New Beginning
Harry exhaled quietly, running a tired hand through his hair as he glanced at the small figure curled up on the bed. Draco had finally drifted off, his tiny body pressed into the blankets, one hand still loosely clutching the sleeve of Harry’s shirt as if afraid he’d disappear. Even in sleep, there was a slight crease in his brow, as if he expected to wake up and find it had all been a cruel trick. Hermione has left to Ministry to get the papers required for adoption, and start the adoption process. Harry had no doubt the adoption would go smoothly, with Kingsley himself wanting this to happen, in fact he had manipulated the situation so this would happen.
Harry sighed. It had only been a day, but already, it felt like his entire world had shifted.
Draco Malfoy was a Little. A scared, fragile, underfed Little who had spent Merlin-knows-how-long in a hellish place, being treated as nothing more than a burden. And now, he was Harry’s responsibility.
The weight of that truth settled heavily in his chest as he turned away from the bed, moving toward the supplies Ron and Hermione had brought. Harry charmed the bed so that he’d hear if Draco woke up. He and Ron managed to carry everything to the living room so Harry can go through them without disturbing the sleeping baby. They’d gone a bit overboard—not that Harry could blame them. Stacks of tiny clothes, soft sweaters, thick blankets, bottles of baby-safe lotion and shampoo, even stuffed animals were piled neatly inside the bag, which certainly had a quite a good extension charm performed on it, no doubt it was Hermione.
"Mate, are you just going to stand there staring, or are you actually going to have a go at it?"” Ron teased from the couch, his feet propped up on the table as he flipped through a Quidditch magazine he had found on the coffee table.
Harry rolled his eyes but crouched beside the bags anyway, pulling out a small, knitted jumper with golden snitches stitched into the fabric. He ran a hand over it, the soft wool reminding him of the Weasley sweaters Mrs. Weasley made every year.
"It looks like something your mum would make," he remarked, glancing up. Harry's eyes widened as he spotted Hermione standing at the doorway to the living room, her bushy hair haloed by the soft afternoon light.
Hermione smiled in amusement. “No, but when she hears about Draco, she’ll probably knit a whole wardrobe for him.”
Ron snorted. “More like a whole trunk’s worth. She’ll have kittens when she learns about this.” He peered at the sweater in Harry’s hands and grinned. “Good thing we grabbed a couple of those. Bet the little guy will love ‘em.”
Harry hummed in response, setting the sweater aside and digging through the rest of the clothes. Tiny socks, mittens, a few soft cotton shirts—all smaller than anything he’d ever bought before. The sight of them made his stomach twist. How long had Draco gone without proper clothes? Without warmth?
He swallowed the thought down, focusing instead on the other items. There were toys—stacking blocks, a miniature enchanted Hogwarts Express, soft plushies of magical creatures, and even a little wooden broomstick (which Harry was definitely putting away until he determined if Draco was old enough to use it safely).
“Hope he likes trains,” Ron commented, reaching over to roll the small Hogwarts Express toy across the table. It let out a tiny, enchanted whistle. “Figured he might like something familiar, you know?”
Harry glanced at the toy and nodded, feeling another rush of gratitude toward his friends. “Yeah… I think he will.”
As he sorted out the last of the supplies—potions for proper nutrition, a few bedtime books, and an assortment of soft blankets, the muggle formula powder for young littles—Hermione gently placed a folder on the table in front of him. “And this,” she said, her voice quieter now, “is for when you’re ready.”
Harry’s stomach clenched as he recognized the stack of parchment inside. Adoption papers.
He stared at them for a long moment, the weight of the decision pressing down on him.
“You don’t have to fill them out right away,” Hermione added gently, as if reading his mind. “But I thought you might want to at least look through them.”
Harry exhaled through his nose, nodding. He did want to look—he needed to. Because the idea of sending Draco anywhere else, of letting someone else decide his future, made something in his chest tighten painfully.
“Thanks, Mione,” he said, his voice quieter than before.
She gave him a soft smile before turning back to the books she was organizing. Ron, sensing the shift in mood, cleared his throat and stretched. “Well, while you get all sentimental, I call dibs on playing with Draco first when he wakes up.”
Harry huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “You’re terrible.”
“I prefer fun uncle, thanks.” Ron smirked, tossing a stuffed dragon onto the couch beside him. “Besides, if the little guy’s going to stick around, he needs to learn important things. Like how to properly complain about the Cannons’ performance.”
Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes. “Ron, he’s barely settling in. Maybe let’s focus on helping him feel safe before you start ruining his taste in Quidditch teams?”
“I’d never,” Ron gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “The Cannons are a fine team—”
Harry shook his head fondly as his friends bickered, a small smile tugging at his lips. Merlin, when had his life changed so much?
