55Chapter 30: PU 3: The Dark Plane
Parallel Universe, part three: The Dark Plane
They had expected to emerge into the same room that they had entered by, but to their surprise they found themselves in an empty, white-walled strange room that neither of them had ever seen before. What was even more surprising was that there seemed to be no doors and no windows to exit by. Draco took Harry's hand and squeezed it for support. "Where are we?"
"I dunno," Harry said, inspecting the walls in search of a hidden door or suchlike. "But the question I would like answered is how the Hell we get out of here."
"I think I can answer that for you," said a low voice behind them.
Jumping, they both swirled around to face their possible adversary.
It was Tim. Apparently, the Time Manipulator of the Dark Plane had a slightly different taste than the Tim they knew, because this replica did not wear green to compliment his deep green eyes. Dressed all in black—black wizards' trousers with the obligatory oblong pocket for the wand, black dragon hide boots, some sort of black robes, and a black cloak—he looked almost like the Angel of Death himself. His eyes were darker somehow … perhaps because of the toughness that one surely must possess to survive in this world.
Draco took a trembling step towards him, his hand half stretched out to the boy. "Tim?" he asked in disbelief.
The boy's eyes narrowed into a stare of utmost hostility. "I prefer to be called Bond, please," he hissed. Harry wondered if maybe he had inherited his ability to talk to snakes.
"Bond?" Draco repeated, and looked as if he was about to laugh.
Harry quickly stepped on his foot. "Bond it is, then," he said urgently, although he found that nickname—or title or whatever it was—very baffling and bewildering. "Er … how do we get out of here? We need to find James …"
For a few unsettling moments, the blond boy just stared at them. Harry could not get over how very different he was from the Tim they knew, how very dark his whole persona seemed to be … He did not exactly reek of evil, but it was as close as anyone could get without stepping over to the other side. His aura was dark, very dark, but at least he seemed to be a good wizard.
"This is the arrival room," Bond explained with visible impatience. "This is where you wind up when you enter another world. I will let you out as soon as I've briefed you. You need to be prepared for the lives you're going to lead during your stay here, and we don't have time for twenty questions. Are we clear?"
He eyed them with great dislike. He did not seem to be very fond of visitors from the outside.
"Yeah, we're clear," Harry and Draco said in unison.
Bond shifted his feet. "Good. I need you to forget about your sorry lives in your 'better world' right now and focus on the information I give you. The Dark Plane is a very dangerous place for people like you, and you do not want to be caught off guard. Do you understand me?"
They both nodded vigorously.
"Draco," the boy said turned to the blonde, "you need a different look."
With an elegant flick of his left wrist, the boy had changed Draco's appearance completely. His blond hair had been cut extremely short, almost cropped, and his old midnight-blue favourite robes had been traded for brand new deep green robes that almost appeared black at first sight. Harry could see that they were made from the finest of fabrics—Malfoy standard. His wand was different, as well. Willow, twelve-and-a-half inches, probably containing a single hair from the tail of a unicorn … Maybe his old one had broken in a duel.
"There," Bond said, pleased with his work, "now you at least look like your dark equivalent."
"Da-dark equivalent?" Draco stuttered.
Harry guessed that he recalled the six months during which another, darker Draco had resided within him.
The boy boldly met his grey eyes. "Yes. You need to get in touch with your Malfoy genes again, 'father,' because you're going to need them. You are working directly under Voldemort—"
Draco flinched. "Voldemort?!" he breathed in astonishment.
Bond sighed impatiently. "I thought I told you—no questions allowed," he admonished. "But yes, Voldemort is very much alive in this universe. I heard you managed to kill him in your world, but here you figure as his right hand man. I think Wormtail had that position in your world, hadn't he? Well, he's dead here and has been for the past twenty-two years. Nor does young Mr. Crouch have any desirable position in Voldemort's army, he's merely one of the regular Death Eaters.
"And I guess I ought to tell you that the Death Eaters are much more numerous here, and they have greater resources. Here they are at war with the good witches and wizards that stand by the Ministry, and Draco is their general. So you see why you need to keep your head cold, because one little mistake will be all it takes to assure you a painful execution."
Harry did not like the way the boy was talking to Draco, and apparently neither did the blonde himself. But instead of defending himself by spitting out a few curses Malfoy style, he shrank and cowered by Harry's side.
