Title: To the Moon Part 1
Author: Constant Vigilance
Status: FIN
Email: tirel@pcnuthut.com

Website: https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/firebird_ascending/
Rating: R for disturbing topics and language
Pairing: Harry/Draco (not while under the curse, however)
Spoilers: Some book 5 events. AU. Characters aged up to age of consent.
Warnings: Slash, implied rape/incest, violence, shmoopy WAFF in places
Disclaimer: I own nothing. JKR is God.
Summary: Draco is turned into a child. Harry takes care of him.
Notes: Written for Wave 1 of The Ebony and Ivory Fu-Q-fest found at http://mortal-moon.org/hdfqf/index.html

Challenges: 59.  Harry finds Draco crying.  (Minnie)

79.  Harry finds out what Draco sees when he's near a dementor. (Aeowen)

12. Draco overhears a secret of Harry Potter...he likes a Slytherin.  (Minnie)

 

June 30:

 

Harry watched Draco out of the corner of his eye. He’d become very adept at it since the beginning of the year. The times that Ron or Hermione caught him, he’d managed to cover it up by stating he was just glaring at the Slytherin. Which he wasn’t by any means. Matter of face, he couldn’t remember the last time he seriously glared at his blonde obsession. These days, glares were more likely to be given over to longing glances.

 

He didn’t have the slightest clue how he was going to manage the upcoming two months of summer break without his daily Draco watching. He could hardly make it through a meal without staring. Take for example, right now.

 

Harry was ‘eating his breakfast’ which translated to shoving his eggs around his plate while trying to catch sight of Malfoy’s bright head over the Ravenclaw table. In a few minutes, Dumbledore would bid everyone a safe and happy summer and everyone would race to the carriages that would take them to Hogsmeade. At that point, Harry would spend every second vainly searching for one last look, hoping for something to hold him over the summer when Draco was at the Malfoy Manor.

 

Harry was about to jump up and remove Terry Boot’s ridiculous hat if it didn’t stop bobbing in front of Draco’s face. Just as the urge to snatch Terry’s bloody head off nearly drove Harry from his seat, the last owl mail of the year flew in the windows. After months of watching everything Malfoy, Harry could now spot the Malfoy eagle owl almost as easily as he could find Hedwig, and the beautiful creature was winging its way to Draco as Harry watched.

 

Draco held out his hands and caught the package, nodding to the owl as it swooped around and headed back out. Harry watched as Draco grinned in anticipation, showing the package to his goon squad, Goyle and Crabbe. Draco quickly untied the wrapping and then frowned down at its contents. Harry strained to see what the gift was without making it obvious that he was looking. He needn’t have worried, though, as half the school was staring at the table, dying to see what Draco Malfoy got in the mail.

 

A confused look ran across Draco’s face as he reached down into the wrapping and plucked up what looked to be a statue. Harry couldn’t see it very well, but he could tell that it had at least three different aspects carved into it. One looked like fire, another like a cornstalk pile, and another like an Egyptian ankh. He squinted to get a better look when all hell broke loose at the Slytherin table.

 

Screams began to radiate out from Draco’s seat and people started shoving benches away from the table and scrambling backwards. Harry noted that, while Crabbe and Goyle stood, they hovered protectively around Draco who continued to sit, staring flabbergasted at the relic as it worked its magic on him. He began to shrink. His features became more angular and his body less toned. He appeared to be growing younger with every second that passed. He also didn’t appear to be able to release the relic because his steadily smaller hands were still wrapped around it.

 

As he shrank to the point where he almost couldn’t see over the table any longer, the relic fell from his hands, hands too small to hold the weight of the piece any longer. Goyle reached forward and snatched the small Draco away from the statue, pulling him up against his waist and half turning to shield him from the room. The head table erupted in movement as teachers raced to regain control.

 

Dumbledore and Snape headed over to the Slytherin table while the other teachers waved students back to their seats. The headmaster knelt next to the statue and examined it cautiously, without touching it, for long moments before giving a slight ‘hmph’ and producing a swath of cloth from his robes. He tossed the cloth over the relic and gingerly picked it up, holding it closely against his robes.

 

He turned to take in Draco. The small boy was cowering against Goyle’s leg, eyes unbelievably wide and frightened. Snape was at the front of the Slytherin table trying to calm down a horde of shrieking first years. Dumbledore took a step towards Draco and realized that Draco wasn’t looking at him at all. He was staring out at the sea of inquisitive faces behind him.

