Chrononauts, Part IIc
May. 5th, 2012 06:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annafugazziPairing(s): Harry/Draco (implied Ron/Hermione, brief Harry/Ginny, Draco/Astoria, Draco/Blaise, other minor pairings)
Summary: Harry and Draco learn that Time is making fools of them again. And then they learn it... again.
Rating: R
Warning(s): Drug use, general confusion.
Epilogue compliant? That's a good question!
Word Count: ~39K
2.11. Room of Requirement, Nexus minus 5:15 hours
"You’re sure this is where the time traveller came?" said Harry, as they all waited in the Room of Requirement an hour later.
"I’m sure," said Hayford. "Hermione and Padma checked and double-checked. They're sure too. It'll happen in the next fifteen minutes."
The room looked rather messier than usual, thought Harry. And rather like the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, minus the beds themselves, with posters of West Ham and the Chudley Cannons, paintings in various stages of completion, some weird bulbous weeds, scorch marks everywhere, and an empty owl cage in the corner. The Room of Requirement supposedly became whatever the 'requirer' needed it to be, but Harry had half expected to find what the time traveller they were trying to stop had wished for. He supposed it made sense that the Room would instead become whatever Hayford wanted it to be, but... what did that mean for the time traveller who was coming? He couldn't imagine Fenrir Greyback wanting to travel back in time to land in a boys' dormitory--
Actually, from what he'd heard of Fenrir, maybe that was exactly what he would wish for. Harry's stomach did an unpleasant flip.
They waited in silence for a few moments.
"You all right?" Hayford asked MacCauley in a low voice.
"About as all right as you are," said MacCauley.
"My sympathies, then," said Hayford. Then he blinked and looked slightly annoyed. "Damn, I nearly forgot," he murmured to MacCauley. "Hermione said it looked like you could probably use some of this." He took out a small vial from his pocket, and MacCauley gave him a wry smile.
"Morph?"
Hayford nodded, and MacCauley stared at the vial in his palm for a moment, then folded Hayford's fingers around it and pushed his hand away. Hayford's eyebrows went up.
MacCauley shrugged. "Might need it more later," he said. He hesitated, then leaned closer and lowered his voice. "You know we could probably ask the twins to get you some Firewhis--"
"No," snapped Hayford. He closed his eyes briefly, then took a breath. "Sorry. No, no thanks."
"You're not exactly picking the best time in the world to pursue abstinence, you know," said MacCauley.
"Pot, meet cauldron," said Hayford drily. "I'll tell you what. If we survive all this, I'm stopping cold."
MacCauley chuckled. "Think it's that simple, do you?"
"There's got to be a way to get rid of this... thing inside me," said Hayford, and Harry winced at the reminder. This thing, only a piece of his -- their -- parents' murderer, living on inside of both of them. It would make anyone turn to drink.
"Think that's all there is to it?" said MacCauley.
"Probably not," said Hayford. "But it'd be a start. Especially if I also didn't have to deal with Moody and the Order and Wiltshire and..."
MacCauley touched Hayford's shoulder, and Hayford covered MacCauley's hand with his. "We'll talk about it after," he said. "If there is an after."
Hermione cleared her throat. "I take it you two are a couple," she said to Hayford and MacCauley, her tone determinedly casual despite a bit of a rosy glow to her cheeks.
MacCauley gave a small chuckle. "Oh dear, is it obvious?"
Harry felt himself going red too. Which was ridiculous. He wasn't the one dating Malfoy, after all. No need to be embarrassed. Make that mortified. No reason at all.
"As in, dating each other?" said Ron.
"In fact, living together."
"You're joking."
"Not at all."
"Since when?" said Hermione.
"About four years."
"Why didn't you say so when you first arrived here?"
Hayford chuckled. "Why, are you under the impression that that would have made his story more believable?"
Harry shook his head silently. The passage of years aside, this was the same person who'd almost killed Katie Bell. And Ron. How could anybody get over that? How could Hayford get over that?
