Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, unfortunately.  They all belong to JK Rowling.

Notes:  Thanks to everyone who reviewed, yet again.  You don't know how much it makes me smile to get a review.  I read each and every review at least twice, not believing that this story is enjoyable.  So, Thank you again.

Chapter Eight: Harry Turns Nine.

A rustle of blankets and a small whimper was what woke Draco up the next morning.  He cracked open one eye groggily as he felt someone smaller and with skin slightly colder shake against him, and when he was finally concious, he opened both eyes.  He swallowed and cringed at the dryness in his throat, but brushed that feeling away as he heard another small noise beside him.

"Harry?" he whispered and turned over, leaning to one side, his hand carefully trailing down the trembling forearm of the boy-who-lived.  He could see green eyes in the darkened room; such penetrating the green eyes, and he glanced at his watch at a shiver ran up his spine.  It read 3:02 AM.

"I'm so cold," the brunette boy whispered and Draco looked up, placing a graceful hand on the boy's forehead.  Feeling it abnormally hot under his fingers, he frowned once upon contact and his brows furrowed in concentration and he abruptly shook his head, trying to keep himself awake.  Harry was turned to the side as well, his front part of his body faced Draco's front and Harry was looking up at him with pleading eyes. 

He kept his hand on the boy's forehead for a couple more seconds, shoulders becoming tense as Harry closed his eyes and leaned into his touch, curling up into a fetal position as Draco continued to look at him.  Being not fully awake, Draco closed his eyes sleepily and the hand that was on Harry's forehead trailed down to the boy's back and pulled Harry closer to his own body, his hand running up and down gently on the boy's backside to try and calm him, telling him in a physical manner that Draco was here for him whether he wanted it or not.

That's when Draco remembered what Madam Pomfrey said earlier and quickly acted despite his sleepy state.  Reaching over Harry, he pushed back the curtains slightly and fumbled around carelessly in the dark for the bottle that was supposedly on the bedside table.  He felt Harry's hot and trembling form beside him as his fingertips brushed against the bottle, fingers stretching as far as they could until he grasped it in his hand.

He blinked a few times tiredly as Harry shivered against him violently.  Almost dropping the bottle as he shifted, he held the boy closer and leaned down, whispering in his hair, "It'll be gone in a minute, let me apply this."

The boy continued to shake, and moan and Draco squinted slightly as he unscrewed the lid, almost cursing as the lid pinched his thumb.  The hand on Harry's back pulled back the curtain again so Draco could find some material to put the ointment on, and he squinted looking for some cotton. 

Leaning over Harry again, almost pressing his weight on him -- and Draco was sure he was -- he sighed in exhaustion and irritation as his fingers finally found something soft, something that was unmistakably cotton.  Retreating back with the soft material in his fingers, he yawned uncontrollably and poured some of the liquid on the material, cringing up his nose as he inhaled the smell.

Closing the cover, he looked down at the smaller boy who was looking up at him with pained eyes.  Draco narrowed his eyes in concern – was it normal for Harry to be this pained?  It's probably the potion, Draco thought.

Draco could now feel Harry's warm legs against his own under the covers, entwining hesitantly with his own.  Sighing, and before he could stop himself, he brushed some of the messy locks away from Harry's forehead, and slowly, he let the cotton drag the liquid over the hot and flushed skin.

Harry whimpered slightly and he could see the Gryffindor's hands peak out of the bed sheets and pull the flimsy sheet up, but Draco just shook his head and leaned in, whispering, "It'll be over in a minute, go to sleep."

"It hurts!" Harry whimpered again and the hands that were clenched up in the bed sheets became whiter, the knuckle losing their color.  Draco continued applying the medicine gently against the heat of Harry's forehead, his touch soft and cautious.  Draco nodded and his hand brushed some more hair out of Harry's forehead until his gaze caught the legendary scar.

He stared at it, eyes trailing down from the beginning at the tip, to the jagged and almost graceful line that went diagonally back up, then the finishing touch, one more line going straight down.  He isn't aware of green eyes upon his gray ones, until he looked down, and he looked down into the eyes of the beholder, searching them. 

Now, if he reflected, he never really looked at Harry's scar this close before.  Sure, there were rumors about how it would be so magical when you got near it, how it would make you shiver…etc.  Yet to him, it looked like a normal scar on a special boy, but when he touched it....

Without knowing what he was doing, his other hand shakily slid over to Harry's face, where he let his fingers ghosted over it.  Brushing some more black hair out of the way, he let his thumb trace over the pale scar, and then shivered, unable to control himself.  The scar was magical, no doubt, and it burned like fire in his fingers.  He wasn't sure if the cause was because of the Gryffindor's abnormal fever, or, perhaps, of something else.

He saw the boy's eyelids flutter shut delicately and the knuckles became even whiter as Harry clenched the bed sheets.  Draco brought back his hand and ran the cotton against Harry's forehead again, closing his eyes as his sleepiness was slowly gaining on him again.    Still continuing to apply the medicine to Harry's head, he opened his eyes slowly and sighed as he saw Harry's eyes were closed. He looked down to the boy's chest, watching it rise and fall in a repeating pattern.

He leaned over again and tossed the used cotton and the bottle on the bed table after pushing back the curtains and pulled back, feeling Harry pull his legs closer and entwining them tighter. 

