With a drowsy flutter of his eyelashes, Draco opened his eyes. The unfamiliar surroundings gave him a moment of disorientation, but then the events of the last ten hours came flooding back, hitting him with the weight of reality. He had bared his soul to Uncle Sev, unveiling the truth about his mother's abandonment. He was to be taken in by the Weasley's, a notion that just a day ago would have seemed beyond the realm of possibility.
With a languid roll of his shoulders, he shifted his position so that his gaze no longer met the stony ceiling above him. Across the room, Mr. Weasley's warm smile came into focus. The man slowly rose from his chair, making his way towards Draco before perching on the edge of his bed.
"Hi there, Draco. How are you feeling?" Arthur inquired, his voice gentle yet full of concern.
With a slight shrug, Draco dug his shoulders deeper into the plush pillows, uncertainty lingering in his heart. On one hand, he felt a surge of gratitude towards the man beside him. Yet, an undercurrent of loss gnawed at his stomach, leaving him in a jumble of emotions.
Slowly, Arthur extended a hand, placing it lightly on Draco's forehead. His smile never wavered as he gently brushed back the blond hair, playfully ruffling it a bit.
"Can you be honest with me for a moment, Draco?" he asked, his eyes meeting Draco's.
With a resigned nod, Draco ignored the mild annoyance he felt at having his meticulously arranged hair messed up.
"Are you okay with coming to stay with my family and me? I am aware that you and Ron have had a rocky relationship," Arthur continued, his voice steady and sincere.
Draco nodded again, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I didn't really mean all those things I said. I was afraid my father would find out if I didn't act like that."
Arthur nodded understandingly. "I know you didn't, Draco. And I need you to promise me that if Ron or any of my children give you trouble, you'll tell Molly or me, alright? I don't want them making your life difficult. I've made that clear to them."
As Draco turned his gaze to Arthur, a strange warmth began to bloom in his chest. No one had ever taken such care to ensure his comfort before. It was a foreign but welcome feeling.
"Thank you," he found himself whispering.
"There's no need to thank me, Draco," Arthur reassured him. "Now, if you're ready, Severus and Albus have returned from setting up the wards on our home and have ensured its safety. I know it won't be what you're used to, but we can help you set up your room and get you settled in."
"What about school?" Draco queried, an edge of apprehension seeping into his voice.
Arthur reassured him, "Your Head of House has excused you for a week. It'll give you a chance to rest and to get to know Molly and me a bit better."
Draco gave a nod of understanding. "When can we leave? The hospital wing doesn't exactly feel like home."
"As soon as you're up for it," Arthur replied. "Also, we thought it might be best to sign the guardianship papers tonight, if you're comfortable with that. If you need more time to think it over, that's perfectly fine."
Draco seemed to contemplate for a moment before answering. "I'd prefer to do it tonight, if that's okay."
Arthur responded with a nod. "Alright then, Draco. Why don't you get dressed? I've left some clothes for you in the bathroom."
At his prompt, Draco pushed back the covers and slid out of the bed. With soft, hesitant steps, he padded across the room towards the bathroom. The young boy took a brief, blush-tinted glance over his shoulder at Arthur before closing the door behind him, causing the man to chuckle under his breath.
The sensitivity and embarrassment of boys at this age was amusing to Arthur. He reminisced about the times when his own older boys exhibited such behavior, causing both him and Molly to stifle smiles at their antics. Oh, the joys of youth.
After a few minutes, Draco reemerged from the bathroom, the fabric of his pyjamas folded with meticulous care in his hands. His silver eyes swept around the room in a brief moment of uncertainty.
"Where should I put these?" he questioned, a trace of formality coating his words.
Arthur, who had been busy tidying up the room, turned his attention to Draco, "Just leave them on the bed," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "Madam Pomfrey will take care of it. Is there anything else you want to do, Draco, or anyone you would like to see before we depart?"
Draco's gaze dropped to his folded pyjamas, his brows creasing in thought. After a beat of silence, he raised his eyes to meet Arthur's. "Can I see Uncle Sev before we go?" he asked, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic hesitance.
"Of course, Draco," Arthur agreed readily, his voice warm and supportive. "Severus is currently with Harry. Would you like to speak with him in private?"
The boy shook his head, a cascade of blonde strands falling over his eyes. "No, it's okay." His gaze sharpened slightly as curiosity glinted in his eyes. "But why is Potter here? Is he alright?" His voice wavered between genuine concern and lingering rivalry.
Arthur smiled reassuringly. "Harry will be just fine. Now, let's get going. Molly is eagerly waiting to serve you your first home-cooked meal tonight. She keeps mentioning how you're too skinny."
A blush stole across Draco's face, prompting a broader smile from Arthur. When he noticed Draco's genuine concern, he reached out, placing a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. "Just so you know, she says that about nearly everyone. There's no need to worry, just brace yourself for a feast you'll likely not be able to finish."
At the comforting words, Draco's apprehensive expression softened, and he gave a small nod of acknowledgement. Together, they began to navigate their way towards the bed where Severus and Harry were located, right next to where Ginny was peacefully resting.
As they approached, it appeared Harry had drifted off to sleep just moments ago, a half-eaten tray of food still in his lap. Severus was in the process of removing the tray and adjusting the headboard. Harry's petite stature made his recovery physically taxing, so it was unsurprising that he had dozed off mid-bite. Severus, understanding the need for rest, had quickly cleared away the uneaten food and allowed the young boy to rest.
As he adjusted the headboard, he was mildly surprised to see his godson approaching, guided forward by Arthur's gentle nudging. A few feet away, Arthur gave Draco a slightly more insistent nudge towards Severus. Despite a flicker of hesitation in Draco's eyes, Arthur responded with an encouraging smile and a nod.
As Draco made his way towards him, Severus' dark eyes softened noticeably. He gestured towards the empty chair beside him, its mahogany armrests gleaming invitingly in the soft lamplight. It was a subtle invitation for Draco to take a seat, offered with a rare tenderness that was reserved only for the boy.
