Harry Potter One Shots (Vol. I)

Childhood Consequences (Draco Malfoy)

The young master Malfoy and the young mistress Neal were found, slumped together on the grounds of the manor, lying on their sides on the grass, eyes closed and breathing soundly. Master Neal prepared to approach his daughter, ready to clutch her in his arms and look her over for any sign of injury. A hand, firm and strong, gripped his arm, keeping him at bay.

"Malfoy," Master Neal started to demand, turning to his long-time friend. The expression on Malfoy's face was enough to have the question dying on his lips. He faced forward once more, looking at the slumbering children and allowed his eyes to truly take in the scene. The children, looking at peace and surprisingly clasping each other's hand, were lying in the middle of a circle burned into the grass around them. Runes, ancient but recognisable nonetheless surrounded the perimeter. The air was sucked from his lungs. He struggled for an answer, trying to make sense of everything. "How-"

Master Malfoy didn't need to hear the rest of the question; he didn't have the answer regardless. Instead, he ordered that their wives be summoned and the mothers arrived in a heartbeat. The women, realising what had happened but unable to truly process it, rushed towards their children, bursting through the rune barrier and held them close. Cradled against their mother's chests, the children looked younger than their age. The horror of it all truly set in, weighing heavily on the chest of all four adults; they were only children, how had they managed to do this at such a young age?

Master Malfoy shook off any thought of consequences and settled his mind onto what needed to be done now. He gave his oldest friend a probing look, "We need to head to the Ministry."

"You're right." Master Neal let out a long breath, unable to tear his eyes away from his daughter. She was so young. "The last thing we need is for the ministry to arrive, investigating the underage magic. Lead the way, Malfoy."

No more words were exchanged between either man, and neither shared a glance at their wives who sat, uncaring of the dewy grass under them, with their children gathered in their arms. Neither woman relaised they were rocking their children as if they were still infants.

Over the top of her daughter's head, Mistress Neal sought out Mistress Malfoy's waiting eyes. The woman made a simple proclamation, one Mistress Malfoy agreed to without a second's hesitation, "We don't tell them until they are old enough to understand."

**********

1997

It was never surprising how easy it was to acclimatise back to Hogwarts at the beginning of every school year. It was almost like coming back home after being away for the holidays. The moment I crossed through the entrance hall at the beginning of every year, any worries about the upcoming school year, about upcoming exams faded and I was filled with the giddiness of upcoming nights spent away talking to my friends. Mother had always said that my school years would fly by and I was worried she'd been right. Rowena, how was I already in my sixth year?

Morag, sitting at my side, as we watched the newest students who were steadily sorted one by one into their houses, cast a pointed glance at her wristwatch. She frowned before casting a glance at the still large crowd of first years to be sorted; it was always the same. Morag struggled to sit through the tiresomely long spectacle of the sorting ceremony. Not that I blamed her for her impatience; it did take a while, especially if the sorting hat struggled to isolate a single house for the student.

"Honestly," Padma hissed under her breath when Morag cast another pointed glance at her watch. From across the table, Padma leaned towards us, speaking from behind tight lips, "Looking at the watch won't make time pass any quicker so just be patient and graciously welcome every student that joins us at the table."