Draco cringed and gently pushed the boy further away from him, the smell of the ointment definitely irritating his nose.  Settling into the bed tiredly, with Harry's soft breathing filling his ears, he drifted back to sleep.

----------

They both were in front of a beautiful, grand mirror, the frame large and masterful, and the room that they were standing in enveloping their presence.  It wasn't cold like Draco had expected.  It wasn't hot either.  It was just there, and he was in it.  And he wasn't alone. 

He held the boy's small hand in his, his touch was gentle, his exterior was soft and it was like an angel touched it.  The blonde boy kissed the brunette boy on the forehead and the brunette boy closed his eyes and sighed. 


The kiss was simple, the lips were real and it was warm – almost a dream.  The boy smiled and the blonde man smiled back at him. The kiss was a kind movement and nothing more, meant and filled with understanding and care.   It was a calm kiss filled with gentleness, and Draco squatted down to the boy's height and they both looked in the mirror.

"Who are those people, Draco?" Harry whispered and his small arms wrapped around Draco's neck.  Draco held him in his arms, the boy's innocence was too much for him and he whispered into his hair, "They are your parents, Harry."

The small boy looked back into the mirror, and the empty interior of it was suddenly sculpted and the shapes inside it were unmistakably two people.  One man, looking remarkably like the boy-who-lived, with a smile on his face, and a woman, with red hair and green eyes that entered the soul.

They smiled sad smiles at him and Draco bowed his head in respect.  When he looked up, to his surprise, the two figures in the mirror were standing in front of him – their figures real, and their presence alluring.  He gasped and the hold around his neck loosened.

"Mother…" Harry whispered and turned to her, where she bent down and held out her arms, bringing the boy closer to her.  Draco stilled and stared at them and then looked up at James, who was smiling down at him. 

"Rise," the elder man, who was Harry's father, said. 

Draco rose from his squatting position and didn't look the man in the eye.  He didn't dare too.  He could feel James's eyes on him, studying his shadowed face as he absently noted the whispered words spoken between mother and child. 

"Draco," someone whispered, and he looked up, looking into the origin of those remarkable green eyes.  Lily was smiling at him and holding her child in her arms, and Harry… Harry was smiling shyly at him while his head was rested on his mother's shoulder. 

"You have a good heart… somewhere inside your cold exterior…" she trailed off and her husband went around her, wrapping his arms around her waist and his head was on the other shoulder, smiling at him with those glasses.  Harry closed his eyes on his mother's shoulders, and his father kissed him on his head.

"Take care of him," she whispered and she stepped forward, offering her child to the hands of his protector.


Draco took the now-sleeping boy in his arms and held him, watching the pleased and calm faces of Lily and James. 

The distance started to fade as he closed his eyes, and he still had the boy in his arms, holding him, and Lily and James faded into the massive swirls of dreams.

----------

Draco woke up again, slowly, and his hand covered his mouth when he yawned.  Lying on his back, he looked up to the Hospital wing ceiling and blinked several times.  He was warm all over; he was comfortable in the little bed he was sharing.  The blankets went to his chest and his hands lay on his stomach.

He was aware of a smaller boy next to him, and he was also aware that Harry was awake too. 

He remembered the dream.  He remembered a mirror, he remembered clouds and mist and he noticed the warmness that was always absent when he was near someone.  He remembered the voices, almost heavenly; he remembered their faces – faces he had once seen in a newspaper, but never up close.

"Draco?" someone asked beside him, and he turned his head to look at Harry.  Harry was on his side, hands under chin, and his gaze questioning.

He gave no indication for Harry to continue but Harry did so anyway in a very small voice, "Who were those people?"

Draco wasn't surprised at the question, in fact, he had a feeling it was coming – he didn't know how, he didn't know why, but all of the calamity together made him think that.  He wasn't surprised that Harry probably had the dream too.  And he wasn't surprised that he turned to his side and asked in an equally small voice, "You don't remember?"

Harry's eyes lowered before they looked in his and he said, "I do remember."

Draco's curiosity sparkled and he yawned again before asking, "What do you remember?"

Harry hesitated before saying, "They were people I knew before… and the woman was talking to me while the man was looking at you…" he trailed off and fidgeted with the covers before he continued, "She said that she loved me."

Draco lowered his gaze and remembered the dream as if it were real.  He remembered when he was in that dream, when James had told him to stand up, Harry and the red haired woman were talking. 

Then he remembered something else.  Looking at Harry with wide eyed, he said, "Was that the same woman you dreamed about the other day?"

Harry gave him a curious look at those words and he sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes.  Draco watched as Harry turned over and peeked out the curtains, and then reach a hand out and grasped his glasses.  Putting them on, he looked back at Draco still with that quizzical look.

"The other day?" he asked quietly, and he put a hand to his forehead, rubbing his scar, and then pulling back. 

Draco was the one now giving him a confused look.  The other day… does he remember?  Draco thought to himself as he watched Harry do that particular movement.  He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, pushing back the blonde strands so it was perfect.

He sat up next and blinked several times, yawning again.  Looking at his watch slowly, he realized that it read 10:45.

10:45?! Shite, Draco thought as he looked around hastily, before jerking the curtains open, we're late for Potions!