Bond turned his attention to Harry. Draco's part of the briefing was obviously over. "Now, Potter … We need to sharpen your appearances as well. First, we need to get rid of that nasty scar your've got." He pulled out his wand and prepared to use a spell on Harry's forehead.
But Harry grabbed his arm to stop him. "Excuse me, remove the scar?"
Bond shook his hand off, affronted. "Don't you dare touch me again," he warned, and Harry did not doubt that this was an honest threat. "Yes, remove the scar, what did you think? Your Parallel Self has no scar, you imbecile."
He sounded awfully like Snape.
Draco blinked. "But … he got that scar when Voldemort hit him with the death curse …"
That statement temporarily made Bond taken aback. "Death curse?" he echoed. "Harry was never hit with the death curse—no-one has ever survived that, it's impossible!"
"Not in our world," Draco objected, "and my Harry's survived it four times."
This astonished the young Time Manipulator even more. "Four times? Impossible …" He stared at Harry for the longest time. Then he cleared his throat. "Could you explain to me what happened, please? Maybe it will help me understand the differences between our worlds better and help me give you a more accurate briefing."
Harry told him about the night that everyone in their world knew about—the night when his life had been for ever changed without his knowledge and without his consent. He told him how Wormtail had betrayed his parents and how that had led to the deaths of fourteen people. He also told him about his years at Hogwarts, how he had relentlessly fought two Dark Lords for the better part of his life, how he and Draco had fallen in love and ultimately started a family, and even though it still hurt, he also told the boy about Sirius. His time in Azkaban, how Harry and Hermione had helped him escape, about his life at large, and finally about his death down in the Department of Mysteries. The entire story demanded forty agonising minutes of him.
When he fell silent, Bond was thoughtfully scratching his chin. "So that is how this Pywercaseley came to power in your world?" he stated. "Very well, I will tell you about our world, then. Voldemort did indeed seek out your parents because their old friend Wormtail betrayed them—that much is in accordance. But your parents never fought back, Harry—they gave themselves to Voldemort."
That was the last thing Harry had expected to hear. For several minutes, he was unable to speak or even to move. Then, he said, "My parents are … dark wizards?"
"Yes, I am afraid so. They have served Voldemort devoutly ever since, and their intention was for you to walk in their footsteps. But when you went to Hogwarts, you changed. You wanted no part in it, and so you turned instead to Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. So now you see why your Parallel Self has no scar. Voldemort never had to curse anyone that night and remained in full power. Wormtail, however … Just like in your world, Sirius sensed that something was wrong and came to check it out. He found Wormtail trying to persuade Lily and James to go with him, or at least that's what he thought he saw. In the belief that his best friends and his godson were in danger, he challenged Wormtail to a wizard duel. Sirius won. When he realised that James and Lily had no intention to come with him, he took you and Disapparated. Went straight to Dumbledore, seeking guidance and asking for protection."
Harry was completely mesmerised by Bond's story. "So what you mean to tell me is … I was raised by Sirius?"
"In part, yes. Your parents found you when you were four and demanded Sirius to give you back to them. He refused. But they wouldn't give up; they kept searching for you until they found you again. You were six, and they took you away in your sleep. They raised you in Voldemort's midst until you were old enough to go to Hogwarts. Since there was no proof of Lily and James being Death Eaters and the Ministry was unwilling to believe Sirius, no-one could refuse you a good education. At Hogwarts, you met Ron and Hermione and realised that the world you had grown up in was no good place."
"So, I was still in Gryffindor, then?" Harry stated. "I would have thought that I'd wind up in Slytherin with that background …"
"You did," Bond confirmed.
Harry blinked. "What? But you just said—"
"That you met Ron and Hermione at Hogwarts, yes, but I didn't say you became best friends at first sight, did I?"
"But I assumed—"
"Don't assume too much. Harry Potter is a very confident man and never hesitates or makes assumptions. You were in Slytherin, yes, and for two years you were best friends with Draco and his cronies—"
"Harry and I were friends?" Draco echoed in bafflement. "Right away?"
"Yes, for a brief two years you were quite close. But at the beginning of your third year, Harry was in detention together with Ron and had the best time of his life. When they started hanging out, and Harry started to get to know Ron's friends in Gryffindor House, Draco branded him a traitor and turned his entire house against him. Harry had to switch to Gryffindor to avoid being killed by his classmates. They made five very creative attempts …"
"But if that's our past in this world—how come you exist?" Harry asked in confusion. "I thought Draco and I were archenemies here—and that we would stay that way. So how can you exist?"