"Draco," he began, his usual stern voice now lowered to a softer, almost paternal tone. "How are you feeling?" His inquiry was sincere, his gaze filled with an understanding that went beyond the surface.
Draco merely responded with a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders, a common gesture of his when he was uncertain or uncomfortable. He opened his mouth, then hesitated, his eyes darting towards Severus before quickly looking away.
"Are you mad at me?" he finally managed to voice out, his words tumbling forth hesitantly. Each syllable echoed his vulnerability, underlining the deep-rooted fear of disappointing someone he held in such high esteem.
Severus shook his head in reassurance. "Draco, how long have we known each other? I spent all of last year encouraging you to confide in someone about your situation at home. I understand that you were scared, and I'm genuinely proud of you for accepting our help. Now come here, let me assure myself that you're alright."
Reluctantly, Draco edged closer in his chair, prompting Severus to lean forward and draw the boy into a comforting hug. Initially, Draco tensed up at the contact, but soon, he relaxed into his godfather's arms. Over the years, Draco had grown accustomed to the sparing comfort Severus offered, even craving it at times. His initial reaction was always one of uncertainty, but he'd inevitably relax and find solace in the warmth.
"Draco," Severus murmured, his voice choked with emotion. "I am so incredibly proud of you."
Severus gently pulled back from the hug, holding Draco at arm's length to look at him earnestly. "I'm aware that your relationship with Harry hasn't been the best. However, I believe he's willing to offer you a second chance if you'd do the same. Regardless of how things turn out, remember that I'll always be here for you, even if you two don't see eye to eye."
The young boy nodded and averted his gaze. "I wanted to apologize to him for all the mean things I said to him last year."
A smile tugged at the corners of Severus' lips. "I'd awaken him, but he needs his rest. Also, I'm sure Arthur is eager to get you home. You can apologize the next time you see Harry, okay?"
Severus glanced up at Arthur for affirmation, which the man nodded in response, but he then opened his mouth to interject. "Only on the condition that you both remember to call me Arthur."
They both agreed and Severus assisted Draco off the chair so that he could join Arthur. As soon as Draco reached Arthur, the man wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders and led him towards his own children for farewells.
Upon Draco's arrival, a hush fell over the Weasley children. Arthur sent a subtle warning glance to his kids over Draco's head. However, it seemed his youngest boy, Ron, wasn't receiving the message as his scowl deepened.
"We'll be leaving now. As I mentioned earlier, Draco will be staying with us. We thought it would be nice for Draco to come home and relax a little, so he'll return to school in about a week. Remember what your mother and I have told you, and behave yourselves," Arthur instructed sternly.
Arthur looked at his assembled brood, a crease of concern etching his brow as he surveyed the faces of his three children, each nodding in agreement to his words. His gaze finally fell on his youngest son, Ron, whose complexion was tinged with an unmistakable air of discontent.
Reluctantly acknowledging the situation, Arthur made a subtle gesture to his wife. "Molly, could you escort Draco home, please?" he requested. His voice bore a note of weariness as he added, "It appears I need to have a conversation with Ron."
Molly nodded in compliance, her understanding smile hinting at the years of experience in dealing with their children's differing personalities. But at Arthur's words, Draco's face clouded over with a touch of apprehension. "Please don't leave me," he blurted out, the fear in his silver-grey eyes unmistakable.
Arthur heaved a gentle sigh, his heart aching at Draco's obvious distress. He crouched down to be on the same eye-level as the boy. "I'm not leaving you, Draco," he assured, his words soft and comforting. "I thought you might find it more restful to head home with Molly while I discuss matters with Ron."
"Can I stay with you?" Draco asked, his voice small and pleading, his eyes filled with a silent appeal.
Arthur raised an eyebrow at this, sharing a brief, knowing glance with his wife. It was evident that Draco, in their short time together, had formed some sort of attachment to him.
"If that's your wish, Draco, you can certainly stay with me," Arthur offered with a kindly smile. "But I will need a few more minutes here. Could you wait with Molly while I have a brief talk with Ron?" His tone was gentle, not wanting to upset the already distressed child further.
With a nod of assent, Draco hesitantly shuffled over to Molly, who welcomed him with a comforting hand resting on his slender shoulder. With a feeling of relief, Arthur rose from his crouching position and pivoted towards his youngest son.
"Ron, could you come here for a moment, please?" Arthur's voice held a note of gentle authority.
Under his breath, Ron mumbled something indistinguishable, his face a picture of reluctant compliance as he shuffled in the direction of his father. Arthur extended a comforting hand to rest on his son's shoulder while his other hand gently guided Ron's chin upward, securing eye contact.
"Ron, it's clear that something's causing you distress. Would you feel comfortable sharing what's on your mind?" Arthur's tone was soft, a soothing contrast to the tension that seemed to radiate off his son.
Ron attempted to shift his gaze away, but Arthur's gentle grip held him steady. Reading the wariness etched in his son's expression, Arthur sighed and descended onto his knees, his hands steadfast on Ron's narrow shoulders.
"Ron, it's important to communicate what's troubling you. Can you do that for me?" Arthur's voice was low and soft, aimed to comfort rather than pressure.
Straining his ears, Arthur barely caught Ron's murmured response, "Why does he have to come live with us?"
A sigh escaped from Arthur, soft and saddened as he took in the dejected expression painted on his son's freckled face. "Ron," he began patiently, "do you recall what your mother and I shared with all of you earlier today?"
Without lifting his gaze from his scuffed trainers, Ron shook his head, the simple motion confirming Arthur's suspicions.
"I promise I'll explain everything later. But for now, you should understand that Draco can't return to his parents and needs a safe place to live. Your mother and I wouldn't turn him away when we're fully capable of providing for him. I know it may take some time for you to adjust to Draco being a part of our family, but will you promise to try?" Arthur pleaded earnestly.
"Dad, I just..." Ron's protest was cut short.
"No, Ron, I need your assurance on this," Arthur interjected, his tone firm but fair.
