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Disclaimer: Do Not Own Them. Wish I did, but sadly, no. No money was made from this endeavor.
LESSONS LEARNED
Harry knew that something wasn’t quite right the moment he walked in the door.
The house was too… quiet. He didn’t hear cartoons on the telly, or the sound of small trucks crashing into Legos, or the myriad sounds of childish play that usually met his ears as he came through the Floo. Jamie had an entire repertoire of sounds, from sirens to hippogriff’s roars to the cheers of a stadium full of rapid Quidditch fans, depending on the flight of fancy of the moment. But he was rarely, if ever, quiet. And that was worrisome.
Harry slipped his Auror’s robes from his shoulders and hung them dutifully on the coat rack in the corner before going in search of either his son or his spouse, whomever he came across first. He headed toward the kitchen, and knew that he’d finally found someone when he heard the sound of lid being placed on a pot with rather more force than necessary. He walked to the doorway and paused, taking in the stiff line of Draco’s back, the tight shoulders, the angle of his head. Everything about him radiated irritation, and Harry grimaced.
“Bad day?” he asked softly, his voice deep, and cautious. Draco stiffened momentarily, then took a deep breath and turned. His jaw was set and his grey eyes were flinty.
“You could say that,” he answered, crossing his slender arms over his chest. “Your son,” he went on with aggravated emphasis, “got in an altercation at school today.”
Harry took two steps into the room, his own eyes narrowing slightly. “What sort of altercation?”
“One that involved his fists,” Draco responded. “Fortunately, he did have the good sense not to utilize his wand.”
Harry’s stance softened slightly in relief. At the Wizarding primary school that Jamie attended, they’d just begun teaching the six year olds rudimentary spell work. There had been an incident or two along the lines of Seamus Finnigan and the missing eyebrow in first year.
“What happened?”
“I’ve no idea,” Draco sniffed, looking toward the kitchen door, his jaw tight. “He won’t tell me. I only know that young Finch-Fletchley had a bloody nose, and your son has a black eye.”
“You keep saying ‘my son’ like I had something to do with this,” Harry said, taking a step closer to Draco. “You do recall that you were actively involved in the begetting of the little hellion as well, right?”
“I,” Draco spread his long fingers on his chest, “did not use my fists to break someone’s nose when I was six.”
“No,” Harry said, the corner of his mouth quirking. “You waited until you were sixteen, and used your foot.”
He saw the slight flush that filled Draco’s face, and allowed his grin to ripen. “That was different,” Draco said, the huff not nearly as effective with that fetching blush on his face. “That was foreplay.” He shot Harry a look from the corner of his eye. “It’s not my fault it took you another five years to catch on.”
Harry took another step closer, now comfortable reaching out and curling his hands around Draco’s arms just above his elbows. “He’s six, Draco,” he said softly. “How serious could this be, really?”
“Three days suspension serious,” Draco answered, his brow furrowing. “But that’s not the part that bothers me. After all, if Finch-Fletchley junior is anything like his idiot father, I’m sure that James had ample grounds.” His grey eyes took on a troubled expression. “The part that bothers me is that he won’t tell me what happened. He’s never been secretive, Harry, but he wouldn’t tell me, and he wouldn’t tell the principal.”
“And I’m guessing little Finch-Fletchley wouldn’t either.”
Draco shook his head. “Whatever it was…” he paused, then sighed. “Well, whatever it was, it was bad enough that it came to blows.”
Harry stared at Draco for a moment, and saw the real concern on his face. “I’ll go talk to him,” he said softly, leaning in to press a kiss to Draco’s cheek. “It was probably just something that seems very big when you’re six.”
“Those two will be in the same year all of the way through Hogwarts, Harry,” Draco said softly. “I’d just as soon they didn’t go there wanting to kill one another.”
“Yeah, gods forbid,” Harry teased, stepping back. “They might end up married.”
Draco’s lips tightened. “I will hex you,” he ground out. Harry grinned and started to walk out of the room, but Draco grabbed his arm. “Do make him tell you,” he said softly “I told him he’d go to bed without supper if he didn’t tell us what happened, but I can’t bear to think of him hungry.”
Harry leaned back in and pressed a kiss to the frowning lips. “I’ll get him to tell me. Don’t worry.”
Jamie’s room was all that a little wizard’s bedroom should be. The murals of his infancy had been updated to focus more on the castle and the Quidditch pitch than on the furry woodland creatures, and the crib had been replaced with a miniature version of their own elegant four-poster. Harry paused in the doorway of the uncharacteristically neat bedroom and saw his son sitting in the middle of the rug, small shoulders slumped, small head with the neatly trimmed black hair forward. Draco always joked that if he had to be a brunet, at least he’d gotten his own silky texture. Harry slipped his hands into his pockets and walked into the room.
