"You're not my real dad!"

"Ronald Weasley, you do not talk to your Uncle Harry that way," Draco glowered at the angry ten-year-old.

"Well he isn't," Ron folded his arms across his chest and glowered back.

"Neither am I," Draco said.

"But you're nice to me," Ron griped. "He keeps telling me what to do."

"He's supposed to tell you what to do, he's in charge," Draco said.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He was so tired. Fifteen days of babysitting a rapidly aging child had taken its toll on him. He just wanted to go upstairs and sleep for a week.

"Ron," he said, struggling to keep his tone even. "All I said was that I thought you should wash the dishes as punishment for talking back. And then you talked back again, which means we have to punish you again."

"You don't get to punish me," Ron protested. "Tell my parents when they get home and they'll punish me."

"That's not how it works around here, young man," Harry snapped.

"Don't talk to me like you're my dad!" Ron shouted. He balled his fists at his sides and clenched his teeth. His red hair stuck up in an unruly mess and his freckles stood out in relief against his flushed, angry face. "I hate you! I hate both of you!" He turned and ran up five flights of stairs.

"For Merlin's sake," Harry laid his head down on his arms.

Draco sat next to him and put his arm around his shoulders. "He didn't mean it."

"Listen to you," Harry raised his head and straightened his glasses. "You're more bothered by it than I am." He brushed Draco's forelock back from his eyes. "He needs to cool down. Lets go lie down for a bit."

They went up to the third floor, where Bill and Fleur's double mattress awaited. They had moved to the more suitable space after Ron turned four and it was clear he needed to transition to his own room. Harry nestled into Draco's shoulder and let himself be enveloped. He traced one finger around the stitching on Draco's breast pocket and moped.

"Remember when he was five and he came downstairs and crawled into bed with us?" Draco murmured.

"Of course I remember that, it was a week ago," Harry said.

"I know," Draco said. "I was just thinking about how fast it's going."

"Your own kids won't go this fast," Harry reminded him.

"Our kids."

Harry lifted his head. "I think you're getting ahead of yourself."

"Mark my words, Potter," Draco stared haughtily down his nose.

Harry chuckled and laid back down. They'd only managed two more outings since their first, and he despaired over the thought that they might have to close out the month before another opportunity came along.

"He's going to turn eleven tomorrow," Draco said.

"Yeah."

"He's going to remember us."

"Yeah."

"Well it's all fine and good for you to be so bloody casual about it," Draco sounded annoyed. "He's going to remember that he loves you and hates me."

"You don't know that," Harry said. "He'll also remember how much he's loved you these past two weeks. That has to count for something."

"Yes but from this point forward he's only going to remember more and hate me more," Draco said. "It's only a matter of days before he's back to calling me ferret face and trying to turn you against me."

"He never tried to turn me against you."

"You know what I mean. He'll try to remind you of everything you should hate about me." Draco's voice was steady but Harry could feel the tension in his arms.

"I'm not going to get mad at you again for taking the Slytherin Seeker position," Harry said lightly, trying to show him how silly his fears were. "Ron is going to be mad about childish things because he's a child. I'm an adult. I haven't forgotten the past, I just see it differently with a more mature perspective."

"Bollocks," Draco snorted. "More mature. Not bloody likely."

"He's been up there for a while," Harry said. "Should we go talk to him?"

"I don't know, Harry, I'm improvising as much as you are."

"I think we should go talk to him."

They went up two more flights of stairs and tapped on Ron's door.

"Come in," he said grumpily.

"Can we talk to you?" Harry asked as they entered.

"I guess," Ron was lying on his bed and tossing a battered Quaffle at the ceiling.

"What's bothering you?" Draco sat down on the edge of the bed as Harry pulled up the desk chair.

"I don't know," Ron shook his head, not breaking eye contact with the ball. "I miss Mum and Dad. It feels like I haven't seen them in ages."

"They'll be home soon," Harry felt a twinge of guilt. His memories of being ten were returning, slotting today into the mix. But thanks to the hex his perception of time was probably getting muddled.