A faint smirk disfigured Bond's face. "I am the result of your interference in this world," he confessed. "It is true that I wouldn't have existed if you had stayed enemies for ever, as was fated … But you two will stir up feelings that has long been buried, and in just three years' time, I will be born."
"What are you talking about?" Draco asked. "I don't understand …"
"You want to find James, right?" Bond interrupted. "If you want to find him, you have to pretend to be your Parallel Selves, but you will also have to find a way to work together. In this world, you are enemies. So how can you successfully make everyone else believe that you've stopped hating each other?"
Harry and Draco exchanged a bewildered look. How, indeed?
Bond crossed his arms over his chest. "The answer is simple. All you need to do is decide upon a rendezvous point where you will both be at a certain time, bring witnesses, start a major fight, and end it like friends. That's all you need to do. I suggest that you take a few minutes to think of a plan, because I'm going to send you off real soon, and then you're going to need a bloody good strategy. Good luck, dear 'fathers.' I will be watching the entertainment."
It was so cool! They looked exactly like Harry and Draco—and yet, at the same time, they looked nothing like them at all. Piper could not stop staring at them.
Harry, whom she knew to love Muggle clothes, looked as if he had never gone near a Muggle in his life. He was wearing magenta robes at the moment, and he wore his hair differently. It was not as … tousled. It was actually rather neat. And another thing about him was that he had no scar. The trademark that had made him famous all over the magical world had apparently never appeared on his forehead in the Dark Plane.
Parallel Draco looked just like her Draco, with a few exceptions. His hair was shorter and bristlier, and he was slightly thinner. Otherwise, she would not have noticed any difference between him and her 'real' brother.
At first, they seemed too shocked at finding themselves in a strange parlour to register anyone else in the room, but when they grew aware of each other, their reactions were quicker than lightning.
"Kamilossato!" Harry yelled.
"Furnuncula!" Draco belched at the exact same moment.
Their jinxes collided in mid-air and bounced off in opposite directions. Draco's boil-sprouting jinx hit a ceramic pot containing fresh summer flowers and broke it in halves while Harry's Hairloss Spell kept bouncing off the walls and the ceiling before finally hitting one-month-old Yamato in Piper's arms.
The small boy began to scream at an ear-splitting volume.
"Great," Piper moaned, "now I have a bald baby!"
She hushed and soothed and carefully caressed the screaming baby's scorched head. When she had successfully managed to quieten her next-to-youngest son and magicked his hair back with a Reversal Spell, she looked up at the two young men. "At least you didn't scream 'Avada Kedavra' at each other—that could've been nasty!"
They seemed to spot her for the first time, and they both reflected different degrees of astonishment and confusion. "Piper?" they both said with great surprise.
"Ha! You know who I am! Good, then I won't have to introduce myself!" she said sarcastically.
Parallel Draco stared at the twin boys in Piper's arms. "Where'd you find the babies?" He surveyed the room. "And who refurnished?"
Piper tilted her head slightly to the left. "No-one's refurnished," she told him. "You're in a parallel universe in the places of the Draco and the Harry of this world. Oh, and the babies are mine, thank you very much. Well, except for that one. She's yours."
She pointed at Joz, who was sitting on the floor at her feet.
"Excuse me?!" Draco shrieked indignantly.
Piper started. "Oh, yeah … that reminds me … Incarcerous Totilae!"
Heavy steel chains burst from her wand and wrapped themselves around both men.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" Draco yelled, his face blood-red with fury. "Release me immediately or I will report this to your superiors!"
Piper raised an eyebrow in amusement. "My superiors, eh? You're not in your world anymore, and I'm not evil. I take orders from no-one, and I will not release you until I've explain the situation to you both. And don't you try anything because it won't be worth it. Accio wands." She pocketed their wands. "Now, listen carefully. Oh, shut up, you whiny old kiss-arse. Gaggolus!"
Draco was gagged before he could start to protest.
Harry grinned gleefully at him. "Shut you up," he said brightly.
"Ahh, Potter … that's a yellow card for you. Gaggolus!"
And with them both bound and gagged, she began to recount the reason they were both there.
It felt weirder than weird to be amongst Death Eaters again, and he walked around with a perpetual lump in his throat and cold sweat running down his spine, nervous about being caught as an imposter. He could only too vividly imagine what they would do to him if they found out he was not the right Draco Malfoy.