“I understand you’ve had an eventful day,” he said softly. Jamie’s shoulders stiffened and he looked over his shoulder, and Harry flinched and whistled through his teeth. All around his right eye, the skin was reddened and bruised and swollen, making the grey seem even lighter in comparison. “Well, that’s impressive,” he mused, crouching down and peering into his son’s face. Jamie rolled his eyes, but dropped his gaze back to his lap. “Does it hurt?” He shook his head silently. “Want me to fix it?”
“Daddy said I have’ta keep it until I tell why I got it,” he answered sullenly.
“Ahh,” Harry murmured knowingly. “Well, look at it this way.” He sat on the floor in front of Jamie, crossing his legs under him. “If you actually did break Finch-Fletchley’s nose, he’ll have two.”
Jamie’s head shot up and his eyes widened. “For real?”
“Oh, yeah. When your nose gets broken, you look a whole lot like a raccoon. Trust me.”
“You’ve had a broken nose?” Jamie asked, his little face avid.
“I have,” Harry said. “But that’s a story for another time. For now—” he reached over and lightly poked Jamie’s bony knee, “—I’d like to know what started this today.”
He saw Jamie’s jaw tighten even before he crossed his arms over his little chest and shook his head. He looked so much like Draco in that moment that Harry could only smile.
“Jamie,” he said kindly. “What could be so bad that you not only busted Lennie’s nose, but that you can’t tell us? You really hurt your Daddy’s feelings.” Jamie lifted grey eyes, looking stricken at the thought. “He just wants to help, love. Was this about Daddy?”
Harry hated it when Jamie cried, he always had. So when the big eyes began to grow bright with tears, he made a sound in his throat and opened his arms. The little boy scrambled across the short distance between them and onto Harry’s lap, his face pressed into his tie. Harry encircled him with his arms and rubbed his narrow back.
“Talk to me, Jamie,” he said soothingly near the child’s ear. “I can help.”
“You can’t help,” he snuffled.
“Why don’t you tell me what it was, and maybe I can,” Harry said gently. “I can fix lots of things.”
“You can’t fix the fact that Lennie Finch-Fletchley is steaming pile of hippogriff shite.”
In spite of himself, Harry let out a short gasp of startled laughter. “James Arthur,” he admonished, but the fact that he was fighting laughter was there in his voice. “Where did you ever learn such a saying?”
“It’s what Daddy called his father,” he answered, his voice still muffled. “He didn’t know I heard.”
Harry bit his lip to stop the threatening laughter. “Well, you really shouldn’t repeat what you hear me or Daddy say, especially not something like that. Is that what started this?”
Jamie went still in Harry’s arms, then slowly shook his head. Harry put his hands on the small shoulders and pushed them back slightly, finding the wide grey eyes.
“I need you to tell me, son,” he urged softly. “That’s the only way I can help. And I can help, Jamie.” He grinned slightly. “I’m the big bad chief Auror. Wizards tremble at my very presence.”
Jamie rolled his eyes again, but there was a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. After a moment, he looked down, his teeth biting at his lower lip. His fingers plucked absently at Harry’s sleeve, and Harry sat very still, waiting. Finally, the child sighed deeply.
“A bunch of kids were talking today during break,” Jamie said, so softly that Harry leaned forward slightly to hear him. “One of the girls said that her mommy had told her that she was a ‘happy accident’, cuz they didn’t plan her. I laughed, cuz I thought it sounded funny. ‘Happy accident’, like you’d giggle if you crashed your broom. I didn’t mean nuthin..”
“Anything,” Harry corrected softly, but he stroked Jamie’s hair.
“Anything,” the child parroted. “I didn’t mean anything. Anyway, Lennie got mad, cuz he’s crushing on Amanda, and said that she might be a happy accident, but that I was a freak.” Harry stiffened, but Jamie didn’t seem to notice. He sighed unhappily. “He said that I was a freak cuz I have two dad’s, and that my Daddy was a freak, too, cuz men didn’t have babies. He said his father told him that I was an… abration.”
Here it was, Harry thought as cold shot through him. They had known that it would happen someday; that some child would only repeat what he’d heard at home, that the miracle of Jamie’s existence would be turned into something sordid and ugly. They’d talked to their son before he’d started school, and told him that this was possible. But there was something very different about being told something by someone you loved, and having something hurled at you across a playground. Even while vowing to have a conversation at his earliest possible convenience with Finch-Fletchley Senior, Harry held Jamie closer.
