to smile.
"Yes ... very funny joke," said Fleur, scowling at Draco. "He's obviously lying."
"Please," gasped Draco. "I'm not lying. You have to believe me."
Harry grinned. Of course he didn't believe the child for an instant. He was spinning some cock and bull story, winding them up.
"Please Harry," said Draco, "you have to help me."
Harry looked at the others. Ron shrugged his shoulders. Hermione still looked slightly shell shocked. The idea of a Malfoy being in her home was one she was not able to get to grips with. A melee of thoughts whirled around her mind.
"Is that really your name?" asked Harry.
Draco nodded in earnest.
"Your father?" Harry went on. "I take it his name was Draco Malfoy as well?"
Fleur shook her head in frustration, "Harry, you don't understand! I met Draco Malfoy in the Bull Hotel yesterday afternoon. This ... impostor claims his father is dead. How can it be so? He's lying."
"This could be his son," said Harry. "Nobody is accusing you of lying here Fleur."
Draco stared hard at Fleur. "I showed you a photo? You remember?"
Harry turned to Fleur.
"Well, yes, the man I met did show me a photograph. But, that ... how can you know that?"
"If you accept the logical explanation," said Draco, "you'll understand that I am who I say I am."
"What was the photograph of? Who was in it?" asked Fleur, her curiosity aroused.
"Two children," said Draco, his eyes flitted around the room, taking in all the persons present. "A school photo ... of, of Harry's children. I don't know their names."
Harry turned to Fleur once more. "Can you explain this? Is he right?"
Fleur nodded, "I was shown a photo, yes, of William and Rebecca. The man asked me if I knew their mother."
"That's right," breathed Draco. "That's exactly what I said."
"I said yes," said Fleur. "I told him I knew where to find them. I ... I explained all this last night at dinner Hermione. I explained he was looking for you then. Why am I the one who is to blame here?"
Hermione put her arm round Fleur. "Nobody is blaming you Fleur. But you must admit that both stories now look equally suspicious. If you'll excuse me, I have an idea," she slipped out of the room.
"Where's she going?" asked Draco. "She needs to be here."
"She'll be back," said Harry. "You need to rest."
"I can tell you everything," said Draco. William slipped back into the room, holding a glass of water, which he set down on the bedside table. "Thanks Will," said Draco.
Hermione came back into the room, bearing what appeared to be a large framed photo. She turned on the lights, and came closer to the bed.
"Do you recognise any of these people?" she asked.
"I can't see that," snorted Draco. "Hand it to me, I'll take a look."
Hermione relinquished the photograph. Harry recognised it as the one that hung over his desk in the downstairs study. It was a Hogwarts school photo, taken during the summer term of his second year, about a week before he rescued Ginny Weasley from the Chamber of Secrets. The children in the photo were grinning from ear to ear. Gilderoy Lockhart appeared to be preening himself.
"Can you ... identify any of these people?" asked Hermione.
"Of course," said Draco, surveying the photo with interest. He had not seen it before, for his father had declined to part with the twenty galleon sale price, even though Draco had begged him repeatedly. Slowly, he reached out, and pointed to himself, sitting in the front row, between Crabbe and Goyle. "That's me, there," he said.
Fleur bent closer to take a look. "Is he telling the truth?"
"He just pointed to Draco Malfoy," said Harry. "It proves nothing. Who is ... that?"
"Severus Snape, you wally," snorted Draco.
"Where am I?" asked Harry.
"Front row, four seats along from me, next to Neville Longbottom and in front of Seamus Finnegan. And that's Ron," he pointed.
"Anyone could pick me out of a photo," scoffed Ron. "Like Harry said, it proves nothing."
Hermione took back the photo. "We're obviously getting nowhere," she said. "Ask him something only Draco could know."
"Fourth year," said Harry, thinking hard. "Who turned you into a ferret?"
"Moody," answered Draco at once.
"Who's your father?"
"Lucius Malfoy."
"What happened to Hermione's teeth?"
"They grew, when a curse misfired," said Draco. "Please believe me?"