With an audible sigh, Ron finally relented. "Alright, fine. I promise," he muttered, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.
A long sigh of relief passed Arthur's lips as he opened his arms, pulling Ron into a warm, fatherly embrace. As his arms encircled his son, he felt a pleasant surprise when Ron leaned into the hug. Perhaps, Arthur thought, this was precisely what Ron needed - reassurance, the comfort of his father's arms.
"Listen to me, Ron," Arthur spoke gently into his son's ear, his voice thick with raw emotion. "We're not replacing you. You have an irreplaceable position in our hearts, in our family. You're special to us, in ways you might not even realise. We love you, more than words can express."
Slowly, Arthur drew back from the hug, allowing his eyes to meet his son's. He saw Ron nod, his gaze shimmering with the onset of unshed tears. His words, it seemed, had hit home. Arthur remained silent, his gaze softening as he watched Ron hastily brush away the tears using the sleeve of his shirt.
"Are you feeling a bit better now, Ron?" Arthur asked, his voice imbued with a gentle concern. "Remember, if there's anything else troubling you, it's important you share it with me."
Ron's response, though shaky, was sincere, "Thank you, Dad. I love you too." The tremor in his voice belied the emotional catharsis the conversation had triggered.
Arthur nodded in acknowledgement, rising to his feet and removing his hands from Ron's shoulders. "Why don't you join your brothers now? They can fill you in on what you've missed. Remember to write to us about your school activities, and don't hesitate to use the Floo Network if you need anything."
Ron nodded, understanding evident in his eyes, before he made his way over to his siblings who were engaged in conversation with Hermione. As soon as he joined them, they welcomed him into their circle, the chatter resuming. Observing this, Arthur couldn't help but smile before he turned his attention back to the newest member of their family.
"Come on, Draco. Let's go home now," Arthur encouraged, extending his hand towards the young boy.
Draco placed his hand in Arthur's, and together with Molly, they approached the fireplace. With a pinch of Floo powder, they were whisked away by the green flames, bound for the warmth of the Burrow.
While Molly, Arthur, and Draco were arriving back at the Burrow, the four children busily exchanged words amongst themselves. They primarily sought to fill Ron in on what had transpired during his anger-induced stupor, simultaneously scolding him for his behavior. As the barrage of explanations and reprimands continued, guilt began to weigh heavily on Ron. He had indeed acted like a prat.
By the end of their discussion, Ron was steeped in remorse, his gaze lowered to his feet. However, the sight of tears welling up in their younger brother's eyes prompted Fred and George into action. Fred shared a glance with George before gently resting an arm on Ron's slumped shoulders.
"Listen, little brother, it's alright. We all get carried away by our anger at times. We're here for you, to help you learn to rein it in," Fred consoled, his voice filled with brotherly concern. "Are you still hungry, or have you had your fill of lunch?" he asked, shifting gears to address the more immediate concerns.
Ron averted his eyes, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red as he muttered, "I've had enough, thank you. And, well... I'm really sorry for being such a prat."
Fred exhaled a long sigh, his fingers gently squeezing Ron's shoulder in a show of understanding and empathy. At the same time, George sidled up next to Ron, draping his arm over his younger brother's other shoulder. Their fraternal bond was palpable, their actions speaking louder than words.
"Hey, it's okay, Ron. We all have our moments," George interjected warmly, "Remember, we're family. We love you no matter what, prat or not. Now, let's brush this off and go find Ginny, shall we?" His tone was light, yet filled with reassurance, effectively dissipating the lingering tension.
As the children shifted to sit by their sister's side, Severus watched with a sense of bemusement. It was commendable that the twins were not just looking out for Draco, but their brother too. His gaze then drifted to the girl lying on the bed. Poor Ginny was facing a challenging recovery. Despite Poppy's assurances to Molly that there was nothing that couldn't be fixed, Voldemort's mental tampering would undoubtedly make the coming time tough. Thankfully, the Mind Healer Don had referred them to was incredibly skilled and would undoubtedly offer much-needed assistance.
Just then, the sound of the floo activation caught Severus' attention. As he turned casually to see who it was, he was relieved to see Pamela stepping through. Internally, he sighed with relief. Despite his protests to the contrary, he truly needed a break. Now all he had to do was feign a futile protest about not needing rest, and then pretend to sulk away when she prevailed. At times, he wondered if people saw through his charade and simply played along, or genuinely believed he was that obstinate.
The woman briskly approached the bed where the young boy lay, and the devoted guardian seated nearby. Flashing a warm smile at Severus, she slid into the seat next to him and leveled a scrutinizing gaze at him.
"I'll keep a watchful eye on Harry for you," Pamela stated, her voice filled with resolve. "When he rouses from his sleep, we'll wrestle with that mountain of homework together. For now, though, I want you to retreat to the sanctuary of your own bed," she directed, her tone unwavering and firm.
Severus, ever the stoic and obstinate character, curled his lips into a defiant scowl, ready to combat her orders with a protest. His lips parted, a retort teetering on the tip of his tongue. But before he could articulate a single syllable, Pamela intercepted him with a stern glare of her own, a formidable force to be reckoned with.
Her finger pointed authoritatively towards the hospital wing door, her signal as unmistakable as her command. "Bed. Now. I won't entertain any arguments," she demanded, her voice resonating in the quiet room with an air of unchallengeable authority.
Resignedly, Severus nodded and rose from his chair. As he ambled towards the door, he found himself wondering how he had allowed himself to be so easily bossed around. Where were his planned rebuttals? Either he was softening, or he was truly too fatigued to muster up much of a fight. The more he pondered this, the more he convinced himself it was merely fatigue. Next time, he would resist more effectively. He couldn't possibly have softened that much. Of course, he conveniently overlooked his earlier tender moments with Harry.
Just fifteen minutes after Severus had vacated the room, a pair of eyelids fluttered open, revealing two bright green eyes. Pamela reached over and gently set the boy's glasses on his face, aiding him as he began to orient himself. As he sat up, Harry was somewhat taken aback to see Pamela seated beside his bed, beaming at him. He scanned the room for his new father, but found no sign of him. Turning back to Pamela, he shot her a questioning look.
