Disclaimer: Do you really have to ask? I'm not getting any money Your not getting any money! No one is getting any money!

Author's Note: You know your tired when all the than's in your notebook turn out being spelled Yhen. For this fic Lockhart was a teacher in 1st year and not 2nd this will make a difference later. Sorry if there is a lot of typos or switched words. I might have a learning disorder making me always read by context. When most people learned b-u-t-t-o-n-s spelled buttons and that the were little plastic things that kept your shirt closed. I learned that like what is shone on this website http:/ www . Eyetricks . Com /word jumble . htm (Take out the spaces). Reviews about misspellings and incorrect words are always welcome. If you have any questions just PM me! Now on with the fic!

I woke up from my blissful sleep full of endless food to stuff my face with. I lazily glanced and my alarm clock. 10:47am. No problem, I still had plenty of time to get to schoo-. Shit! I jumped up and hit the ground running. I pulled on yesterdays jeans and grabbed a somewhat not-so-smelly t-shirt. I was still trying to get the shirt on when I tripped and tumbled down the stairs. Foot steps sounded down the hallway as I rubbed at the back of my head.

"Oh sweety! What happened?" I looked up to see Pop crouching down to look at my head and Dad behind him looking concerned. Shouldn't they be at work by now? It was Frida-. Oh...

"Dame." I muttered as Pop started checking me over for a concussion. His hands wondered around his head and I hiss as he brushes the bump back there. He gets closer and I just know he's going to try to 'kiss it better' like he did when I was five! I shrug him off.

"I'm fine Pop, I just fell!" I snapped. I hate it when he treats me like some two year-old. It bugs me. Dad is chuckling as Pop gets up with a frown.

"I'm surprised your up. You sleep like the dead on weekends?" I got up and gave a stretch.

"I forgot I was staying home." I said with a yawn and Pop smiled.

"Well, me and your father made brunch today. Ans since we haven't eaten ether. For once will all be together!" Dad bit his lip and turned away at that. I think he still feels guilty about last night. Than I remembered something.

"Pop? You forgot to take your medication last night. Did you take it this morning?" Pop and Dad glanced at each other before Dad answered as we headed to the kitchen.

"Your Pop started a new medication this month. He'll be going to the hospital every now and than. They'll give him a needle and he'll be good until next time." It was confusing. Pop could just give himself the needle no probs-. So I asked.

"The doctors think that I might just not take the shot so I wont get any of the side-effects." Pop sounded like stone as he said this.

"Well what are the side-effects? I need to know these things so i don't freakout when you turn blue with green polka-dots!" Pop chuckled and Dad out right laughed.

"That would be a bit shocking but alas no seeing a blue and green me. Some side-effects are morning sickness, cravings, mood-swings." Dad leaned in to me and stage whispered.

"The last one is going to be a pain in my arse!" I bust out laughing and Dad got a glare from Pop.

"Yes, well, ha ha, lets all make fun of the ill one!" Pop turned his nose up at Dad. It just made us laugh harder and Dad clutch at his side. Through my blurry vision I could see Pop shaking with laughter.

After we had relaxed a bit and ate brunch I headed up stairs to get a head start on my math project. I still remember most of what happened the first time Pop had a seizure. I would have been five maybe six at the time. Pop was living with Dad because Pop dropped out of high school. They were just friends than.

I had padded into the kitchen looking for a snack, or I was probably going to try and steal a cookie, and Pop was there. He was just standing there minding his one business. So I grabbed at his pant leg and tugged but he didn't look at me. I pocked his but he didn't move so I looked up at him and he was just...blinking. Pop was just staring off into space with a blank look on his face. His jaw was open a little and he stayed like that for a few more minutes.

Than all hell broke loos

He came out of his trance in a instant and looked around frantically until his eyes fell upon me. I forgot most of what happened next but his face is still crystal clear in my mind and all the fear that was written on it.

The rest is sorta blurry. I know Pop picked me up and brought me to his bedroom but that's it. Dad said that we would have been there for at least three hours because when he came home we were still there.

Dad told me that when he came into the room me and Pop where under the bed with a blanket wrapped around us. Apparently I wasn't scared at all, I thought it was a game or something! Pop on the other hand was terrified. Dad said it took him hours to get him to come out from under the bed.