"What happened to Ginny?" asked Ron, and Harry really wasn't sure he wanted to know.
Hayford and MacCauley traded a glance, and Hayford shrugged. "Just didn't work out."
Harry's ears were feeling hot now, and he desperately wished Ron and Hermione were somewhere else. Anywhere else. Romania seemed about right.
"And when did... this," Ron gestured between Hayford and MacCauley, "happen?"
"Oh he's known he was bi for ages," said MacCauley. "Since before Hogwarts."
"What?!" said Harry. "No I haven't!"
Hayford laughed. "No, he's just being a wanker."
"First year, then," said MacCauley.
"Seventh year, you arse," said Hayford with a chuckle. "I distinctly remember not having much room to think anything about boys before that, other than 'Is this one going to try for Ginny too.'"
"So much time wasted," said MacCauley, shaking his head.
"Don't go on about time wasted with me, Mr. 'Astoria Greengrass made me question my own gayness.'"
"She'd make any queer question himself," MacCauley protested.
"Maybe because she's got bigger balls than ninety percent of the blokes out there."
"And marvelous tits and no gag reflex whatsoever," said MacCauley.
"That's information probably better left private," said Hermione, and Harry gave her a grateful look. "And how did you two get together?" she asked, and Harry's gratefulness evaporated.
"Erm. Do we have to hear this?" asked Harry.
"Actually, I'm rather fascinated," said Malfoy blandly, and Harry shot him a glare.
"I really wasn't obsessed with him that way in sixth year, if that's what you're asking about," said Hayford.
"When did you become interested?" asked Hermione.
Hayford sighed and seemed to come to a decision. "If you must know, it was shortly after Ginny." He cleared his throat. "Erm, after she told me she was six weeks pregnant--"
"Pregnant?!" said Ron, and looked at Harry accusingly.
"...after I'd been away for two months," Hayford finished.
Ron's head snapped back to Hayford. "What?!"
Hayford shrugged. "I was away a lot. I had to keep secrets from her because of work. She didn't appreciate that. I got tired of her carping on and on about it. We were fighting more and more -- and you two weren't doing much better," Hayford glanced at Ron and Hermione. "For what it's worth, you two were over pretty soon after that, too. And Draco was there, and I'd wondered about other boys for a while, and then one day we'd both been drinking and... well--"
This time the flash and the billow of smoke didn't send Harry tumbling to the floor. It seemed different from the other two apparitions, though -- more whirly, less bright, with slightly less smoke. Apparently, MacCauley had been right and the original time traveller had been using a different method to come back.
A figure stumbled out of the smoke, lurching towards a small model of Hogwarts on a table and supporting himself on it, then sank to the ground, unconscious. Harry drew back his wand to aim it at him, and froze.
The room was utterly silent.
"Merlin's Y-fronts," said Ron faintly. "Now there's three of you."
MacCauley gave a deep sigh. "Splendid."
2.12. Hospital wing, Nexus minus 5:00 hours
"Malfoy? What are you doing here?" asked the new time traveller, dazed, having woken up to the sight of MacCauley leaning over him. "Why do you look like that?"
"What are you doing here?" countered MacCauley.
The time traveller shook his head to clear it, then noticed the other people gathered around him. "I--"
"No, let me save your breath. You've travelled back in time to change the past, yes? Something to do with Dumbledore?"
The new time traveller was blinking rapidly, looking from one set face to another. "Who the hell are you?"
"Who the hell do you think we are, Harry?" said MacCauley impatiently. He gave a vague wave at the crowd. "Those are all people you might've been expecting to see here. This Harry and I," he indicated himself and Hayford, "came back here to stop somebody from pushing Dumbledore off the Astronomy Tower tonight." The other man gave a start. "We thought we were going to stop Fenrir Greyback. Apparently, we're supposed to stop you."
The man was frowning, confused. "Fenrir? Pushing -- no, that's completely mental, that's not--"
"Did you come back in time to push Dumbledore off the Tower?" asked Hayford.
"Push him off?!" said the new Harry. "Why the hell would I do that?!"