"Good afternoon, Harry. I imagine you're wondering where Severus is. He's gone to take a short nap, and we thought we might catch up on some of your schoolwork in the meantime. Does that sound alright to you?" she asked.
Harry gave a slow nod, straightening a bit more in his bed. "Will he be back?"
The healer gifted the small boy with a tender smile. "I'm not certain, but let's let him rest for now. Perhaps later, we can head down to the dungeons together, and you can show me your room. How does that sound?"
Harry nodded, his gaze drawn to the textbooks that Pamela had begun extracting from the diminutive sack at her feet. He marveled at the sight, given that the bag seemed incapable of holding such a volume of books due to its modest size.
Pamela, chuckling lightly at Harry's astonishment, persisted in removing a multitude of books from her bag. Once she was done, she flashed a grin at Harry and playfully winked.
"It's an enlargement charm. Regardless of the external size of the bag, it can be expanded internally and adjusted such that its weight remains unchanged. After we finish your homework and some reading, would you like me to show you the spell?" she proposed.
"That would be brilliant!" Harry responded enthusiastically.
Pamela's smile widened. "Then it's settled. After you complete all your work, I'll teach you that spell. If you're interested, I could introduce you to a new spell after each of our lessons. Consider it a small reward. What do you think?"
Harry's face lit up with a modest smile, his bright green eyes twinkling in the dim light. He nodded in agreement, touched by the thoughtfulness of the gesture. The idea presented him with a welcome incentive, a much-needed ray of hope especially after those intense reading sessions that frequently left him feeling less than adequate, doubting his own potential.
Pamela, noticing his positive reaction, promptly decided to set the plan in motion. "Let's get started then," she proposed enthusiastically, her eyes beaming with anticipation. With a slight tilt of her head, she then asked, "Are you comfortable working on the bed, or would you prefer to move to a more traditional setting, like a table?"
Immersed in the warmth and comfort of his bed, Harry shook his head lightly, indicating his preference, "I'm fine here, if that's okay with you," he responded, his voice soft but firm.
"Alright then," Pamela replied, her voice echoing understanding and approval. She extended a reassuring smile in his direction, further enhancing the amiable atmosphere. "Let me fetch a tray for you. It will provide a stable platform to write on, and also a convenient place to keep your books." With these words, she excused herself momentarily to get the required item, leaving Harry to mentally prepare himself for the impending study session.
Rising from her seat, Pamela made her way to a table near the floo, where she had noticed a tray earlier. Upon retrieving it, she carried it back to Harry, gently positioning it on his lap. She then picked up his Transfiguration textbook, opened it to where Severus had left off the previous night, and set it on the tray before Harry.
"I suggest you read the next chapter silently. If you encounter any difficulties, let me know, and I'll assist you. Once you're done, I'll help you tackle these questions, alright?"
Harry nodded, shifting his gaze to the book laid before him and commencing his reading. A tad over a page in, Pamela gently halted him by placing her hand on his shoulder as she took a seat beside him on the bed.
"Remember to read slowly, Harry. Perhaps try following the words with your finger; it may aid in moderating your reading pace," she suggested.
Harry nodded and resumed his reading, this time with his finger tracing each word across the page. Pamela monitored his progress, and was gratified to observe that his finger-guided reading technique indeed improved his pace. She acknowledged that Harry might be too self-conscious to employ this strategy in the presence of his peers, yet it could be a beneficial approach during home reading.
Approximately ten minutes later, Harry finished the passage and glanced up at Pamela, wearing a content smile. "I think I'm ready for those questions," he announced.
Pamela returned the boy's smile. "You are? Well then, let's tackle them."
She extracted the question sheet that Minerva had handed her and positioned it before Harry. It was truly gratifying when the teachers were cooperative and willing to go the extra mile to support their students. She had requested all of Harry's instructors to craft questions centered around the points that Harry was supposed to discuss in his essay. This approach aimed to help him organize his thoughts, so that when he began writing, he would know what he was to discuss. Additionally, it was critical for enhancing his reading comprehension, as it would allow him to ascertain whether he had sufficiently understood the main ideas of the passage.
All the teachers had readily agreed to assist the young boy, with the exception of Professor Binns. He had always disregarded her attempts to support students in the past, staunchly adhering to his antiquated teaching methods and demonstrating no inclination to change. Regardless, it wasn't a concern, as she had a wealth of previous material on the Goblin Wars to guide Harry in crafting his essays.
Setting that aside for the time being, Pamela refocused her attention on Harry. With minimal assistance, Harry responded to all the questions Minerva had prepared for him. Upon completion, Pamela assisted him in penning the assigned essay due the next day.
The small, dark-haired boy seemed to do well with his essay. Pamela paused him a few times to correct spelling and basic grammar errors, but overall, it was a thoughtfully constructed and well-written essay. It appeared that having Harry write answers to every point he needed to address significantly aided his understanding.
Once Harry finished his first essay, Pamela handed him the next book and his subsequent assignment to work on while she gave his essay one final review, banishing the more egregious ink blots. As she did so, she mentally bookmarked the need to persist with Harry's penmanship lessons alongside his other subjects. Truthfully, the boy's handwriting resembled a spider's scrawl, not significantly better than the esteemed Professor Snape's handwriting. Suppressing a chuckle, she shook off the amusing image of Professor Snape taking penmanship lessons from her. That would never transpire, not even in a million years.
A few hours later, Harry had completed all of the schoolwork he had missed the previous day and the current one. All his teachers concurred that if he could catch up on the assignments missed yesterday and today, he should be fine with missing the first week or so, given Pamela's assurance that he had at least read and comprehended all the concepts covered in class.
Post-completion of his assignments, Pamela spent another hour or so working with Harry to enhance his reading skills, teaching him a few tricks to facilitate silent reading in class. The duo then spent some time improving Harry's penmanship, much to Harry's surprise and delight, Pamela pulled out a small, rainbow-colored grip aid that would help Harry maintain the correct finger positioning as he wrote with the quill.