A quiet noise from the bedroom made them all pause. Harry quickly went to the bedroom to see Draco stirring, his tiny body stretching slightly under the blanket before he blinked sleepily at them, thumb still tucked in his mouth.
Harry softened instantly. “Hey, sleepyhead,” he murmured.
Draco blinked at him, still groggy, then his eyes flickered toward Ron and Hermione. His tiny fingers clutched at the blanket, suddenly looking unsure.
Ron, ever the distraction maker who had grabbed the Hogwarts Express toy on his way, waved it animatedly in the air. “Draco, buddy! You awake enough for some serious train racing? Because I’ve been practicing and waiting forever for you to wake up!”
Draco’s sleepy eyes widened slightly at the moving toy, his gaze flickering between Ron’s eager grin and the tiny train whistling softly in his hand.
Harry saw it—that brief hesitation, the nervousness that came when Draco remembered he wasn’t alone with just Harry anymore. But then, after a moment, the tiniest of nods.
Ron beamed. “Brilliant! Come on then, I’ll show you how to make it go super-fast.”
Draco hesitated, then slowly sat up, still clutching his blanket. Harry reached out instinctively, running a reassuring hand over Draco’s back as he whispered, “It’s okay. We’re all here.”
The little one turned, staring up at him with sleepy gray eyes. Then, slowly, he reached for the train Ron was offering, his tiny fingers wrapping around it carefully.
Ron grinned, scooping up the baby along with the blankets and went to the living room while Harry and Hermione followed them. “Good lad. Now, let me tell you the secret to winning a train race—”.
As Ron started chattering, Draco’s grip on the toy tightened, and—just barely—his lips curled into the smallest of smiles.
Ron proved to be an excellent distraction for Draco. The little one, still wrapped in his blanket, sat cross-legged on the floor as Ron animatedly showed him how to race the Hogwarts Express toy across the enchanted tracks Hermione had conjured. At first, Draco only watched, hesitant and unsure, but with Ron’s constant chatter and exaggerated reactions every time the train crashed into a block, a small, barely-there giggle slipped out his train still clutched in his grip. Why did they bring two versions of the same train Harry wasn’t sure.
Harry, sitting on the couch with Hermione, didn’t miss the way Draco immediately clamped his lips shut afterward, as if he wasn’t sure if laughing was allowed. But Ron, ever the one to make people comfortable, acted as though nothing had happened and simply cheered loudly when Draco’s train managed to loop perfectly around the tracks.
"There we go! You’re a natural, mate," Ron praised, ruffling Draco’s fine silver hair.
Draco ducked his head, but his lips twitched ever so slightly.
Encouraged, Ron grinned. "Right, now that we’ve got the train moving, we need to work on speed, yeah? A true train master always knows how to make his train go faster."
Draco blinked up at him, still unsure. Draco mumbled something looking up at Ron.
"Yeah, buddy?"
"Go… f-fast?" Draco asked, pointing at the train in his hands.
Ron gasped dramatically. "Exactly! Blimey! He’s getting the hang of it!" He tapped the train with his wand, making it whistle excitedly. "Alright, mate. I’ll show you the best trick. But first, you have to say, ‘Go, go, speedy train!’ It’s the magic words, you see."
Draco hesitated, looking at the tiny train in his hands, his lips parting slightly. He set his train on the track, then, so softly it was almost inaudible, he whispered, "Go… go, spee’dy twain…"
The Hogwarts Express let out a happy choo-choo before zooming across the enchanted tracks. Draco’s eyes went wide in surprise, his tiny fingers curling into his blanket as he watched it go.
Ron let out an exaggerated gasp. "Merlin’s beard! You did it! You’re the best train racer I’ve ever met!"
Draco blinked at him, his tiny fingers still curled around edge of his blanket. He looked unsure, as if he didn’t quite believe Ron’s excitement was real, but the corner of his lips twitched—just the faintest hint of something soft and hesitant.
Harry watched the entire exchange with warmth swelling in his chest. It was small, but this—this was a start.
Draco was still hesitant, still cautious, but he was engaging.
For the first time since bringing him here, Draco wasn’t curled up in fear. He wasn’t sobbing, apologizing, or begging to stay. He was simply being a child—however fragile, however uncertain, he was here.
And that was enough.
Harry let out a slow breath, tightening his grip on the couch arm, slightly, Hermione, who noticed, squeezed his hand, in silent understanding. He knew there was still so much ahead—so many hurdles, so many reassurances that would need to be given, so many nights Draco would wake up terrified.
But right now?
Right now, there was warmth. There was trust—not all of it, not yet, but enough to build upon.
And as Draco hesitantly reached out for another round of racing, his little fingers brushing against Ron’s with careful uncertainty, Harry knew one thing for certain.
Draco was safe. And happy. Cautious but definitely happy.
And he’d make sure he stayed that way.
No matter what.