"So what did you come to do?"said Harry.
"To save him!" said the new Harry. "And keep the Death Eaters from coming into Hogwarts!"
"All right, this is getting bewildering," said Malfoy dazedly. "Can one of you just... do something about..." he waved his hand at the three Harrys, "this? It's getting on my nerves, badly, that you all look and sound the same."
"You know for the first time I really understand poor Mum," said George to Fred. "Let's not do the switching thing to her again, all right? Ever?"
"Ever," Fred nodded.
Hayford blinked, then laughed. "Right, yes, I suppose it is confusing. Here, I'll change my own colouring for the next few hours," he said, and took a sip of the Morph potion he'd brought for MacCauley. Harry watched, fascinated, as his hair turned light blond and his eyes turned grey, and reflected that despite the fact that he and the newest Harry had the same colouring, it had to be pretty easy for everyone to distinguish him from either of his older versions. He hadn't felt this skinny and spotty and full of awkward angles since the first time he'd spoken to Cho. The two older versions of himself both looked so much taller, stronger, their voices so much deeper -- the one from MacCauley's time slightly raspy, no doubt from smoking Gillyweed -- and their eyes tired and filled with pain.
"I loathe those colours on you," MacCauley remarked. "I swear you do it on purpose to make me jealous. Besides, you can't pull it off, at all." He glanced at the third Harry. "Funny, when I got here I was happy to see your younger self, because I thought it was as close as I'd ever get to seeing you again. And I'm glad you've come back yourself. But this..." he nodded at the third Harry, "this is rather too much of a good thing."
Hayford chuckled and put a hand on his arm and the third Harry blinked at them, bewildered.
"I take it we're not a couple in your future, then," said MacCauley.
Harry Three recoiled. "What?! No! Of course not! Don't be disgusting!"
Hayford laughed. "Oi. That's my boyfriend you're insulting," he said, and Harry Three gaped at him.
Hermione cleared her throat. "So what happened?" she asked. "Where -- when are you from?"
"2001," said Harry Three, tearing his eyes away from Hayford and MacCauley.
"What's your time like?"
"Hell."
MacCauley rolled his eyes. "I think we figured that one. Summary, in fifty words or less? Is Voldemort dead in your time?"
"Yeah."
"Since when?"
"May of 1998."
Harry started. That was awfully close. "Even though Dumbledore supposedly died -- will die in just a few hours?"
"Yeah."
"So why--"
"No, let’s start at the beginning," said MacCauley. "What happened the night he died?"
Harry Three swallowed. "I’d gone with him, to try to find one of Voldemort’s Hor--" he broke off, biting his lip and glanced around at the people listening to him.
"They all know about Horcruxes, you can go on," said Hermione.
Harry Three’s eyes widened, but he still looked uncertain.
"Harry," said Lupin gently, putting a comforting hand on Harry Three's shoulder, "if you're worried about letting out Order secrets, you don't have to be. Everyone here is either already in the Order or under our control," he glanced at both Malfoys, "and even if you don't believe that, you know now that the biggest secret -- the Horcruxes -- is now common knowledge."
Harry Three gazed at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly and began to speak. "We went to a cave. Thought we’d found it, but Dumbledore was... hurt, getting it. By the time we got back to Hogsmeade he was incredibly weak, and there was a Dark Mark over the Astronomy Tower." MacCauley and Malfoy traded a glance. "We flew back to Hogwarts and he wanted me to get Snape for him, but when we got to the Tower, Malfoy was waiting for him."
"By myself?" asked Malfoy.
"Yeah."
"It never did work, then," Malfoy muttered.
"What didn’t work?"
"The Cabinet."
"No, it worked."
Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up. "But then how -- why--"
"All the Death Eaters who’d come through were delayed by people from the Order, and the DA, fighting them -- I’d given them Felix Felicis but some of them were still injured, Bill Weasley was mauled by a werewolf--" and Ron made a soft sound of dismay. "They did get to the Tower eventually -- used Peruvian Darkness Powder to get past the Order and DA--" Fred and George started, their eyes wide. "You were supposed to kill Dumbledore right away, but he stalled, and got you talking, and you looked like you were going to defect. You even lowered your wand."
