Title: When Times Change
Author: I_nv_u50
Pairings: Eventual DracoXHarry. But only in the last 10 or so chapters (rough idea..)
Disclaimer: All I want for Christmas…
Chapter Rating: PG13, for random stuff…
Author's Notes: Whoohoo! Another chapter!
Draco: It's about time, woman.
Harry: (laughs)
Draco: What?
Harry: Nothing. Nothing in the world… (eyes tear up with suppressed laughter)
We think he might be psychologically disturbed, but then again, who in my head isn't? Anyway, chapter three, Harry and Draco go shopping. It seemed a bit shorter than the last one while I was writing it, but maybe it got longer in the upload O.o; Who knows. Oh well.
Also, I will be continuing this story, although it might take some time, so don't worry about that. If you want to be emailed for updates, leave your email addy in your review, or somewhere where I can find it, and you will be ^^ …
Anyway, please enjoy, and review!!
Merry Christmas!! ^^
~You can't change the past, but you can ruin the present by worrying over the future.~
Draco was rudely woken up the next morning by the peculiar heaving of his mattress or bed, the unbalanced weight spread unevenly as Harry bounced up and down on the blankets next to him.
Draco grunted and rolled over, trying to return back to that peaceful land of dreamless sleep state that he had been enjoying, but he was stopped halfway over by Harry, disgruntled at the lack of attention, sprawled across the blonde's back and started to tickle viciously.
Vicious was the word, because Harry was wearing an all too devious grin, and the giggles that escaped his open mouth, only to be stifled when Harry purposely bit his lip and tickled more. Draco, not usually ticklish enough to be even slightly affected by the rough but light movement of fingers against his body, suddenly found himself fighting off fits of laughter that threatened to be spurred to greater heights by the high pitched giggling coming from where Harry's face was pressed into the coverlets at his side.
"Harry… Harry, stop it!" Draco finally got out breathlessly, trying not to appear too influenced by the laughter that still threatened to bubble up from somewhere loathed and unknown inside of him.
Harry gave in a few seconds later, sitting up to stare down at Draco with bright green eyes and tousled hair.
"What we going to do today, Draco?"
Draco, distantly remembering the vague advice Blaise had given him before cowardly fleeing, sat up a little himself, and leaned back on his elbows, studying the young boy. "What would you like to do today?"
No wait, that was wrong.
Harry hummed and hawed with all the authority the five year old could muster, and Draco allowed him to for a few minutes.
Eventually though, impatience won over, and Draco shook his head. "Never mind. We have to buy you some clothes. So we're doing that first. Then we can do whatever you want later."
"Ok!" Harry chirped, perfectly agreeable, maybe a little bit too agreeable, but Draco didn't suspect a thing.
"Right now, I'm going to order breakfast and then shower. You will stay in here and not move from this room, is that clear?"
"Ok!"
"Elfric?"
A soft, almost whistling noise answered Draco, a noise that seemed to originate from Harry as well. Draco blinked at Harry, then rolled out of bed and scratched the back of the majestic bird's head. "Elfric? Keep an eye on him for me while I shower, all right?"
Elfric made another soft noise, this one rather noncommittal, and Draco, accepting this as an affirmative answer, paused at the entrance to the bathroom, picking his wand up from where it lay harmlessly on a counter by the door.
He muttered a few words, and the soldiers, who were lined up in ranks and apparently getting inspected, turned immediately into miniature quidditch players, with the bed that Harry still sat on transfiguring into a small quidditch pitch.
Harry 'oohed' enthusiastically, and scrambled off the bed to stand by its side, watching with interest and delight as the mini players started committing fouls on each other, and Draco turned to go have his shower.
Once done, he contemplated his new problem. He didn't have a spare change of clothes for Harry, as they had left the Dursley's far too quickly to even attempt and snatch something for the child to wear, and Harry's clothes from yesterday were filthy. He couldn't let the kid walk around in such a bad state, as he would automatically get the blame, because how could such a young child look after himself?
Perhaps there was a good cleaning spell he could use temporarily, as Draco was determined to actually go through with his plan and buy Harry some new clothes.
After all, Draco didn't have a change of clothes either, having only been expecting to stay for a day at most, a few hours at least. Just because he felt like it, Draco cursed the maid for being so stupid as to knock the vial over like that.
Pity though, because Draco didn't like wearing suits. They were stiff, and prohibited easy wand use.
He walked through to the main room and observed his clothes thoughtfully, effectively ignoring Harry who was still watching the small game.
