#questionable science

It wasn't Draco's first time in space, but it was his first time in space on spaceshrooms.

Draco had been to the moon once before with his father. Although overrated, space travel was a sufficiently expensive excursion for Lucius to deem it an appropriate gift for Draco's tenth birthday. They'd dressed in their space robes and their Bubble-Head Charms and shot off to the moon clutching a Portkey made of a piece of Muggle rubbish that Draco now knew to be a credit card.

Draco had been once before with his father. Although overrated, space travel was a sufficiently expensive excursion for Lucius to deem it an appropriate gift for Draco's tenth birthday. They'd dressed in their space robes and their Bubble-Head Charms and shot off to the moon clutching a Portkey made of a piece of Muggle rubbish that Draco now knew to be a credit card.

Space was so dull. Dead as a Discman. The landscape was...something...but there were only so many rocks-destroyed-by-smaller-rocks to admire before Draco had seen them all. Plus, the Bubble-Head Charm was stuffy, and the Portkey ride nauseating; an altogether disgusting combination when coupled with Draco's already-weak stomach. So Draco was less than keen when Harry asked him if he wanted to go to space. His exact words were something like, "No fucking way" and "Only Muggleborns want to go to space”.

"I bought spaceshrooms," Harry said, accurately deducing that the main reason why Draco didn't want to go was because of the damned Bubble-Head Charm. Their last vacation to the Caribbean had been dazzling until the scuba diving disaster.

"Shut up." Draco threw his popsicle to the ground. "No, you did not."

"I did."

Spaceshrooms was the space equivalent of Gillyweed. Chew up a fist-sized wad, and your lungs could transform atomic oxygen into molecular oxygen out of thin air (or no air). The only thing more expensive than a Portkey to space was Spaceshrooms. Even Lucius couldn’t afford Spaceshrooms. Draco swallowed. Fuck, maybe Harry did love him.

"Fine," Draco huffed, giving in after Harry started biting his lower lip and blinking doe-eyes. Draco harrumphed again for effect, stomping on the cherry-flavoured popsicle mess because he could.

Nobody told Draco that Spaceshrooms got you high as fuck.

"Have you seen my hands?" Draco asked the three-headed Potter doing zero-gravity cartwheels overhead.

"We can play Quidditch without brooms," Harry yelled. He did another cartwheel, bounding further into the void. "I name it...Jumpditch."

"Did you even hear me?" Draco hollered back, but of course, Harry didn't because sound doesn't travel through space. Space tourism was a bit like a silent retreat except with a gift shop on the way out.

"I can jump to fucking Mars," Harry shouted.

Draco needed to get a leash on Harry before Harry rebounded back to Earth. Merlin, space was so fucking big. Big and infinite, and if Draco didn't get a grip on Harry, then he and his three bloody heads were going to disappear forever, leaving Draco on the moon by himself. If only his hands weren't so big, then they'd fit in his space robes where he slipped his wand, and—oh. Did his pockets expand?

"Legilimens," Draco muttered. He wiped his mouth (where did that drool come from?) then yelled, "ARE YOU HIGH?"

Harry cartwheeled over him. "YES! VERY. WHY?"

"JUST DOUBLE-CHECKING."

Harry bounded next to Draco. "ARE YOU HAVING FUN?"

"YOU CAN STOP SHOUTING."

"YOU FIRST."

"NO, I CAN'T."

"WHY NOT."

"MY HANDS ARE JUST SO BIG HOLY FUCK."

"NO THEY'RE NOT."

"YES THEY ARE. They're just SO big. And how am I ever going to go home? They won't even FIT on the PORTKEY, and then I’ll be stuck here FOREVER turning to dust with all this DEAD STUFF while my hands grow bigger and bigger AND BIGGER UNTIL they’re bigger than the MOON. Merlin, I HATE space. It's just so DEAD. I don't get how ANYONE can LIKE it, and MY HANDS—"

Harry grabbed Draco's hands and kissed the thumbs. "Don't make fun of them. They're my favourite."

Draco blinked. Harry's eyes were spinning green blobs. Draco thought maybe they were his favourite, too, even if they looked like the bottom of Neville Longbottom's cauldron. Everything about Harry was his favourite, really. And then Draco remembered Harry could hear his thoughts.

Remus stuck his tongue out, cheeky grin never fading as he pulled Roman into his lab. “Perhaps, but that’s irrelevant. For you see, dear brother, what I’ve been working on puts everything else in this institution to shame! The studies of bloodletting, of heating, even the studies of electricity! All of them are rubbish compared to what I’ve accomplished! Absolute garbage!” 

Roman arched a delicate brow. “Is this at all like the time you tried to power the summer house using garbage?”

“Nothing at all like it!” Remus laughed. “No no, this is something far more spectacular! Mostly due to the fact that this worked. You see brother mine-”

Remus came to a halt in front of the door, grabbing both of Roman’s wrists in his hands and looking him full in the face, manic grin against cool trepidation. He glanced momentarily to either side, as if ensuring that no one would overhear. 

“I’ve created life,” Remus whispered reverently, voice hushed and husky from what was no doubt mania and delusion. “The very spark of it. The thing the gods- if there are any- have kept from man from so long. And I’ve found it.”

“Wait you-” Roman shook his head. “You have a child?? Remus I hardly think-”

Remus pressed his hand firm against Roman’s mouth, giving him a good taste of the iron and chemicals that had been on it within the last week. 

He rolled his eyes irritably. “Not at all what I meant. I mean that I’ve made it. Literally. I have fashioned new life from old ones. Constructed it perfectly using only the finest parts.” 

“Parts?” Roman felt himself grow pale. 

Remus’ manic grin returned. “See for yourself. I’m rather proud of him.”

Roman gulped. His brother stepped aside, letting him push the door open and walk into the room. At first there seemed nothing amiss. It was sorely lacking in an open window, but it looked like any other lab, though granted- due to the nature of it being Remus’ lab it was much messier than the labs of their esteemed family members. However the only thing at all peculiar was the overly large lump of sheets on the table. 

And then the lump began to move.

It stood, up and up and up until it was towering three feet above Roman and peering down at him through horrible, horrific eyes.

“Good gracious,” Roman said, voice faint. “Remus Eli Frankenstien… What have you done?” 

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