"What bit you on the train, in our first year?" asked Ron.
"Your rat, Scabbers," said Draco. "He turned out to be Peter Pettigrew in the end, didn't he?"
"You tell us," said Ron, folding his arms.
"I think he did," said Draco.
"Where did we first meet each other?" asked Harry.
"Madame Malkin's Robes, in Diagon Alley," said Draco. This came as news to Hermione and Ron, who looked faintly shocked.
"I'm satisfied," said Harry. "It can't all be circumstantial."
Draco breathed a sigh of relief. "Does that mean?" he asked.
Harry nodded. "I guess so," he said. "But I still don't understand this. How did you get like this. You can't be more than twelve years old."
"I'm thirty five," said Draco.
Hermione was looking worried. "But, can you remember, everything ... since?"
"I ... yes," said Draco. "I'm still me, I just seem to be twelve again," he took a sip of water.
"I think we ... um, need to have a little conference Hermi," whispered Harry, placing his hand on his wife's shoulder. "We could have a problem here."
"Harry!" hissed Hermione. "We do have a problem. We have the mother of all problems, we have the biggest problem that ever walked the earth. This is the atom bomb of problems we have got here. I need a large whisky, and then several more."
"We'll talk outside," whispered Harry. "Come on Ron," he hustled the adults out of the room, leaving the children to keep Draco company. Rebecca hung back by the door, but William and Andy came closer.
"So," said Draco. "You guys are in my year then?"
* * * * * * * * * * *
They congregated downstairs in the living room, where they could be sure that no children would overhear them.
"He's convinced me," said Harry. "But what do we do with him?"
Hermione came back into the room, bearing a tray on which stood four mugs, a teapot and a newly baked cake. "I thought we could do with some sustenance," she said. Ron licked his lips.
"So what if he is Draco?" said Ron. "I say we hand him over to St Mungo's. They can deal with him. He's obviously nuts, he probably needs to be in an asylum."
"So you don't believe a word he just said?" said Harry.
"Load of poppycock," said Ron. "He's some little impostor looking for a free feed. You help him out, and you'll be setting yourself up Harry."
"Ron," hissed Fleur. "His arm is broken. He's no faker."
"Any good con artist will take a punch or two to look more convincing," Ron maintained his aggressive stance. Hermione handed him a mug of tea.
"I still think you're being too harsh on the boy Ron," said Harry. "He's just a kid."
"But I don't think he is just any old kid," said Ron. "You didn't see the way he was looking at Hermione."
Hermione shot Ron one of her withering glances.
"What I don't understand," said Harry. "Is how a thirty five year old man changes into a twelve year old boy in the space of twenty four hours."
Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Hermi, you're the curses expert."
Hermione also shrugged. "Whatever has been done to him, it's new to me. I don't remember any curses, or any spells that could reverse your age."
"You deny they exist?" asked Ron.
Hermione shrugged again. "Frankly Ron, it's anybody's guess. I don't ever remember seeing any reference to it in any text books, and I must have read my way through most of the Hogwarts library at one time. What I do know is we're looking at serious child abuse here."
"But he's not a child, technically," said Harry. "You heard what he said. I believe he is who he says he is. But I'll be buggered if I can figure out how it was done."
"This is not the time to discuss whether beating an adult in a child's body constitutes child abuse Harry," said Hermione. "Though I dare say it would give the legal system headaches for weeks."
"He'll have to stay here," said Harry.
Ron took a bite out of his cake. "I think you're making a rod for your own back just by having him in the house Harry."
"Maybe," said Harry. "But it goes against all notions of morality not to help him. I think we should start by looking for any spells that could do this to someone. Anyone think the same?"
Ron shook his head, but Fleur and Hermione were both nodding.
"He's a kid Harry, plain and simple, he's just some kid who took a beating from his parents, and he's spinning us a load of rubbish to try and get something out of it. All this crap about him being thirty five? Give me a break," Ron folded his arms defiantly, this was his last word on the matter.
"Hermi, can you think of where to start?" asked Harry.
