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In the dimly lit Potions classroom, Harry and Draco stood side by side, glaring at each other over a bubbling cauldron. It was typical of Snape to pair them together, undoubtedly hoping the tension between them would add some excitement to his otherwise dreary afternoon.
“You’re stirring it wrong, Potter,” Draco sneered, eyeing Harry’s clockwise motions with disdain. “You’re supposed to go counterclockwise.”
Harry huffed, his grip tightening on the ladle. “Says who? The instructions clearly said clockwise. Maybe if you actually read them instead of spending so much time on your hair—”
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “I do read them, Potter. Unlike you, I don’t need glasses to understand basic instructions.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Well, maybe if you stopped trying to make everything about appearances and actually focused on the potion—”
“Oh, because you’re such an expert, aren’t you? Why don’t you just let me handle it, since it’s obvious you’re hopeless at this?”
“You think I’m hopeless?” Harry snapped back, a little louder than intended.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I think! Give me that—”
In their tug-of-war over the ladle, Draco yanked too hard, sending the ladle flying into the cauldron. The potion, which had been bubbling harmlessly, suddenly turned a violent shade of pink and erupted in a plume of smoke.
Harry and Draco both coughed, trying to wave the thick pink mist away, but when the smoke cleared, Draco was no longer standing next to him. Instead, Harry found himself staring down at a small, tow-headed child who couldn’t have been more than five years old.
Draco—or rather, little Draco—blinked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice tiny and a bit wobbly. “And where’s my mummy?”
Harry’s jaw dropped. “Oh no… this is not happening.”
Within minutes, the entire classroom was in chaos. Students were whispering and pointing, and Harry was holding little Draco at arm’s length, trying to keep him from darting under the desks.
Snape swooped in, his eyes narrowing at the sight. “Potter, what have you done?”
“It wasn’t my fault!” Harry protested, still keeping a firm grip on little Draco, who was squirming like an eel. “It was an accident!”
Snape’s gaze flicked between the cauldron and the tiny version of Draco, who was now trying to wiggle out of Harry’s grasp to no avail. “Obviously,” Snape drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll find an antidote. But until then, it appears you’ll have to look after him.”
“What? Me?!” Harry’s eyes widened in horror. “Can’t he stay with you or—”
Snape raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’d like him to wander around the castle unsupervised, I suggest you keep him close. Or would you prefer I notify Professor McGonagall?”
Harry swallowed hard. “Fine, I’ll watch him.”
Satisfied, Snape swept away, his robes billowing dramatically behind him.
Meanwhile, little Draco had started to take in his surroundings, his eyes growing even wider as he spotted the other students. Especially the girls, who were already cooing and inching closer.
“He’s so cute!” Lavender Brown gushed, kneeling down to Draco’s level.
Draco hid behind Harry’s leg, clutching his robes tightly, peeking out cautiously.
Lavender beamed. “Oh, he’s just precious! Can I—”
“Nope!” Harry interrupted, stepping back and pulling Draco with him. “No kissing, no hugging, no—no touching, okay? He’s... he’s shy.”
Parvati giggled. “He wasn’t shy before. Isn’t that right, Draco?”
Draco blinked up at her, clearly confused, then buried his face in Harry’s robes. Harry sighed, resisting the urge to facepalm. Of all the situations to be in...
“Harry,” Ron called from across the room, smirking, “looks like you’ve got a new best friend!”
“Shut up, Ron,” Harry muttered, feeling a headache coming on. “Let’s just get him out of here before the entire school tries to adopt him.”
………..
By the time evening rolled around, Harry was thoroughly exhausted. He had spent the entire day fending off well-meaning classmates who wanted to pinch Draco’s cheeks or play with him. It didn’t help that Draco had somehow managed to charm his way into everyone’s hearts with his big, innocent eyes and soft, curious questions.
Now, as they stood in the Gryffindor common room, Draco was looking up at the staircase leading to the boys’ dormitory with trepidation.
“Where are we going?” he asked, his tiny hand still clutching Harry’s.
“To bed,” Harry replied, trying to sound patient. “It’s late, and you need to sleep.”
“But where’s my room?” Draco asked, glancing around. “This doesn’t look like my house.”
Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re staying with me tonight, okay? Just for tonight.”
Draco pouted, but allowed Harry to lead him up the stairs. As they reached the dormitory, Draco wrinkled his nose at the sight of the Gryffindor décor.
“It’s so... red,” he commented, a hint of his usual Malfoy disdain creeping into his voice.
Harry chuckled, guiding him toward an empty bed. “Yeah, well, you’ll have to deal with it.”
