Parallel Universe, part four: Double Truce
The reactions could not have been better, and their plan could not have worked any better, either. They all believed them; believed what they saw. Their reactions were those of animals shocked into a state of paralysed panic. Harry and Draco had not exactly been chaste, either. Their original plan had been to 'accidentally kiss,' and it was going to be a little kiss, only lips—but the kiss they had engaged in had been one of desperation and insatiable lust with loads of tongue!
For almost twenty seconds they had stood there snogging away—until Hermione had screamed. Fortunately, they had had enough sense to return to their act rather than acting like the married couple they in actuality were, and Draco had shied away with an expression of utter disgust on his face. He pointed his wand at Harry, tried to say something, but just shook his head and Disapparated.
Harry had a hard time concealing his amusement at the blonde's behaviour, but managed to suppress it and spit out a few curses and mutter, "Fuck that Malfoy, he put some sort of spell on me, the fucking poof."
From what Sirius had told him, this world's Harry Potter was a rough-edged aggressor who cursed and made good use of dirty words, so he tried his best to sound harsher than he usually did. 'Fucking' was the best he could come up with; he knew no fouler words. He just hoped they would all buy it.
Hermione could not get over herself. She just kept staring at him with saucer-sized eyes and mouth hanging open dead-fish-style. Shaking badly, she pointed at him. "You … you … you …!"
"'I … I … I!'" Harry said impatiently and very mockingly. "I what, Hermione? Come on, I haven't got all day!"
"You … you … you … kissed … Malfoy?"
Harry gave an irritated moan and rubbed his closed eyes with thumb and middle finger. "I know … why the bloody Hell did I do that? I was just so angry with him, and he was calling me all sorts of names … but all of a sudden I was just so drawn to him. I don't even understand it myself. But suddenly he was just so … attractive. Sexy. Oh, God, am I going mad? Have I lost my last marbles now?"
She just kept staring at him.
He took a dark satisfaction from her nonplussed face.
The plan was turning out to be a major success.
Sirius put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it fatherly. "Don't rack your brain about this, Harry," he advised. "It was just something that happened."
"Yeah, but I had my tongue in his mouth," Harry protested.
"Ugh," Hermione said with a grimace.
"Yeah!" Harry agreed emphatically. "Look, let's just forget about this whole thing and go back home, okay? This doesn't make any sense to me, and I'm really embarrassed … I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this …"
"Certainly not," Sirius promised, and Harry thought he saw the older man wink knowingly.
"'Course," Hermione said numbly.
Back at the Black house, Harry pretended to be nervous and absent-minded while simultaneously trying to keep track of everything that happened and everyone that came and went. He saw many people he knew but even more people he had never met before in his life. He was glad he was supposed to act confused right then, because if any of those people had started up a conversation with him, his cover would have been blown in a matter of seconds.
Hermione stayed close to him all throughout the day, and to his annoyance so did Ginny. She wanted to cling to him all the time, and he hated it. He did not like seeing her like that, acting all slutty—she was Ron's little sister, for crying out loud! His brooding helped keeping her at a distance, though, so that was an extra plus.
"Harry? How are you?" Hermione ultimately asked with worried wrinkles on her forehead.
He looked up at her. "Hmm?"
"How are you doing?" she repeated patiently.
He deliberately waited five seconds before replying. "Fine." Then he went back to brooding. Eventually, his mind started to drift for real—it wasn't an act anymore—and without him even noticing, his son's name escaped him.
"Who?"
He gazed up at Hermione in confusion. "What?"
"You said 'James'," she told him. "Are you thinking about your father?"
"My father …? No, I was just … my … I dunno."
"Harry, are you sure you're all right?"
"Yeah." He sighed deeply. "I just can't stop thinking about him."
Hermione frowned. "James?"
"Who?"
"That James bloke you're talking about—or are you talking about your father this time?"
"No, I wasn't talking about my father," Harry objected. "I meant Draco."
Hermione dropped the book she had been reading on the floor. "Excuse me?"
Ginny was now listening intently to their strange conversation.
"I can't stop thinking about him," Harry repeated. "That kiss is haunting me."
Ginny spun around at him. "Kiss? What kiss?" she demanded, jealousy turning her face crimson.
"Harry kissed Draco Malfoy," Hermione informed her.
"You what?!"
"It was an accident!" Harry exclaimed. "Or was it? I mean, I felt as if there was this major magnet drawing me to him … an undeniable attraction. All these confusing feelings were swirling around inside me … I don't understand what they mean, but I know it's something good. It felt good kissing him. I feel like I want to do it again."