"Potter, hurry up and get dressed, we're late for Potions," Draco hissed as he took off his pants from yesterday, hopping madly around the hospital wing with one leg in the pant leg, while the other was on the cold floor.  Gladly aware that no one was there other than him and Harry, he hastily tried to dress up for his morning class.

He didn't stop hopping around as he heard a high pitched laugh, but he looked at Harry who was sitting up on the bed, his legs still inside the blankets. 

"Harry, hurry up!" Draco barked and almost fell when he hopped into the bedpost, trying to swat Harry out of the bed and get some new clothes on.  Draco didn't see the sparkle in the boy's eye when he called out Harry's name, since Draco was such in a mad rush to get his clothes on.

"Okay, honestly Draco!" Harry laughed again and dangled his feet out of the bed, swinging his legs and looking bemusedly at the blonde Slytherin.  Draco cocked one eyebrow and with one hand on the bedpost, he finally undressed his slacks, pulling the material off his legs.

Clad only in boxers, and feeling horrible without his morning shower, he gave Harry a look.

"What?" Harry giggled, and Draco stared at the way Harry had addressed him earlier, something he was foreign to listening to – especially since it came from the Gryffindor boy. 

"We're late for potions.  Hurry up," Draco told him sternly and finally recognized that Harry looked slightly different.  He couldn't quite tell what was so different, but his mouth dropped open when Harry spoke.

"Is the Mudblood going to be there?" Harry asked and slipped off the bed, looking around for his daily wear.  Draco stared at him and narrowed his eyes, disbelieving that Harry said that, no doubt about his friends, but that a boy – a meager boy of nine would say that.

"Are you talking about Granger?" Draco drawled out and tossed Harry the clothes, watching the boy carefully.  Harry looked around for something before he shook his head.

"She's the Mudblood, isn't she?" Harry asked and took off his shirt slowly, and Draco gave him a look for being so slow.  He could hear some bottles being shuffled from Madam Pomfrey's office, but he ignored it as he took of his own shirt and quickly put on a new one, raking a hand through his blonde hair and trying to neaten it. 

"Do you even know what a Mudblood is?" Draco drawled out again, and he sneered as Harry gave him a look this time.

"Yeah, it's her.  Remember, Draco?  It's what you always called her," Harry stated plainly and blew at the strands of hair that was covering his eyes.  Draco continued to watch as Harry pushed up his glasses, and slowly put the shirt on, throwing Draco a smirk.

A smirk.  Draco stared and watched closely.

"Hey Draco?" Draco was startled out of his thoughts and Harry turned to him, holding up the small pants fit for the nine-year-old. 

"What?" Draco asked and started to fix the bed they both slept on, aware of Harry's ever-present gaze.

"… What happened to… to my parents?"  Harry asked quietly, hesitantly, and Draco froze in his spot, looking down at the white bed sheets, inhaling the clinic smell.  Blood rushed through his veins and he wondered why it was doing that at that question – and a shiver ran up his spine though he didn't know why.

Harry asked that particular question out of nowhere. There was no hint that was he was going to ask it, and personally, Draco had absolutely no idea how to address that question. 

Should I tell him that they died?  How?  Draco thought, and he looked up, watching as Harry slid down his pants and put on a new pair.  Harry looked at him thoughtfully.

"I'll tell you later… we're late for class," Draco said and looked down, putting their dirty clothes from yesterday in his bag.  Sitting on the bed, and taking a breath, he zipped up his book bag and looked up, feeling Harry's eyes on him.

"Will we be able to throw those papers like you did in your other class?  Like you promised?" Harry asked quietly, intentionally not asking more about his parents. 

"I didn't promise anything," Draco stood up and walked briskly to the door, hearing footsteps follow him slowly, different from his quick pace, "But we'll see what we can do.  Just hope that Snape doesn't snarl down your back or whatever."

Draco heard Harry grumble under his breath and he rolled his eyes, making his way quickly to the Potion's classroom.  He was also aware that Harry smirked at him when he turned around to look at the smaller boy, and he vaguely wondered if that was a good thing.

----------

Snape impatiently tapped his foot, aware of the tenseness in the classroom.  He could see from the corner of his eye that several of the Slytherin students were looking at the seat where Draco Malfoy usually sat, and he could also see that Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger whispered in small voices, their faces filled with concern.

"Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, I do hope the reason why you are speaking when you should be working is more important than your schoolwork?" He drawled out plainly, and everyone looked at the two whispering Gryffindors.

Hermione blushed, while Ron stammered, "We-we were just wondering where Harry and Malfoy were."

"And you count that as more important than doing your work?  Interesting," Snape sneered, and just then, the door banged open with the two awaited people running in, huffing.

He waited patiently as Draco came up to him quickly, with Harry trailing behind him noisily; looking around the room with big eyes, and not surprisingly, glasses.  Draco Malfoy stood in front of him, and spoke in a low voice only for them to hear, "Madam Pomfrey asked us to stay a couple more minutes so she could check--,"

But he was cut off by a drawl from the Potion's Professor.

"Mister Malfoy, do you honestly believe that after seven years of having you in my class, I would not know when you are fibbing and when you aren't?"