Malfoy gazed at him, troubled.
"Finally Snape and the other Death Eaters showed up, and Snape killed Dumbledore--"
"What?!" There was a general outcry and Harry Three shook his head impatiently.
"No, no, it wasn't -- he only did it because Dumbledore had asked him to, he didn't want to--"
"Oh my God,"said MacCauley. "Severus told me that once. How Dumbledore made him swear that he’d kill him if it came down to it, to spare me having to commit murder."
"He did?" said Hayford. "You never told me that."
"Severus didn't want it commonly known," said MacCauley.
Harry's mind was reeling. Snape? Forced to commit murder? On Dumbledore's orders?
"So how are you going to stop any of this from happening again?" asked MacCauley, as if he hadn't just delivered a piece of stunning news.
"I know a curse. I can make the Vanishing Cabinet kill anyone who goes through it."
"That’ll take care of the Death Eaters," said Hayford. "What about Draco?"
"I know when he got up to the Tower. I know Dumbledore will be holding him off, but just in case Malfoy suddenly decides to grow a backbone, I’ll be there to stop him from hurting Dumbledore. And keep Dumbledore on the Tower so that Snape can help him."
"He’ll still die in less than a year," said MacCauley. "Severus told me the injury to his hand--"
"I know," said Harry Three. "He’ll have that year, though. And I can let him know where the Horcruxes are. And it'll all be so much easier."
"Harry, hasn't anybody told you it’s dangerous to play with time?" said Hermione.
"You did, actually," he said. "It's your research that got me interested in all of this. It's your spell that I used, when I realized I could time travel without dovetailing, and actually change the past."
"And you still decided to ignore my warnings, and come back here to change things?"
Harry Three smiled at her sadly. "I had to," he said.
"Why?"
"Because everything's fucked up."
"How?" asked Tonks. "What happened?"
"Everything went wrong," said Harry Three. "The War... there was too much death, and too much violence, and four years later none of us are getting over any of it."
"What d’you mean?" asked Tonks.
"For starters, you and Lupin got married--" Harry Three began, and Lupin and Tonks both blushed again, and Tonk's hair was now closer to fuchsia than rosy pink, "but you were both dead before your first anniversary. Your son was only a few months old."
Tonks frowned. "You're serious?"
"You dad died, too, and your son, Teddy -- he's four, he's being brought up by your mother, who really can't do it. He's full of energy, and she has none. She's been in mourning for so long, for all of you... I try to help but I don't know what the hell I'm doing with him..."
"We had a son?" said Lupin.
"Think someone needs to read up on werewolf contraception, Remus," said MacCauley drily, and Lupin glanced at him, a bit surprised at the familiar address. Harry supposed MacCauley and Lupin were closer than mere former student and professor in his future.
Harry Three turned to the twins, and hesitated before speaking. "You died, Fred." Fred's eyes widened, and George paled. "You died in a corridor during battle, I was with you, and one moment you were joking with Percy and the next you were dead. You haven't got over it yet," he said to George. "I can't... you don't want to know what life is like for you now. It's four years later and you still..." he trailed off, shuddered. He took a deep breath. "And your stories were repeated fifty times, at Hogwarts alone. In the months that I spent flailing about trying to figure out what to do, hundreds of people were arrested, disappeared, killed, Dementor-Kissed..."
"It's four years later, though," said Hermione. "Isn't life getting better? For anybody?"
"Nobody I know. You two," he motioned to her and Ron, "you've been on-again, off-again for years. Too much grief, and too much fighting because you're both so bloody messed up..."
"And you and Ginny?"
"Same story, only a lot uglier and with a lot more broken dishware. I'm pretty sure the last break-up was the last straw."