Now Ginny got up from her armchair and slapped him hard in the face. "Bastard!" she hissed and stormed off in tears.
Harry blinked sheepishly after her. "What was that about?"
"Hello!" Hermione said in a you're-bloody-crazy-and-infinitely-stupid sort of voice. "She's your girlfriend, what did you expect when you tell her you liked kissing a guy?"
Harry snorted. "Come off it, Hermione, you know that was a mistake as well as I do. It was just something that happened when we were both devastated over Ron's death—just like it was with you and me." Boy, did that feel weird saying. "She knows it's a mistake, too, but she clings to her dreams because she doesn't have anything else. It's sad, I know, but that's got nothing whatsoever to do with me."
He grew aware that something was scratching his head and looked up to find Hedwig sitting on the back of the armchair. "Oh, hi Hedwig," he said. "Got a letter for me?"
She dropped it into his lap.
When he read it, the deep scowl he faked made him look ten years older.
Hermione studied him with concern. "What is it? What does it say?"
"It's from … Malfoy," Harry said numbly, and met her eyes. "He wants to talk to me."
They stared at each other with wild eyes while the wind blew outside, rain hungrily licking the windows and the walls of the Manor and spraying the roof with nature's own automatic gun fire. Neither of them dared to avert their glares; neither of them relaxed their grips on their wands. The knuckles on their hands had long ago turned white.
Harry could feel his hyperventilating breath half caught in his tight, hurting chest, and the beats of his heart rang in his ears; his blood was churning. Never before had that great an amount of adrenaline been flooding his system. He felt dangerous.
Only when his eyes began to sting and smart and water did he dare to blink. Sweat trickled down his forehead. Every muscle in his body was tensed and ready for action. Ancient survival instinct.
Then he sighed and lowered his wand hand.
So did the blonde.
"I don't have the strength to keep fighting you 24/7 like this," he complained. "We've been at each other's throats for three whole days now—I just can't take it anymore. I feel ready to faint. What do you say we agree upon a temporary truce that will last only for the duration of our stay in this strange, revolting world?"
The blonde—just as beat as he was—stood staring at him in silence for a long while before he finally nodded and definitively put away his wand. "All right. Sounds fair enough. As soon as we get back to our world, we'll continue the war, but here we'll be neutral. I get it."
"Good. Wanna shake hands on that?"
Draco snorted. "Do you want it in writing, too?" But he shook Harry's hand—reluctantly.
"Okay," Harry said awkwardly. "What do neutral foes do?"
He felt really weird, talking to Malfoy as if he was a friend or something.
Apparently, Malfoy was just as uncomfortable talking to him. "Er … I dunno," he said with a frown. "How about watching that brat for a while? She's been playing with her fake Exploding Snap set for more than an hour now. I don't know anything about children, but she looks kind of lonely to me."
Harry studied little Josephine. "Yeah, she does seem a bit lonely. All right. Let's, er, play with the baby then, erhm."
The first ten minutes or so, they sat quite stiffly on either side of Josephine and engaged in a very forced conversation with the girl. Not once did they address each other but rather pretended the other was not there. Eventually, however, they began to slowly and gradually loosen up and ultimately acknowledge the other's presence in the parlour. After thirty minutes, they were talking quite freely with each other. It was still just small talk, but Harry rather enjoyed it.
"Bloody weather," Draco said with his nose wrinkled in dislike. "I hate rain. Wish I'd have been born in Tahiti."
Harry could not help but smile slyly. "Thought you loved being the son of England's wealthiest wizard," he pointed out in a semi-mocking tone.
The blonde snorted disapprovingly. "Yeah, until he lost all his money, I did!"
Harry looked up at him in astonishment. "Your father lost all his money?"
"Sure did. That man's got a major gambling problem."
"Are you serious?"
"No, I'm fucking with you, Potter," Draco said, annoyed. "Do you really think that I—Draco Malfoy—would joke about something as important as money?!"
"No, not really. It's just so hard to imagine you being poor …"
"Yeah, I'm still recovering from the shock he gave me when he told me two years ago," Draco muttered, and shook his head for emphasis.
"Two years?! He's been bankrupt for two whole years?!"
"No, he was bankrupt the first year, the last year he's owed pretty much every single wizard with a small fortune money—and loads of it. And the loans just keep piling up … He's at a risk of being assassinated for his debts, and he knows it. I'm just waiting for the day I'll find him dead somewhere. That day, the debts will move over to me and I'll be marked for death."
Harry found himself putting a reassuring hand on the blonde's shoulder. "That sounds awful," he said. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
Draco put his hand over Harry's and squeezed it a little. Gazing deep into his eyes, he whispered, "You're doing it now."