"Why does it feel like I've seen you more than them?" Ron asked.

"Because we're the ones minding you while they're gone," Harry said.

Ron didn't say anything. He tossed the Quaffle at the ceiling and caught it.

"Did you know your Uncle Harry is a brilliant Seeker?" Draco asked, swiping his hand as though he would capture the ball. Ron seized it and rolled over on top of it with a laugh.

"What about you, Uncle Draco? Do you play Quidditch?" Ron's eyes sparkled eagerly.

"Not in a long time," Draco shook his head. "And I was never as good as Uncle Harry anyway."

Harry raised an eyebrow and exchanged a look with Draco. It was a monumental admission, as far as he was concerned. Childhood rivalry, war, near-death battles, those things could be forgiven. But Quidditch was serious.

Ron squirmed onto his back and tossed the Quaffle at the ceiling again. Finally he eyed Harry curiously.

"You're really a Seeker?"

"I am," Harry nodded. "Although I haven't played in months."

"Can you teach me to be a Seeker?" Ron sat up, breathless with possibility.

"I can help you improve your flying," Harry said. "Being a Seeker is about speed and control. But actually becoming Seeker is something you'll have to work towards yourself." He didn't see any point in telling his best mate that he had never been cut out for the position.

Ron looked down at the ball and picked at the stitching. When he looked up his eyes were narrow and wary.

"Are you and Uncle Draco boyfriends?" he asked.

Draco and Harry exchanged another look. They hadn't decided whether they would need to explain things or whether Ron would just naturally accept it.

"Yes," Harry said.

"Yuck." Ron wrinkled his nose.

"Yuck?" Draco asked. "What's yuck about it?"

"Percy says it's unnatural."

"So is virtually every spell you're going to learn at Hogwarts," Draco said. "I suppose you won't be going to school, then."

"Come on," Ron rolled his eyes. "But it's not right, is it?"

"Why not?"

"You can't make babies!"

"Can too!" Draco laughed. "If two wizards want to have a baby they certainly can."

"But it's not natural," Ron sounded exasperated. "You can't do it like the muggles do it."

"We'll if you're using muggles as a measuring stick then you'd better start changing the way you do lots of things." Draco said.

"I guess your parents will have to give away your broom," Harry teased.

"No!" Ron shouted, pounding his fists on the mattress.

"Then maybe you should reconsider whether you think Percy knows what he's talking about," Draco said. "Or maybe you don't want to be friends with me and Uncle Harry any more. Your mum and dad will have to find new babysitters."

"No," Ron said again and lunged at Draco. He threw his arms around his waist and buried his face in his chest. "I still want to be friends," he said, his voice muffled.

Draco blinked hard and ran his hand over Ron's unkempt ginger hair. Harry knew what he was thinking. Ron was rapidly approaching the moment when he would remember meeting Draco, which meant this might be the last hug they ever shared.

"I guess it's okay," Ron sat up and peered around Draco at Harry. "Maybe Percy doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Damn straight," Draco smiled bravely. "Now go downstairs and do the dishes like Uncle Harry said."

"Fine, I'll go," Ron dragged himself off of the bed with a showy display of exhaustion. He slumped down the stairs, groaning dramatically the whole way.

"It will be okay," Harry squeezed Draco's shoulder.

"No it won't," Draco stood abruptly and went downstairs.

Ron's memory returned the next morning after breakfast. One moment he was playing with Bean and the next he was staring in stunned revelation at Harry. His brow furrowed and he looked around as though confused.

"Harry?" he whispered. "Is that really you?"

Harry sat down hard on the sofa, the wind knocked out of him. Thinking about this moment, knowing it was coming hadn't prepared him at all.

"Yeah, mate, it's really me," he said.

"You changed," Ron sat next to him and touched his glasses. "You got tall and old."

"That's not exactly right," Harry said with an apologetic smile. He tried not to bristle at the word old. Nineteen was not old, but to an eleven year old it probably seemed like a huge age gap.

"How are you-" Ron shook his head and frowned. "How are you my Uncle Harry and my school friend Harry?"

"It's hard to explain," Harry said.