Still thrilled with Pam's unexpected aid, Harry became even more excited when Pamela initiated teaching him the new spell. First, they practiced the wand movement, which was somewhat circular but ended with a sharp flick. Once Pamela was convinced he had mastered the wand motion, she patiently taught him the correct pronunciation of the two words. By the end of the brief lesson, Harry was quite exhausted, yet overjoyed at having learned a new spell!
Despite his exhaustion, Harry was too eager to get out of bed when Pam announced they were finished for the day and asked if he would like to show her his new room. The Healer chuckled at Harry's enthusiasm and assisted him in putting away all the books they had extracted from her bag. They also ensured Harry's work was neatly organized and ready to be handed in the next day.
Once they had tidied up, Harry made his bed, and Pamela attended to the remaining cleanup from the mess they had created during their few hours of study in the hospital wing.
Once the last items had been carefully tucked away in their designated spaces, Harry pivoted on his heels, turning to face a smiling Pamela.
He found his gaze meeting Pamela's. There was something reassuringly gentle about the Healer; her smile, as soft as morning sunshine, warmed his heart and eased his worries.
"Come on then," she invited, her voice as smooth and soothing as a lullaby. She extended her elbow towards him in an old-fashioned, chivalrous gesture, her fingers curled elegantly around her forearm.
"We'll head down to your quarters now," she continued, her tone hushed yet firm, drawing his attention to the mission ahead. "We need to tread softly once we're there, though. We wouldn't want to ruffle any feathers and wake up Severus."
The journey down to the dungeons was brief, but by its end, Harry was almost out of breath. The boy was visibly fatigued from the previous night's wanderings and the morning's activities. Upon reaching the door, Harry said the password, and they both entered. Recalling Pamela's earlier instruction, Harry tiptoed to his door and opened it for Pam.
Pamela, finding Harry's cautiousness amusing, followed his lead and entered their quarters, then proceeded to the boy's room. Once inside Harry's room, Pam closed the door behind her and cast a silencing spell to ensure they wouldn't disturb Severus.
"We can speak normally, Harry. I've just cast a silencing spell so we won't disrupt Severus."
Harry nodded, and his eyes lit up. "Isn't my room brilliant? I've never had something so big before!"
Pamela offered the boy a soft, somewhat saddened smile as she nodded. "It indeed is a beautiful room. Do you want to show me those stuffed animals on your bed? They seem like the perfect companions to hug when you're not feeling well or feeling scared."
Happily, Harry nodded, rushed over to his bed, picked up his small kneazle and lion plushies, and brought them over for Pam to examine. Harry handed Lio over to Pam for inspection, but he clung tightly to Shadow.
"And who might this fine young lion be?" she inquired, her voice warm and teasing as she playfully nuzzled the toy.
"He's called Lio," Harry supplied, his voice carrying a tender affection for the plush companion.
"What an enchanting name!" Pamela gushed, her fingers gently tracing the stitches on Lio's fur. She then noticed another small figure cradled protectively in Harry's arms. "Who's this cuddly fellow in your arms? He looks like he dispenses the most splendid hugs," Pamela added, her eyes twinkling with an affectionate twinkle.
Harry's lips tugged upwards in a soft smile as he glanced down at his other plush friend. "This is Shadow. Severus got him for me," he admitted, a hint of admiration lacing his words. It was clear to Pamela that Shadow held a special place in Harry's heart.
Pamela gifted him another smile and handed back Harry's lion. "I'm glad he did. Now, I heard something about Severus giving you a small notebook to write in. Would you like to write for a bit? I can assist you with your penmanship a little more, if you'd like."
Harry blushed and looked down a bit. "Severus spelled it so that only I can read it. Is that okay?"
The Healer nodded. "Yes, Harry, that's perfectly fine. I can just correct your grip if necessary. Do you want to tell me what you're planning to write about? You don't have to, but verbalizing it might assist you in expressing your thoughts on paper."
Harry hesitated and looked down, blushing profusely. There was no way he was going to tell her he planned to write about last night and the spanking this morning! That was too embarrassing!
Pamela smiled knowingly. "That's okay, Harry. Why don't you get your journal and start writing? Do you mind if I sit over here?"
Pamela gestured to a chair set next to Harry's desk. Severus had arranged it there the previous night so he could sit beside Harry when he needed help with his homework. It provided an alternative to the kitchen table.
Harry shook his head and walked over to the desk to fetch his journal and an inkwell for his quill. Pamela took her place next to the desk, pulling out a few more of those rubbery grippy things for Harry's quills. As soon as the boy sat down, Pamela placed them on the desk in front of him.
"I want you to put these on all your quills, okay, Harry. If you lose some, that's fine, just tell me so I can get you more."
Harry nodded and fixed one onto the quill he planned to use. He then opened his journal and began writing about the events of the previous day and that morning.
The next hour passed in this manner, with Harry writing and Pamela intermittently assisting him with his grip, ensuring he held the quill upright and not at a slant as his wrist seemed inclined to do. She pondered that his wrist's tendency to lean might be due to the recent break. Perhaps she should inquire more about that wrist from Don; there might still be something amiss with it.
When Harry was nearing the completion of his journal entry, they heard a soft knock on the door. Although Pamela had placed a silencing charm on the room, she ensured they could still hear if anyone wished to enter, in case Severus desired admittance.
Upon hearing the knock, Pamela called for the visitor to enter and was pleased to see a more rested Severus stepping into the room.
She then turned and gently patted Harry's arm to capture his attention. "I'll be right back, Harry. I'm just going to talk to Severus for a moment. Keep on writing; you're doing an excellent job."
Harry smiled at them both, then redirected his gaze back to his small book, continuing to fervently scribble. Pamela offered the hard-working boy a warm smile before rising from her chair to join Severus outside Harry's room.