“The word is aberration,” he said around the lump in his throat. “And you are no such thing.” He took a deep breath to control his own anger. “Is that why you hit him?”
Jamie leaned back and looked up. “I didn’t hit him,” he said, all wide eyes and long black lashes. “I told him that I wasn’t a freak; that I was a miracle. That the only way I could have been born to begin with was because both of my Dad’s, who are the most powerful wizards in the world, wanted me very, very much or I wouldn’t have happened. That you and Daddy both had to have amazing magic to make me.”
Harry felt a powerful surge of love and pride, and cupped his son’s cheek. “That’s exactly right, Jamie. That’s exactly how it happened.” He stroked the small pointed chin with his thumb. “But that doesn’t explain why you two ended up hitting one another.” For the first time, Jamie looked a bit sheepish. “Just tell me, son.”
He bit is lip again. “I don’t think he liked it when I said his Dad must not be a very good wizard, if the only way he could get a baby was with a girl.”
It took every ounce of self-control he had not to burst out laughing, and even then, he had to bite his own lip hard. “I don’t imagine he did,” he said, sounding suffocated. “So he hit you, and then you hit him back.”
Still wide-eyed, Jamie shook his head. “I didn’t hit him, Pappa. I promise.”
“Then how did his nose get broken, and why didn’t you tell Mrs. Pearson who did hit him?”
Again, Jamie looked sheepish. “Well, he did hit me. But then, Amanda punched him.” He shrugged. “I guess while he’s been crushing on her, she’s been crushing on me.”
Now Harry did laugh. “Of course she has,” he said, ruffling his son’s hair. “How could she resist? And so you didn’t tell Mrs. Pearson because….”
“She was just standing up for me, Pappa,” he said earnestly. “I didn’t want her getting into trouble for that.”
Harry studied the handsome small face. “Of course you didn’t,” he said finally. “You’re a gentleman, Jamie. And that’s a very, very fine thing.”
“Am I still punished?” he asked hopefully.
“Well, I’ll have to talk to Daddy,” Harry mused. “But I imagine I can bring him around.”
Jamie grinned and threw his arms around Harry’s neck, squeezing hard. “You can,” he whispered against Harry’s ear. “He’s putty in your hands.”
Again, Harry choked on startled laughter. “Where did you hear that?”
“I heard Grandma Sissy tell Daddy once.”
“Well, I wouldn’t repeat that one, if I were you. At least not to your Daddy.” He patted the child on the back, then set him on the rug. “Now, let me go see if I can talk him into allowing you to eat tonight.”
“I’d like that,” Jamie said earnestly. “I’m hungry.”
Harry pressed a kiss to the top of his head and stood up, then walked through the bedroom door. He wasn’t remotely surprised to find Draco standing outside, leaning against the wall, his head forward. Harry paused, and offered his hand. After a moment Draco took it, and they walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.
“How much did you hear?” Harry asked, leaning against one of the counters and pulling Draco against his chest.
“All of it,” Draco admitted. “I followed you up there.”
“I figured.” Harry paused, reaching up and touching his husband’s hair. Yes, it felt just like Jamie’s, and he smiled. I’m guessing he gets dinner.”
“Oh, yes,” Draco mused, turning his face into Harry’s palm, pressing a kiss there. “And a hot fudge sundae, I believe.”
Harry grinned. “Why? For being such a good little Gryffindor and taking the blame for his girlfriend?”
Draco huffed. “I should say not,” he said wryly. “I was thinking more for being such a smart little Slytherin and letting the girl do the manual labor.” Harry laughed, and Draco studied his face with a soft smile. “No, he really is a Gryffindor, I’m afraid. He’s all you.”
Harry tightened his hold around Draco’s waist and pulled him more snugly against his body. “Well, maybe it’s time then that we had one that’s all you.” He took in the arch in Draco’s brows, and the sly smile that began to curl his lower lip. “We are the most powerful wizard’s alive, you know. If we did it once, we can do it again.”
“Well, it’s a good thing we are the most powerful wizards alive,” Draco said with obvious amusement. “If the only other option had been to do it with a girl, we’d have been completely fucked.”
Harry laughed again, angling his head. “I like the sound of the ‘completely fucked’ part.”
“Pervert,” Draco teased gently, his eyes already going heavy lidded as he stared at Harry’s lips.
“You like it.”
“Who said I didn’t?”
Harry’s answering chuckle was muted by Draco’s mouth.