((Hey lookie, it's Chapter Three! (It turned out really long . . . didn't think you'd mind though ^_~) A huge thanks to all my reviewers . . . you guys make my day with your fun comments. I hope you like this one as much as the other chapters, and I will be keeping them coming as fast as my muse will let me. Have fun. ~Solo))

Harry slunk along the corridors, glancing from side to side. The child in his arms seemed to think this was fun, for Draco giggled softly, still clinging to Harry's neck. The Gryffindor had decided to make for his dorm first, to grab his Invisibility cloak and maybe shrink some clothes for Draco, since he was bound to catch a cold or something in this drafty old castle . . .

He frowned as he ran, arms already aching slightly from the weight of the blond toddler. Where had that thought come from? Since when was Harry concerned about Malfoy's welfare? He shook his head to clear it, causing Draco to release his hold slightly and look up at Harry.

"What wrong, Mine?" he chirped, reaching out a hand and tracing Harry's pouting bottom lip with a tiny fingertip. The seventeen-year-old reached up hastily to remove it, feeling his cheeks flush. Must Malfoy insist on calling him 'Mine'?! It was unnerving, for Merlin's sake!

"Nothing, Draco. Just try to stay quiet until we get to my room, ok?" he replied, patting the child's back softly. Gods, if anyone saw him . . .

It seemed to Harry that they had been walking for hours by the time they reached the portrait-hole that led into Gryffindor Tower. He was exhausted from ducking into empty classrooms and behind suits of armor every time he heard footsteps approaching. Draco, however, seemed quite content in his arms, smiling up at the portrait of the fat lady so angelically that she bent down to coo at him.

"Aww, look at the ickle sweet boy! Hello there, little one!" the painting purred, a beaming smile stretching her plump cheeks. Harry rolled his eyes slightly as the child giggled in return, batting his long lashes. Good gods, even at this age Malfoy was a terrible flirt. It was common knowledge that he had captured the hearts of many a student, female (and male), at Hogwarts . . . Harry's jade eyes glazed over slightly as a memory slid back into his mind . . .

. . . Draco, entering the Great Hall for the first time as a Seventh- year Slytherin. Platinum blonde tresses fell now to his shoulders, gleaming in the light of candles suspended overhead. Tall, ivory-skinned, and slender, he had made his way over to the Slytherin table, full lips in a well-practiced smirk. The Heir of Malfoy Manor moved with the commanding gait of Lucius, yet with a delicate, predatory grace all his own . . .

"You knew damn well that every single person's eyes in that hall were on you, didn't you Malfoy?" Harry muttered under his breath, returning to reality and looking down at his greatest rival. The Slytherin who was well known for the torment of other students was currently blowing a kiss to the fat lady in the pink dress. She was so delighted by his attentions she completely forgot to ask Harry for the password, swinging open obligingly.

"In now," instructed Draco, pointing into the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry was so shocked at the portrait's lack of regard for security he obeyed without thinking, ducking and climbing carefully in so as not to hurt the toddler.

"Take good care of the little angel!" the painting called as she swung shut behind them. Harry snorted at the title given to Malfoy.

"Little angel huh?" he said with a half smile, climbing the stairs to the dorm he shared with Ron and the others. Mercifully, the morning classes hadn't ended yet, allowing him to avoid questioning, for now at least. "More like little dragon, or little devil." Even as the words left his lips he frowned slightly. That was another odd thing . . . Malfoy wasn't acting like he had expected.

Having known the Slytherin for seven years now, Harry was well aware of the cruelties he was capable of. Given this information, wouldn't one assume the actions of Malfoy were a result of being evil since he was a small child? Harry pushed open the door to his dorm, crossing the stone floor and sitting down on his soft bed. He set Malfoy down gently on the cover next to him, leaning back slightly to get a better view of the child.

Harry grudgingly had to agree with the fat lady . . . little Draco wasn't that bad looking of a baby. Maybe even a bit cute, if you disregarded the kind of person he would become. All right, so he was downright gorgeous. The child smiling at him would make a baby modeling agent sign a huge contract in a second. Still draped in ridiculously oversized robes, Draco was sitting quietly, studying Harry in much the same manner as he was looking back. The dark of the fabric only served to highlight perfect ivory skin, smooth and untouched. It put one in mind of newly fallen snow. His hair was shorter, naturally, feathery white wisps falling to his slightly pudgy cheeks. And the eyes . . . not only silver, as Harry had thought. Closer examination revealed shards of deepest blue around the pupil, pure sterling throughout the iris, rimmed with a ring of dark grey.

The dark haired boy was rather puzzled. In his mind's eye, Malfoy had always been nothing but a pointy-faced, sneering git. Yet as a child he had been nothing but affectionate and sweet, always smiling. A suspicion dawned slowly on him. Could something have happened to young Draco to make him as cold and unfeeling as he was in the present?

The child's slight shivering interrupted his thoughts. Gryffindor Tower was rather drafty sometimes, and the dark robes had slipped off one shoulder. Feeling immediately guilty, Harry hopped up, rummaging around in his trunk for something to shrink for Malfoy.

"Sorry 'bout that, Mal . . . I mean, Draco," he corrected himself at a reproachful gaze from the toddler. Harry caught sight of a green sleeve, and pulling at it revealed the green sweater Mrs. Weasley had knitted for him in the Christmas of his fourth year. It was rather perfect, for the image of a black dragon was stitched lovingly onto the front. A black T- shirt to wear under it, and some old blue jeans. . . feeling rather ridiculous, Harry held them up for the child to see.

"How about these?" he said, laying them out on the floor and pulling out his wand. He commanded "Minima," and the garments shrunk down obligingly. Draco clapped with glee, crowing "I wear Harry Mine's clothes!"

Harry, fighting back a fierce blush rather unsuccessfully, handed them to the toddler. "Can you dress yourself, Draco?" At a nod from the blonde boy (and to Harry's immense relief) he sent Draco into the bathroom with instructions to call if he needed help.

When the door had closed with a click, Harry slumped to the floor. Dear god, what next? This day was getting weirder by the minute. He recalled Snape's instructions to meet him in the dungeon after dinner . . . Probably to tell him he was doing everything wrong and sentence him to a bloody death, Harry thought glumly. A sound from inside the bathroom made him pause. Draco was apparently singing to himself . . . Harry couldn't help but smile. He had a few questions about the effects of the potion, would have to wait until he saw Snape. The little dragon would require all of his attention when he emerged, Harry was sure.

Little Dragon?

Where had THAT come from?!

((To be continued . . . see you next chapter!))