Snape sneered as he heard some gasps from the Slytherin side of the room, not sneaking a peak to look at their surprised faces.  What was more appealing was Draco's face, whose eyes were wide as saucers as it was clearly evident that Draco was expecting Professor Snape to let him lie.    But his obvious smirk turned into a frown as a squeaky voice spoke.

"He wasn't lying, Madam Pomfrey did check my eyes!" 


The class turned to look at Harry, and a few whispers broke out among the children.  Snape silenced them with a look and beckoned the nervous child forward with his hand, sneering.

"Oh, is that so, Mr. Potter?"  He asked calmly, aware of the tenseness in Draco's features.  He saw Harry look at Draco from the corner of his eyes, and Snape smirked and leaned back in his chair, when Harry couldn't hold his own gaze.

"Do tell me then, both of you, which eye did she check?"

He was rewarded with two answers, one from the blonde boy, one from the brunette boy.  While Draco said 'Left', Harry said 'Right', and a chorus of giggles from the Slytherin girls embarked the embarrassing silence.

Draco tried to correct himself, "No, wait, right!" and so did Harry, saying, "It was left!" at the same time. 

Snape gave both of them the evil eye before he barked, "Sit down Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter."

He was glad no one saw the smile that he hid behind his long hair as he bent down and took points from Slytherin house.

----------

Draco could feel his face burning from the earlier scene even ten minutes later.  Harry, in between him and Pansy, was still trying to keep still from laughing so much, and he could see the sneer upon Pansy's face as Harry continued to snigger.

"Shut up, you idiot," Draco hissed as Snape sent them a warning look, elbowing the smaller boy in the sides.  Harry just laughed harder, the side of his face on the table and his glasses halfway off his face, shaking uncontrollably while the rest of the class stared at him with amused looks.

"Mr. Malfoy, could you please tell Mr. Potter to be quiet, since his incompetence hinders you?"  Snape said warily, shooting Ron a slight glare.  Ron started to laugh across the room, but he covered his mouth with his hand, Hermione's elbowing making him stop.  Harry's laughter started to subside to giggles, and he just grinned as Draco gave him a look, shaking his head before turning to his work. 

Ten minutes in the silence and the scraping of quills into the quiet room, Draco sighed slightly as he turned the page, and out of curiosity to see what Harry was doing, he turned only to notice the Gryffindor was giving him a strange look that he admitted to himself that he had never seen before. 

Draco raised an eyebrow, and stole a glance to the potion's professor when Harry scooted over quietly with his chair, smart enough to pick it up so it wouldn't make any sound.  Draco leaned in when Harry leaned in, the look that Harry gave him earlier peaking his curiosity. 

 "I want to flick Ron with the paper." Harry whispered as quietly as he could, glancing over his shoulder to the working redhead on the other side of the room.  Draco's raised eyebrow became two raised eyebrows, secretly and pleasantly surprised that Harry suggested that. 

Draco looked back to the Professor, seeing that Snape wasn't noticing the two whispering students at all, and reached into his bag, tearing off a large corner of a piece of parchment.  Pulling the parchment into his lap, he ripped the paper in two, giving Harry one side, himself keeping the other.  He caught Harry's gaze, and with a smirk, crumpled the small piece of paper in his hand, making it a ball, and making sure the Professor wasn't looking at him, he threw the crumbled up ball as casually as he could, hitting Ron straight on the head.

Draco and Harry shook with silent laughter at the look on Ron's face when the redheaded boy felt something hit his head, and they turned around before Ron could suspect it was them.  Seeing their shaking shoulders and small gasps of air, it didn't take long for Ron to realize what happened, and slowly, on the other side of the room, Ron reached into his bag.

Harry leaned in, his eyes glimmering with mirth, and whispered quietly, "That was brilliant!"  Harry inclined back to see Ron bending over to get something in his bag, and as casually as he could, Harry threw his own crumpled piece of paper, but throwing casually for him was difficult, as the piece of parchment landed on the floor a few feet away from Ron instead of on him.


Snape looked up at the small noise, and Draco clenched his hands to try to stop his mad fit of amusement.  Harry, beside him, was trying to do the same, and miraculously, without looking up, neither of them had been called.  Minutes later, when Draco could breath properly, he snuck a glace at their potion's professor, smirking when Snape didn't look up.

Draco reached back into his bag again to get another piece of parchment when he heard a 'psst' coming from the other side of the room.  Looking up instantly, Draco got hit in the heat by a parchment unmistakably thrown by Ronald Weasley.

"Is there something amusing, Mr. Weasley?"  Snape sneered as he looked at the shaking shoulders of the redheaded boy, the whole class watching as Ron shook his head quickly, trying his best to put on a calm face.

"Get back to work," Snape hissed seconds later, and Draco, amused, ripped another piece of parchment under the table, crumpling it into a ball.  He was aware than a dozen pairs of eyes were on him, and he looked up, not seeing the Professor's eyes on him.  Smirking at Ron who was smirking back, he threw the crumpled parchment as hard as he could, and instead of hitting Ron; it hit the bent over, frizzy hair girl beside him.

The whole class burst into laughter, but they were silenced by a very, very agitated look from the Professor.  Draco could see that Harry was trying his hardest not to laugh out loud, but his shoulders and body were shaking terribly, and not to mention that the parchment was still stuck in Hermione's locks.