“Alcohol have anything to do with that?” asked MacCauley drily, and Harry Three’s eyes widened. "Never mind, none of my business. Well, the future you gave us -- the future you will give us, that is -- isn't much better than that. Only it also comes with a complete breakdown of the fabric of space and time. So all in all, I'd say yours is the less miserable path, wouldn't you?"
"Dunno about you," said Hayford, "but I'd much rather deal with a shitty world that's got a hope in hell of still existing for more than eight years or so than one that doesn't. Why couldn't you leave well enough alone?"
"Just how are you going to make the Cabinet kill the Death Eaters?" asked MacCauley.
Harry Three eyed him suspiciously, but a quick glance around the room seemed to convince him it was safe to continue.
"A variation of Strigonomasmobile."
"Those are spells designed to cause harm to witches and wizards using objects for traveling illegally, aren't they?" asked Hermione. Harry Three nodded. "Used by the Ministry to prevent entry to forbidden places."
"Like the Department of Mysteries, yeah," said Tonks. "It was hellish trying to figure a way in last year when the Order was setting watch there."
Lupin closed his eyes briefly and muttered something under his breath. "Harry." All three of them turned to him, but he was addressing the man on the bed. "You're going to use Strigonomasmobile?"
"Yes. It'll work, no Death Eaters--"
"Dora, do you remember how we finally circumvented the one at the Department of Mysteries?"
Tonks frowned. "You went in and -- oh bollocks."
"What?"
She turned to Harry Three. "Remus and Dobby went in and disarmed the wards. He was able to do it because Strigonomasmobile is only effective against witches and wizards. It doesn't affect house elves... or werewolves."
Harry Three gaped at her, stricken.
"So after you left the Room of Requirement, Fenrir came through," said MacCauley. "Then he wasn't a time traveller after all." He shook his head. "And it's your fault I got mauled by him, then," he said to Harry Three. "I tried to step between Fenrir and Dumbledore, and he just swatted me aside and ripped my arm open. That’s why I began to use the Morph potion; it’s the only thing that’ll help the pain from werewolf wounds."
"Everything was so confused, though..." muttered Hayford, running a hand through his messy blond hair, making it even messier. "I remember Fenrir rushing past, I remember suddenly being able to move again, but it's all so blurred together..."
"That was you too, wasn’t it?" said MacCauley to Harry Three. "You were up on that Tower, you Confunded us while you tried to figure out what to do. See if Dumbledore was dead. See if any other Death Eaters had managed to come through. And then you left."
Harry Three was shaking his head. "No, that -- I..."
Harry felt a pang of sympathy for the wreck sitting before them, being accused of doing all sorts of things he hadn't done yet.
"What’s your plan?" he asked the bewildered man. "After you save Dumbledore?"
Harry Three frowned. "Plan? Nothing. He'll survive, he'll help you to find all the Horcruxes, and kill Voldemort. You’ll get it done faster than I did. All those people won’t have to die while you’re trying to figure things out on your own." He paused. "I also... I've got Dumbledore's wand, I took it from his grave--"
"Why the fuck would you do that?" asked MacCauley.
Harry Three rubbed a hand over his face wearily. "It's supposed to be unbeatable. It's the Elder Wand--"
"Oh God you really have cracked," said MacCauley. "The Elder Wand is a bloody fairy tale, you dolt! Next you're going to tell us you've also got the Resurrection Stone and the Cloak of Invisibility! Or maybe you've brought Babbity Rabbity herself, Cackling Stump and all?"
Harry Three gave him a wry smile. "The Stone's lost, but I do have my Cloak--"
"Don't be an arse, Harry, we all know about your Cloak. I've even got it with me. And I suppose you," he turned to Harry, "have one too?"
Harry nodded. "Back in my room."
"So we have three of the Deathly Hallows; does that make us all the Masters of Death now?"
Harry Three scowled at him. "No, it doesn't, because it's supposed to be the different Deathly Hallows. But the Cloak is one of the Hallows, whether you believe it or not."
"If you actually believe--" MacCauley began, but Hayford interrupted him.