 

Before the headmaster could shield him, or even offer him a word of comfort, Draco bolted. He picked up the excess material of his robes and raced out of the room. Sadly, Dumbledore watched him go; knowing there was no way his old legs could catch him. He looked to the Slytherins, wondering who would take up this task. Not surprisingly, Crabbe and Goyle exchanged glances and began lumbering out of the room, though at a much slower pace.

 

Dumbledore turned a disapproving look on the rest of the motionless Slytherins and then moved to eye the rest of the room. He watched with a glimmer of amusement as Harry Potter began fidgeting. Fidgeting grew to squirming. Squirming turned into the boy pushing his seat back and taking off at nearly a fast a run as the young Mr. Malfoy.

 

Harry ignored the cries sent up by his friends and McGonagall and slammed through the doors that Draco had exited a moment earlier. McGonagall turned frustrated eyes on the headmaster who simply gave a tiny shake of his head. She quirked an eyebrow but returned to calming down the Gryffindors who were less than happy that their Golden Boy had just run off after the Slytherin Prince.

 

Harry searched for nearly five minutes before spotting Goyle and Crabbe in the charms corridor. They were crouched in front of a large statue entreating it to come out. Harry approached cautiously. One did not interfere with the hulking goons’ charge without their permission. They were like rabid wolverines when it came to protecting Draco. Surprisingly enough, they flashed him a look of relief as he came into sight.

 

“Did you find him?” Harry asked carefully.

 

“Yeah,” Goyle nodded. “There’s a small hole behind here. He’s shoved himself up into the corner there. We can’t reach him.” Harry knelt and followed Goyle’s finger to see a small figure curled into a ball.

 

“We’re pretty sure that he’s as old as he looks, too,” Crabbe added. “He doesn’t seem to remember who we are. He won’t believe that we’re the Crabbe and Goyle that he knows.”

 

“Can you get to him?” Goyle asked stiltedly.

 

Harry shrugged and began unbuttoning his cloak. “Dunno, but I’m sure going to try.” He dropped his school robe in a heap next to the statue and belly crawled behind it until he was blocking the hole with his body. Draco looked up as Harry’s shadow fell across the opening and Harry felt his gut ache as he took in the tears on the little boy’s face. Draco looked so tiny huddled back in that hole.

 

“Hi,” Harry whispered. Draco didn’t reply, just stared suspiciously at him. “I’m Harry. Do you remember me?”

 

Draco shook his head slowly. “I don’t know anyone named Harry.”

 

“Well, now you do,” the Gryffindor smiled widely.

 

“Don’t care,” Draco returned belligerently, his small chin coming up.

 

Harry shrugged, pleased to see some life returning to those scared eyes. “That’s fine. You don’t have to. Draco, why’d you run away?”

 

Draco moved back into his huddle. “Too many people,” he whispered. “Didn’t think there were that many people anywhere.”

 

Harry nodded. “I understand. I wasn’t raised with that many people either. Just my aunt, uncle and cousin. I was a bit frightened myself when I saw haw many people were here.”

 

“Really?” Draco asked skeptically.

 

“Really, ” Harry smiled. “Draco, when you were holding that statue,” he continued in a more serious tone, “Did it hurt you at all?”

 

“It pulled me out of my room,” Draco accused.

 

“Your room? At the manor? You were at your home?” Draco nodded. “What were you doing?”

 

“Sums.”

 

“Did it hurt? When you were pulled out of your room?” Harry asked again. “Or were you hurt by anything here? Are you injured or just scared?”

 

There was a brief moment of silence in which Harry tried to peer further into the darkened hole and Draco stared distrustfully back out at him. Finally, “No, the statue didn’t hurt me. But when I was running away, I tripped on my robes and hurt my hands.” His small face screwed up again, holding back tears and Harry was struck by how devastated the boy sounded. He looked curiously over at Goyle and Crabbe.

 

Crabbe shuffled a bit, not meeting Harry’s eyes. Goyle sighed and then whispered, “He was always falling over himself when he was little. Always hurting himself. His mum and dad would get really angry at him.”

 

“We always thought that he might be…getting punished whenever he hurt himself,” Vince added, not seeming to notice Goyle’s resulting glare. “Just from the way he acted. He grew out of it around 7 or 8.” The look of fury on Harry’s face was enough that the boys took a step back.