Harry and he had agreed to give it two days before they began their elaborate drama and the act that would 'bring them together.' Only two days to figure out his part and get familiar with everything in this strange, dark world. Two days was nothing.
Draco was actually a bit surprised to learn that the Malfoy Manor was their Headquarters, but then again, his father had always been quick to suck up to the Dark Lord. Many times he was close to reveal himself when he met people that he knew to be dead, but who were not dead in this world. When he bumped into Blaise Zabini in one of the hallways in the Manor, he was temporarily struck mute and paralysed by guilt and fright. For a moment, he thought that Zabini had come back to life to punish him for killing him twice. Fortunately, his former classmate did not notice Draco's jitteriness but just kept on walking past him.
The same thing happened when he encountered his father the first time, but this time he recovered from the shock much quicker. Later, when he met his mother and other people that he had killed six years ago, he did not react at all. He just muttered at them that they were in his way. Nobody suspected that he did not belong there, and to an extent, that scared him.
Was it really that easy for him to fool people into believing that he was evil?
Meeting Harry's parents was what was most awkward, partly because they were sort of his father- and mother-in-law and partly because they were supposed to be good and acted totally out of character in this reality. He cowered from them, plagued by ambiguous feelings. He wanted to shake them and ask them what the Hell they had been thinking, crossing over to the dark side when they were supposed to protect their son, but at the same time he wanted to hug them and tell them just how happy he was to have their son in his life. He wanted to slap their faces and curse their arses for turning to Voldemort rather than Dumbledore, but he also wanted to show them his ring and tell them all about their grandchildren-in-another-dimension.
Seeing Piper in this world was also very straining and very painful, because the Piper of the Dark Plane was nothing like his sister. She was evil. And the word 'evil' did not really seem to cut it; she was vicious, devious, malevolent, demonic! She had nothing of the stupidity that his Piper had, nothing of her annoying humour or tendency to deliberately getting her brother into different sorts of trouble.
No, this Piper was cold-blooded, cold-hearted, and calculating. She thrived on others' pain and misery and never made a single mistake. Ever. He had always thought of his sister as the most skilled witch alive on this Earth, but he had also thought of her as the most stupid bitch there was. This Piper was a self-righteous killing machine, and every single spell and every single potion she tried worked at once. Unlike his Piper, she never made anything explode unintentionally.
She often made things explode because she wanted them to, though.
Being Voldemort's right hand and general in the Death Eater army would be easy enough; hiding the fact that he was not 'the dark Draco' from Piper, on the other hand …
He tried to avoid her as best he could, because she was way too smart not to notice the difference between him and the Draco that had been forced to take his place in their world.
And if she did … he would be doomed.
"Sirius!"
He had thrown himself around his godfather's shoulders before even realising that he had left the doorway. At the sight of Black by the fire in the basement kitchen, however, he had forgotten all about the scheme that he and Draco had planned to get James back to their universe. Clinging to the other man, he remembered, though.
He hastily withdrew. "Sorry, Sirius," he said, somewhat embarrassedly. "I just had this nasty nightmare, and it was so vivid I thought it was true, and … Oh, forget it, it wasn't important."
Sirius was regarding him with twinkling eyes and an amused smile. He seemed to be the same man that Harry remembered from his school years, but he also seemed to have been spared of most of his misery. Not having spent twelve years in Azkaban, he was a much more optimistic and open man than he had been when Harry knew him. He instantly loved him just as much as he had loved his Sirius.
"Harry, you shouldn't take dreams too seriously," he said. "Live for the moment and just be happy with what you've got. You never know what life has in store for you."
"I know," Harry assured him, smiling so broadly his facial muscles almost went into a cramp. Even if he had to wait two whole days before he could see Draco again, at least he would get to spend them with Sirius.
Harry sat down at the table to have breakfast together with his godfather. Just when he was buttering a slice of bread, footsteps echoed in the staircase outside the door. A moment later, two familiar men entered the room. Harry gaped at them.
The first person was Alastair Moody, and he looked nothing like the Mad-Eye Harry remembered. For one, he was smiling. Harry had never seen Mad-Eye smiling. Smirking, yes, grimacing—certainly!—but smiling? Second, his face was intact and untouched by bloodthirsty dark wizards. The Moody that Harry knew had scars all over his face and a large chunk missing from his nose, but this Moody had no scars, no scratches, and a whole nose. It was amazing. Now he finally knew what Moody really looked like.