As Pamela exited the room, she closed the door behind her and reversed the silencing spell so Harry couldn't overhear their discussion about him. Then, beaming at Severus, she gestured towards the couch in the living room.
Severus looked at Pam with a hint of worry. "Is everything okay?"
Pamela returned his worry with a reassuring smile. "Yes, you worrywart. I just wanted to update you on Harry's progress and introduce you to a few new techniques that will assist Harry in his studies."
Severus exhaled a small breath of relief and nodded. He followed the Healer over to the couch and sat next to her, attentive as she briefed him on her observations of Harry's progress and achievements. She also explained the reading strategies and essay-writing techniques Harry had learned that day, as well as suggesting ways to further reinforce these habits.
Throughout Pamela's explanation, Severus either nodded his understanding or scribbled the information onto a conjured notepad, keen to absorb all that the Healer was imparting.
When she concluded her explanation of Harry's academic progress, Pam graced Severus with a compassionate smile and an inquisitive look.
"Do you have any questions or need further information?"
Severus shook his head initially, but then a thought occurred to him. "You mentioned something about Harry's wrist and how he holds his quill. Could it be due to his other arm being in a sling? He might feel a bit awkward at the moment and could be compensating for his inability to hold the paper down with his other hand."
Pamela acknowledged this with a nod. "I considered that, but the last time I worked with him, I noticed him struggling to maintain the hand position that Don had instructed. These grips will help maintain his finger positioning, and whenever possible, if you see his hand tilting, try to straighten it or remind him. As you know, my specialty in Healing involves learning disabilities, so I'll ask Don, who has more practical experience, to examine his wrist again. I don't think anything's amiss, but it can't hurt to double-check."
Severus nodded once more before turning his gaze towards the door behind which Harry sat. "Otherwise, how does Harry seem to you? Was he concerned about anything or did he behave unusually in any way?"
The Healer reached out and offered a reassuring pat on Severus's hand. "Don't fret so much, Severus. Harry is doing just fine. To answer your question, no, he did not act strangely or seem worried. You made the right call this morning. Establishing boundaries for him was a wise decision, and I'm genuinely relieved you enforced them. Had you not done so, he might be- no, scratch that- he would be in worse shape right now. He's going to test his boundaries, though, and gauge how much he can push you. Don't be surprised if he rebels soon; just continue to treat him as you have been. Kind, yet firm."
Severus sighed and nodded. He was aware that Harry might challenge the limits to see what he could get away with. Children in new situations often did that, but he had harbored hope that Harry would bypass that phase. Having a Healer suggest that Harry might enter that phase promptly dashed those hopes.
Recognizing the initial signs of worry creeping into Severus's eyes, Pamela reached out again, patting his hand reassuringly. "I didn't mention that to cause you worry, Severus, but to prepare you should Harry choose to act out."
Observing Severus silently for a few moments, Pamela concluded that his worry wasn't going to dissipate anytime soon. It might be best to entirely shift the topic, perhaps helping the man to relax.
"Now, Don is due to visit tomorrow to check on the bite on Harry's arm, so I'll just ask him to examine his wrist while he's at it. It's not an urgent matter, so I don't want you fretting. Besides, Don and I have a dinner date tonight that he won't miss for anything! If I have to yank that man out of his office by his ear, I will, just to ensure his presence at one dinner! Is it really so difficult to make a single dinner appointment or at least call if he's not going to make it? I mean, I waited there for over an hour! I understand there was an emergency, but he could have at least informed me he wasn't going to make it!"
By the end of Pam's tirade, Severus had a hand clamped over his mouth, struggling to suppress his laughter. Despite his best efforts, he was failing. The image of Don being led out by his ear was simply too amusing. Evidently, Pam was so absorbed in her rant that she forgot who her audience was. Severus didn't halt her, though; instead, he sat back and savored the comically painful scenarios her words were painting. It was too entertaining to interrupt, and besides, it would serve as excellent blackmail material for Don later on.
Finally, seeming to recognize her surroundings, Pam clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening as she turned to look at Severus. "You're not to mention a word of what I just said to anyone, understand? If you do..."
Anyone who thought Severus looked intimidating when issuing threats would have quaked at Pam's glare. All thoughts of blackmail flew out of the window the moment Pam fixed him with that look. He was beginning to realize what a formidable witch she could be when provoked.
"I... I won't say anything."
Pam smiled at the man before her. "That's a wise decision, Severus. Now, why don't you go see Harry, and I'll take my leave."
Severus nodded and watched as the woman rose from his couch, heading to Harry's room to remove the wards she had placed. What surprised both the Healer and Severus was the sight that greeted them when she opened the door to bid Harry goodbye. The boy leapt from his chair, enveloping her in a one-armed hug. As soon as she recovered from her initial surprise, she returned the embrace until he pulled away to look up into her face.
"Thank you for helping me with my schoolwork," Harry expressed his gratitude sincerely.
Smiling gently, she patted the boy on the shoulder. "It's no problem, Harry. I'm just glad I can help you. I have to go now, but I'll be back tomorrow to assist you with anything that's giving you trouble."
Harry nodded and gave the witch one last hug before she departed via the floo. After the Healer left, Severus approached, draping an arm around Harry's shoulders.
"Are you ready for a little dinner, Harry?" He asked, a teasing note in his deep voice.
Yes, Daddy. Can we please have turkey?" His voice held a hopeful note, his large green eyes widening at the prospect of his favorite meal.
A fond smile tugged at the corners of Severus' lips as he reached out, playfully ruffling his boy's already messy hair. "Turkey, eh?" He echoed thoughtfully. "I think that can certainly be arranged. On one condition, though: you must promise to eat all your vegetables as well. They are essential, you know. They'll help you grow nice and strong, just like you wish to."
A tiny pout formed on Harry's lips, but he quickly replaced it with a determined nod. "Ok," he said, his voice resolute, accepting the terms of the deal.
"Wonderful," Severus straightened up, his hand resting on Harry's shoulder for a moment. "Now, go wash your hands and get yourself ready. I'll take care of ordering the food."