 

Harry composed his expression and looked back in at Draco. “Draco, you aren’t in trouble,” he said soothingly. “I hurt myself all the time. I’m terribly accident-prone and I’m years older than you. It isn’t your fault. You have on huge robes. You were bound to trip over them sometime. But I am worried about your injury.

Can you come out where I can see if you need some healing?” Harry tried to put a note of coaxing into his voice.

 

Draco hesitated.

 

“Please?”

 

There were sounds of shuffling and then Draco’s tiny golden head poked out of the hole behind the statue. Harry smiled and scooted back to make room for Draco to come out. Harry sat back against the wall and waited for Draco to come to him. Slowly, the boy did just that. Harry patiently waited for Draco to hold out his hand for inspection.

 

It wasn’t terrible. The palms of the small boy’s hands were skinned, bits of dirt clung to the sweaty little appendages. The worst of it was a badly broken fingernail. Harry clucked over it. “That looks like it hurts,” he said, turning it this way and that to inspect it. “Would you mind if I healed it for you?

 

When Draco hesitated, Harry looked back up at the two Slytherins watching somberly. “They never healed anything that wasn’t killing him,” Greg grudgingly answered Harry’s look. Draco looked up in fear as though he knew precisely whom ‘they’ were and Greg tried to smile at him. Draco inched away from Greg, putting him closer to Harry’s lap.

 

“Would you like to sit here with me? Maybe in my lap, so I can see those hands better?” Harry asked.

 

Draco’s eyes grew wide. “You want me to sit on your lap?” he whispered.

 

Harry nodded and settled down to make his legs a comfy spot. He held his hands out and Draco just watched for a long time before inching closer and finally, carefully placing himself in Harry’s lap. Harry gently placed an arm around the boy, feeling him tense, and took hold of Draco’s left hand. Harry whispered a mild cleansing spell and then a basic healing one.

 

Draco stared in amazement as his hurt went away. He investigated the healed hand as soon as Harry turned it loose.

 

“Feel better?” Harry asked softly. Draco nodded and returned to staring at Harry. “Want me to do the other one now?” Draco nodded and presented his right hand. Harry repeated the procedure. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” Draco shook his head, hesitated, and then nodded instead. “Where?” Harry asked, concern coloring his voice. “Tell me and I’ll fix it for you.”

 

Tears welled up in Draco’s eyes and he shook his head. Harry frowned. “Why not?”

“They said it’s supposed to teach me a lesson,” Draco whispered.

 

Harry suppressed a growl, lest he ruin his hard earned trust. “Draco, you’re a little boy,” he explained. “Leaving you hurt doesn’t teach you a lesson. It just teaches you not to trust others who want to help you. And I do want to help,” he added earnestly. “Please show me where you hurt.”

 

Slowly, Draco lifted his robes and pulled up the leg of his too large pants. Greg gasped. “Holy shit, that’s when he got it,” he whispers. Harry glances up; more to stop looking at the weeping burn striping nearly the whole of Draco’s lower right leg than to acknowledge Greg. “He has that scar on his leg still,” Greg continued. “He’d never tell us where he got it.”

 

Harry steeled himself and turned back to the burn. “How’d this happen Draco?” he asked gently.

 

Draco’s eyes filled up again. “I was running through Father’s study. I tripped and fell into the fireplace.” His head dropped. “I’m not supposed to run in father’s study.”

 

Harry fought back tears of his own. “Draco, pet, I can’t heal this. It’s too big.” Draco seemed to deflate and nodded acceptingly. He shifted to climb off of Harry’s lap. “Wait, no!” Harry nearly panicked. He clutched Draco closer to him. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he explained hastily. “I hate seeing you hurting like this. I just honestly don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know the spell. Let me take you to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey can help you. She’s really nice and she’s brilliant at healing,” he added encouragingly.

 

Draco nodded and climbed off of Harry, allowing the older boy to stand. Harry smiled down at him. “Let me fix your robes though.” Harry murmured a spell learned from Mrs. Weasley, and Draco’s robes shrank to child size. Draco just stared in quiet amazement. “Ready?” Harry asked cheerfully. Draco nodded. Harry held out a hand to him and Draco eyed it cautiously.

