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Harry wondered if he was about to burst into tears. “Look, will someone please tell me what’s going on?” He gestured helplessly at the little boy, who was now struggling to wipe his porridge covered fingers all over Hermione’s dressing gown. “So far this morning I’ve had a little girl jump on my bollocks, Ginny and Dean yelling about something called George, and a naked sodding Draco Malfoy trying to snog my face off!” he crumpled over onto the table, hiding his head in his hands. “Is this a dream? Do I need to click my heels together three times?”
Ron snorted above him. “Heels? I’d really rather not know the details to you and Draco’s sex life, if you don’t mind.”
Sex life? Draco? Oh, God, Harry thought. This is it, I’m about to be admitted to the Janus Thickey ward.
“Don’t tease him, Ron, it was bound to be a shock,” Hermione said, and Harry felt the familiar weight of her hand pressing against his shoulder. “Harry, what’s the last thing you remember, before you woke up this morning?”
Harry immediately started to calm under Hermione’s level and logical tone. Whatever was going on here, Hermione would be able to figure it out and put everything right again. He took a deep breath and lifted his head. “Me and Malfoy were clearing out a cursed house. We started to go down into the basement, and then we tripped, or something, and we fell down the steps. Then, I woke up with a very naked Malfoy pressed against me.” He stressed the part about the nakedness, wanting to make sure they both understood the severity of the situation. To his consternation however, Hermione merely suppressed a smile.
“Okay. Harry, I want you to tell me something: do you trust me?”
“What? Of course I do!”
She smiled and patted his hand. “Good. Then I want you to trust me when I tell you that I can’t say too much about what’s going on, but that I promise you that everything is going to be okay. Can you do that?”
Harry gaped at her. “I-I don’t know. Can you tell me anything?”
Hermione pursed her lips in thought. “I can tell you that there was a spell on the doorway you and Dra—Malfoy walked through, called Brevem Conspectum. It basically translates into a brief glimpse.”
“A brief glimpse at what?”
Hermione tipped her head to the side, wincing when the little boy took the opportunity to grab for her hair. “Let go, Hugo. That, Harry, is something you’ll have to figure out for yourself. If I tell you any more, it could change things.”
Harry looked from Hermione to Ron, who shrugged apologetically. “She’s right, mate. Sorry. You know we’d help if we could.”
“So, what do I do until I work it out?” Harry asked helplessly.
Hermione stood up, pulling the little boy out of the highchair to balance on her hip. The boy clapped his hands, spraying globs of porridge over the table. “Now, you go back home, and you try not to raise any suspicions. The good news is, Ginny’s looking after Lissa for the day, and there’s a party at the Burrow tonight, so you won’t be alone for too long.” Harry smiled at the thought of Hermione not wanting him to be all by himself, until she continued with, “So you shouldn’t mess anything up too badly.”
“So, you’re saying I have to go back to Malfoy?” Did you not hear the part about the nakedness?
“Yes, although it might be a good idea for you to call him Draco, just for today.”
“What? Why?”
Hermione handed the boy over to Ron and steered Harry towards the floo. “Harry, I want you to think about one very important thing: this morning, when you woke up with Draco, when he kissed you, and with the er, the nakedness?”
So she had heard the part about the nakedness.
“Yes,” Harry said slowly.
“Did you like it?”
Harry spluttered, and Hermione used the moment to throw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace. “Harry and Draco’s house,” she said into the flames. “Just think about it, okay?” She pushed Harry into the fire, and as he spun away, he heard her call out, “And try not to act too suspicious!”
Harry skidded out of the floo and into a bright, airy, completely unfamiliar room. He brushed the soot from his t shirt and jeans as he looked around, his pulse jumping as he took in what clues the room had to offer him. There was a large wooden toy box in front of the huge windows, the lid pulled half off and toys spilling out onto the floor; a big yellow truck sat next to it, a barbie doll behind the wheel and a My Little Pony in the back; what looked like half a witch’s costume stretched over the stomach of a large teddy bear; a rocking horse that had had one of its white patches coloured in a variety of shades. A purple and blue pygmy puff rolled around in a cage on the opposite side of the room, letting out the occasional chirp as it smacked into the bars and reversed course. A dark green leather high back chair sat in one corner, facing out into the room and within easy reach of the bookcases sitting to either side of it. A big screen telly dominated one wall, opposite a comfy looking striped sofa, scattered with mismatched cushions and blankets. A tiny black shoe sat innocuously on one of the cushions.
And everywhere, everywhere, there were pictures.
Everywhere Harry looked, photographic versions of himself and many others waved back at him. He, Ron and Hermione sitting on a bench with scarves wrapped around their necks smiled at him from on top of the dresser; Molly and Arthur grinning down at a small bundle in their arms on the mantelpiece; a photograph of what seemed to have been Ginny’s wedding to Dean; Hermione in her wedding dress, scolding Ron for having his mouth full of cake—Harry remembered that one, he’d taken it just over a week ago at their wedding.
And interspersed between all of these were pictures of Harry and Malfoy. Malfoy pulling a face while Harry kissed him messily on the cheek; Malfoy with his arms wrapped around Harry’s waist, his chin resting on Harry’s shoulder; Malfoy sitting next to Harry on a sofa that was obviously in the Burrow; Malfoy playing with a little girl with long dark hair and wide grey eyes; Malfoy standing next to a hospital bed, staring down at the small baby Harry was holding in his arms.