Only a month later Pop had his second seizure. I was showing him a drawing I had made when he started blinking again. He wouldn't react to me so I went to Dad. It must have been Saturday or Sunday because he was home.

'Pops acting funny again.' I had said. Dad at first thought I meant that Pop was just goofing off or teasing me. But when I said again he went running. When Dad got there he crouched down to look at Pop. The second he sow his eyes blinking Dad picked Pop up and drove him to the hospital.

It took many years, hundreds of medications and thousands of appointments before the doctors confirmed that Pop had epilepsy. It had been so long since the last time I went to the hospital with them that I had forgotten. I forget that once a month Dad has to go get more medication or that Pop goes to the hospital once every two months. I wonder what would have happened if Pop hadn't been diagnosed?

Pop says it would have ended up being the same. He would have eventually ended up leaving the hospital to work on his own. Dad would have still been a cop or whatever and I would definitely still be in high school. But anyway enough about the past on with the present.

I looked at my backpack sitting there beside my desk. It was daring me to open it and give Dad that notice about parent-teacher day. Dad hates parent-teacher day, mostly because Pop flat out refuses to go to any of them. When I was in primary Dad was going to be out late so Pop had to go meet my teacher. When he got there and told them he was my Pop...

They flipped.

They accused my Pop of kidnapping me and forcing me to say he was my father. We ended up having to go to court.

We won in no time.

Dad gave the judge maybe one folder, two at the most, filled with documents. They were all official papers and health records about how my Pop was really my Pop and things like that. The judge checked to see that the forms were legit and the case was closed. All would have been OK but Pop is now scared so to 'be on the safe side' he doesn't go.

I dig through my backpack until I found the crumpled up piece of blue paper. I open it and read the first line.

Attention all parents/guardians,

Both parents/guardians must attend the upcoming parent-teacher meeting...

...

Shit.

I jumped up to go find Dad and give this to him. I nearly fell on my face because of my dirty socks littering the floor. I gave a completely manly yelp before getting back up and smoothly walking down the hall.

Dad was in his study, probably working on his new book. When I tell people my Dad wrights book and lives with an other man people think that he wrights hard-core slash novels that are occasionally interrupted by a plot dealing with two detectives. But my Dad doesn't wright stuff like that (thank god!) He wrights about cats. Well cats and other felines, but mostly house cats.

We have a cat somewhere in our house. I named him so the cats name is Cat. Dad thinks its a stupid name and Pop says its cute that I named it all by my self. I think Cat is an orange tabby...maybe...we don't see him much but he eats the food we put out for him.

Yep, Dad was in his study. He's all hunched over his desk writing. His dark hair is in his eyes again. Pop says that that's the main reason why Dad needs such good glasses.

"Dad?" I asked. I sow him stiffen before turning around in his oak chair to look at me.

"What is it? I'm at a crucial part in my writing and I need to get back to it soon." I just raised my eyebrow at that.

"Dad you write non-fiction about house cats. How can you be at a crucial part. And that Sir Pounce A Lot than jump on the table! Oooooo so intense." Dad glared at me and shook his head.

"You wouldn't understand but never mind... What did you come to give me?" I walked in and handed him the newsletter. He must have read just the first line because he put it down shortly after I gave it to him.

"You'll just have to tell him." He said with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What? Why me? Why not you, you're his partner?" I yelled. He gave me back the paper.

"And you're his son, you do it." Dad leaned back in his chair with a smirk on his face.

"But-but I'm not going! You are! You do it!" I point at him. He looked back at me with doe eyes.

"Do what?" He asked innocently.

"Tell Pop!"

"About what?"

"Parent-teacher day!" My eye was starting to twitch.

"There is a parent-teacher day coming up? When?" I ground my teeth and stomped out of the room. Some help he was.

I walked in to the living room where Pop was sitting reading a magazine. At first he didn't react to my presence in the room so I walked over in front of him.

"Pop?" I asked. He didn't look up so I grabbed his face with my hands and pulled him up to look at me. I was getting worried. Was he having an other seizure?

I looked into his eyes...

And he was blinking at me...

AN: Dun dun daaaa. What is going to happen? Is Draco OK? The first person to say were I got Sir Pounce A Lot from gets a cookie.