 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Harry pointed out. After eyeing Goyle and Crabbe, Draco cautiously slipped a tiny hand into Harry’s larger one and they headed off down the hall. Harry noticed right away that Draco was limping. He stopped them and knelt down beside the boy. “It looks like your leg hurts to walk,” he pointed out.

 

Draco nodded, fear on his face again.

 

“Would you mind if I carried you? It would make your leg hurt less.” Draco looked over at the two Slytherins as if trying to find the hidden agenda in all of this nicety. The other two boys tried to smile supportively. Eventually, Draco nodded and took a deep breath, holding it as though he didn’t know what to expect.

 

Harry gently picked him up and set him on a hip, making sure Draco’s leg wasn’t about to bump into anything. “That better?” he asked. Once again, Draco just nodded, wide eyed in wonder. “We need to stop back in the Great Hall and tell Headmaster Dumbledore where we’re going,” Harry warned. Draco seemed to draw in on himself again. “But we won’t be staying and I’ll be right there with you, as will Crabbe and Goyle”

 

“Crabbe and Goyle?” he uttered his first uncoerced words since coming out from behind the statue. “Are they here?”

 

Harry frowned and glanced up at the other two. Greg shrugged. “I told you he didn’t believe us when we said who we were.” Harry just nodded and continued on to the Great Hall. As the small group entered, all eyes trained on the small bundle in Harry’s arms. Draco buried his face in Harry’s neck as the barrage of questions and comments began.

 

“He really got him!”

 

“Look how small he is!”

 

“He’s adorable!”

 

“Why is Harry holding him?”

 

“What do you think happened?”

 

Harry walked straight up to the head table where Dumbledore had retaken his seat.

 

“Hello, sir. We found him,” he says loudly enough that the whole hall couldn’t miss it. “He’s got a bit of a scuff, though, so we’re taking him to the infirmary.”

 

“Good, very good, Harry,” Dumbledore beamed. “Perhaps Professor Snape can accompany you?” Draco’s head shot up at that and he searched the head table. When he saw Snape’s face, his own broke into a huge smile.

 

“Uncle Sev’rus?” he whispered.

 

Snape stood and walked forward, ignoring Harry’s astonished gaping. “Draco, how do you do today?” he asked, shooting an unreadable glance at Harry.

 

“I’m well, Uncle Sev’rus,” he said politely.

 

“What’s this about needing the infirmary?”

 

Draco paled instantly. Harry clutched him closer and spoke up. “We’ll just be going now, professor. If you’d come with us?” On that note, Harry turned and moved back down the aisle, smiling briefly at his astonished friends. Crabbe and Goyle followed along, glaring at all and sundry and Snape brought up the tail end of the group, frowning thoughtfully.

 

When they reached the infirmary, Draco refused to let go of Harry, even for his Uncle Sev’rus. Feeling another small tendril of delight at that, Harry sat on the bed and held Draco as Madam Pomfrey healed the burn. She cast a few more spells on him, determining Merlin knew what and then nodded briefly before heading off to speak to Dumbledore.

 

Snape watched with dark, unreadable eyes as Draco leaned into Harry, his small body wilting against the Gryffindor as he began to notice what the healing had taken out of him. Snape turned those eyes onto his other two students. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were not the brightest of his Slytherins, but they had something else, something almost…Gryffindorish (Snape shuddered) about them.

 

They were loyal to a fault. Strangely enough, not to their fathers, nor to the Death Eater principals and certainly not to Lord Voldemort. No, these two were loyal only to Draco Malfoy and Snape had yet to discover why. He wondered if perhaps he might find out during this fiasco.

 

Now the other occupant of the room, Harry Potter, was completely beyond Snape’s ken. Why had the boy gone after Draco? Why had he gently held Draco when the boy was healed? Why did he now, still, hold Draco Malfoy as though the child were precious china, going so far as to glare suspiciously at Snape’s curious look?

 

“Draco?” Snape ventured, ignoring the slight start the child gave and the subsequent glare from Potter.

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“Do you know how old you are?”

 

Draco’s small, blonde brows came together. “I’m just 5 sir. You know that. You were at my birthday party.”

 

“Ah, of course,” Snape nodded in agreement. “I need to speak to the headmaster, gentlemen. I trust that you will be fine alone?” His Slytherins respectfully nodded. Potter just went back to cuddling Draco.

 

When Snape disappeared around the corner Harry heard a small sniff. He glanced down to find Draco trying to hide a tear track. “What’s wrong, pet?” Harry murmured.

