Week Three-
It had been about three weeks since the trio had moved into the old Dursley home, and things were… hectic, to say the least. Every Wednesday Harry was given his Aging Potion, which he had decided he did not enjoy in the least, and was confined to bed rest for the whole day, as his whole body was shifting and growing. He was now five years old, and very, very mischievous. Wands could not be left sitting out, lest a certain little boy use them as drumsticks, or use them to poke at squishy bugs. The first time he'd realized that if he poked a slug a certain way it would grow bigger and bigger, Hermione had accidentally stepped on it in her struggle to retrieve the wands. Harry had wailed about her 'busting' the slug for hours, until he finally forgot about it. It was an… interesting time.
Week Nine-
"But Mione, I don't wanna read anymore books! In first year we only had to read seven, but you're making me read twelve! And how come Draco left?" Harry's voice carried throughout the colorful house. The curly haired teen sighed.
"I already told you, Harry, Draco had to go and help out Professor Snape for a couple months, in America. Now, read the rest of chapter ten, then you can go play." Harry heaved a troubled sigh, but complied. Hermione exhaled in relief. Harry had been asking about Draco more and more lately, and it wasn't a good thing. The two older teens had decided early on that once Harry hit 'school age', Draco would go away until he was fully aged, so the boy wasn't confused about their relationship. At one time it had seemed like the logical thing to do, but now… It had become clear that the emotional damage done by the Dursleys had not gone away, Harry's fear of abandonment, most prominently. Going to the store without him? Not happening. Going to work? No luck. Even leaving the room made the boy uneasy, often leading to minor panic attacks. So when they had told Harry their story, she had been worried by how easily he took it. Draco saw it as progress, but Hermione didn't see it that way.
"Harry, dear, I'm going to be working outside for a little while. You gonna come read outside, or do you think we can do the kitchen table today?" it was silent for a few seconds, then she heard a meek, "Table." Se smiled. They'd only tried the table a few times, but as long as she stayed in his line of vision, he was okay. She heard his feet patter against the hardwood floors as he skidded into the kitchen, book in hand. Hermione frowned internally. The one drawback of the Aging potion was that it restored you to exactly how you were at that age, so no matter how much they fed him, Harry stayed the tiny, frail thing he was. She helped him into the special rolling chair she'd bought for him, and went about her work.
Week Ten-
"I wanna be grown up now !!" Hermione sighed. It was another one of those days, it seemed.
"I wanna be grown up, and I wanna be able to do magic, and I wanna see Draco, and I don't wanna be a baby anymore!!!" Harry sure could scream, when he wanted to.
"Harry, you will be grown up, in four more weeks. Just four more doses, and you'll be all better, and you can see Draco again, okay?" Had she not been facing the stove, making dinner, she would have seen the look in Harry's not-so-innocent eyes, and known right then what the boy was planning. Harry stood up from the table, oh so casually, and left the room, mumbling about washing up for dinner. Hermione nodded absentmindedly. But Harry didn't go to the bathroom. He instead went into Hermione's room, which was off limits.
"now, where does she hide them?" he whispered, opening boxes, and drawers. Then he spotted a small jewelry box, hidden behind a stack of books. He opened it, and there they were, four little vials, lined up neatly. Without thinking about it, he opened them all, and downed the yellow liquid like a shot. If only he had taken the time to read the little slip of paper under the vials, warning of overdosing. If only.