Draco glanced over his shoulder as Ron assisted in helping her take the small parchment off her hair, but instead, it looked like it was becoming more tangled.  Draco smirked as Harry turned around, and before he knew it, Harry threw something, and this time, the crumbled ball hit Ron instead of landing on the floor.

The class was now watching intently as Ron gave Draco a scowl, and after giving the seemingly oblivious Professor a glance, he crumpled the paper he was working on, throwing it straight at Draco's head.

That was what started the paper fight in Potion's class – everyone watched as the ball flew across the room, but instead of hitting Draco like it was supposed to, Harry, out of no where, shot his hand up and caught the crumbled paper, hurling it back to the Gryffindor section.

Laughs starting, and even more papers were being thrown between the two houses on either side of the room, parchments, quills and work being discarded on the floor as students stood up and starting flinging the crumbled pieces of paper.

"Stop this idiocy at once!" a voice barked, but Draco didn't bother to pay attention as he flung another piece of torn crumbled parchment towards Seamus Finnigan, narrowly missing him as Seamus threw a piece of paper at Millicent Bulstrode. 

"Fifty points from Slytherin and Gryffindor!!!" Draco smirked as he heard the loud, booming voice of the Potion's master, but the paper fight continued.  While continuing to hurl his paper at Pansy Parkinson while she was trying to get safe by running to a corner, he saw that Harry stood up on a chair, and with a triumphant grin at Draco, he hurled his own paper, hitting Draco on the head.

Draco gaped at the smirking face for a fraction of a second, but he smirked as well, realizing in the end that it was definitely worth loosing fifty points.

----------

"That was brilliant, Draco!" Pansy giggled, tangling her arm with Draco's as they stepped out of the Potion's classroom.  Crabbe and Goyle went the other way while Pansy accompanied Draco to the Great Hall to eat lunch.  The remaining Gryffindor students stayed after class to pick up the papers and parchments, only because Snape had demanded that they do so, claiming that Ron started the whole escapade.

"What do you mean?  You were practically squealing when Potter hit you the fiftieth time," Draco rolled his eyes and casually tried to pry his hand from Pansy's, only to get her to grip his hand tighter. 

"Well, um," Pansy started, but Draco looked back to make sure Harry was following them, and sure enough, he was.  Draco was quick with his feet, for every step he took, Harry had to take two steps.  Harry was walking briskly behind them, pushing up his glasses that were slowly sliding off his nose in his brisk power walk.

Pansy said something but Draco didn't bother to listen as he pulled his hand away completely, and he started to put both of his hands in his pockets when Pansy stopped in her tracks, and the only reason Draco turned back to look was because he was curious.

"Why don't you want to hold my hand, Draco?" She gave him a judging look, and Draco blinked surprisingly before he scowled and retreated to where she was, unaware of the eyes of the Gryffindor boy.  Draco raised an eyebrow as she put her hands on her hips immaturely, and sure enough, he could feel anger seethe through his skin. 

"Because it's sweaty most of the time, why don't you find some beauty product or something to stop that?"  Draco rolled his eyes before he continued, stopping the words from Pansy's mouth even before they were said, "No, seriously Pansy, I just don't like physical contact, is that clear?"

Pansy looked enraged, and for a second, Draco thought she was going to slap him.  Instead, she sneered back at him and her eyes narrowed, and Draco thought, ironically amused, how funny she looked when angered. 

"You're my boyfriend and I am your girlfriend, Draco!  If I was Blaise's girlfriend, he would hold my hand everywhere and he would write me sweet love notes and he would--," she continued, but Draco didn't have the courtesy to listen further.  Shaking his head and about to apologize just to get her to shut up, he noticed the Gryffindor boy shuffling his feet and looking at the ground, awkwardly uncomfortable.

"—And further more, you never let me do what I want to do and you are a selfish bastard who has no respect for ME and… Draco, are you even listening to me?"  She yelled the last word while she threw up her hands in exasperation, before her hands found her hips and she gave him a look of pure venom.

Draco was tempted to look around and ask 'Who was that?  I didn't hear anything', but, deciding to be mature and smart for once, he sneered and gave her a look back.  He was about to reply, but Pansy interrupted him again, yelling at the top of her lungs, "YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME, DRACO!"

Draco seethed inside silently, narrowing his eyes and clenching his fists.  He spoke full of authority, "Pansy, keep your voice down, honestly, we aren't in some open field where you can scream with your annoying voice!" he looked around him and he was thankful no one else was watching them.  His voice bounced off the stone walls, and he looked back at Harry, who continued to look at his feet.

Taking in a deep breath, he said plainly, "I don't know what's wrong with you, Pansy, but you are obviously mistaken."

Pansy laughed meanly, and then, sneered again, not before flipping her hair over her shoulder, and Draco cringed at how stupid she looked doing it.  Her sneer turned into a smirk a minute later, and then what was unmistakably a malicious smile.  Draco didn't like that at all.

"Harry, I'll meet you in the Great Hall," Draco said firmly, keeping an eye on his girlfriend.  He knew they were about to have a big row, and he was thankful, maybe, hopefully, he would be able to break up with her, or perhaps, get her mad enough not to talk to him for a while… hopefully, forever.

Harry nodded and looked at him gratefully, fully happy that he didn't have to watch this anymore.  Giving Draco a pleading look, he started to walk away, but turned once Pansy started to speak again.

