Ms. Horned Serpent (Harry x Reader x Draco)

Back To The Burrow.

They had landed next to a tumbledown garage in a small yard, and Harry looked out for the first time at Ron's house. "Hey, (y/n) asleep. Help me carre her inside." harry said, getting you half out the car when you woke up. "Harry, what are you doing?" you quickly stood up, blushing.

"It's not much," said Ron. "It's wonderful," said Harry happily. They got out of the car. "Now, we'll go upstairs really quietly," said Fred, "and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, 'Mum, look who turned up in the night!' and she'll be all pleased to see Harry and no one need ever know we flew the car." you said, knowing this wouldn't work. "Right," said Ron. "Come on, Harry, I sleep at the — at the top —" Ron had gone a nasty greenish color, his eyes fixed on the house. The other three wheeled around. Mrs. Weasley was marching across the yard, scattering chickens. "Ah, "said Fred. "Oh, dear," said George. Mrs. Weasley came to a halt in front of them, her hands on her hips, staring from one guilty face to the next. She was wearing a flowered apron with a wand sticking out of the pocket. "So," she said. "Morning, Mum," said George, in what he clearly thought was a jaunty, winning voice. "Have you any idea how worried I've been?" said Mrs. Weasley in a deadly whisper. "Sorry, Mum, but see, we had to —" All three of Mrs. Weasley's sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them.

"Beds empty! No note, accept (y/n)! Car gone — could have crashed — out of my mind with worry — did you care? — never, as long as I've lived — you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy—" "Perfect Percy," muttered Fred. "YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY'S BOOK!" yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred's chest. "You could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his job —" It seemed to go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned on Harry, who backed away. "I'm very pleased to see you, Harry, dear," she said. "Come in and have some breakfast." She turned and walked back into the house and Harry, after a nervous glance at Ron, who nodded encouragingly, followed her.

The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle, and Harry sat down on the edge of his seat, looking around. You sat next to him. He had never been in a wizard house before. The clock on the wall opposite him had only one hand and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like Time to make tea, Time to feed the chickens, and You're late. Books were stacked three deep on the mantelpiece, books with titles like Charm Your Own Cheese, Enchantment in Baking, and One Minute Feasts — It's Magic! And unless Harry's ears were deceiving him, the old radio next to the sink had just announced that coming up was "Witching Hour, with the popular singing sorceress, Celestina Warbeck." Mrs. Weasley was clattering around, cooking breakfast a little haphazardly, throwing dirty looks at her sons as she threw sausages into the frying pan. Every now and then she muttered things like "don't know what you were thinking of," and "never would have believed it." "I don't blame you, dear," she assured Harry, tipping eight or nine sausages onto his plate, and seven on your'se. "Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you ourselves if you hadn't written back to Ron by Friday. But really," (she was now adding three fried eggs to his plate) "flying an illegal car halfway across the country — anyone could have seen you —"

She flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking gently in the background. "It was cloudy, Mum!" said Fred. "You keep your mouth closed while you're eating!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "They were starving him, Mum!" said George. "And you!" said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him. At that moment there was a diversion in the form of a small, redheaded figure in a long nightdress, who appeared in the kitchen, gave a small squeal, and ran out again. "Ginny," said Ron in an undertone to Harry. "My sister. She's been talking about you all summer." "Yeah, she'll be wanting your autograph, Harry," Fred said with a grin, but he caught his mother's eye and bent his face over his plate without another word. Nothing more was said until all five plates were clean, which took a surprisingly short time. "Blimey, I'm tired," yawned Fred, setting down his knife and fork at last. "I think I'll go to bed and —" "You will not," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "It's your own fault you've been up all night. You're going to degnome the garden for me; they're getting completely out of hand again —" "Oh, Mum —" "And you two," she said, glaring at Ron and Fred. "You can go up to bed, dears." she added to Harry and you. "You didn't ask them to fly that wretched car —" But Harry, who felt wide awake, said quickly, "I'll help Ron. I've never seen a de-gnoming —" you said, putting your fork down. "That's very sweet of you, dear, but it's dull work," said Mrs. Weasley. "Now, let's see what Lockhart's got to say on the subject —" And she pulled a heavy book from the stack on the mantelpiece. George groaned. "Mum, we know how to de-gnome a garden —" Harry looked at the cover of Mrs. Weasley's book. Written across it in fancy gold letters were the words Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests. There was a big photograph on the front of a very good-looking wizard with wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes. As always in the wizarding world, the photograph was moving; the wizard, who Harry supposed was Gilderoy Lockhart, kept winking cheekily up at them all. Mrs. Weasley beamed down at him. "Oh, he is marvelous," she said. "He knows his household pests, all right, it's a wonderful book..." "Mum fancies him," said Fred, in a very audible whisper. "Don't be so ridiculous, Fred," said Mrs. Weasley, her cheeks rather pink. "All right, if you think you know better than Lockhart, you can go and get on with it, and woe betide you if there's a single gnome in that garden when I come out to inspect it." Yawning and grumbling, the Weasleys slouched outside with Harry and you behind them. The garden was large, and in Harry's eyes, exactly what a garden should be.