The second person was Remus Lupin, and he was not quite himself, either. Apparently no Wolfsbane Potion had been discovered in this world, and a life as a werewolf had worn down Lupin's psyche so bad that he had gone mad from it. He was wearing what looked like a straightjacket and his hair was standing on end. He had an expression of utter insanity on his face.
It pained Harry to see his old professor like that. (Or maybe he had never been his professor in this world?)
Sirius rose from the table when he saw Lupin, a concerned scowl on his handsome face. "What is he doing down here?" he asked warily.
Harry thought he was being unfair to Lupin. He wanted to say, "He was your best friend at school," and reproach him for using that unpleasant tone, but then he realised that he would reveal his true identity if he did. Harry of the Dark Plane would be used to seeing Lupin like this and would not reproach anyone for treating him badly.
"Ah, he wanted summat to eat, poor chap," Moody said in a my-poow-wittle-baby-is-hungwy-voice that totally baffled Harry. Maybe he should change his name to Cheery?
Sirius studied Lupin for a few seconds, then nodded. "All right, but let it be quick. There's a full moon tonight, we need to lock him in early."
Harry watched as Lupin was placed in a chair opposite him at the big table. "Mornin' Remus," he said, arguing with himself that a greeting would be better than no greeting.
Lupin stared down into the table top. "Good morning, Harry," he said shyly.
Harry raised his eyebrows in puzzlement.
"Harryyyyy!"
Something big and soft slammed into him and clasped him in an airtight grip and almost knocked him off his chair. For a confused moment, he thought Draco had trashed the idea of pretending to be head of the Death Eater army and come looking for him, but then he felt two distinct bumps pressing against his chest.
"Why didn't you wake me, you pig?"
A shiver travelled down his spine.
He stared at the person clinging to him in terror.
"Ginny, what the fuck are you doing?!" he said before he could stop himself. "And what the fuck are you wearing?!"
The word 'wearing' was too generous; all she had put on was a pair of red hot pants and a minimal halter neck top—an outfit that made her look extremely slutty.
She blinked at him in lack of understanding. "What? I'm not revealing enough?" she asked.
He pushed away from her, totally grossed out at the way she was touching him. "Not revealing enough?!" he exclaimed in fright. "Hell, you're revealing too much! Go put some clothes on, will you?!"
Ugh, he did not ever want to be touched by her like that again!
Tears filled her eyes. "What are you talking about, Harry? You like me to walk around the house in my underwear …"
"I what?! I … I … And why are you talking as if we live here?!"
"But we do live here!" she yelled, and hit him hard on the chest with both her fists. "Last time I checked I was still your girlfriend, but maybe you changed your mind overnight!"
Snivelling loudly, she turned on her heel—or, more like her bare feet, actually—and ran back up the stairs. Five seconds later, the banshee wails of Sirius's mother could be heard from the hallway upstairs. Harry glared after her, not believing what he had just heard. Girlfriend? Ginny? How the Hell had that happened?!
Slowly he became aware that Sirius and Moody were watching him with a new wariness. He had totally blown his cover. They must have realised that there was something wrong, and he did not dare think about what they would do to him now. Especially not if they thought he was a Death Eater on Polyjuice Potion.
He tried to explain everything to them, but no words would escape his mouth. He just stood there, gaping at them like some sort of dumb mute.
After a while, Sirius nodded at Moody. "Take Remus back upstairs. I want to talk to Harry in private."
At first, Moody was utterly reluctant to leave Sirius alone with Harry, but ultimately he nodded and rose from the table. He coaxed Lupin into following him to the door. As they passed Harry, he could hear the poor (possibly) former professor rambling quietly to himself: "Potter showed the bitch who's in charge, Potter showed the bitch who's in charge, oh, she'll have a hard time sleeping tonight … I might visit her …"
Another shiver travelled down his spine as the door was closed behind him.
Afraid for himself for the first time since he came to the Black house, he forced himself to meet Sirius's gaze. He had expected to be overpowered by the older man and either bound or killed, therefore he was very surprised at his godfather's question.
"Which world did you come from?"
"You must be kidding me! Me and Potter? Scarcely! I would never go near that half-blood, not even to get a better chance to kill the bastard! Me and Potter? You're out of your mind, woman!"
