Chapter 2 ~ Bright Silver
The door of the dungeon slammed shut with a dull thud, echoing the feeling in Harry Potter's stomach. Ron had whispered a few hurried instructions to him as Snape dragged the redhead back to class, but in his dazed state he hadn't caught anything. Now Harry was alone in the chilly hallway. . . but not really, for little Draco was curled up in his arms, sighing contentedly. The dark haired boy looked down at the top of the toddler's head with something of a panicky feeling. He knew absolutely nothing about taking care of children . . . and what was worse, if anything happened to Draco he would have Lucius to deal with. Harry winced slightly at the thought of the head of the Malfoy household: platinum blonde, sneering, and deadly powerful.
There must be someone who can help me, he thought desperately, glancing around the damp stone corridor. Then it dawned on him: Hagrid. True, Draco wasn't exactly a magical creature, but the three-year-old was about as foreign to Harry as some of the beasts they had studied in the class. He shifted Draco slightly in his arms, trying to wrap the oversized robes around his small form to keep them from dragging on the ground. At this, the pale boy raised his head to grin up at Harry, his expression one of pure adoration. Harry froze, looking down at the little one.
Draco's eyes . . .they weren't a dull grey, as Harry had always assumed. In the flickering light of the torches that lit the dungeon, they shone bright silver. And his expression . . . it was extremely strange. Pure light and love was radiating from the toddler, focused directly at the boy who he never failed to glare at as a seventeen-year-old. Harry's own eyes, a deep jade, widened in shock as Draco reached out with a tiny hand, touching his cheek again. The same gesture as before . . . Harry could still remember the way Draco had claimed ownership of him a few minutes ago. The thought made him smile slightly, which seem to delight the child in his arms.
"C'mon then, Malfoy, let's go see Hagrid," Harry said softly, dearly hoping they wouldn't see anyone in the corridors. The little boy grabbed Harry's face with his other hand, forcing the dark haired boy to look at him and stopping him in his tracks.
"Not Malfoy," the blonde boy corrected smoothly. "Dwaco."
"Draco?" Harry said, surprised at the boy's decisiveness. Even as a three- year-old Malfoy was ordering him around. And that was another thing . . . calling the pale blond boy by his first name was an entirely foreign concept. The blonde had always been 'Malfoy', just as Draco had always sneered 'Potter' in reference to Harry. The use of last names kept them distant, slightly degrading.
The three-year-old grinned, wrapping tiny arms around Harry's neck and hugging him. "Yes, and you Mine."
Harry sighed. This was going to be a rather long day. With all the patience he could muster, he patted Draco's back gently. "No, my name is Harry. Can you say Harry?" He felt utterly ridiculous, like some kindergarten teacher.
The toddler leaned back in his arms so that he looked Harry full in the face. "Yes," Draco said in a tone of voice that sounded like he thought the seventeen-year-old was rather slow. "Harry Mine."
"Close enough," Harry muttered, blushing slightly. He would deal with it later . . . right now he needed to know the basics of caring for babies, and fast. Glancing up and down the hall to see that nobody was coming, Harry headed for the stairs that led to the upper floors.
((To be continued.))
The door of the dungeon slammed shut with a dull thud, echoing the feeling in Harry Potter's stomach. Ron had whispered a few hurried instructions to him as Snape dragged the redhead back to class, but in his dazed state he hadn't caught anything. Now Harry was alone in the chilly hallway. . . but not really, for little Draco was curled up in his arms, sighing contentedly. The dark haired boy looked down at the top of the toddler's head with something of a panicky feeling. He knew absolutely nothing about taking care of children . . . and what was worse, if anything happened to Draco he would have Lucius to deal with. Harry winced slightly at the thought of the head of the Malfoy household: platinum blonde, sneering, and deadly powerful.
There must be someone who can help me, he thought desperately, glancing around the damp stone corridor. Then it dawned on him: Hagrid. True, Draco wasn't exactly a magical creature, but the three-year-old was about as foreign to Harry as some of the beasts they had studied in the class. He shifted Draco slightly in his arms, trying to wrap the oversized robes around his small form to keep them from dragging on the ground. At this, the pale boy raised his head to grin up at Harry, his expression one of pure adoration. Harry froze, looking down at the little one.
Draco's eyes . . .they weren't a dull grey, as Harry had always assumed. In the flickering light of the torches that lit the dungeon, they shone bright silver. And his expression . . . it was extremely strange. Pure light and love was radiating from the toddler, focused directly at the boy who he never failed to glare at as a seventeen-year-old. Harry's own eyes, a deep jade, widened in shock as Draco reached out with a tiny hand, touching his cheek again. The same gesture as before . . . Harry could still remember the way Draco had claimed ownership of him a few minutes ago. The thought made him smile slightly, which seem to delight the child in his arms.
"C'mon then, Malfoy, let's go see Hagrid," Harry said softly, dearly hoping they wouldn't see anyone in the corridors. The little boy grabbed Harry's face with his other hand, forcing the dark haired boy to look at him and stopping him in his tracks.
"Not Malfoy," the blonde boy corrected smoothly. "Dwaco."
"Draco?" Harry said, surprised at the boy's decisiveness. Even as a three- year-old Malfoy was ordering him around. And that was another thing . . . calling the pale blond boy by his first name was an entirely foreign concept. The blonde had always been 'Malfoy', just as Draco had always sneered 'Potter' in reference to Harry. The use of last names kept them distant, slightly degrading.
The three-year-old grinned, wrapping tiny arms around Harry's neck and hugging him. "Yes, and you Mine."
Harry sighed. This was going to be a rather long day. With all the patience he could muster, he patted Draco's back gently. "No, my name is Harry. Can you say Harry?" He felt utterly ridiculous, like some kindergarten teacher.
The toddler leaned back in his arms so that he looked Harry full in the face. "Yes," Draco said in a tone of voice that sounded like he thought the seventeen-year-old was rather slow. "Harry Mine."
"Close enough," Harry muttered, blushing slightly. He would deal with it later . . . right now he needed to know the basics of caring for babies, and fast. Glancing up and down the hall to see that nobody was coming, Harry headed for the stairs that led to the upper floors.
((To be continued.))