Marauders age regression one shots

Too many Littles

The castle corridors were unusually lively that evening, filled with giggles and small footsteps as Blaise, Harry, and Pansy dashed around in their little headspaces, leaving chaos in their wake. Ron, Hermione, and Draco were already regretting agreeing to babysit all three at once."This is fine," Ron muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "We've handled worse... haven't we?"Hermione shot him a withering look. "Name one thing worse than three littles hopped up on sugar."Draco wasn't listening to them. He was crouched in front of Harry, trying to convince him that *yes*, wearing his red cloak as a superhero cape was a great idea. Harry was busy zooming around the common room, pretending he could fly, laughing wildly as his cape fluttered behind him. Meanwhile, Pansy was sprawled across the couch, limbs everywhere, her black dress crumpled as she insisted on brushing Blaise's hair. "Hold still, Blaise-y, or you'll look like a troll!"Blaise, perched dramatically on a pouf, gave an exaggerated sigh. "Blaise doesn't look like a troll. Blaise looks beautiful, always." His hands gestured as if he were royalty—something Hermione had learned to expect whenever Blaise was in his headspace. "Of course you do, sweetheart," Hermione said patiently. "But let Pansy finish.""No. Blaise doesn't want Pansy to touch Blaise's hair anymore!" Blaise huffed, crossing his arms. He was teetering toward a tantrum."Pansy, give him a break, okay?" Ron added quickly, sensing the impending chaos. "How about we play something quieter, yeah?""Nooo!"*Pansy whined, throwing the brush down. "I don't wanna play quiet games!" She kicked her feet dramatically, sinking deeper into the couch. Draco stood, his patience fraying. "Harry, stop flying before you hurt yourself." Harry ignored him, still zooming in circles. Ron sighed and looked at Hermione. "We're outnumbered, 'Mione. Outnumbered, overwhelmed, and underpaid.""You're not being paid at all.""Exactly!"---After fifteen minutes of negotiations, snacks, and three attempts to sit everyone down at once, Ron finally declared, "That's it! It's story time.""Blaise doesn't want stories," Blaise declared, nose in the air. "Blaise wants sweets.""No more sweets!" Hermione said, exasperated. "Blaise, please—sit down.""Blaise does not sit on command.""Blaise," Draco said firmly, "either you sit, or I tell the house-elves to stop sending up chocolate."That earned Draco a dramatic gasp. Blaise flopped down on the carpet with the elegance of a fainting aristocrat. "Fine. But only because Blaise is generous."Harry and Pansy collapsed beside him, though Harry still squirmed, tugging on Draco's sleeve."'M not sleepy, though," Harry whispered, rubbing his eyes furiously as if he could force himself to stay awake.Ron and Hermione exchanged a knowing glance. They could already tell this was going to end with at least one of the littles crashing hard.---Draco took over the story, sitting on the floor with all three littles curled up around him. As he read in a soothing voice, Ron and Hermione finally had a chance to breathe. Pansy slowly tucked herself into Hermione's side, her head drooping as the sugar crash started to hit. Blaise leaned against Ron, though he continued mumbling about how "Blaise should still get sweets."Harry, stubborn as ever, fought sleep with every fiber of his being. But halfway through the story, his small hand gripped Draco's robe tighter, and his eyes fluttered shut against his will.---When the story ended, all three littles were finally asleep: Pansy cuddled into Hermione, Blaise tucked against Ron, and Harry curled in Draco's arms. Ron exhaled dramatically. "We survived."Draco smirked. "You mean I survived."Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled. "We'll make it up to them tomorrow."Ron raised a brow. "How exactly? More candy?"Draco shook his head with a soft laugh, looking down at the peaceful faces of the sleeping littles. "No. Just love and patience. Same thing we always do."And with that, they sat quietly together, watching over their littles, knowing they'd face the same chaos—and the same joy—again tomorrow.