"Is that any way to address your sister, Draco?" Piper asked, and could not hide her amusement at his desperate attempts to deny the obvious.
"Fuck you!"
"Fuck you right back, bro. You know it's true just as well as I do. Timmy—the Time Manipulator—said that your world's Time Manipulator is his Parallel Self, which means that you will get lovey-dovey with Potter sooner or later, or else he wouldn't exist. It's a fact. Don't deny it. It'll only come back to haunt you later in life. No, it's better to just accept facts and get on with life, bro. Law of the jungle. Survival of the fittest. Pull of gravity. Rules of—"
"Shut up! I will not get lovey-dovey with Potter!"
Piper gave a shrill laugh and clapped her hands together in delight. "I can't beliiiieeeeve that you actually used that word, Drakie-bums! Oooh, you are sooo gonna screw!"
Not even Draco could think of a repartee to that one.
Parallel Harry was just studying her in silence, his arms crossed over his chest and a big scowl on his face. He did not look as if he wanted to jump Parallel Draco any more than the blonde looked ready to accept the hot relationship that had been going on in that house for so many years now, but at least he had at last agreed to sit down in peace. He and Draco were sitting on either end of the couch, as far away from each other as the piece of furniture would allow. Now she just had to convince them not to do any harm to each other during their stay in her world.
Draco was peering at Joz from the corner of his eye. "That thing's supposed to be my daughter?" he asked sceptically.
"That thing's name is Joz," Piper informed.
"Whatever. And I'm supposed to take care of her until your brother—my Parallel Self—returns home with the boy?"
"No, you're—" she pointed at the both of them "—are supposed to take care of her together."
They looked at each other with obvious disgust badly masked behind walls of fury and hatred.
"Yeah right!" Draco said.
"As if!" Harry said at the same time.
After another fifteen minutes of persuasion—without any results, one might add—Piper gave up and fell into Yousuke's arms, seeking comfort. She complained over the Parallel people's stubborn reluctance to accept their destiny in Japanese, and he replied her in Japanese, trying his best to soothe her with a few well-chosen words that, to her, sounded like the most beautiful haiku.
Meanwhile, Parallel Harry and Parallel Draco both watched with bewildered expressions.
"Boy, she is so unlike my Piper," Draco claimed.
"Tell me about it," Harry agreed.
Draco turned to him in surprise. "You've met my sister?"
"Have I met your sister?! She almost killed me once! Lucky for me she only scorched my eyebrows," Harry said with a frown.
Then they seemed to become aware that they were speaking to each other in an almost neighbourly manner and instantly turned their heads away in stubborn silence.
That was just too much for Piper, so she left the room.
Only ten minutes passed before the chaos started, though. She was alerted by the furious shouting and the cracks that came from the parlour and hurriedly ran towards the tumult. What she found both astonished and did not astonish her. The boys were cursing and jinxing each other best they could but missed more often than they actually hit each other. What surprised her was that Ron was there, trying his best to break them apart at the consequence of being hit with a few jinxes and hexes himself.
With a reddish-yellow boil-like nose the size of a small football and one trollish arm hanging at his side like a huge dead weight, he finally managed to catch their attention. "Hey, hey, hey! Stop this before you hurt yourselves!" he yelled angrily. "Whatever happened to 'we-solve-our-problems-by-fucking-the-brains-out-of-each-other?!"
"Ron, stay out of this!" Harry growled, and raised his wand anew. Then he started as if suddenly hit by a terrible realisation. "Ron?"
When Harry turned towards his friend and lost concentration, Draco seized the opportunity and prepared to fire a more serious curse at his opponent. "Cru—"
"EXPELLIARMUS!" Piper shouted as loud as she could.
Draco was flung backwards over the couch and landed hard on the wooden floor behind it while his wand shot out of his hand and flew into Piper's grasp.
"Ron?" Harry was staring at his friend in mild disbelief. Then he reached out his arm and poked Ron on the shoulder with his index finger. "You're not dead," he said in astonishment.
Ron blinked. "What? Er … no. Should I be?" he asked, confused.
"No, I guess not. It's good to see you, mate. I've missed you." He hugged him.
"Missed me? But I saw you just a couple days ago … What's with the robes? I thought you were fond of those jeans you were always wearing. And where's your scar? Piper have it removed for you?"
"Scar? What scar?"
"Haaai-aye-I think we all need some tea now!" Piper interrupted to prevent Parallel Harry from blowing their cover. "Who would like some biscuits?"
