Severus leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Harry play with a ragged stuffed bear on the floor. The child babbled contentedly, occasionally casting a curious glance at Severus as if waiting for some response. Severus felt a pang of awkwardness—he wasn't accustomed to these interactions. He'd read to the boy, attempted a few children's rhymes, even tried amusing Harry with simple, harmless spells, but the engagement felt hollow, like he was missing some vital piece of the puzzle.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Severus frowned, muttering to himself as he opened it to find Petunia standing outside, Dudley squirming at her side. Her expression was tight, as if visiting his house was some great chore, but the boy was smiling and tugging on her hand, eager to explore.

Petunia sniffed, glancing around the room with a faintly disapproving air, but Severus noted her gaze lingering on Harry. "I brought Dudley by," she said briskly, "so Harry could have a playmate. Figured you might… appreciate the help."

Severus wanted to refuse out of sheer pride, but he glanced back at Harry, who had already perked up at the sight of another child. The boy dropped his bear and toddled over to Dudley, his face lighting up with an excitement Severus rarely saw. As Dudley offered Harry a toy truck, Harry gave an enthusiastic clap and began pushing it along the floor, imitating Dudley's delighted squeals.

Petunia gave a curt nod, glancing over at Harry, who was now giggling as Dudley showed him how to roll the truck. The two boys were blissfully lost in their own world, and for a moment, Severus felt a pang of something he couldn't quite name. The sound of Harry's laughter filled the room, louder and brighter than he'd ever heard when it was just the two of them.

Reluctantly, he turned back to Petunia. "I might… be persuaded to have him join Dudley's outings. If that suits you," he said, swallowing his pride with effort. "And—perhaps—you could offer some… advice on his upbringing."

Petunia raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised but masking it quickly. "If that's what you want," she replied. Her tone was brisk, but there was a faint hint of something close to approval.

The two boys continued playing under Severus' watchful eyes as Petunia sat with her back to the living room, flipping through a magazine and occasionally glancing up to ensure nothing was broken, clearly enjoying the break of having another adult around. Severus stood in the doorway, trying to maintain an air of detachment, but the boys' antics made even him smile a little.

"Dudley," Petunia warned sharply, as he made to grab the stuffed dragon Harry held, "share, please."

Dudley pouted and crossed his arms, clearly put out. But as Petunia's attention returned to her magazine, Harry's green eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. Holding his stuffed dragon tightly, he looked at Dudley and gave a tiny, deliberate nod. A second later, Dudley's toy truck rolled across the floor on its own, its wheels spinning slowly as if inviting him to chase it.

Dudley's face lit up. "Truck!" he exclaimed, reaching after it with chubby hands. The truck, as though aware, stayed just out of his reach, leading him in a small circle around the room, bouncing along the carpet.

Severus's eyes narrowed. The toy was moving too smoothly to be a child's push—it was clearly being steered by a quiet bit of magic. Sure enough, Harry's little fingers wiggled, and each time Dudley got close, the truck scooted forward just out of reach, coaxing delighted squeals from him.

Petunia, oblivious, didn't notice, her head buried in her reading. Severus folded his arms, suppressing a smirk. He had to admit, Harry had a subtle hand for magic, an instinct for charmwork that was surprising in one so young. It was magic without wand or word, only the quiet will of a child intent on mischief.

When Dudley finally caught the truck, he gave a triumphant laugh, looking back at Harry with a grin. Harry giggled and clapped his hands, his small act of magical trickery slipping entirely under Petunia's notice.

Other play dates in the first few weeks did not go as well.

Severus adjusted his grip on Harry, feeling the boy's small fingers curling tightly around his collar. The Malfoy estate loomed ahead, elegant and cold, its pristine gardens carefully manicured. He hadn't looked forward to this playdate, but Lucius had insisted, and there were advantages to maintaining the connection. He took a steadying breath before pressing the silver door knocker.

The door opened, and Narcissa greeted him with her usual poised grace, a faint smile brushing her lips as she took in the toddler on Severus's hip.

"Severus," she said, inclining her head, "and young Harold. Welcome."

Harry—Harold, as he'd explained to Narcissa—shifted uncomfortably in Severus's arms, eyeing Narcissa with a mix of shyness and curiosity. Severus gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before setting him down. Draco appeared from behind his mother's robes, peeking at Harry with wide, assessing eyes.

"This is Draco," Narcissa said warmly, gesturing to her son. "I'm sure the two of you will get along famously."