"No, you stay here, Potter." She looked at Draco, "Sometimes, Draco, I wonder if you like Potter more than you like me," her malicious smile was wiped off her face by a weird expression that Draco couldn't identify, and he wondered if there was something wrong with her.

"Parkinson, what kind of assumptio-," he started to say, but she cut him off with her voice, "You like that snot, don't you?  You're starting to like him."

Her voice was full of hate and loathing, and…. Jealously, maybe, that Draco guessed.  Raising an eyebrow, he stated plainly, fully aware Harry was there beside him, "He's not a snot."

Scowling, she looked at Harry who had not moved from his place, instead, he was staring back at her… almost a predatory stance.  Pansy must have noticed it also, because she blinked a few times before she looked him up and down, and hissed, "He is a snot.  He has no parents, no looks, no money, no… nothing."

Harry looked down upon those words, not bothering to hide the hurt on his face.  Draco felt a pang at that and turned to her, seething, "He's nine-years-old, you half-wit."

"Does it look like I care?  You do like him, I can tell."

Draco didn't confirm this, and he didn't deny it, instead, he was looking at Harry closely.  The Gryffindor's shoulders were tense, and he was looking at Draco, a insistent look.  Harry fixed his glasses on his nose, and looked back at Pansy, silent. 

I don't like him.  He's… Potter. 

"I hate him, and you know that Draco!" Pansy's shrill voice interrupted his thoughts, and he looked at her, "At least that idiot broke his nose like I intended—," she started to say carelessly, and Draco's eyes started to widen with her words.

She tried to hurt him; she tried to hurt an eight-year-old child.

"What?!" he hissed, hoping that he didn't hear clearly, because if he did, Pansy would have another thing coming to her. 

"I said," she emphasized the word, rolling her eyes and now starting to look bored, "That I was happy that he broke his nose when I stuck my chair leg out, because, honestly, I hoped he would have gotten a worse fall than what happened yesterday and he would finally stop bothering you."  Her hands were on her hips, but she blinked as Draco stared at her.

"Pansy!" He hissed, coming closer, close enough to be right in her face, "What if something worse had happened to him?  What would have happened then?"  He hissed in her face, trying to keep his voice as low as possible so Harry couldn't hear his words.

"You're the idiot, Draco.  You knew you should have never crossed me when we got together and—," she stopped in the middle of her sentence, and they both were caught off guard when Harry shrilly yelled.

"Draco isn't the idiot, you are!"  Harry said, and Draco watched, mesmerized, as the smaller boy looked her right in the eye, and Draco noted Harry's posture.  The boy's gaze was angry, his hands were clenched in fists, and his lip was slowly curling into a sneer.

Pansy blinked once, twice, three times before she turned to him completely, now ignoring Draco.  She yelled back, "Excuse me?  Why you little shite, I ought to—."

"Shut up!  Honestly, you expect everyone to like you, but you know what, you're--."

"At least I'm not a stupid little boy who thinks --,"

"I'm not stupid and the only one stupid around here is you and—,"

"How dare you call me stupid!  Draco is only taking care of you becau--,"

"I call you stupid because you are stupid!  Draco is--,"

"I am not stupid, you annoying dog and--,"

"You're the dog, you look like one of those ugly—,"

Draco watched as his girlfriend and the boy who he was supposed to take care of fighting, with Harry's face tilted up and Pansy's face tilted down, their bodies touching and their voices slowly raising with each insult they passed from one another.  Pansy looked positively livid with anger, and Harry was looking very aggravated, not that Draco would blame him, of course. 

"Draco is only taking care of you because he has no other choice!" she shrieked and stomped her feet, sneering menacingly.

Draco stepped in between both of them to stop their arguing, but his interruption only seemed to get them more riled up, and now Harry was yelling.

"You're lying!!!"

Her smile became wide with sadistic motives, and she scowled over one of Draco's shoulder, "He doesn't love you, hell, he doesn't even like you, it's all part of the po--!" her sentence was stopped by Draco's hand on her mouth, and she was pushed back against the wall.

"Pansy, don't tell him about the potion!" he hissed angrily, not letting her mouth go.  She gave him a very angry look behind his hand and he moved away from her eventually, not before telling her, "I'll talk to you later."

----------

He had no afternoon classes that day, and right after a very awkward lunch, he took Harry to the Quidditch pitch.

Walking there, they didn't speak a word to each other.  Their eventful morning got both of the boy's thinking of what happened, and Draco wasn't fully ready to explain everything yet.

"Draco?" Harry asked quietly when they stepped into the broom shed that held all their brooms.  Draco didn't turn back to look at him as he got his old broom and handled it carefully.

"Draco?" Harry's voice was almost pleading now, but he didn't move from his spot in the doorway.  He was wringing his hands and looking slightly nervous, Draco could tell  by giving Harry a slight glance, but Draco didn't care.  He was still mad about earlier and what went on with Pansy, and mad at himself that he had fought with her over a stupid thing.

Starting to think back, how could someone like his girlfriend be so jealous of a nine-year-old boy, especially Harry Potter? 

"What, Harry?" he asked, and purposely used Harry's given name to prove that he wasn't mad at him, but pissed about the situation.  Harry gave him a small smile before saying, "She's… just a git, a bad person… I didn't mean…" he trailed off and shifted his feet, looking at him worriedly.