Harry's first impulse was to withdraw his hand as quick as possible, because it felt way too weird to be providing comfort for his archenemy even through such a small gesture. But something in the blonde's silvery pale eyes made him rethink that impulse. His hand remained where it was. For a moment, it almost felt as if it had melted and metamorphosed into an extension of the blonde's body. They were magically welded together somehow, and he did not understand what it meant.
Soon, their attention turned to the girl again, and they watched her as she played with a couple of the Weasley twins' fake wands. She was so innocent … so beautiful …
Before, when Piper had told them about the marriage between this world's Harry and Draco, Harry had dismissed it as something disgusting and abominable. He had not even wanted to listen to it. But now, he began to understand that it was not disgusting at all. Two boys or two men loving each other and sharing a life together was not disgusting at all—it was just as beautiful as the relationship between man and woman. And it had created this gorgeous little girl.
"She's lovely," Draco mumbled, almost as if he was giving word to his innermost thoughts.
Harry looked up at him. How strange that they had been thinking the exact same thing. The fact that Draco Malfoy could acknowledge the beauty in life, love, and parenthood almost made Harry like him a bit. It sure made him hate him a little less, if anything.
The blonde lifted his gaze from Josephine and met Harry's eyes.
That mysterious look again. What did it mean?
His heart began to pound like crazy, and he did not understand that either, no more than he understood why it always rained in Britain. Without even realising it, they were slowly leaning closer to each other until Harry could feel the blonde's mint scented breath against his skin.
Their lips lightly touched for a second or two.
Instantly, they shot back with wry faces and goosebumps.
"What are we doing?!" Draco exclaimed with disgust.
"What were we thinking?!" Harry exclaimed at the same time. "That was weird!"
"That was nuts!" Draco emphasised. "Let's never ever do that again, all right?"
"Yeah, never," Harry agreed, shivering. "Blimey, the atmosphere in this house is doing strange things to us …"
They sat there with Josephine for another ten minutes, red with shame and embarrassment, and then they excused themselves and escaped into different rooms.
Hermione swiftly read through the short message that Draco had sent with an owl that Harry had never seen before. He guessed that this world's Draco Malfoy did not have a tawny named Brutus like his Dracums had … After having read the letter thrice, Harry already knew it by heart: Potter, I wish to speak to you about this war. Meet me in Diagon Alley at 5 sharp. No wands! If you're late, you can forget the deal. /Draco.
He glanced at Hermione as she re-read the letter. When she had finished, she looked up at him with concern in her big eyes. "You're not going, are you? This might be a trap, you know. Hell, it has to be a trap; why else would Malfoy ask you to meet him?"
"Can't do much harm in Diagon Alley at rush hour, though, can he?" Harry pointed out. He scribbled down the last sentence of his reply.
She leaned in over his shoulder. "What are you writing?" she wondered curiously.
Harry's letter read: All right, Malfoy, I'll meet you in Diagon Alley at 5. Does it have to be sharp, though? I'm a quite busy man, and I would hate to keep you hanging in case something comes up. If I am late, please wait for me, I am dying to talk to you about something. I'll leave my wand with Hermione. /Harry.
Hermione gasped. "Harry, no! You can't go there alone! And certainly not without your wand!"
"Are you crazy? Of course I'm taking my wand! But you didn't really expect me to tell him that, did you? 'Sorry, Dracums, I have to bring my wand in case it's a setup.' That'd be suicide, Hermione."
She frowned. "'Dracums'?"
Harry jerked. He had said that? Shit! "Huh, wha'? Must've just said it wrong, is all … Look, I only have twenty minutes, so … Guess I'll see you later, 'kay? Cheers."
He hurried out of the room before she could object.
Draco checked his watch at least a dozen times between 4.30 and 4.35. He could not concentrate on anything—he was too anxious to meet Harry and get this stupid act over with. When his wrist watch finally said 4.55, he decided it was time to go. Feeling a tickle of excitement and happiness in the pit of his stomach, he left through the parlour archway with the intention of telling his father that he was going to a meeting.
Halfway up the stairs to the second floor, where Lucius Malfoy had his own private office, Draco was stopped by none other than Blaise Zabini. Still plagued by a guilty conscience about what he had done to his best friend, Draco flinched at the sight of him. "What are you doing here?" Zabini asked in exasperation, and his outburst totally nonplussed Draco. "You're needed at the front!"
He began to push him back downstairs.
Draco knitted his brows. The front …?