Harry toddled forward, cautiously extending a hand. Draco, frowning, stared at it before reluctantly reaching out in return, a fleeting handshake that quickly devolved into the boys each gripping the other's hand a bit too firmly. A spark of competitive determination gleamed in Draco's eyes as he attempted to assert dominance by holding on longer.

Severus winced internally as the small conflict simmered, already recognizing that Draco's strong-willed nature and Harry's quiet defiance might not make for an easy afternoon. But for the moment, they seemed to manage a truce, releasing hands and turning their attention to the gleaming toy dragons Narcissa had laid out in the parlor.

Moments later, however, a high-pitched squeal broke through the silence. Harry, who had taken a particular interest in a small, silver dragon that moved on its own, reached out to grab it, but Draco pulled it from his grasp, declaring, "This one's mine."

Severus, well-versed in Draco's possessiveness, prepared to intervene, but before he could take a step forward, the dragon began moving again, as if alive. Draco clutched it tightly, but his hand jerked back when he realized the dragon had grown hot to the touch. Startled, he yelped, dropping it.

The dragon skittered across the floor, and Severus caught the unmistakable glint in Harry's eye—a glint he was coming to recognize as the boy's accidental magic. The toy dragon veered sharply, gliding toward Harry, almost as if summoned. With a triumphant grin, Harry snatched it up and toddled back to Severus's side, clutching it like a prize.

Narcissa's expression was polite, but Severus caught the faintest flicker of worry in her eyes as she observed Harry's antics. "He's… spirited, isn't he?" she remarked delicately, casting a glance at her own son, who was now staring at Harry with a mixture of resentment and awe.

"Yes," Severus replied, choosing his words carefully. "He has a… talent for finding ways to make himself known."

Draco, now sulking, crossed his arms. "I don't like him."

Narcissa quickly hushed him, giving him a gentle nudge. "Draco, remember your manners."

But Draco looked straight at Harry, his tone fierce. "He took my dragon."

Harry didn't seem fazed by the accusation, instead offering Draco a wobbly, proud smile, his fingers still curled around the toy. Severus sighed inwardly. This accidental magic of Harry's was proving more troublesome than he'd anticipated. He'd have to keep a sharper eye on the boy if these outings were to become a regular occurrence.

Seeing Harry's glee at his quiet triumph, Severus felt a flicker of pride—and, begrudgingly, a sense of responsibility. If the boy's early bursts of magic could already unsettle the Malfoys, there was no telling the mayhem he might one day be capable of.

As Narcissa watched the silver dragon skid across the floor toward Harry, her brow furrowed. She glanced at Severus, who was already observing her reaction carefully.

"Quite an impressive display," she murmured, nodding slightly toward Harry, who was now happily examining the dragon as if he'd won it fair and square.

Severus shifted uncomfortably, aware that Narcissa would pick up on the nuances of what had just happened. "He has a… knack for getting what he wants," he said carefully.

"Indeed," Narcissa replied, studying Harry with a mixture of curiosity and caution. "Draco's accidental magic is strong, yes, but this level of focus… at this age, I've never seen it." She looked back to Severus, a glint of intrigue in her gaze. "How long has he been displaying this kind of control?"

Severus hesitated, choosing his words with caution. "It's… been building for some time. He doesn't just summon objects by accident; he directs them. The magic itself is restrained, almost deliberate, as if he understands what he's doing."

Narcissa tilted her head, watching as Harry glanced up, noticed her eyes on him, and pulled the dragon protectively close. "Most children his age don't display intent," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "They're raw, full of wild emotion. This… feels different."

Severus inclined his head. "It's why I brought him here, Narcissa. It's not just accidental magic—it's as though he's able to influence it." He cast a wary look at Harry, who was now carefully observing Draco out of the corner of his eye, as if plotting his next move.

Draco, meanwhile, seemed to forget his sulking, glancing at the dragon in Harry's hands with barely disguised envy. Narcissa's fingers drummed against her arm thoughtfully. "Children's magic is… pliable, easily shaped by emotion. But if Harry's already bending it to his will, it suggests his connection to magic is unusual. Almost instinctive."

She paused, her voice growing softer. "You may have to guide him with greater care, Severus. Such magic, untrained, could be as dangerous as it is powerful."

Severus's expression tightened. "Believe me, I understand. But the boy is clever—alarmingly so, for his age."

Narcissa met his gaze, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Whatever Harry's future held, his early command over magic set him apart. And as Severus watched the boy return to his play, he felt a quiet resolve settle within him. Raising Harry would demand more than discipline and care; it would require vigilance, wisdom—and, perhaps, a cautious partnership with those who understood the potential of such magic as well as he did.