As Harry nodded in agreement, he hurried to the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind him.
The remainder of the night unfolded quietly for the pair. They shared a splendid meal during which Severus actually consumed a decent portion, after consuming Don's potion, of course. To Severus's delight, Harry opened up, sharing what he had written in his journal and all he had learned that day from Pam.
Meanwhile, as Harry was adapting to a somewhat regular life, or at least a bit more normal than it had been, back at the Burrow, Draco Malfoy was being introduced to his new home. Upon arriving via floo, Draco had practically glued himself to Arthur. If it hadn't been such a desperate grip, revealing the poor boy's fear, it would have been endearing to see a twelve-year-old behave this way.
Surprisingly, Arthur had managed to dislodge Draco's fingers from his robes, but the boy didn't venture off to explore like a typical child would. Instead, the two traversed the house together, the older wizard showing the younger where everything was located, including where he was going to sleep.
Bill, their oldest, had moved out the previous year, as had Charlie, the second oldest, leaving their room vacant. They had initially promised Percy he could move in and have his own room, but they were confident he would understand that Draco was in more immediate need of it. At first, they wanted Draco to share a room with Ron, who was of the same age, but after considering Draco's behavior in the hospital wing, they deemed this arrangement more suitable. It would also provide Draco with a sanctuary he could retreat to if needed.
Upon entering the room, Draco was taken aback to see a trunk filled with his belongings from home placed at the foot of his bed, with a small white envelope on top. With evident confusion, he turned and shot a questioning look at Arthur.
Arthur sighed and guided the boy to sit on his new bed. Sitting down next to him, Arthur made sure Draco was paying close attention before he began to explain.
"Your mother spoke with the Headmaster after leaving you in the hospital wing. She arranged for your belongings to be sent here by a house elf. She suspected that your father, once aware of this new arrangement, might destroy your things, so she had them sent here for your use. That letter on top of your trunk is from her. If you want, I can stay here while you read it, or I can leave to give you some privacy. Whatever makes you feel comfortable."
Ever since Arthur had mentioned the trunk and, more importantly, the letter, Draco couldn't tear his eyes away from it. With his gaze fixed on the trunk and its intriguing contents, Draco nodded and murmured something akin to "you can be here" to Arthur.
The man nodded, reaching over to retrieve the letter. He gently handed the envelope to the boy, watching as his shaky hands opened it to reveal its contents.
Dear Draco,
I am sorry for the way things have transpired, but this is for the best. Severus is right; you need to distance yourself from your father, who has already caused you too much harm. I would have intervened sooner, but I must confess, I was more preoccupied with my own concerns than yours.
I apologize as well for not leaving your father alongside you. This decision, I take in your best interest, and I hope you will understand someday. If I were to leave with you, your father would stop at nothing until we were found and "punished". I can't expose you to such a risk, my little dragon. You are safer without me.
Promise me you will behave appropriately with whoever takes you in. The Headmaster refuses to tell me where you are for your safety, and I cannot blame him. This will also be my last letter to you, and I plead you not to send me any. I don't want your father finding anything that could potentially lead him to your location.
Make me proud, my little dragon, and strive to excel in life. I am certain we will reunite someday. Until then, know that I love you with all my heart.
Mother
By the end of his mother's letter, Draco was looking down, tears welling up in his eyes. Observing the forthcoming tears, Arthur was grateful that Draco had permitted him to stay while he read the letter. He carefully placed an arm around Draco's shoulders, holding him close as the first of many sobs escaped the young boy.
Almost half an hour passed as Draco calmed down with Arthur's aid. Once the majority of tears had been shed, the man beside him offered a handkerchief, but instead of merely handing it over, he gently began to wipe Draco's face for him. No one had ever shown him such a considerate gesture; it was comforting to feel cared for.
"Do you want to talk about the letter, or do you just want to lie down for a bit?" Arthur asked softly.
Draco, still somewhat in a daze, glanced down at the letter he was still holding. "This is really happening, isn't it?"
Arthur nodded, gently patting the boy's shoulder. "It is, Draco. But remember, we are here for you and always will be."
Nodding, Draco let the letter fall to the floor. "I..I think I need to lie down for a little bit."
"Alright, Draco. There's a blanket here for you, and don't worry about unpacking right now. Molly will help you with that later."
Again, the boy nodded, allowing Arthur to assist him into the bed. Arthur then picked up the fallen letter from the floor, setting it down gently on the desk. He knew that Draco would want to keep that letter, even if it evoked painful memories.
"Have a good rest, Draco. I'll come up to wake you for dinner later. If you need or want anything, just find Molly or me, and we'll help as best we can. Molly is going to fetch Ginny later, so don't be startled if you see her around."
As Draco's eyes fluttered shut, Arthur pulled the blanket up to tuck in his newly found son. He then crossed the room to the door, closing it behind him before descending to see whether Molly had returned with their other child yet.
A few hours later, Draco woke with a start. One of those nightmares had plagued him again. Amidst the flurry of leaving his home and moving in with the Weasleys, his original problem had seemingly been forgotten.
Sitting up, he rubbed his sleepy eyes, surveying the room. Only now was he fully absorbing the state of the room he was in; he'd been too engrossed in the letter before he'd drifted off to sleep.
The room was considerably smaller than his old one, yet it felt more homely and far less rigid. Despite being here for only a few short hours, he felt more at ease in this room than he ever had at his parents' home. There, the walls had been cold shades of silver and grey with a hard bed in the corner. However, this room was adorned with warm hues of cream and brown, and he had to admit, the bed was among the most comfortable he had ever slept in.
Quietly slipping out of bed, he padded over to the trunk positioned at the foot of his bed. Carefully lifting the lid, he discovered that his mother had not only packed his clothing, but also his childhood keepsakes.
There were merely a few toys, but they were the ones his mother knew he treasured dearly. When he had turned ten, his father had declared him too old for such trifling toys and had threatened to burn them unless Draco discarded them first. His mother had skillfully rescued them, concealing them so that Draco could reclaim them someday. It was a relief knowing that he would be able to see his cherished possessions again.