Oh no. He was taking him to the war site! But he was going to meet Harry! He was going to meet Harry. He could not go to no bloody war—he could get killed! And if he got killed, he would never meet his Harry again.
"Blaise, wait!" he protested, and struggled to free himself from the other man. "I can't go right now, I have an important meeting. I'll go later, I promise—"
"Meeting? Who you have a meeting with?"
"With Har—" Wait, he could not actually say that, not yet. Dammit. "I'm meeting a very important wizard who might help us with … this thing that might help us win the war, and—"
"Oh, really? Doesn't sound very important to me. Now go. Our soldiers are depending on you."
Against his will, Draco was flung into a war zone so severe that one look made his stomach turn. There were wizards fighting everywhere, wands held out in front of them, and curses were flying through the air all around him. The ground was wet and muddy because of the rain that had poured down a couple hours ago, and there were few hiding places.
Draco could immediately tell the good wizards from the bad, because the Death Eaters were all wearing their black hooded cloaks, hiding their faces. He tried to circle them and get out of the line of fire—
"Chief!"
Draco turned around in bafflement. Were they talking to him? Who the Hell called anyone 'Chief' nowadays? He was not one of those 'pleasemen,' for God's sake!
Or did Muggles even exist in this world? He had never heard anyone mention them … And if the Dark Plane was a Parallel Universe in which everything that could go wrong had gone wrong, then what's to say that the Death Eaters had not already eliminated all the Muggles?
"Chief, we need reinforcement!" one of the Death Eater soldiers shouted at him.
Draco understood that his Parallel Self must be a cold-hearted general who did not fear anything at all, but he could not muster enough courage to pretend to be cold and fearless. There was a war going on around him, and all he could think about was his husband and his children.
He wanted everything to go back to normal.
"Chief!"
"Sorry," Draco whimpered in a semi-whisper and Disapparated.
When he finally arrived in Diagon Alley, he sighed with relief. He had gotten out of there alive and in one piece. Now he just needed to find Harry.
Not too difficult a task, it turned out. The raven-haired man was waiting impatiently outside Quality Quidditch Supplies, his favorite shop. "One might've known," Draco muttered to himself as he confidently approached Harry.
Harry shifted his feet. The look on his face told Draco that he had been worried sick about him and now tried to hide it behind a veil of anger. "You're late, Malfoy," he said disapprovingly. "Thought you were the one who was obsessed with punctuality."
His green eyes bored mercilessly into Draco's.
He swallowed hard and stuck out his chin. It was so bloody difficult to keep the act up and prevent himself from jumping Harry. "There was a hold-up," he informed graciously. "Potter, we need to discuss—"
Hermione stepped out of the shadows behind Harry.
Draco knitted his brows. "What is she doing here?"
Harry sighed and shrugged. "She wouldn't let me go alone. Now, what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"
Draco did not like the fact that Hermione was there, and decided to use that in his favour. "We need to discuss this war," he went on. "We've been fighting each other for years, hating each other for much longer, and then all of a sudden you … you … you … kiss me!"
Harry was drop-jawed. "Excuse me?! You were the one who kissed me!" he protested.
"I was not! I would never kiss you voluntarily in my life! You betrayed me, and you betrayed your own parents! There is no redemption for that—you deserve to die, Potter. But unfortunately, I can't kill you in front of all these people …"
"I betrayed you?! All I did was realise that there are more important things in life than wealth and power—like love and friendship. Weren't we friends once, Malfoy? Didn't you feel that it was genuine? Or was that just a charade for you? Maybe you didn't think we had fun together, but I did."
Hermione gasped and stared at him as if he had announced that he was stepping back over to the dark side. He dismissively waved her away. "I was eleven, Hermione, and I'm not talking about now. It's been a long time since Draco and I were friends. If we ever were."
Draco defiantly crossed his arms over his chest and smirked self-righteously. "What? Don't you remember how we were those days, Harry? Don't you remember how we always teased and mocked everyone smaller than us? Don't you remember how we used to beat them up?" He was making things up now, and he hoped Harry would understand that and play along.
"Well, that was twelve years ago …"
"Not that long, eh, Harry? Surely you've still got it in you—don't you? I can see it in your eyes. You're just dying to smash little Hermione's porcelain face in, aren't you?"
Harry made to lash out at him. The fury on his face looked almost real. "How dare you!? You know nothing about me! You don't know what I'm thinking, you don't know what I'm feeling, and you sure as Hell don't know what I want!"
"Sure I know what you want, Potter."
"No, you don't! I want this fucking war to end! I want my friends to be safe again, I want the future to be brighter than the past, and I want you to …"
Harry faltered for a bit, his mouth opening and closing mutely.