"Help," came Draco's voice from behind the couch.
Ron glanced down at him, then looked up at Harry's forehead anew. "What's going on here?" he asked suspiciously.
It seemed as if they would have to explain everything to Ron anyway.
After the shock had lifted, he told Sirius about everything from beginning to end, and not once did his godfather seem to distrust his honesty. He felt relieved to finally have told somebody about their scheme and their plans to 'fall for each other.'
"Who have you chosen as your witness?" Sirius asked when he had finished his recount.
Harry shrugged. "I just thought I'd grab someone before I left or something," he admitted.
"That's no good plan, Harry, there might not be anyone you know around. I'll be one of your witnesses, but since I already know about these plans of yours you might want to bring someone else who doesn't know. Someone who can be shocked enough to spread the word."
"Got any suggestions?" Harry asked.
"I'd say Hermione's a good choice for these sorts of things."
Harry flinched as if Sirius had swung his fist at him. "Her-Hermione?"
"Yes. Is that a problem?"
"I dunno, it's just that … Where I come from, Hermione's been dead for almost six years. And what's worse is … my son killed her."
"James?" Sirius said in disbelief.
"Not really." Harry told him about Tom and the complexity of Hermione's murder.
The godfather nodded. "I see. But I still think we should use Hermione. If you feel awkward about being around her, it will only help—our Harry's very awkward around her, too. Three years ago, when Draco killed Ron in battle, he and Hermione were both devastated and wound up in bed together. They've been acting strange around each other ever since. The same thing happened between Harry and Ginny, but he never had the strength to tell her it had just been a mistake. She's always had a thing for him. So they've been a couple ever since. But I don't think Harry's very happy with her."
"I've been together with Ginny for three years?!"
"Not you—Harry."
"Oh. Well, that makes it all much clearer," Harry grumbled sarcastically.
Eventually, the time came for them to act. Harry had summoned Hermione on the pretence that he needed her advice on a possible location for a military meeting. She had come along to the decided rendezvous point without asking questions. But like Sirius had said, she was acting real weird around him. He did not like the tension between them, but he did not possess the strength or the will to do anything about it. He would only regret it once he returned to his own world, because Hermione would still be dead there and he would not be able to continue their friendship.
Draco was not there when they arrived, which made Harry rather uneasy. What if he never came? What if something had happened to him? How long would he wait until he could allow himself to freak out?
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
He could have cried out in happiness at the sound of the blonde's voice. But despite his wildly pounding heart and his flushing cheeks, he managed to keep a straight face.
He turned towards him slowly. "Malfoy," he said, acknowledging the enemy in an indifferent tone.
Draco had brought his old cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, along. Maybe they were the Death Eaters he felt most comfortable with since they were both so stupid.
"Get the Hell out of my reconnoitre site, Potter, or it will not be pleasant," the blonde warned with slits for eyes and fiercely gritted teeth.
Harry crossed his arms over his chest in defiance. "Why? I was here first."
Hermione pulled at the sleeve of his robes. "Harry, let's get out of here, there's no use messing with him."
"No, we were here first—they'll leave."
"Like Hell we will," Draco hissed, and stepped closer. "Get the Hell out of my sight before I curse your sorry arse."
"Go ahead and try me, Malfoy," Harry challenged.
They drew their wands at the exact same time and uttered their curses at the exact same time, too, all according to their plan. They only used minor curses that would not hurt them seriously if either of them got in a hit, but their combatant mode gave the others a genuine enough impression to make them believe they were serious about the battle. For a while, they circled each other, cursing and jinxing and bewitching, successively moving ever closer to each other.
"Give up, Potter!" Draco demanded when they had come so close that only a foot of air separated them from each other. "You have no chance against me."
"No?" Harry mocked. They were only half a foot apart and still advancing, both their faces contorted by wrath and sexual frustration. The latter feeling they did not have to feign.
"No," Draco confirmed. "You're just a slimy old tart in old slutty robes."
Five inches apart.
"Oh yeah?" Harry said. "In that case you're a lonely, ugly virgin Death Eater who's too disgusting to ever get laid."
Two inches.
"You're gonna regret you ever said that, you filthy old piece of canine excrement!"
Half an inch.
"No, you're gonna regret it, you stinking old sock!"
Without having to act, they slammed their lips together in a hard, desperate kiss that was at once lovely and disconcerting.