"It wouldn't be in any books that were commonly available," said Hermione, looking thoughtful. "Or I'd have heard of it. So I dare say the best place to start would be in books of Dark Magic."
"Where can we get hold of those?"
"Legally, we can't," said Hermione. "But I could pull a few strings. We'd have to wait until after Christmas though."
"Great," snarled Harry. "We get to have Draco Malfoy as a house guest over Christmas. What'll Sirius think?"
"You're the one who wanted to keep him a minute ago," noted Hermione.
"Fair point," said Ron.
Harry drained his cup of tea, and stood up. "Well, I'm going upstairs to talk to him," he said. "Hermi, cut me a slice of cake to take up please?"
"He's even giving him some of the delicious fruit cake now!" protested Ron, licking the crumbs off his fingers. "Don't tell me you're turning into a Slytherin in your old age Harry? Please don't."
Hermione however, cut a slice of cake, put in on a plate, and handed it to Harry.
"Barking," said Ron, as Harry left the room and began to climb the stairs.
* * * * * * * * * *
The children were all sitting on the foot of the Possibly Draco's bed, chatting excitedly to him. Harry waved them away. "Go downstairs. There's cake waiting."
"I was enjoying the company," huffed Draco.
Harry handed him the cake. "Thanks Harry," he said, smiling. "You're being too good to me."
Harry sat down on the foot of the bed, feeling slightly strange. All his instincts told him that this could not be so. There was no way he could be sitting on a bed as a grown man, on the cusp of middle age, talking to his arch enemy, who on the face of it, had regressed to childhood.
"I ought to tell you, that Ron's all for handing you over to the asylum," said Harry. "He still doesn't believe you."
"I can't help that," said Draco, sniffing greatly as he took bite after bite out of the cake.
"I know. I just want to know how you got like this?" Harry went on.
Draco shrugged again, "I was in the car, with him, and he, did something."
"And then?"
Draco looked tearful. "I don't know. I was out cold. He did this I think," he waved his useless arm about, and all that," he gestured to his other scars.
"It looks nasty," said Harry.
Draco nodded. "Tell Hermione thanks for clearing it up."
"No problem," said Harry. "Think of it as part of the service."
Draco finished the cake, and the last of his water, and then he looked at Harry, and his eyes were filled with such confusion and panic that Harry was very nearly moved to tears.
"I know we never saw eye to eye," said Harry.
Draco snorted.
"But I want to help you now," Harry went on.
"Don't get sappy on me Potter," said Draco. "I'm not a kid you know."
Harry coughed loudly, and then smiled at Draco.
"Christ Potter. You know this really sucks?"
"I can imagine," said Harry.
"No you bloody well can't," said Draco. "You're not me. None of my clothes fit. I can't get a drink, I can't drive. I can't even reach my biscuit tin back home. Believe me, if I'm stuck like this, it'll suck big time."
Harry nodded in sympathy.
"What's worse is I'm a kid, so who in hell is going to listen to me?" said Draco. "I have no rights anymore. And I keep crying at things."
"That can't be helped," said Harry.
Draco glared at him. "I don't know if you noticed Harry, but Malfoys don't cry."
"Stuff that," said Harry.
"This really sucks," moaned Draco. "And you know what sucks most?"
"What?"
"Any time now, I'm going to have to go through puberty again," said Draco. "It wasn't much fun last time. Promise you won't send me to Hogwarts? Bugger, I think I'm going to cry again."
Harry handed him a tissue. Draco blew his nose loudly. "Thanks Potter. You're a mate really."
"This is weird for me too," said Harry, picking at the little balls of fluff on his jumper. "I never really expected to see you again, much less like this."
"Me neither," said Draco.
"Tell me. What were you looking for Hermione for?"
Draco sighed. "It's a very long story. I don't really know if I should tell."
"There's an ear here if you need it," said Harry.
"Don't go getting all sappy on me Potter," hissed Draco. He paused, and looked thoughtful for a minute. "You know what you could do for me. It would really help me out."
"What?"
"Find me some clothes that fit. At least then I won't look like some clown."