Picking up the teddy bear, he hugged it close to his chest, inhaling the lingering scent of his mother's perfume on the plush toy. Taking a deep breath, he held it for a moment before exhaling, carrying the bear to his bedside table. He carefully positioned his beloved bear against the wall, then returned to his trunk.
Bending down again, he retrieved the remaining toys from his trunk, carrying them to rest on the shelf that was positioned above his bed. Taking care to place the yo-yo, shrunken set of blocks, and the shrunken baby broom, Draco made sure that every item was nestled securely, far enough back so it wouldn't tumble or be knocked about.
Once he was satisfied that his cherished belongings were safe, he sat back on his bed, admiring his work. Just then, a soft knock on his door startled him; he hadn't anticipated anyone coming up to see him.
Quietly, he called out to grant permission for the person behind the door to enter. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, making himself more presentable for his guest.
Molly opened the door and entered, carrying a small tray of tea and cookies for them to share. She had a charm on each of the rooms that indicated whether the occupant was asleep or awake. It wasn't a tool for spying on her children, in fact, she rarely glanced at it. The purpose was merely to ensure that she wouldn't disturb them if she decided to knock on their doors.
With a warm smile, she placed the tray next to Draco's teddy bear on the bedside table. Then, she took a seat on the desk chair she'd pulled out from under the desk.
"How was your rest, Draco?" she asked.
Draco merely shrugged his shoulders, replying, "Ok, I guess."
Slightly frowning, Molly decided to probe a little further. "Just ok? Was anything wrong, dear?"
Draco shrugged again, but didn't offer any further comment.
Molly let out a small sigh, understanding that now might not be the right time to press for answers. They would surface sooner or later, and then they would be able to provide him assistance. Regaining her smile, she nodded her head, "That's okay, dear. If anything ever does bother you, all you have to do is tell us. Now, I see you've already started unpacking a bit. I brought you up some cookies and tea, and thought I could help you if you want. How does that sound?"
"Ok," Draco responded, his voice filled with a hint of curiosity.
Molly beamed at the boy again, pouring tea into two cups. "Do you want any cream or sugar?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with warmth.
Draco thought for a moment and replied, "A little cream, please." He watched as Molly added a splash of cream to his cup, the aroma of tea filling the air.
"And may I have a cookie?" Draco asked, his tone polite yet hopeful.
"Of course, dear, that's why I brought them," Molly said with a gentle smile. She reached for a plate of freshly baked cookies and selected one, placing it on a small saucer. "These are some of my favorites to make. Maybe you and I could bake some together sometime," she suggested, her voice filled with a touch of anticipation.
Draco's eyes brightened at the idea. "I would love that," he replied, his curiosity piqued.
Molly nodded in delight, her apron swaying slightly as she moved. She handed Draco the cookie and the cup of tea, carefully balancing both in her hands. "Thank you," Draco said graciously, his gratitude evident in his voice.
"You're very welcome, Draco," Molly replied warmly. Her gaze then shifted to Harry, who had been quietly observing the interaction. "Does your little friend here want a cookie as well?" she asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "He could use a little fattening up too."
Draco blushed and looked down at his lap, shaking his head. "No, and it's okay to treat him like any other toy. That's all he is, an inanimate object, and it's immature to speak with him as if he had feelings."
As Draco shared this about his bear, Molly could almost hear his father's voice resonating behind his words. What a cruel man, telling a child not to play with their stuffed animal.
Kindly, Molly warmed her voice up a notch, gently placing a hand on Draco's knee. "You know, Draco, here in this house it's all right to act silly and talk to our toys. It can actually make you feel better sometimes. I can assure you, my doll Sally has heard many secrets no one else knows, and because I confide in her, my heart feels lighter, and I feel better. I think your teddy bear there would be more than accommodating for that job. Do you want to give it a go?"
Draco nodded as Molly positioned the bear in his lap, but then looked back up at her, querying, "What do I say to him?"
"Well, you can tell him anything you want. Why don't you start by telling him how good those cookies are?" Molly smiled at the boy, moving his cup of tea a little further away to prevent it from being knocked over.
Draco looked at the bear and told him how the cookies were baked just the way he liked them; chewy in the middle, but crunchy on the outside. He also confessed to the bear that he had never baked cookies before and thought that it would be fun.
That was as far as the conversation went, but Molly was pleased. It was a start. She truly hoped that Draco would converse with the bear more often, maybe about not-so-pleasant topics. Don and Severus had said that the boy would likely not open up to any adults about his past easily and suggested that it would be therapeutic for him to confide in a toy or write down his feelings. Severus had pointed out that Draco didn't enjoy writing and it would be more beneficial for him to talk to a stuffed animal of some sort. That way, he might engage in play for a few more years before he deemed himself too old to do so.
As soon as Severus had mentioned a stuffed animal, she had one picked out in her mind and had actually planned on giving it to him that evening. However, she was grateful that his mother had packed one of his own. While the plush toy she had selected for him was suitable, it was old and had a few tears in it.
Soon, Draco and Molly had finished their tea time, and Draco was beginning to feel comfortable around her. There was something about Molly that reassured him, much like Arthur had done earlier.
Together, they unpacked the rest of Draco's clothing and belongings, placing them neatly on the shelves in his closet. Molly discreetly checked the tags on Draco's clothes to determine his size for future reference, anticipating the rapid growth spurts that boys his age often experienced.
By the time they finished arranging everything, it was nearly time for dinner, and they both felt a growing hunger. They descended to the kitchen, where Molly allowed Draco to assist with preparing the meal. Normally, she would insist that guests sit and rest while she handled the cooking, but she could tell that Draco genuinely wanted to help, and he seemed to enjoy doing so.
Once dinner was ready and arranged on the table, Molly summoned Arthur and Ginny for the meal. She was pleasantly surprised when Ginny and Draco began amicably discussing school over dinner. Molly hoped Draco would blend well with her family, and the evening seemed to be off to a promising start.
A New Home