Title: Bringing up Weasley
Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling. I do not claim any ownership of the characters or settings contained within. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line.
Pairings: Harry/Draco
Warnings: Contains mature language and sexual content
Rating: M
Summary: A rogue hex turns Ron into a baby, and Harry and Draco have to figure out how to raise him together
Author's Note: This silly idea occurred to me a week ago, so I banged out what was originally supposed to be a "short" fic. It's a fun bit of fluff with a healthy dose of humor. Apologies for any editing mistakes, after two passes I started to go cross-eyed.

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"I never thought I'd see the day."

Ron and Harry stared up at the glossy blue sign that towered over the entrance of the newest shop in Hogsmeade. The precise white lettering stood out in contrast against the hand-hewn wooden signs that marked the other shops along the street. Harry would bet Galleons to gillyweed that it had been crafted in a muggle factory just to attract this sort of attention.

"SpellMart," Ron frowned. "Look at the size of this place."

"They'll put everyone out of business in no time," Harry said. As the words were leaving his lips a group of five witches entered the store and a pair of wizards exited with an armful of overflowing bags.

"They say they have the lowest prices," Ron regarded him with a raised eyebrow. "We should at least check it out, right?"

"It can't hurt to look," Harry agreed.

"We'll just look," Ron nodded. "We'll buy from the smaller shops, but we'll have a look."

"Of course," Harry agreed again.

"Let's go," Ron slapped him on the shoulder and ran eagerly for the entrance.

They pushed through the door and screeched to a halt just across the threshold. The interior was astonishing. Charmed to be larger on the inside than the outside, the vast, brightly lit space rambled off in every direction, an endless sea of neatly arranged shelves. Soft, friendly music tinkled from the ceiling, and the happy hustle and bustle of shoppers lent a cheerful atmosphere to the space.

"It's like a muggle shop," Harry breathed. "We might as well be at Tesco."

"I don't even know where to start," Ron's eyes bugged out comically.

"Start at the beginning. Aisle one," Harry pointed.

They joined the flow of amazed shoppers as they filtered past the stacks of ingredients, potions, and enchanted objects. Each aisle was organized by theme, with clearly marked prices and information cards attached. Harry had to admit that it took some of the guesswork out of spell preparation.

"I don't know how I feel about this," he said. "It doesn't feel magical. It lacks some of the mystery."

"Who needs mystery?" Ron fondled a jar of flobberworm mucus. "Imagine if we'd had this in school. Snape's class would have been a breeze."

"I guess," Harry shrugged. "You learn less when it's a breeze, though." He thought of his brief time with a particularly helpful spell book.

"I could live with that," Ron shrugged back. "Do they have any food here or is it just magical items? We need to stock up the house if Mum isn't going to be there to cook."

"How long are they going to be in Romania?" Harry asked.

"A month," Ron grinned. "A month to kick back and relax, maybe throw a few parties. And with Hermione in China for graduate studies, there's no one to tell us what to do."

"Only Hermione would enroll in advanced studies a week after graduation," Harry said, hefting a package of dried herbs. "Fifteen Galleons for Star Grass? That seems high."

"I tried to tell her. This is our last summer to relax and piss about," Ron said. "Seventh year, then the war, and then eighth year, no breaks. It would be crazy to go straight out for advanced studies or work. We've earned some time off."

"Preaching to the choir," Harry nodded. "I just want to sit out in the garden and have a Butterbeer and do nothing for the next month."

"Look, doxy eggs," Ron pointed eagerly. "Maybe we could whip up a girding potion, invite a few birds over, if you know what I mean." He looked up apologetically, "Or blokes. You know. For you. Or whatever."

"Just because Hermione is on another continent, that doesn't mean you can cheat on her," Harry delicately ignored Ron's clumsy attempt to be inclusive of his sexual preferences.

"I wouldn't really do anything," Ron muttered. "But what kind of parties are we going to have, then?"

"I don't need any parties," Harry said as they rounded the corner into the next aisle. "I could do with some peace and quiet, actually."

"Boring," Ron lolled his head back and snored loudly. Harry socked him in the arm.

"Let's have a look at the coolers back there," Harry pointed towards the back of the store, where the crowd was lighter.

"Coolers?" Ron followed him on his heels.

"Looks like food ingredients," Harry peered into the magically chilled cases. "What does your Mum already have in the pantry? We could grab a few things on our way out."

"Just the basics, meat pies and pumpkin juice, that sort of thing," Ron said. "The reconstruction only just finished so she hasn't had much time to stock up or put ready meals in storage."

"Maybe that's reason enough not to throw any parties," Harry hefted a case of Butterbeer in each hand. "Imagine how your parents would react if they came home and found the house trashed so soon after rebuilding it."