Draco climbed onto the bed, looking around curiously before frowning at Harry. “Where’s my pajamas?”
Harry groaned inwardly. He hadn’t even thought of that. “Um, I’ll just... transfigure something for you. Hold on.”
A few minutes later, Draco was dressed in an oversized Gryffindor jumper that reached down to his knees, making him look even smaller. He didn’t seem to mind, though. In fact, he looked oddly pleased as he snuggled into the blankets.
Harry, meanwhile, was lying on his own bed, trying to figure out how his day had gone so completely off the rails.
“Harry?” Draco’s small voice piped up from the next bed.
“Yeah?”
“Why do you wear glasses?”
Harry blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Uh, because I can’t see very well without them.”
“Oh.” There was a pause. “Are you my friend?”
Harry turned his head to look at Draco, who was staring at him with wide, curious eyes. The question hit him harder than he expected. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
Draco smiled, and for a moment, Harry saw a glimpse of the boy Draco could have been if he hadn’t been raised in a world of prejudice and rivalry.
“Goodnight, Harry,” Draco whispered, his eyelids already drooping.
“Goodnight, Draco,” Harry replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.
As he watched little Draco drift off to sleep, Harry couldn’t help but think that maybe this day hadn’t been such a disaster after all.
…….
The next morning, Harry was jolted awake by a high-pitched wail coming from the small boy next to him. He blinked blearily, trying to make sense of the situation before remembering that Draco—five-year-old Draco—had spent the night in the Gryffindor dormitory with him.
He sat up quickly, his heart racing. “Draco? What’s wrong?”
Draco was sitting in the middle of the bed, fists clenched at his sides, his face scrunched up in a way that clearly indicated he was on the verge of a full-blown tantrum.
“I want my mummy!” Draco cried, his voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes. “And my teddy bear! And—and I want to go home!”
Harry’s panic was quickly replaced by a wave of frustration. He’d barely slept, and now this. “Draco, calm down, okay? We’ll figure it out—just stop yelling!”
But Draco wasn’t having it. He sniffled, his little chest heaving as he glared at Harry. “I don’t like it here! It’s too red! And you’re mean!” He punctuated the last word by throwing one of the pillows at Harry’s head.
Harry caught the pillow, but his patience was rapidly wearing thin. “I’m not mean, Draco. I’m just trying to help, but you’re not making it easy.”
Draco’s lower lip trembled, and before Harry could say another word, he let out an ear-splitting scream of frustration, his tiny fists pounding on the bed.
“Okay, enough!” Harry shouted, unable to hold back. “You can’t just scream and expect everything to be okay! You need to calm down and—”
Harry’s words were cut off as Draco’s screams suddenly stopped. The room fell eerily silent, and Harry’s eyes widened in alarm as Draco’s face crumpled, his big grey eyes filling with tears.
“Y-You’re shouting at me!” Draco wailed, his voice breaking as tears began to spill down his cheeks. “You—you’re so mean! I don’t like you anymore!”
Harry’s heart sank. The sight of little Draco crying—really crying—was like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t meant to yell; it had just come out in his frustration. But now, seeing Draco so upset, he felt a wave of guilt crash over him.
“Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” Harry said quickly, scrambling off his bed and moving to sit beside Draco. He awkwardly patted his back, trying to be comforting. “I didn’t mean to shout. I’m just... I’m not used to this, okay? Please don’t cry.”
But Draco was in full meltdown mode now, and his sobs only grew louder. Harry looked around desperately, as if someone might magically appear and tell him what to do. Unfortunately, the rest of his dormmates had already left for breakfast, leaving him alone to deal with the pint-sized crisis.
Taking a deep breath, Harry gently pulled Draco into his arms, holding him close. “It’s okay, Draco. I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean it. I’m not mad at you, I promise.”
Draco buried his face in Harry’s chest, still hiccupping with sobs. “You—you’re not?”
“No,” Harry said softly, stroking Draco’s hair in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “I’m not mad. I’m just tired and confused, like you are. But we’ll figure this out together, okay?”
Draco sniffled, his small hands clutching at Harry’s shirt. “I just want to go home,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against Harry’s chest.
“I know,” Harry said, his heart aching for the little boy. “I know you do. But Snape’s working on it, and we’ll get you back to normal soon. In the meantime, I’ll take care of you. I’ll even get you some breakfast, yeah? How does that sound?”
Draco pulled back slightly, his tear-streaked face looking up at Harry with a small, hopeful expression. “Can I have pancakes?”
Harry smiled, relieved to see the tantrum subsiding. “Yeah, we can get pancakes. And maybe some juice too?”