A/N
Well, was it really in doubt that it would be Draco? Several of you guessed in the reviews to Chapter 5, so probably not. There's more to come. If you enjoyed, why not review?
Another day, another instalment. So here goes ... as I'm sure you all know, this belongs to JK, who came up with the original idea. If anyone is interested in trying to scrape together some cash and buy the rights off her, let me know. As for the story, well, I still don't know completely where this is going to end up, though I'm fairly sure it's going to get darker. I'm still taking guesses about the identity of Draco's new 'friend' and should be in a position to reveal just who he is in Chapter 8. My heartfelt gratitude goes out to my wonderful reviewers, also to Capital FM London, who keep me sane as I write.
Chapter 6. In which, if you haven't worked out who he is - we learn of the mystery boy's identity, and Ron eats a slice of delicious fruit cake.
They crowded around him. The boy seemed to be in the grip of some massive internal struggle. His bottom lip was quivering, and he looked as though, any minute, he might be about to burst into tears.
"I ... don't know if I should say," the boy murmured.
"We want to know love," said Hermione, sincerely. "Nobody's cross with you darling."
The boy blushed to the roots of his hair, "Someone is," he said, his voice barely audible.
"Who?" asked Hermione.
The boy shook his head, "I don't know who he is," he said.
"Did he do this to you?"
"I don't know," the boy breathed, "I can't remember."
Harry wrung the water out of the flannel, and put it back in the bowl, "You shouldn't make him talk about this now," he said to Hermione. "Do you want a drink, something to eat?"
"I'd ... a glass of water ... please," he whispered.
Harry turned to William, who was standing in the doorway, "Run downstairs and get some water will you?" William departed on his errand. Harry turned back to the strange boy. "Are you feeling any better?" he asked.
The boy shook his head, "My arm really hurts."
"I'm not surprised. You don't have to talk if you don't want to," said Harry, quite calmly. "But we do need to find out where your parents are."
"They're dead," said the boy.
Harry paused, and swallowed hard. This child was scaring him. First the bloody wound to the forehead, which now cleaned, revealed a thin, jagged cut. Now he had learned that the boy's parents were both dead. He felt as if he was looking into his own eyes, albeit different coloured ones.
"Yours are too," the boy breathed. "I know, you see."
Harry froze, "How do you know that?
"I'm right, you see. You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"
Harry turned to Hermione, as if seeking confirmation of his identity. Hermione nodded gravely, "Yes, you are," she whispered.
Harry took a deep breath, and nodded.
"You see, I know who all of you are," said the boy, his eyes brimming with tears, "you're Hermione Granger, except you're a Potter now ... I remember you very well. He's Ron Weasley, and she was Fleur Delacour."
"How does he know this?" asked Fleur. Ron held tightly to her hand.
Harry looked the boy in the eyes, and raised his eyebrows. "You seem to have the measure of us young man. Perhaps you'd like to tell us your name?"
The boy shook his head, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Tell us where you live then," said Harry. "There must be somebody we can contact."
"My parents ... I, used to live, near Bristol."
"You don't anymore?"
The boy shook his head again. "No, not for ages."
"Well, where do you live?"
"I guess, wherever now. In London," he said.
Hermione looked even more concerned, "We need to find out who you belong to," she said.
"Nobody."
"That can't be right. There must be some relatives, someone must be looking after you."
"I look after myself," said the boy.
Fleur spoke up. "How can this be. He is just a little boy."
Harry waved her into silence, "We really need to know your name. If we can help you, we will."
The boy looked desperate. "You have to believe me," he began, a lone tear tricking down his cheek. "You wouldn't understand what's happened to me. Who I am, or where I came from."
"Try me," said Harry. "I'm not just a pretty face."
"Promise you won't laugh?"
"Why would we laugh?" asked Harry, looking at him quizzically.
"Because of my name. It's Draco ... Draco Malfoy."
Ron snorted. Hermione stared at her feet. Even Harry tried hard not to smile.
"Yes ... very funny joke," said Fleur, scowling at Draco. "He's obviously lying."