"Stop being so responsible," Ron grumbled. "You sound like Hermione."

"Well well, if it isn't Weasleby and Saint Potter."

"Bloody hell," Ron closed his eyes and groaned.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry immediately tensed up.

Their blond schoolmate smirked haughtily, his chin raised and his eyebrow quirked. He leaned casually on an endcap that was stacked with jars of damselfly wings, his feet crossed at the ankles like he hadn't a care in the world. His lips parted in a toothy grin, an expression Harry hadn't seen on his face in ages. Eighth year had been quiet, with none of the familiar rivalry that had marked their previous years. Seeing Draco in all of his mocking glory after so long was disorienting.

"Let's just pay for these and go," Harry said. "I don't need any potion ingredients right now anyway."

"Aw, don't leave on my account," Draco called after them.

They circled around the far end of the store and headed up a narrow, cluttered aisle filled with smelly distillations and botanical preparations.

"Faugh," Ron waved his hand in front of his nose. "It smells like arse over here."

"Cut over one aisle," Harry pushed Ron between a gap in the shelves in the hopes of escaping the odor. They stumbled as they nearly collided with Draco.

"Again?" the former Slytherin stopped abruptly. "Are you following me?"

"You approached us, Malfoy," Harry reminded him.

"I went my own way, yet here you are again, nearly knocking me down in your haste to cut me off," Draco said. He jerked his head to toss his blond forelock back from his eyes. His hair was neatly trimmed around the sides and back, but the front was grown out a bit, long enough to obscure his vision if not combed back. Harry frowned. The style was unnecessarily eye-catching, he thought.

"We weren't following you, ferret face," Ron snapped. "We were trying to get out of that smelly aisle."

"Then by all means, proceed," Draco waved his hand with a flourish. He eyed Harry and cocked his head inquisitively. Harry jumped, realizing belatedly that his eyes had lingered too long.

"Let's go," Ron retrieved one of the cases of Butterbeer from Harry's grip and shuffled down the aisle.

"See you around, Potter," Draco said smoothly.

"Right, Malfoy," Harry muttered, shuffling after Ron.

They came around the end of the aisle and paused as they took in the length of the queue at the payment counter. Harry hefted the Butterbeer and wondered if it was worth it, when the package shop at the end of the street would probably have shorter lines. Ron chewed his lip, undoubtedly making the same calculation.

"Put them back?" Harry asked.

"Put them back," Ron nodded.

They hurried back down the aisle to the cooler section and returned the cases to the stack near the wall. They turned around and without a word returned to the front through an aisle filled with bottled hexes. There ahead of them was Draco Malfoy, inspecting the information card on a small phial.

"Honestly," Draco looked up as they drew near. "It's like Hogwarts all over again."

"Mind your business, Malfoy," Ron sneered. "You haven't talked to us in months, no need to start now."

"I'm not enjoying this waltz down memory lane either," Draco sneered in return.

"We're not following you," Harry said. He noticed that Draco was dressed in trousers and a jacket, in spite of the unseasonably warm June weather. The jacket was cut nicely, emphasizing the way his shoulders had broadened over the last year, and tapering down to his slim hips. He cursed himself as he realized his eyes were lingering too long again.

"All the same, I'm looking forward to your departure," Draco went back to the information card on the phial.

"What an unbelievable prat," Ron sighed. "Let's get out of here."

They swept past Draco without another word. Harry thought he caught a whiff of cologne, something spicy and smoky, although he could admit that it might just be the store inventory.

"Hey Weasel," Draco called, hauling them up short. "Catch."

A small glass sphere flew through the air directly at their heads. Harry ducked, but Ron reflexively reached out to catch it. He fumbled and it slipped through his fingers, shattering on the floor beneath his feet. A thick blue smoke billowed out, its volume disproportionate to the size of the container.

"Ron!" Harry shouted as the mist swirled and engulfed him. Ron disappeared into the cloud, completely surrounded by the opaque vapor. And then a baby's cry split the air.

"What did you do?" Harry gasped, whirling on Draco, who looked completely stunned.

"It was supposed to give him stomach wind," Draco stared down at the information card in his hand, jaw slack and eyes wide. "Someone must have switched them."

The smoke dissipated quickly, revealing a baby swaddled in a pile of Ron's clothing. The baby cried, its face screwed up and eyes clenched shut. Harry gawked at it, noting the tuft of ginger hair on its head. He knew what had happened before Draco spoke.

"He turned into a baby," he murmured.

"What did you do?" Harry repeated.

"I didn't mean to do that," Draco looked up, his eyes desperate. "Look at the card, it was supposed to give him wind."

"It did more than give him wind," Harry stared at the squalling baby on the floor. "What are we going to do now?"