"You want me to what, Potter?"
God, he felt like Snape!
"I want you to … I want you to … go to Hell!"
"Really? Is that really what you wished to say?"
"Oh, fuck this!" Harry suddenly said and sprang forward. Fiercely, he grabbed the blonde around his waist and pulled him into his arms. He pressed his lips to Draco's in sheer desperation. Draco wanted to put his arms around Harry's back and press even closer now, instantly, but he restrained himself and tried to pull away instead to maintain the illusion of their hostility towards one another. But soon, he lost himself in the kiss and forgot all about the rules of this Parallel Universe.
He put his arms around Harry's neck and opened his mouth in welcome. Their tongues smashed together in desperation, wrapping themselves around each other, massaging each other.
Draco let one of his hands travel down Harry's back, coming to a rest on his buttocks. He squeezed teasingly. The raven-haired man responded by moving his hand inside the blonde's cloak, then inside his robes, and Draco moaned-gasped-sighed as his husband's warm, slightly trembling fingers caressed his belly and the small of his back. When they finally broke apart, Draco let his lips linger on Harry's for a second before letting go entirely.
They stared at each other—feigning shock.
Then they clasped each other's hands.
"I don't want to fight you anymore!" they yelled in unison.
"You feel the same thing as I feel?" Draco asked hopefully.
"If by 'feel the same thing' you mean totally hots for you? Then, yeah, I feel the same thing as you do. I feel a major attraction that I can't deny, and kissing you is the most wonderful thing I have ever experienced. I just want to do it again!"
"Then do it again!" Draco pleaded longingly.
"No!" Hermione screamed. "Stop! Stop this immediately! What on Earth are you doing?! You can't behave like this—it's irresponsible!"
"Irresponsible?" Harry echoed in lack of understanding. "It is wonderful! I've just realised that I don't want to fight Draco anymore—I want to be with him! Shouldn't that count for something?"
"No!" Hermione maintained firmly.
Draco put his arm around Harry's waist and smiled cockily. "I think it's brilliant, Harry. And I want to be with you, too. I'm tired of being evil—I want to do good. Can I come home with you today?"
Despite Hermione's many objections, Harry consented and brought Draco home with them. Ginny was not very happy to see him, but Sirius was delighted to finally meet Harry's spouse. Introducing his husband to his godfather was one of the best moments in Harry's life, because even though this was a Parallel Sirius, he felt as if he had finally managed to introduce the two most important people in his life to one another.
Later that night, when they were finally alone and lying on their backs in bed, holding hands and very much content with that, Harry laughed and said, "Wonder what our Parallel Selves will think of the reality they'll return to soon."
Draco laughed out loud, too. "Yeah. I bet they'll have the shock of their lives. Wonder what they're doing now, though?"
Everything was unusually quiet. As Draco understood it, it was usually very noisy at the Manor. But Piper and her Japanese family seemed to be enjoying quieter activities this particular night, because not a single sound could be heard in the entire house.
Harry helped him to tuck in little Josephine, who did not seem to be ready for bed yet even though it was nine o'clock. Draco sure was ready for bed and planned to tuck himself in as soon as they had managed to get the girl to sleep. It took them almost half an hour, so after that, Draco was completely exhausted.
He leant against the wall outside the nursery when they had closed the door, and sighed. "Man, taking care of children is bloody wearisome!" he said, and rubbed his left eye.
"Yeah, sure is," Harry agreed. "I actually think I'm going to bed, I'm beat."
"Me too. Well, have a good night." He intended to go down the hall to his bedroom, but he lingered. So did Harry. They both lowered their gazes somewhat embarrassedly.
"Er, I guess I should go downstairs …" Harry began, but didn't finish his sentence.
He did not know how it happened, did not remember stepping away from the wall and into the raven-haired man's arms, but suddenly they were kissing. Again. But this time, the kiss lasted for almost ten seconds, and it was the sweetest kiss Draco had ever experienced. Half-open, semi-wet with a little tongue.
Harry tasted of cherry tea.
Good choice.
When Draco came to his senses and realised what they were doing, he blushed and turned his face the other way to hide it from Harry. He cleared his throat and said, "I'd better go before I do something I'll regret in the morning."
"Yeah, me too," Harry said, but Draco noticed that he was very reluctant to leave him.
Draco did not want him to leave, either.
But the thought of sharing a bed with Harry Potter …
It would never happen. Ever.
But when Draco turned on his heel and walked down the hall to his bedroom, a smile was playing on his newly kissed lips …