Draco sighed and beckoned Harry to him, patting the seat beside him on the bench.  Harry came and sat beside him, still wringing his hands, and Draco wondered for a minute why Harry was doing that.  Almost to assure him that everything was okay, Draco placed his hands on Harry's and looked at him, and he spoke softly, "Let's get this straight, okay, Potter?  I'm not mad… it's… just… sometimes people get in fights.  You're not that stupid," he rolled his eyes, but continued, "and you know that, okay?"

Harry nodded and gave him another small smile.  Quietly, with hesitation, "… Do you like her?"

Draco stared at him for a minute and pulled his hand away, returning his hands to their prior engagement with his broom.  He stayed silent for a while, but eventually he spoke.

"I did for a while, yes."

"Now?" Harry moved closer to him on the bench, and Draco could feel the boy's curious gaze on his face.  He sighed and suddenly didn't feel like flying anymore, instead, all he wanted to do was talk.

Talk.  Something he didn't do in a long time to anyone. 

"I don't know.  Look, stop asking questions, okay?" he tried to sound strong, but instead, he sounded weak.  He cursed himself for sounding like that, but he couldn't help it.

Harry stopped asking for a moment and looked down at his shoes.  They stayed in silence for a minute longer before Harry piped up suddenly, "Draco?"

"What?" Draco drawled out, sounding annoyed and quite bored.  He looked at Harry and blinked at the Gryffindor's change of face, for Harry was smiling…

"Chicken butt," Harry said smugly, and Draco blinked again.

"What?"  Draco asked him and leaned in.

"Chicken butt… you know… Chicken…" Harry tried to explain, gesturing with his hands.  Draco didn't understand the joke right away, and he stared at Harry for a while. 

"… I don't get it." For once, Draco felt quite ridiculous and interested in the same time.  Harry burst out laughing at Draco's confusion, and Draco stubbornly crossed his hands in front of his chest, giving Harry a look.

"What?  What's so funny?"  He drawled out, annoyed and a bit amused.  Harry was shaking like he was shaking in the potion's classroom with laughter, and Harry gained his resolve back, giving Draco a smile.

"You are so funny.  It was just a joke, Draco." Harry grinned widely and pushed up his glasses on his nose, but he spoke again, "Hey Draco?  You know why?"

Draco stayed silent for a moment, thinking of the ridiculous situation they were in.  He drawled out cautiously, "Why?"

"Chicken thigh!" Harry grinned and chuckled a bit at Draco's face, which was horribly mixed up in confusion and irritation and silent amusement.  Draco turned to face him and with a raised eyebrow, shook his head.  Standing up and ignoring Harry's smirk, he started to put his broom up, not feeling in the least like flying today.

"Draco, guess who?"

Draco didn't even bother to answer, but Harry answered him anyway.  He was walking out of the broom shed halfway when Harry yelled out after him, "CHICKEN POO!"

Draco rolled his eyes, and made his way back to the castle, aware of Harry's heavy laughter behind him.

He never felt this stupid in his life, having Harry ask him those questions.  But, he couldn't help but smile at it all, needing the humor that was not evident in his life.

----------

Dinner was uneventful. The Gryffindors that were in Snape's earlier class were glaring to the Slytherin table, and the Slytherins were glaring back at him.  Slytherin and Gryffindor were each down 50 points from yesterday, and Ron was glaring noticeably at Malfoy throughout dinner. 

But everyone in the Slytherin table knew something was wrong between their most popular couple, not that there was nothing wrong with them before.  Pansy was flirting noticeably in front of Draco, but Draco didn't really care, in fact, he wanted her to flirt in front of him so he could annoy her more.  And, just to make Pansy more irritated, he talked with Harry more, watching from the corner of his eye that Pansy was getting redder by the second. 

The last thing Draco wanted to do now was talk with her, and truthfully, he would rather kiss a hippogriff than talk with Pansy Parkinson.

----------

Draco plopped gratefully on his bed when he arrived in his room, not bothering to take off his shoes or change, thankful for the soft warmness below him.  Sighing, he heard Harry close the door a minute later and go to his own cot, hearing the squeaking of the smaller bed. 

"I'm so tired," he mumbled to no one in particular, thankful that no one at dinner asked what was wrong, and thankful that Harry had been a bit mature.  It was unbelievable, really, how Harry didn't say anything much at dinner or act immature.  Harry could almost tell that Draco couldn't handle it, especially not today.

"Draco?" a voice across the room asked, and Draco gave an irritated groan. 

"If you are going to ask one of those stupid questions again, I will wring your neck, you idiot," he mumbled but turned his head to face Harry at the other side of the room.  The Gryffindor was holding a pillow, hugging it, and he pushed his glasses up on his nose.

"No… it's… just…" Draco watched as Harry came closer with a pillow trailing on the ground, and an unreadable expression on his face. 

"What?" he lazily drawled out when Harry stood in front of him.  He propped himself up by his elbows and gave Harry a irritated scowl, sneering when the boy flickered his eyes up to meet Draco's gray ones.

"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?" Harry whispered, and Draco blinked as Harry asked that.  Harry looked at the floor and quickly put in, "Please?"


