Marauders age regression one shots

Just a minute

Harry sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the television, furiously mashing buttons on the controller. He was this close to beating the final boss in a game he'd been working through for weeks, and his focus was laser-sharp.

Meanwhile, Draco, deep in his little headspace, sat on a blanket-covered spot on the floor nearby, clutching a crayon in his chubby hand. His brows were furrowed in concentration as he carefully dragged the bright purple crayon across the paper, determined to make something special for Harry.

"Done!" Draco suddenly squealed, holding up his drawing with both hands. His wide grey eyes sparkled with excitement. "Hawwy!"

Harry didn't glance over, his fingers still flying over the controller. "Just a minute, baby," he said distractedly, leaning forward as his character dodged another attack.

Draco's bottom lip wobbled. "Hawwy..." he whispered, rocking slightly, the picture dropping to his lap. He shuffled closer to Harry, his little legs dragging as he reached out to tug gently on Harry's sleeve.

"I know, love. Just—one—second—" Harry grunted, eyes glued to the screen as the boss's health bar inched closer to empty.

Draco huffed in frustration. He didn't like waiting when he had something important to show Harry. Scrunching his nose, he pouted dramatically and plopped onto his bum with a little thud.

But he wasn't about to give up. He picked up the drawing again—squiggles of bright purples and greens, with what looked like a very wobbly stick figure holding something that might have been a broom—and crawled over until he was right next to Harry.

"See, Hawwy?" Draco babbled, waving the paper in Harry's direction. "Fow you!"

Harry finally glanced away from the screen for half a second—and immediately melted. Draco was beaming up at him with that sweet, gummy grin of his, so proud of his masterpiece.

Harry's heart swelled. How could anyone say no to that? "Aw, baby, did you draw that for me?" he asked warmly, pausing the game without a second thought.

Draco nodded enthusiastically, bouncing on his knees. "Yes! Fow Hawwy!"

Harry reached down and scooped Draco into his lap, pressing a kiss to his soft blond hair. "It's perfect, love. You're such a good artist." He held the picture up like it was a prized treasure, making Draco giggle as he squirmed happily in Harry's arms.

With Draco snug against his chest, Harry leaned back against the sofa. "How about we put the game away for now?" he murmured, rubbing soothing circles on Draco's back. "You and me can draw some more, yeah?"

Draco gave a sleepy little hum, already snuggling deeper into Harry's embrace, his fingers clutching the hem of Harry's shirt.

"Love you, my little artist," Harry whispered, rocking Draco gently.

"Wuv you, Hawwy..." came the soft reply, followed by a tiny yawn.

And just like that, the game was forgotten, the only thing that mattered now being the quiet, perfect moment they shared together.