"Please," gasped Draco. "I'm not lying. You have to believe me."
Harry grinned. Of course he didn't believe the child for an instant. He was spinning some cock and bull story, winding them up.
"Please Harry," said Draco, "you have to help me."
Harry looked at the others. Ron shrugged his shoulders. Hermione still looked slightly shell shocked. The idea of a Malfoy being in her home was one she was not able to get to grips with. A melee of thoughts whirled around her mind.
"Is that really your name?" asked Harry.
Draco nodded in earnest.
"Your father?" Harry went on. "I take it his name was Draco Malfoy as well?"
Fleur shook her head in frustration, "Harry, you don't understand! I met Draco Malfoy in the Bull Hotel yesterday afternoon. This ... impostor claims his father is dead. How can it be so? He's lying."
"This could be his son," said Harry. "Nobody is accusing you of lying here Fleur."
Draco stared hard at Fleur. "I showed you a photo? You remember?"
Harry turned to Fleur.
"Well, yes, the man I met did show me a photograph. But, that ... how can you know that?"
"If you accept the logical explanation," said Draco, "you'll understand that I am who I say I am."
"What was the photograph of? Who was in it?" asked Fleur, her curiosity aroused.
"Two children," said Draco, his eyes flitted around the room, taking in all the persons present. "A school photo ... of, of Harry's children. I don't know their names."
Harry turned to Fleur once more. "Can you explain this? Is he right?"
Fleur nodded, "I was shown a photo, yes, of William and Rebecca. The man asked me if I knew their mother."
"That's right," breathed Draco. "That's exactly what I said."
"I said yes," said Fleur. "I told him I knew where to find them. I ... I explained all this last night at dinner Hermione. I explained he was looking for you then. Why am I the one who is to blame here?"
Hermione put her arm round Fleur. "Nobody is blaming you Fleur. But you must admit that both stories now look equally suspicious. If you'll excuse me, I have an idea," she slipped out of the room.
"Where's she going?" asked Draco. "She needs to be here."
"She'll be back," said Harry. "You need to rest."
"I can tell you everything," said Draco. William slipped back into the room, holding a glass of water, which he set down on the bedside table. "Thanks Will," said Draco.
Hermione came back into the room, bearing what appeared to be a large framed photo. She turned on the lights, and came closer to the bed.
"Do you recognise any of these people?" she asked.
"I can't see that," snorted Draco. "Hand it to me, I'll take a look."
Hermione relinquished the photograph. Harry recognised it as the one that hung over his desk in the downstairs study. It was a Hogwarts school photo, taken during the summer term of his second year, about a week before he rescued Ginny Weasley from the Chamber of Secrets. The children in the photo were grinning from ear to ear. Gilderoy Lockhart appeared to be preening himself.
"Can you ... identify any of these people?" asked Hermione.
"Of course," said Draco, surveying the photo with interest. He had not seen it before, for his father had declined to part with the twenty galleon sale price, even though Draco had begged him repeatedly. Slowly, he reached out, and pointed to himself, sitting in the front row, between Crabbe and Goyle. "That's me, there," he said.
Fleur bent closer to take a look. "Is he telling the truth?"
"He just pointed to Draco Malfoy," said Harry. "It proves nothing. Who is ... that?"
"Severus Snape, you wally," snorted Draco.
"Where am I?" asked Harry.
"Front row, four seats along from me, next to Neville Longbottom and in front of Seamus Finnegan. And that's Ron," he pointed.
"Anyone could pick me out of a photo," scoffed Ron. "Like Harry said, it proves nothing."
Hermione took back the photo. "We're obviously getting nowhere," she said. "Ask him something only Draco could know."
"Fourth year," said Harry, thinking hard. "Who turned you into a ferret?"
"Moody," answered Draco at once.
"Who's your father?"
"Lucius Malfoy."
"What happened to Hermione's teeth?"
"They grew, when a curse misfired," said Draco. "Please believe me?"
"What bit you on the train, in our first year?" asked Ron.
"Your rat, Scabbers," said Draco. "He turned out to be Peter Pettigrew in the end, didn't he?"