Draco nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Okay. But I still don’t like red.”
Harry chuckled, ruffling Draco’s hair. “That’s fine. You don’t have to like it. But you’re stuck with it for now.”
Draco huffed but didn’t argue, instead leaning against Harry as he wiped away the last of his tears. “You’re not so bad... for a red person.”
“Thanks,” Harry said dryly, standing up and helping Draco off the bed. “Now, let’s go get those pancakes before you decide to throw something else at me.”
Draco giggled, his earlier anger forgotten as he slipped his hand into Harry’s. “Okay, but you have to cut them for me. And no shouting.”
“No shouting,” Harry agreed, leading him toward the door. “And no more throwing pillows.”
Draco gave a small, mischievous smile. “I’ll think about it.”
As they made their way to the Great Hall, Harry couldn’t help but smile too. Looking after Draco was proving to be a challenge, but in an odd way, he was starting to enjoy it. Besides, seeing Draco in this innocent, vulnerable state made it hard to stay frustrated for long.
After all, how many people got to see the softer side of Draco Malfoy—even if it did come in the form of a five-year-old who was prone to tantrums and demanded pancakes?
He was just glad that no one else had been there to witness his moment of complete exasperation. But as they entered the bustling Great Hall, Harry had a sinking feeling that his day was about to get even more complicated.
The rest of the day passed in a surprisingly pleasant blur for Harry. After the morning’s tantrum had subsided, Draco had latched onto him like a limpet, refusing to leave his side. Despite the unusual circumstances, Harry found himself enjoying the little boy’s company more than he’d expected.
They spent the morning in the Great Hall, where Harry managed to procure a stack of pancakes for Draco, cutting them into bite-sized pieces just as promised. Draco’s eyes lit up as he devoured them, chatting happily between mouthfuls about everything from his favorite toys to how he didn’t like green vegetables.
After breakfast, Harry took Draco outside for some fresh air. They wandered the Hogwarts grounds, Draco’s small hand clutched tightly in Harry’s as they explored the gardens and the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Harry was reminded of how innocent and carefree childhood could be, something he had missed out on himself. Seeing Draco like this, without the usual Malfoy bravado, made him feel protective, almost like an older brother.
When they returned to the castle, Harry took Draco to the Gryffindor common room, where they settled on the couch with a storybook he’d borrowed from the library. Draco snuggled up next to him, listening intently as Harry read aloud. By the time they were halfway through the book, Draco’s head was resting on Harry’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Harry found himself completely relaxed. He had never imagined bonding with Draco Malfoy like this, but here they were, and it felt... nice.
Later in the afternoon, Snape finally reappeared, a vial of glowing potion in hand. Harry was sitting with Draco in the common room, attempting to teach him how to play a simple card game, when Snape entered, his expression as unreadable as ever.
“Potter,” Snape intoned, holding out the vial. “The antidote is ready. Give this to Draco, and he should return to his proper age.”
Harry sighed in relief, though he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness at the thought of saying goodbye to the little version of Draco who had become so attached to him.
“Draco,” Harry said gently, turning to the boy, “we need you to drink this, okay? It’ll help you feel better.”
Draco eyed the vial suspiciously, leaning away from it. “I don’t want to,” he declared stubbornly. “I don’t like medicine.”
Harry exchanged a look with Snape, who simply raised an eyebrow as if to say, This is your problem, Potter .
Harry sighed again and crouched down to Draco’s level. “Come on, Draco. It’ll be quick, I promise. Just one little sip.”
But Draco shook his head, crossing his arms defiantly. “No! It’s yucky!”
Harry rubbed his temples, realizing this was going to be more difficult than he thought. “Draco, please. It’s important. You don’t want to stay like this forever, do you?”
Draco pouted, his bottom lip jutting out. “Maybe I do.”
“Draco—”
“I’m not drinking it!” Draco interrupted, turning his back to Harry with a huff.
Harry groaned, glancing up at Snape, who was clearly enjoying this far too much. Realizing he had no other choice, Harry gently grabbed Draco by the shoulders and turned him back around. “Okay, you leave me no choice,” he said, trying to sound firm but not harsh. “I’m going to have to help you drink it.”
Draco struggled weakly as Harry uncorked the vial and held it to his lips. “No! Harry, don’t!”
But Harry was persistent, managing to get the vial to Draco’s mouth and tipping it just enough for the liquid to flow into his mouth. Draco spluttered but eventually swallowed, making a face as he did.
“There,” Harry said, relieved. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
Draco wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking thoroughly betrayed. “It was bad,” he muttered, but he didn’t seem nearly as upset as he pretended to be.