 

Draco sniffed again. “I’m causing so much trouble,” he whispered. “Everyone has to talk about me. Mummy and Father are going to be so angry.”

 

“No, they won’t,” Harry smiled. Greg caught his eye and shook his head solemnly. Harry frowned. “Well, I’m not angry at least,” he amended. “Except at someone who’d be angry at a 5 year old for something he can’t help. I’m right ars—er, angry with that,” he caught his language in time.

 

Draco looked up at Harry and blinked slowly. “I’m sleepy,” he yawned.

 

Harry smiled. “So take a nap.”

 

“You won’t go away?” Draco sounded worried.

 

Harry shook his head. “No, pet. I’m staying right here. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Instead of lying on the bed, Draco curled up in Harry’s arms and closed his eyes. In a few minutes, he was sleeping peacefully.

 

“I forgot how small he was,” Vince whispered, trying not to disturb the child.

 

“And how scared,” Greg added.

 

“Scared?” Harry asked with a pinched look to his face.

 

“He was always scared,” Greg sighed, knowing he’d brought on sharing hour this time. “His folks were always yelling at him or punishing him.”

 

“He never said they hit him, but really…even someone as stupid as us could tell they were hurting him.” Vince rolled his eyes.

 

“You’re not stupid,” Harry protested.

 

They looked at him wryly and in sync. “Thanks Gryffindor, but we know the only way we’ve made it this far in school and you’re holding it,” Greg smirked.

 

“He never gave up on us,” Vince stared down at the small face, peaceful in sleep.

 

“Even when he had to stay up all night to finish his homework cause he spent the evening trying to help us with ours,” nodded Greg.

 

“He’s a good guy,” Vince stated. “I know you don’t like him cause he’s a Slytherin and cause he’s sometimes a bastard…but he really is a good guy.”

 

Harry looked down at the sleeping blonde head. “Yeah, well, I’m starting to see why he might have acted the way he did,” Harry admitted.

 

“Would you…would you give him another chance?” Harry’s head shot up at the hesitant question.

 

“Vince! Shut up!” Greg snapped.

 

“What?” Vince protested. “Draco’s always going on about how everything would have been all right if Potter had just accepted his hand. He’s totally obsessed with it. What can it hurt?”

 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Greg snarled facetiously. “How about give Potter more dirt on him? How about set him up for a fall? How about betraying our best friend’s confidence?”

 

“Like what you’ve already told him won’t do any of that?” Vince snarled back.

 

“Shush! You’ll wake him up!” Harry snapped. They fell quiet. “I’m not going to use anything against him. Especially anything I learn while he’s like this,” he dragged a gentle finger over Draco’s soft cheek. “To be honest, I would very much like to start over again. I’m getting really tired of this bitter rival thing.”

 

“Maybe you can save him.”

 

“Crabbe!” Greg exploded. “What the hell?”

 

“Well, he was going to take the dark mark this summer,” Vince shot back defensively. “And you know as well as I do that he doesn’t want it. Maybe if he knew that Potter was willing to change things with him, he’d be more likely to refuse. And then we could refuse too,” he finished softly.

 

“None of you want to take it?” Harry asks incredulously.

 

“Why?” Greg asked bitterly. “Does that come as such a huge surprise?”

“Well, yes,” Harry replied honestly. “I thought you all were fully on board with your fathers.”

 

“Just cause we have their blood doesn’t mean we have their brains,” Vince argued. “Or lack thereof. And from us, that’s saying something.”

 

“Stop it,” Harry said absently, petting Draco’s hair. “You’re not stupid.”

 

Greg and Vince exchanged grins. “What?” Harry asked warily.

 

“This will work out just fine,” Vince nodded. “You already sound like him.”

 

At that, Dumbledore, Pomfrey and Snape reentered the room. Pomfrey looked upset, Dumbledore apathetic and Snape looked smug, yet somehow angry. Vince and Greg stood up, placing themselves between Draco and Harry and whatever bad news was about to come. Snape’s lips quirked at the sight and he moved to the end of the bed. Pomfrey hovered and Dumbledore seated himself in a vacated chair.

 

“We have a problem, gentlemen,” the headmaster stated softly. “Draco can indeed be cured of the cursed properties of the statue. However, it will take considerable time to brew…nearly two months.”