"You have your own bed," Draco said quietly, giving Harry a judging look.  Harry sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the floor, and quietly, he said, "I don't want those dreams to come."

"What dreams?" Draco asked with a raised eyebrow, sitting erect so that he could look at Harry better. 

"Sometimes… I have these bad dreams… about these people trying to take me away… and you leaving me…" he trailed off and his last words were almost an inaudible whisper.

Draco watched the boy beside him tense when he looked at him, but Harry continued reluctantly, "And sometimes, having you near me … I…" Harry trailed off once again, and it looked like he wouldn't continue this time around.

Draco sighed and studied the boy in front of him.  With a very irritated sigh, he scooted over and placed a pillow between them.  He watched as the boy's face lightened with gratefulness and Harry smiled.

"Don't kick me, don't touch me at night, don't drool on my sheets or anything else for that matter," the Slytherin drawled out and scowled when Harry gave him a smirk.  Harry eventually pulled the covers over his body and lay his head on the pillow, then faced Draco. 

"Draco?" Harry asked quietly, and Draco reluctantly turned around to face him.  Laying on his side, facing Harry, with a pillow in between them, he closed his eyes lazily and waited for Harry to continue.  Harry, seeing this as a sign, asked, "Whatever happened to my parents?"

Draco was prepared, for some uncanny reason to answer this question.  He was asked earlier about this, and never really had time to think about it all through the day, but realized that he had to tell Harry the truth, the real reason behind his parents death, because Harry deserved to know. 

"They died," Draco replied, and continued right after he said that, "By the dark lord's wand."

Silence reigned the room after he verbalized himself and Harry waited for him to continue.  He took a deep breath and buried himself deeper in the covers, using his wand to flicker out the remaining light in the room, and spoke.

"From what I hear," he hesitated and sighed because of his hesitance.  With determination, he continued, "The dark lord came to your parents house and… killed them."

Harry's beautiful, bright green eyes were visible in the dark, and Draco couldn't help but search into them.  They were filled with emotion, some fury at first, and then it subsided to … something else Draco couldn't quite determine.

"I see them sometimes," Harry whispered, and that brought Draco closer, straining to hear.  Draco watched his face and Harry proceeded, "In my dreams.  Like… Like last night.  I dreamed that…"

"Yes?" Draco asked, but he already had a clue what Harry dreamed about, because he felt like he was there

"My mother was really beautiful," he paused and looked down, "I… I remember her having red hair.  Her eyes were --,"

But Draco interrupted him, "Her eyes were green, yes."

Harry looked at him in surprise and then he nodded, "Green.  She was very beautiful."

Draco nodded and silently agreed.  They stayed in silence for a while, and Draco reached over, pulling Harry's glasses off.  The boy looked like he was going to protest, but Draco just said, "You don't need them anyways now."

Harry relaxed and hugged the pillow in between them.  They stayed in silence for a while, Harry searching Draco's face, when he finally spoke.

"Draco?" Harry asked when Draco laid back down and yawned, closing his eyes.  Draco made a small sound, waiting for Harry to continue, and Harry said quietly, "Do…. Do you love Pansy?"

The word that Harry used made Draco feel a bit uneasy.  Love was uneasy for him.  He thought he did, a long time ago.  Maybe fourth year, when they were dancing at the Yule Ball?  Maybe fifth year when she kissed him?  He didn't know.  He knew now, though, that no, he didn't love her.  He could hardly stand her. 

Instead of telling Harry this, he drawled out quietly without opening his eyes, "You should go to sleep.  And don't act immature tomorrow either."

He didn't wait for Harry to reply, but he felt the Gryffindor's eyes on him for minutes later, gazing over his face.  Eventually, Draco opened his eyes and saw that Harry was asleep beside him, and he, too, surrendered into the night.

-----TBC-----

Next Chapter:  Harry turns 10!  His attitude starts to perk up more, causing even more Pansy / Harry distaste.  What happens with Harry sees his role model forgive Pansy (reluctantly ;)), or worse, what happens when Harry sees Draco kiss her?  Bette yet, what happens when Harry goes through his old school trunk?

Notes:  Yes, it's late.  Please don't kill me.  Anyway, I had a wonderful beta help me with this story and I thank her SO much.

I know I said you guys will be getting a smaller version of Draco or a miniature version of Draco, but the next few chapters are a gradual process of Harry transforming into him.  So, close enough. 

Thanks to those who have Imed me on AIM, and those who added me to your favorite's list.  100 reviews, about, since the last chapter. o_o meep. 

Anyway, join a clique I made cause it's lonely and needs people! http://www.trinity.muddybrown.com

YAY.  Okay. 

Questions and Answers

1.  I don't understand.  What year are they in?

They are in SEVENTH year.  They would have to be for Draco and Hermione to be Headboy/headgirl.

2.  Is there Ron/Hermione in this story?

Yep.  ::Secret Ron/Hermione shipper, shh, don't tell::.

3.  I don't get this whole one year one day thing, explain?

I know I know, I should have made it clearer.  Okay, Harry is no 9, right?  Since two, he has been with Draco and will be until he reaches his normal age of 17.  He lives each day as a day, but as he advances into the next day and he gains one year, he looks back to the previous day and thinks of that as a year ago.  …. Make sense? XD.

Date Completed:  December 29, 2002