"It's happening, isn't it?" Draco said softly from the kitchen doorway. Ron jumped up and pointed.

"Look out! It's Draco Mal-" Ron's brow furrowed again. He whirled around to glare at Harry. "Why is Draco Malfoy my Uncle Draco?" he shouted angrily.

"Listen," Harry tried to get him sit down.

"Why are you both grown-ups?" Ron demanded. "Where are my mum and dad?"

"Ron, listen," Harry tried to capture his wrist. "Something happened to you. It's hard to explain."

"What happened to me?" Ron's voice cracked. "Uncle Dra- Har-" His eyes rolled up in his head and he passed out.

Harry dove to catch him and lifted him onto the couch. He propped his feet up and Accioed a cool flannel for his forehead. Draco stood uselessly in the kitchen doorway, his face ravaged with grief.

"Maybe I should just go," he said. "It will be harder for him with me here."

"Get over here and hold his sodding hand," Harry snapped. "Like it or not, you're part of his memories now, and he needs his Uncle Draco to help him through this."

Draco didn't argue. He knelt on the floor beside the sofa and held Ron's hand in his own. His gray eyes were restless, darting about as he contemplated what the flood of returning memories would do to the boy.

Gradually Ron blinked and opened his eyes. At first he looked up at Draco with questioning confusion, seeking comfort from the man he'd grown close to. Then his eyes darkened and he yanked his hand away with a glare.

"Ron," Harry sat near his feet. "You've been hexed."

"Have I time traveled?" Ron asked.

"No," Harry took a deep breath. "You're really nineteen years old. We all are," he waved to indicate himself and Draco. "You were hexed several days ago and turned into a baby. You're growing up quickly now, and at the end of the month you'll be nineteen again and the hex will be gone."

"I'm not nineteen," Ron said. "I'm eleven."

"You're eleven right now," Harry said. "A week ago you were six."

"So you and Draco flipping Malfoy have been taking care of me?" Ron asked incredulously. "Who hexed me?"

"I did," Draco's voice was low and calm. "It was an accident. I was trying to give you stomach wind but I threw the wrong hex. It's my fault."

"Why did you hex me?" Ron struggled to sit up.

"It was supposed to be stomach wind," Draco repeated. "No worse than when you cast a Slug-Vomiting charm at me in second year."

"I did what?"

"Oh right, that hasn't happened yet. You'll probably remember tomorrow when you turn twelve," Draco said.

"This is so confusing," Ron rubbed his eyes with his hands. He froze and looked up. "Wait, so that means Draco Malfoy is your boyfriend?" he goggled at Harry. "And that means you're gay!"

"One sort of implies the other," Draco said dryly.

"Disgusting," Ron made a gagging face.

"I thought you decided yesterday that it wasn't disgusting," Draco said.

"I don't mean the gay thing. I mean it's disgusting that Harry chose you."

Draco turned his head away and scowled at the floor. Harry felt his blood pressure rise.

"You apologize for that," he said. "Have you forgotten everything he's done for you over the past two weeks?

"No," Ron looked guilty. "It's just confusing is all. He's a prat, a bloody evil prat. And everybody knows it! How does he go from that to..." he trailed off.

"To your Uncle Draco," Harry finished. "Who cradled you as a baby and fed you and changed your nappy-"

"Nappy!" Ron flopped back and groaned. "Draco Malfoy changed my nappy?"

"If it helps you feel any better, you slashed all over me and my favorite jacket," Draco said.

Ron laughed. "That does make me feel better."

"It's hard to believe now because all of those memories are so fresh," Harry said. "But things changed. He's not the same boy you remember now. Trust me, he wouldn't be here if he wasn't different."

"So at some point I'm going to remember him turning from a horrid bastard into a friend?" Ron asked, frowning at the thought.

"Well," Harry cleared his throat. "No."

"You're going to hate me right up to the hex," Draco said. "But maybe the memories you've created with me since then will help show you that I'm not the same person you grew up hating."

"You've become a different person in the last two weeks?"

"I became a different person a while ago," Draco said. "But you had no reason to know that or think differently of me."