The cleaning spell would be all right for the moment, Draco decided, but he'd have to buy some new clothes as well.
Unfortunately, the likelihood that the clothes would be muggle made and bought was high, but there was really nothing he could do about that. Sometimes you just had to take what you could get, and he could have been reduced to rags instead.
Harry was sitting on the floor when he finally registered the other's presence, the green eyes almost too dark and blinking up at Draco.
His direct and unashamed stare was a little disconcerting, and more than a little irritating, Draco discovered, not really surprised by the fact.
"What?" Draco snapped at him eventually, pulling on the now clean shirt and starting to do up the buttons. He hated buttons. Blasted things.
Harry blinked, seeming almost astonished that Draco had spoken, having probably forgotten that Draco was there at all, and he transferred his gaze back to the ongoing game silently with all the innocence of a child angel.
Draco scowled at the picture, and then, remembering he had forgotten to order breakfast because he had forgotten that muggle breakfasts didn't appear magically when a soft word was spoken within house elf hearing range. He promptly decided they would eat out, conveniently forgetting Harry's last meal, and overlooking the fact that another scene like it could and probably would be repeated.
"Harry, go wait for me in the bathroom."
"We leaving?"
"Soon. Go!"
Harry gave a sharp nod that might have dislocated his neck had he been someone else, and darted into the bathroom obediently.
Draco decided he liked obedient Harry, and distastefully regarded Harry's discarded shirt that was lying crumpled on the floor.
He was almost too scared to touch it, which was absurd, considering all the other, more serious things he had to worry about at the moment.
For example, how angry Lord Voldemort was going to be when they were late.
There was also, of course, the disgusting feelings of sympathy and, most horrifying of all, almost affection for the brat, an affection that Draco was fighting whole heartedly. This in itself was almost more terrifying than Voldemort, because Draco, although he was very good at hiding and sometimes ignoring his true feelings, was very bad at destroying them completely. And for the first time in almost forever, Draco wasn't completely sure he could manage something like that.
After a long scene that could have been brief if Harry had only listened, Draco decided he had underrated house elves his entire life. More specifically, he had underrated the house elves that had raised him, because if he had been anything like Harry, stubborn and obstinate and arguing and bold, the house elves probably deserved a pay raise.
He also, on far more severe terms, promised himself he'd never have children.
They got on reasonably well together after they left the hotel, and the day, instead of progressing slowly like Draco had half feared it might, passed a little too quickly for the young death eater.
Another problem for the older boy was that, as the day went on, he was starting to feel awfully, dreadfully, terribly sympathetic towards the young child hero, even more so than he might have denied feeling before.
He regarded this offensive feeling with something akin to horror, and doubled his effort to fighting it, all the while trying to work out where it was coming from so he could destroy it and carry on with his preferable life of Not Feeling For Harry Potter.
Not feeling anything at all.
It was, Draco supposed, Harry's fervent disbelief that he wasn't going to get anything he liked or wanted, or get to do anything he would like to.
More than that, it was Harry's tentative hopefulness that invariably started when Draco reluctantly displayed interest, a hopefulness that usually turned into a full-blown delight that was acted upon with glee when Harry found out that:
Yes, Draco usually meant it when he said Harry could do or have something, a miracle Draco allowed just because it would keep Harry quiet, and something inside of him was delighted when Harry expressed delight over a new thing. And really, Harry, probably from living with the Dursley's his whole life, was really quiet about the things he liked. Draco realized he was trying to rationally explain his sudden niceness, and stopped immediately. It simply wouldn't do.
A fine example of the pitiful Harry was at the ice cream shop.
Draco had felt like an ice cream simply because he didn't believe that muggle food was so bad. Besides, wizards had ice cream as well, but since Lucius had never thought ice cream worthy of being eaten by a Malfoy, the only time the Malfoy heir had been able to get some was when his father had been away, for business or whatever, and Draco had had to go to Diagon and Knockturn Alley with naught but a few house elves who were quite powerless to stop him. Draco felt a flare of pity for those abused house elves and scowled at nothing. House elves were nothing but slaves anyway, why should they be treated like more?
The incident in the ice cream shop had ended with Draco dragging a proudly grinning Harry out of the shop before they got too much attention that seemed to be attracted towards Harry's high pitched and excited voice.