"You tell us," said Ron, folding his arms.
"I think he did," said Draco.
"Where did we first meet each other?" asked Harry.
"Madame Malkin's Robes, in Diagon Alley," said Draco. This came as news to Hermione and Ron, who looked faintly shocked.
"I'm satisfied," said Harry. "It can't all be circumstantial."
Draco breathed a sigh of relief. "Does that mean?" he asked.
Harry nodded. "I guess so," he said. "But I still don't understand this. How did you get like this. You can't be more than twelve years old."
"I'm thirty five," said Draco.
Hermione was looking worried. "But, can you remember, everything ... since?"
"I ... yes," said Draco. "I'm still me, I just seem to be twelve again," he took a sip of water.
"I think we ... um, need to have a little conference Hermi," whispered Harry, placing his hand on his wife's shoulder. "We could have a problem here."
"Harry!" hissed Hermione. "We do have a problem. We have the mother of all problems, we have the biggest problem that ever walked the earth. This is the atom bomb of problems we have got here. I need a large whisky, and then several more."
"We'll talk outside," whispered Harry. "Come on Ron," he hustled the adults out of the room, leaving the children to keep Draco company. Rebecca hung back by the door, but William and Andy came closer.
"So," said Draco. "You guys are in my year then?"
* * * * * * * * * * *
They congregated downstairs in the living room, where they could be sure that no children would overhear them.
"He's convinced me," said Harry. "But what do we do with him?"
Hermione came back into the room, bearing a tray on which stood four mugs, a teapot and a newly baked cake. "I thought we could do with some sustenance," she said. Ron licked his lips.
"So what if he is Draco?" said Ron. "I say we hand him over to St Mungo's. They can deal with him. He's obviously nuts, he probably needs to be in an asylum."
"So you don't believe a word he just said?" said Harry.
"Load of poppycock," said Ron. "He's some little impostor looking for a free feed. You help him out, and you'll be setting yourself up Harry."
"Ron," hissed Fleur. "His arm is broken. He's no faker."
"Any good con artist will take a punch or two to look more convincing," Ron maintained his aggressive stance. Hermione handed him a mug of tea.
"I still think you're being too harsh on the boy Ron," said Harry. "He's just a kid."
"But I don't think he is just any old kid," said Ron. "You didn't see the way he was looking at Hermione."
Hermione shot Ron one of her withering glances.
"What I don't understand," said Harry. "Is how a thirty five year old man changes into a twelve year old boy in the space of twenty four hours."
Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Hermi, you're the curses expert."
Hermione also shrugged. "Whatever has been done to him, it's new to me. I don't remember any curses, or any spells that could reverse your age."
"You deny they exist?" asked Ron.
Hermione shrugged again. "Frankly Ron, it's anybody's guess. I don't ever remember seeing any reference to it in any text books, and I must have read my way through most of the Hogwarts library at one time. What I do know is we're looking at serious child abuse here."
"But he's not a child, technically," said Harry. "You heard what he said. I believe he is who he says he is. But I'll be buggered if I can figure out how it was done."
"This is not the time to discuss whether beating an adult in a child's body constitutes child abuse Harry," said Hermione. "Though I dare say it would give the legal system headaches for weeks."
"He'll have to stay here," said Harry.
Ron took a bite out of his cake. "I think you're making a rod for your own back just by having him in the house Harry."
"Maybe," said Harry. "But it goes against all notions of morality not to help him. I think we should start by looking for any spells that could do this to someone. Anyone think the same?"
Ron shook his head, but Fleur and Hermione were both nodding.
"He's a kid Harry, plain and simple, he's just some kid who took a beating from his parents, and he's spinning us a load of rubbish to try and get something out of it. All this crap about him being thirty five? Give me a break," Ron folded his arms defiantly, this was his last word on the matter.
"Hermi, can you think of where to start?" asked Harry.
"It wouldn't be in any books that were commonly available," said Hermione, looking thoughtful. "Or I'd have heard of it. So I dare say the best place to start would be in books of Dark Magic."