 

“But he can be fixed, right headmaster?” Crabbe insisted.

 

Dumbledore smiled. “Yes, Mr. Crabbe. He can indeed be fixed. However, that leads to our second problem. His parents have been notified of the mishap. And they were not happy at all,” the old man shook his head sadly. “Alas, they had many…plans…for our young Mr. Malfoy this summer. Plans that must be put on hold, as he is no longer of an age. In addition, they seem to feel that this accident rests solely on the shoulders of Hogwarts staff, and I’m inclined to agree with them if it will keep Mr. Malfoy within our walls.”

 

“What do you mean?” Greg asked, frowning.

 

“Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy have stated a great dislike of the whole notion of childrearing,” Dumbledore said matter-of-factly. “They quite plainly abhorred it the first time they went through it and have no intention of doing it again.”

 

“And?” Vince asked, tired of chasing his own tail around this conversation.

 

“They have refused to take Mr. Malfoy home until we have cured him. They stated he is now ‘our problem’ and will not be bothered again by it.” Sniffling brought their attention to a quietly crying Draco in Harry’s arms. “Oh, my boy, I’m so sorry,” Dumbledore said softly. “I thought you were still asleep.”

 

Draco shook his head. “Mummy and Father don’t want me?” he asked plaintively.

 

“They just can’t deal with you right at this moment, my boy,” Dumbledore tried to place it in a flattering light.

 

Snape snorted. “Don’t lie to the boy, Albus. He already knows they don’t care for him. You’re just proving to him that you can’t be trusted either.”

 

Dumbledore looked sadly at Draco who nodded at Snape’s statement. “I’m sorry, child. That was not my intention either. I sought only to keep you from more pain. Please forgive me.”

 

Draco nodded and lifted his arm to wipe his nose; he froze as he almost dirtied his robe, a look of fear coming onto his face again. Harry suppressed another growl and lifted the hem of his own shirt up, exposing his belly, to gently wipe the tears and snot away. Draco looked up, eyes huge and he smiled tremulously at Harry.

 

Dumbledore smiled knowingly. “I’m glad to see you getting along so well with young Draco, Mr. Potter. That works nicely with my next request.”

 

“What sir?” Harry asked warily.

 

“Draco will be staying here this summer. Unfortunately, all the staff will be quite busy preparing for the next year and someone will need to watch young Mr. Malfoy.”

 

“What about Professor Snape?” Crabbe asked. “He’s always watched him before.”

 

“I would like nothing better than to reacquaint myself with Draco…especially at this age,” Snape said softly. “However, if I am to brew his cure, I must not be distracted. I simply do not have the time or the resources to do both.”

 

“So that brings me to you, Harry,” Dumbledore smiled. “Harry, you do not want to go back to the Dursleys, if I’m not mistaken?”

 

“Merlin, no,” Harry replied vehemently, a lilt of hope in his voice.

 

“Would you be able to stay over this summer, and watch Draco?” Harry’s face erupted in a grin. “I’d love to!” He looks down at Draco. “If that’s all right with you?”

 

Draco smiled shyly and ducked his head. “That would be fine, thank you,” he whispered.

 

“Hey!” Vince and Greg chorused.

 

“What about us?”

 

“We’re his best friends!”

 

“I haven’t asked your parents yet,” Dumbledore warned with a small smile. “But I’m sure arrangements could be made if they are agreeable.”

 

“Can we owl them?”

 

“Right now?”

 

Dumbledore pulled ink and parchment from the sleeves of his voluminous robes. “I thought you might ask.”

_____________________________________________________________________

 

Harry followed Greg and Vince down to the dungeons, vaguely surprised when they freely spoke the password in front of him. He didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, however, and just carried Draco over the threshold and into the Slytherin common room. The Slytherins immediately set to work writing their notes home to their parents and Harry and Draco wandered through the room, looking at portraits and peering into corners.

 

Eventually, even the forbidden fruit of the Slytherin home base began to sour and Harry plopped down on the couch. He’d set Draco down as soon as they entered the door, but now Draco climbed back into Harry’s lap, wrapping his little arms around Harry’s neck. With a fond smile, Harry gave the little boy a squeeze and encircled Draco’s waist to hold him on his lap.

 

“Harry?”

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“Why am I here?” Draco asked carefully. “What’s wrong with me? Why do Mummy and Father want me to be cured?”