The next place they went to, obviously, was a public bathroom so Draco could hurriedly wipe the sticky mess off of Harry's face, while Harry grinned guilelessly up at him. Draco just stared back firmly, and the grin faltered and faded, Harry's eyes looking away first, a slight expression of confusion and bewilderment swirling in the abnormally green depths.
Then Draco proceeded to drag a whining Harry to the clothes store. That, in itself, was a traumatic adventure.
Harry whining at everything Draco looked at, whether for him or the boy, and eventually everyone was staring at the screaming boy who was being forcefully shoved into a changing room. Draco glared around once he had finally gotten the boy in, and everyone looked away quickly, none of them quite sure what seemed so dangerous in the young man. Perhaps it was the way he argued too quietly with the younger boy, or was immovably firm about which clothes Harry could try on or not.
Draco was determined that if he didn't at least leave the store with a well dressed five year old, then he at least wouldn't leave with an embarrassingly dressed one. Unfortunately, most of the clothes Harry saw and set his heart on were atrocious, vile fragments of cloth that Draco couldn't imagine any child wanting to wear, let alone the parents or guardians.
Eventually they found a small pair of dungarees that were almost tolerable, and Draco shoved Harry into the changing room, glaring around at all the stupid mudbloods that dared to stare at him like he was a freak, when, by all rights, they should have directed their stares to the little monster who was coming out of the changing room, argument forgotten and his clothes on backwards.
Harry looked so absurdly proud hat he had gotten on his clothes properly, even the hard to do up buttons that were on his back, that Draco, despite how annoyed he was at the boy, really couldn't find it within himself to tell Harry that he had gotten it all wrong, that the big pocket was supposed to be on his chest and not his back.
Draco had to remember to look in the other direction whenever Harry proudly told him to look at the new clothes, which Harry had been allowed to wear out of the shop, and Harry, pouting at the unfairness, eventually gave up, looking determinedly into the distance when Draco spoke reluctantly to him.
"We have to go shopping for more clothes, Harry. I also need some." Draco paused, searching for an acknowledgement even when neither of them were looking at each other.
Harry agreed quietly, and Draco was surprised, and not a little suspicious about the quick agreement, but as nothing bad seemed to happen as they walked calmly to an adults clothing store, he left the idea that Harry was up to something behind.
Thankfully, and miraculously, Draco found something he liked almost straight away, a casual pair of jeans and an almost comfortable by Malfoy standards fleece top, and he bought them without second thought, leaving Harry no time to get into mischief.
Harry's clothing trip had last almost half the day because of the arguing, and when they eventually wandered back into the hotel, weary and footsore, it was almost time for Harry to go to bed, an idea that Harry objected to strongly.
Draco suspected it was because Harry was afraid of another nightmare, but since the kid wouldn't admit such a thing, Draco just shrugged and got ready for bed himself, leaving Harry staring at him in astonishment, almost unable to believe that Draco didn't really care.
When Harry gave a long suffering sigh and started to unwillingly strip, Draco hid a grin and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and give Harry some privacy. Harry toddled in just as Draco was finishing and held out his arms to Draco almost imperiously.
Draco blinked down at the child. "What?"
"Up?"
"Why?"
"Can't reach."
Draco grudgingly accepted the logic of the statement, and lifted Harry up onto the counter, holding Harry's pajama waistband to ensure that the younger boy didn't fall as he stretched for the toothpaste.
Looking away in mild disgust as Harry spat, Draco helped Harry down after the boy was finished, and switched off the light as he left the bathroom, smirking slightly at the sudden yelp that filtered through.
"Draco?"
Draco's smirk faded slightly as he caught the all too real fear in Harry's timid tone. He rolled his eyes at himself. "Come on Harry, follow the light, I'm right here."
There was a quiet pattering of small, bare feet, and Harry appeared at the doorway, pale and scared looking. Draco sighed slightly, and knelt down. Harry wandered towards him uncertainly.
"Are you scared of the dark, Harry?"
"Yes…" It was a quiet, almost ashamed whisper, and Draco nodded in satisfaction, his suspicion having been proved correct.
He stood up and put his hands on Harry's shoulders, directing him carefully to the smaller bed, onto which Harry climbed carefully, stifling a yawn, all fear gone now that he was back in the dim light of the hotel bedroom.
Draco pushed Harry's shoulder's down. "Goodnight, Harry."
"Draco? Where you going?"
"To bed." Draco replied shortly, and crawled into his own bed, before snuffing out the light.
The room was left in darkness, and even though Harry's soft, even breathing soon filled the room, Draco was awake long after, still contemplating his problem.