"Where can we get hold of those?"
"Legally, we can't," said Hermione. "But I could pull a few strings. We'd have to wait until after Christmas though."
"Great," snarled Harry. "We get to have Draco Malfoy as a house guest over Christmas. What'll Sirius think?"
"You're the one who wanted to keep him a minute ago," noted Hermione.
"Fair point," said Ron.
Harry drained his cup of tea, and stood up. "Well, I'm going upstairs to talk to him," he said. "Hermi, cut me a slice of cake to take up please?"
"He's even giving him some of the delicious fruit cake now!" protested Ron, licking the crumbs off his fingers. "Don't tell me you're turning into a Slytherin in your old age Harry? Please don't."
Hermione however, cut a slice of cake, put in on a plate, and handed it to Harry.
"Barking," said Ron, as Harry left the room and began to climb the stairs.
* * * * * * * * * *
The children were all sitting on the foot of the Possibly Draco's bed, chatting excitedly to him. Harry waved them away. "Go downstairs. There's cake waiting."
"I was enjoying the company," huffed Draco.
Harry handed him the cake. "Thanks Harry," he said, smiling. "You're being too good to me."
Harry sat down on the foot of the bed, feeling slightly strange. All his instincts told him that this could not be so. There was no way he could be sitting on a bed as a grown man, on the cusp of middle age, talking to his arch enemy, who on the face of it, had regressed to childhood.
"I ought to tell you, that Ron's all for handing you over to the asylum," said Harry. "He still doesn't believe you."
"I can't help that," said Draco, sniffing greatly as he took bite after bite out of the cake.
"I know. I just want to know how you got like this?" Harry went on.
Draco shrugged again, "I was in the car, with him, and he, did something."
"And then?"
Draco looked tearful. "I don't know. I was out cold. He did this I think," he waved his useless arm about, and all that," he gestured to his other scars.
"It looks nasty," said Harry.
Draco nodded. "Tell Hermione thanks for clearing it up."
"No problem," said Harry. "Think of it as part of the service."
Draco finished the cake, and the last of his water, and then he looked at Harry, and his eyes were filled with such confusion and panic that Harry was very nearly moved to tears.
"I know we never saw eye to eye," said Harry.
Draco snorted.
"But I want to help you now," Harry went on.
"Don't get sappy on me Potter," said Draco. "I'm not a kid you know."
Harry coughed loudly, and then smiled at Draco.
"Christ Potter. You know this really sucks?"
"I can imagine," said Harry.
"No you bloody well can't," said Draco. "You're not me. None of my clothes fit. I can't get a drink, I can't drive. I can't even reach my biscuit tin back home. Believe me, if I'm stuck like this, it'll suck big time."
Harry nodded in sympathy.
"What's worse is I'm a kid, so who in hell is going to listen to me?" said Draco. "I have no rights anymore. And I keep crying at things."
"That can't be helped," said Harry.
Draco glared at him. "I don't know if you noticed Harry, but Malfoys don't cry."
"Stuff that," said Harry.
"This really sucks," moaned Draco. "And you know what sucks most?"
"What?"
"Any time now, I'm going to have to go through puberty again," said Draco. "It wasn't much fun last time. Promise you won't send me to Hogwarts? Bugger, I think I'm going to cry again."
Harry handed him a tissue. Draco blew his nose loudly. "Thanks Potter. You're a mate really."
"This is weird for me too," said Harry, picking at the little balls of fluff on his jumper. "I never really expected to see you again, much less like this."
"Me neither," said Draco.
"Tell me. What were you looking for Hermione for?"
Draco sighed. "It's a very long story. I don't really know if I should tell."
"There's an ear here if you need it," said Harry.
"Don't go getting all sappy on me Potter," hissed Draco. He paused, and looked thoughtful for a minute. "You know what you could do for me. It would really help me out."
"What?"
"Find me some clothes that fit. At least then I won't look like some clown."
A/N
Well, was it really in doubt that it would be Draco? Several of you guessed in the reviews to Chapter 5, so probably not. There's more to come. If you enjoyed, why not review?