 

Harry froze. He could hear the scritching of quills stop as even Crabbe and Goyle paused to listen to what Harry would say. He thought briefly of lying to the boy, but then he remembered how the people whom he was supposed to trust had lied to him over and over. There was no way he was going to perpetuate that. He cleared his throat.

 

“Well, Draco,” he began softly, “you’ve had a spell cast on you.”

 

“A bad spell?” Draco interrupted, a hint of fear in his boyish voice.

 

“Yeah, a pretty bad one,” Harry agreed. “It made you turn into a five year old.”

 

Draco frowned. “But I’m already a five year old.”

 

Harry shook his head. “No, pet. You aren’t. We know you as a 17-year-old young man. That 17-year-old Draco was the one who woke up this morning here in Hogwarts. He came down and had breakfast. An owl delivered a package to him. That package had a statue in it…a statue with a spell or a curse on it. The curse made you younger. It made you like this.”

 

Draco sat quietly for long moments, a frown on his face. “I’m 17?” he finally ventured. Harry nodded. Draco turned his head to Crabbe and Goyle, unashamedly listening from the table behind the couch. “So that means you two really are Vince and Greg?” The two Slytherins smiled widely and nodded. “Am I the only little boy here?” he asked.

 

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “The spell didn’t affect anyone else and Hogwarts only takes students who are 11 or older.”

 

Draco glanced up at the low ceiling. “I’m really at Hogwarts?” he asked breathily. “And I live here?” All three boys nodded vigorously. A glint came to Draco’s eye. “Can I see my room?”

 

Harry looked at Greg and Vince, this being their territory. “Sure, Dray,” Greg grinned. “We’re just about done here. Give us another minute or two and we’ll take you in.” It was actually more like five minutes later, but Draco sat patiently snuggled in Harry’s lap without complaining

 

“All right!” Crabbe rolled the parchment up with a flourish and sealed it with wax. “Let’s get you into the dorm room!”

 

Draco looked awed at the huge dorm with its five beds. “I don’t have to sleep alone?” he whispered.

 

Greg flinched but Vince carried on. “Nope. You share with me and Greg and Blaise and Nott.” Vince grinned. “Wanna bounce on the bed?” Draco’s eyes lit up but then he shook his head solemnly.

 

“No thank you. Its rude and disruptive.” Harry wanted to punch something. Rude and disruptive weren’t normal 5 year old words, he didn’t care how pureblooded one was. Draco was once again parroting his bloody parents.

 

“I think it’ll be okay, Draco,” he encouraged, his heart breaking at the little elfin face peering up at him hopefully. “Go on. Have fun with Cr-Vince.” Harry watched in amusement as Vince had to show Draco how to jump, the smaller boy gingerly practicing before making a spectacular jump that landed him on his arse on the bed. Draco got up giggling and went at it again.

 

“He’s afraid of being alone in the dark,” Greg whispered practically in Harry’s ear. Harry turned to find Greg standing almost on top of him. “His dad locked him in the punishment room for days at a time when he disobeyed.”

 

“The punishment room?” Harry asked, thinking he really didn’t want to know.

 

Greg nodded. “It was really just a big closet, I think. It didn’t have any light or any windows. Draco was always afraid of the dark and of being alone. He’d nearly lose his mind when his dad would leave him there. For days after, he’d cling to me and Vince. He wouldn’t even go to the toilet alone.”

 

Harry glanced up at Greg. “Why are you telling me all of this?” he asked the question he’d been wondering since the infirmary.

 

Greg shrugged. “Maybe I’m just hoping Vince is right.”

 

“Right about what?”

 

Greg looked past Harry to the giggling boy on the bed. “That you can save him,” he whispered.

 

Harry left Draco in Greg and Vince’s hands that night. He hugged the little boy goodnight and went back up to his dorm where he proceeded to stare sleeplessly at the ceiling for the next five hours. Pictures of Draco, both as an adorable child and as a beautiful young man, kept him awake. Now that he knew what to look for, he searched every memory of Draco Malfoy that he could lay his mind on. And in each one of them, he found some hint of the wide-eyed, frightened little boy he pulled out from behind that statue.

 

Finally, he dozed off to sleep to the memory of a giddy little boy trying to touch the ceiling while bouncing on the bed. And in his dreams…he determined that that little boy would have a trunkful of memories just like that one to take back with him to wherever or whenever he came from.