"So what will you do if you don't save Dumbledore? Kill off the remaining Horcruxes, then go after Voldemort?"
Harry Three blinked.
"Because it looks like you did. In our timeline."
"I did?"
"The Death Eaters never came into Hogwarts. A bunch of them disappeared that night, actually. But Fenrir Greyback got in, and pushed Dumbledore off the Tower. Dumbledore died a year later, never having regained consciousness."
"Fuck," said Harry Three softly.
"And there were a bunch of odd incidents in the month between Dumbledore's fall and Voldemort’s death." Harry Three’s eyes widened. "At the Room of Requirement, Gringotts, and Grimmauld Place. Any of those ring a bell?"
Harry Three nodded slowly. "Did... so Voldemort did die?"
"Yes, he did," said MacCauley.
"And his snake?"
"Yes. Found her dead next to him. In the Forest of Dean."
"So that's why it didn't matter that I didn't kill Voldemort," said Hayford thoughtfully, his grey eyes distant. "The prophecy did come true after all. I did kill him. Or rather, you did," he said to Harry Three. "Or you will."
"And in your timeline there wasn't a Ministry controlled by Death Eaters?" said Harry Three. "Or mass disappearances of Muggle-borns, or a war that almost destroyed Hogwarts?"
"No," said Hayford.
Harry Three took a deep breath.
"Unfortunately, you never did kill off the last Horcrux," said Hayford.
"What?"
"The one inside me," said Hayford. "I dunno why. But it's still here. He's still here."
Harry Three stared at him.
"What were you going to do? Kill me after killing Voldemort? Because apparently, you failed to do that. Either he killed you too, or you just forgot to cross the last t and dot the last i in your plan, who knows, who cares. Thanks to you, I’ve been carrying him around for seven years while he grows stronger. You fucking incompetent bastard!"
2.13. Hospital wing, Nexus minus 4:45 hours
This wasn't quite like a nightmare, thought Harry vaguely as they sat and waited for McGonagall to return with Snape. Nothing that horrific had actually happened; nobody was actually dead, no harm had been done -- yet. But it was all utterly mental and had that unreal quality of dreams, or Divination homework invented at four in the morning.
Ron and Hermione were talking quietly together, and he devoutly hoped that their conversation was about whether or not they would ever be a couple, and if so, whether they would be able to not get divorced and end up hating each other. Because otherwise they were probably discussing Harry's own relationship with Ginny. Or, worse yet, his possible relationship with Malfoy.
The other Order members, Lupin and Tonks and Fred and George, were all huddled around Harry Three, busily discussing Order business no doubt. Or perhaps discussing Fred and George's newest inventions, it was hard to tell, as Harry Three looked in more dire need of cheering up than anybody Harry had ever met. Or possibly in need of a stiff drink. Just like Hayford.
Well, that was one lesson Harry could take from all this: he was never going to even think about trying Firewhisky again, no matter what Ron said. Sure, it looked interesting, but apparently he really couldn't handle it. Of course, if MacCauley and Hayford had their way, he wouldn't remember that he shouldn't touch the stuff.
MacCauley and Hayford were in their own world, heads together, talking quietly, Hayford's fingers tracing random patterns over the freckles on the back of MacCauley's hand. Hayford leaned over and kissed MacCauley and Harry turned away.
Best not think about that, really.
"And now you’re just as desperate as I am, aren’t you?" said Malfoy quietly taking a seat next to Harry. Harry tensed slightly. "Relax, Potter, I'm sure you'll be all right."
"How? I've got a piece of Voldemort inside me. How can that be all right?"
"It's hardly your fault."
"He killed my parents and tries to kill me every couple of years like it's a tradition, but somehow, he’s inside me. He’s the reason I can hear snakes. I thought it was so cool, to be able to do that, and now I find it’s just--" Harry shuddered. "Fuck, this is sick."
Malfoy rubbed a weary hand across his face. "It’s not your fault, Potter."
"I know -- but... fuck!"
"Potter, come on," said Malfoy.