Snape, who had been watching with an air of detached interest, finally stepped forward. “The effects should reverse momentarily,” he said, his eyes on Draco. “Stand back, Potter.”
Harry took a step back, waiting for the change to happen. But as the seconds ticked by, nothing did.
Draco blinked up at them, still very much a five-year-old. “Did it work?” he asked innocently.
Snape’s expression darkened, and Harry felt a wave of panic rising in his chest. “Why isn’t it working?” he asked, looking at Snape.
“I don’t know,” Snape muttered, his brows furrowing. “The potion should have worked instantly.”
Harry knelt back down to Draco’s level, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “Draco, how do you feel? Any different?”
Draco shook his head, looking just as confused as Harry felt. “No. Can I go play now?”
Harry sighed, standing back up. “I guess... I’ll keep looking after him until we figure this out.”
Snape nodded, though he didn’t look pleased. “I’ll consult with Professor Dumbledore. We may need to consider alternative methods.”
Harry nodded, his mind already spinning with the prospect of another day—or longer—of babysitting little Draco. But as he glanced down at the boy, who was now happily occupied with his card game, he realized he didn’t mind as much as he thought he would.
That evening, after a dinner filled with curious glances and whispered conversations from the other students, Harry and Draco made their way back to the Gryffindor dormitory. Draco was yawning by the time they reached Harry’s bed, his small body clearly exhausted from the day’s events.
Harry helped him into bed, tucking him in just as he had the night before. Draco looked up at him sleepily, his eyes half-closed. “Harry?”
“Yeah?” Harry replied, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Do you like me?” Draco asked, his voice soft and a little uncertain.
Harry’s heart twisted at the question. “Of course I do,” he said, smiling gently. “You’ve been a good little Draco. But... I also miss the old you, the grown-up Draco.”
Draco’s brow furrowed slightly. “Why?”
“Because...” Harry paused, searching for the right words. “Because the grown-up you is someone I’ve known for a long time, even if we don’t always get along. And maybe I’ve missed out on knowing you better. But I’m glad I got to spend time with you like this. You’re... you’re pretty great, you know?”
Draco smiled sleepily, his eyes closing completely. “You’re not so bad either, Harry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
Harry watched as Draco drifted off to sleep, his breathing evening out as he snuggled deeper into the blankets. With a soft sigh, Harry lay down on his own bed, pulling the covers over himself. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them, something that went beyond their current situation. But for now, he was content to close his eyes and let sleep take over.
…………
The next morning, Harry awoke to the sensation of something warm and solid pressed against him. For a moment, he was disoriented, blinking in the early morning light as he tried to remember where he was.
Then he realized there was an arm draped over his waist, and something—or someone—was nuzzling against his neck.
Harry’s eyes flew open, and he turned his head slightly to see Draco—full-grown Draco—lying next to him, his face buried in Harry’s shoulder, his breathing slow and steady.
Harry’s heart skipped a beat. “Draco?”
Draco stirred, his grip tightening around Harry’s waist as he mumbled something incoherent. Slowly, he lifted his head, blinking sleepily at Harry. “Hmm?”
“You’re... you’re back to normal,” Harry said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Draco’s eyes widened as he seemed to come to full awareness, realizing where he was—and who he was cuddled up with. But instead of pulling away, he simply smirked, his expression entirely too pleased. “Looks like I am.”
Harry’s breath caught in his throat as Draco’s smirk softened into something warmer, more genuine. Before he could process what was happening, Draco leaned in, closing the distance between them, and pressed his lips to Harry’s in a soft, lingering kiss.
Harry’s mind went blank, the only thing he could focus on being the warmth of Draco’s lips against his, the way Draco’s hand cupped his cheek, as if he was afraid Harry might pull away. But Harry didn’t pull away. Instead, he found himself leaning into the kiss, his own hand finding its way to the back of Draco’s neck.
When they finally broke apart, both of them were slightly breathless. Draco’s eyes searched Harry’s, a mix of emotions swirling in their depths. “So, do you still miss the old me?” he asked, his voice teasing but with a hint of vulnerability.
Harry smiled, his heart feeling lighter than it had in days. “I think I might like the new you even better.”
Draco grinned, his earlier smugness replaced by something softer, more affectionate. “Good,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss Harry again, this time with a bit more confidence.
As they lay there together, the morning sun streaming through the window, Harry couldn’t help but think that maybe this whole potion mishap had been a blessing in disguise. After all, it had given him a chance to see a side of Draco he never knew existed—and maybe, just maybe, it had brought them closer than he ever thought possible.