Ron shook his head. "It's still so confusing. I feel close to you, but then I remember who you really are and I hate you." He moaned and rubbed his eyes again. "Why is this happening? I hate this! I hate you! Why couldn't you just go away instead of trying to be my friend?" He jumped up from the sofa and ran to the back door. He flung himself outside and let it slam behind him.

"Bean, stay with him," Draco said. The house elf popped out to follow Ron.

Draco looked up at Harry and held his eyes for a moment. Then his face crumpled and he sagged. He choked out a sob and stopped himself, pressing his hand to his mouth to hold it in.

"Come here," Harry knelt beside him and wrapped his arms around him. "I know it's hard. But don't forget that he's not really your child. Your own children won't hate you like that."

He hit the nail on the head. That was exactly what was hurting Draco. He leaned into Harry's embrace and wept painfully, struggling to pull himself together even as he fell apart. Harry held him close and rubbed his back and waited patiently for the storm to pass.

"Sorry," Draco finally gasped. He sat up and rubbed his face with his hands. He took a shuddering breath and forced the emotion down. "I hated my father," he said flatly. "I loved him, but I hated him. I don't want my kids to feel that way about me."

"Ron is going to be Ron," Harry said. "When he's back to normal he may still dislike you. But that's okay. Someday you'll start your own family and your kids won't have to know you as a teenager. They'll only know you as you are now."

Draco nodded. He hugged Harry tightly. "We."

"We what?" Harry asked.

"I don't like the way you keep saying you," Draco said in his ear. "Someday we'll start our own family."

Harry chuckled and squeezed him tightly in return. "Quite right," he murmured. "We."

Ron was sullen for the rest of the day and hardly spoke to either Harry or Draco. He moped around the house and spent time in his room, sometimes talking to Bean when he wanted something. At bedtime Harry went up by himself to check on him.

"Brushed your teeth?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Ron sat on his bed, inspecting his wand. "It's hard to believe this is really happening. But then I know I have a broken wand, and this one is mended. So I know it must be happening."

"You've only got a few more days of this confusion," Harry sat on the foot of the bed.

"Isn't it mad?" Ron peered up at him. "You're my best mate. But you're acting like my dad."

"It is mad," Harry laughed. "It was even more mad when you were an infant and you spat up on me."

"Merlin," Ron blushed with embarrassment.

"I had to wipe your bum," Harry added.

"No!" Ron threw his head back and moaned.

"Uncle Draco wiped your bum, too," Harry added.

"I don't want to talk about him," Ron said flatly. "And you can drop the uncle thing. He's not my uncle."

"You liked him better than you liked me," Harry said. "You called him Daco and you cried when he left the room. You practically jumped out of my arms to go to him."

"I don't care," Ron said. "I was a stupid baby."

Harry sighed. There was no way to convince him, and it wouldn't be fair to expect him to be convinced.

"What's going to happen?" Ron asked.

"You're going to turn nineteen on the thirtieth day of the hex and everything will go back to normal."

"No I mean the future," Ron shook his head. "My future. Your past. When I'm thirteen and fourteen and fifteen."

"I'm not going to tell you that," Harry smirked. "You'll find out soon enough."

"Does anything bad happen?" he asked. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "At least tell me we beat You Know Who."

"We did," Harry nodded. "You were a big part of that." He thought regretfully about Fred but decided he would have to face Ron later when that memory came back. He wasn't going to burden an eleven-year-old with the news of his brother's passing.

"And Hermione? Is she okay?" Ron asked.

"She's studying in China right now." Harry said.

"Oh," Ron sagged a bit. "So she left? Can I tell you a secret? I think she's cute."

Harry chuckled and patted his knee. "She thinks you're cute, too."

"Really?" His voice cracked and he sat up straight.

"She's only in China for the summer, and then she's coming home. You'll find out the rest on your own," Harry pulled his covers up and switched off the light. "See you in the morning."

"Goodnight," Ron laid back. "Hey Harry?"

"What?"

"Can you send Draco up to say goodnight?"

"Sure."