Harry Before Hogwarts
When he had finished, Draco turned his head so that his lips brushed against the boy’s ear, and spoke gently but loudly, “Are you alright now?”
The boy pulled away, but just enough to look up at him with those heterochromatic eyes. With an expression of ardent confusion, he pointed at himself.
“Yes, you,” Draco enunciated slowly whilst pointing at the boy. “Are you alright?”
Slowly, the boy nodded as his brows creased in confusion, as if he did not understand why Draco was asking him such a thing.
“What is your name?” he asked next, but the boy’s confusion grew, and Draco could feel the boy’s body tensing up in his arms. Again, his hand went to the boy’s nape, massaging it, and again the boy began to relax. Wondering if perhaps the boy merely didn’t understand, Draco pointed to himself, “Draco.”
The boy looked at the pointing finger between them and then at Draco as Draco repeated his name. The boy then nodded. Taking that as understanding, Draco then pointed at the boy. The boy gapped, his mouth opening and closing, and his mounting distress evident as no sound came from him.
“He may not know how to speak,” Severus said quietly.
Draco looked at him, his brows raising. “Doesn’t know how to speak?”
The boy, seeing Draco’s head turn, finally became aware of Severus’s presence. His eyes widened and he pressed himself tightly against Draco’s side. Immediately, Draco went back to soothing the boy.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said against the boy’s ear. “You’re safe. That’s my Uncle Severus.” He drew the boy’s attention to his finger, bringing it close to the boy’s face, and then pointed at his uncle. “Severus. Safe.”
The boy nodded, relaxing, but did not move away from Draco.
Once again drawing the boy’s attention, Draco pointed to himself. “Draco.” He pointed to his uncle. “Severus.” And then he pointed to the boy, lightly poking his tiny round nose.
The boy shook his head.
“Can you write it?” Draco asked.
Again, the boy shook his head, but this time he pulled away slightly as he bit his bottom lip, thinking. The distress was evident on his face, but he didn’t look quite so afraid anymore. He looked around for a moment, before finally pointing to Draco.
“Draco,” Draco said.
The boy then pointed to his uncle.
“Severus,” he said.
The boy pointed to himself and then shook his head as he crossed his arms in front of him to create an X.
Draco tilted his head. “You don’t have a name?”
The boy shook his head again, frowning.
“Can you speak?” he then asked.
This time, the boy shrugged.
“Draco,” he said slowly, moving closer to speak against the boy’s ear. “Say it: Dray-koh.”
The boy opened and closed his mouth several times, his brows crinkled in concentration. When he eventually did make a sound, it was rough, the pitch awkward, and it looked like the action was genuinely uncomfortable for him to do. “jwr-EEY-GOoh.”
Draco’s eyebrows shot up at the attempt, and he looked to his uncle.
“Smile,” Severus ordered quietly. “Encourage him.” He smiled at the boy and nodded, as his uncle continued, “If the hearing damage happened before he was able to speak, he likely never learned how to then.”
“Your name is going to be impossible, then,” Draco quipped, before pointing at his uncle. “ss-EH-Vah.”
Again, the boy took a moment of just opening and closing his mouth before he finally spoke, “EH-fah.”
“Close enough,” Draco declared, and then grinned as he pointed at the boy. “Héri.”
“H-Harry?” Severus spluttered, shocked that Draco knew the boy’s name. How was that even possible? Narcissa had glamoured away the scar!
“It’s Icelandic,” Draco beamed. “Means ‘hare,’ like the one that led me to his core.” He returned his attention back to Harry, and repeated the name slowly.
“air-WEE,” Harry repeated back, matching Draco’s grin when Draco nodded. He then pointed to each of them in turn as he carefully said, “Jrègo. Efa. Airré.”
“Very good, Héri!” Draco declared, pulling the boy into a hug.
Severus couldn’t help but smile. He had never seen his godson so openly physical, and it to be with a boy who clearly needed that sort of affection—it was a beautiful thing.