And then his eyes lighted on a small black frame on the bookshelves, holding a picture of a shy looking Harry with his hands caressing his stomach lovingly. His very round, big stomach.
Harry’s hands flew to his own stomach, lifting up his t shirt and running over his taut muscles. What the hell? He hadn’t even known that wizards could do that…Okay no, he did know, because Charlie Weasley and his husband Evan had been talking about one of them getting pregnant recently, it’s just…he’d never seen it, and now here he was, staring at evidence that he’d done it himself.
Harry sank down onto the sofa, wincing when he landed on the discarded shoe. Okay, he just had to think about this for a minute. What had Hermione said? This was the effects of a spell, and something about a brief glimpse. But what was he briefly glimpsing at? A bad acid trip? Harry didn’t think he needed a lesson in responsible drug use. Maybe a look at how his mind would crack if he kept on spending so much time at work? It was true, Harry did work a lot, not leaving much time for a personal life, but he really didn’t think that this would be what his frayed mind would conjure up. An alternate universe of some kind? Harry didn’t know if such things existed, but if they did, then maybe Hermione’s reluctance to tell him much made a bit more sense. Maybe if he learned too much, he wouldn’t be able to get back to his own world?
Harry sighed and scrubbed at his face with his hand, pausing when he felt something unfamiliar moving across his skin. He stared at his left hand; on the third finger sat a simple, white gold band.
Harry thought he might be having a heart attack.
Okay no, he just had to take some deep breaths, and think. Wherever Harry was, an alternate universe, a mental breakdown, a massive bonk to the head and a subsequent coma, whatever, clearly things here were very different. He seemed to be married, for a start, and was living in what seemed to be a very beautiful house, and had had a child…
Harry felt light headed.
So, he was married, living in a house rather than a flat, with a child—Lissa? That’s what Ginny and Hermione had both called the little girl—and he seemed to be doing all of this with Draco sodding Malfoy.
“Finally decided to grace me with your presence, I see,” Malfoy said behind him, and Harry jumped so hard he slipped off the sofa. Malfoy sneered at him. “I’m so bloody honoured.”
Harry stared at him. Malfoy had put some clothes on by now, and was wearing a pair of deliciously soft looking faded jeans and an untucked white shirt rolled to the elbows. He stared at the place where two of the shirt buttons were undone, showing a hint of skin and the way Malfoy’s throat moved as he swallowed.
“Got nothing to say?”
Malfoy stared down at Harry, his grey eyes cold. And a little bit hurt, Harry was surprised to notice. What had Hermione said? Try not to act too suspicious. Right then. Harry cleared his throat.
“Er, sorry. It was work stuff, something important that I forgot to tell Hermione about. I’m back now though. Er, obviously.”
Malfoy snorted delicately and turned away. “Bloody figures,” he mumbled, walking off in the direction of what Harry assumed to be the kitchen.
Harry followed, wracking his brain to come up with a way to fix this. Whoever this Harry was, he had clearly not been expected to go apparating off to his friends this morning, and Harry needed to fix this before anyone noticed he wasn’t acting in the right way. “I really am sorry,” he said, rounding the corner into the kitchen and finding Malfoy facing away from him, fiddling with the kettle. “But it was urgent, and it was about work.” Surely this Harry worked too, right? Harry’s eyes widened slightly. What if he was a stay at home dad?
Malfoy sighed and turned around to face Harry, leaning back against the counter. “No, I’m sorry. You told me where you were going, and you were gone less than half an hour, it’s not a big deal, really.”
“Yeah but, I upset you,” Harry said hesitantly, not believing an apology was really all it took. The Malfoy he knew would be spitting mad at any perceived slight against him.
Malfoy smiled. “I was just really looking forward to spending the whole day with you, that’s all.” The kettle whistled and he turned around to begin making two cups of tea. “Work has been busy for both of us recently, and with Lissa waiting for us when we get home every night, it just feels like it’s been forever since we’ve had an entire day to ourselves, you know?”
Harry nodded and accepted the tea Malfoy held out for him. He sipped at it in lieu of replying, and moaned aloud at the taste of it. “Mmm, this is perfect,” he said unthinkingly.
Malfoy snorted. “When is it not?” He raked his gaze over Harry as he drank some of his own tea. “We don’t have to be over at the Weasleys for a few more hours. Any idea how you want to spend the time?”
Harry went hot all over at the thoughts that inspired, his brain flashing images from earlier in the morning; sweaty, close, naked images. He cast his mind around for an innocuous activity they could do together without Harry raising too many suspicions. “The telly,” he burst out quickly, watching as Malfoy raised his eyebrows. “We could er, watch a film?”
Malfoy nodded slowly. “An afternoon on the sofa. How could I say no?”
Half an hour later, and Harry was beginning to regret his offer. He sat on one end of the sofa, Malfoy’s head in his lap and his hand wrapped around Harry’s thigh. The movie Malfoy had picked was set in space, a genre Harry usually loved, but he couldn’t concentrate on a single thing happening on the screen. Malfoy had drawn the curtains and left the lights off, and the room was dark and intimate, and he could feel Malfoy’s every exhale, hot and damp against his thigh. His hair was soft and smooth between Harry’s fingers, and it was only when he realised he’d been rubbing at Malfoy’s scalp that he yanked his hand away.