"Besides -- did you see him? Both of him? The one from the right timeline looks like shit and has just come back to try to fix everything but he’s too fucked up to do anything right, and the one from the wrong timeline is becoming Voldemort! I’m becoming Voldemort!"
"He's not you!" Malfoy snapped.
"Yes he is! They both are! And one of them is a monster in the making and the other one’s a complete victim and about to fuck up everything..."
Malfoy put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. "Potter! Get a fucking grip!"
Harry put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, bowing his head and closing his eyes.
"Look, you... you aren’t them," said Malfoy. "And now you know, and you’ll do things differently. You’ll track down all the Horcruxes and then-"
"And then I'll have to die, won’t I?"
"Of course not! Harry Three didn't die! Somehow he's alive and not a Horcrux and I know he said it was complicated but you just have to figure out how he did it and--"
"And how do I know I’ll be able to do whatever he did to survive?"
"Because you did it before."
"He did it before. Not me."
"You know where all the Horcruxes are now. You know how to kill all the Death Eaters, you know--"
"Yeah, well Harry Three knew too, didn’t he? And look at how well that turned out for those poor bastards from the alternate timeline."
"He was working alone. You won't be."
Harry suddenly realized Malfoy was still holding his shoulder, and was sort of rubbing it in sympathy. And that it felt pretty good.
A completely bizarre and utterly inappropriate image of Hayford and MacCauley holding on to each other floated through his mind, and it was insane how much he felt like he wanted nothing more than to take more comfort than he should from Malfoy. Really, it was Ginny he wanted, he told himself. This was just a reaction to finding out he might have to die in the near future. But...
"How do we know?" he said, forcing himself not to react to Malfoy's closeness. "Things could go wrong. Somebody could blab to Voldemort -- you saw how many people know by now. Voldemort could make himself even more Horcruxes. I could fail again--"
"Stop it."
"And there’s no good future to look forward to here."
"Yeah, there is. The one where you kill that bastard completely, and do what Harry Three did, and come back to life yourself."
Harry sat back up. "Hang on," he said. "That’s a good future, to you?"
Malfoy suddenly stopped rubbing his shoulder.
"Erm."
"You sound like you’re going to defect."
Malfoy swallowed.
"Are you?"
Malfoy gazed at him, uncertain, searching for something in his eyes. Then he pressed his lips together and gave a small nod.
"Wow."
"I don’t see that there’s much choice," said Malfoy.
"Maybe not."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Harry finally broke it. "Does you deciding to come over to our side have anything to do with... erm. With me?"
Malfoy bristled. "Why?"
"Just asking," muttered Harry, wishing he hadn't asked. Wishing MacCauley and Hayford weren't on the other side of the room, quietly embracing, because now he was mortified and it was pretty obvious Malfoy was, too. And normally an embarrassed Malfoy would be a happy thing for Harry, but somehow in the last few hours he'd started to actually almost like Malfoy, and now...
"I don't know," said Malfoy finally. "Maybe. But it's mostly... well, it's not going to work, is it?"
"What isn't?"
"The Cabinet."
Harry was brought down to earth with a sudden thump. Right. The Malfoy he'd met today, the older one with the red hair and freckles and the tragic story that made Harry want to help him, wasn't the one sitting next to him. Wasn't his Malfoy. His Malfoy had had no basic change in ideology, no maturing, no realization that he'd been wrong all along -- he was just being practical and acting out of self-preservation.
And why did this surprise him?
"Besides," Malfoy continued, "what would be the point of defecting for you? You've got your Weaselette. Who could compete with her?"
Harry dropped his eyes, not particularly caring to admit to his current lack of 'Weaselette'. "Your Cabinet is going to work, though. Or... well, it will if Harry Three doesn't muck it up."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "How likely do you think that is, Potter?" he said, indicating all the people in the hospital room. "Even if I manage to get the time to go work on it and actually have my great breakthrough today, d'you really think anybody here is going to let me use it?"
Harry shook his head.
"I've got to use the loo," said Malfoy abruptly, and got up. Lupin and Tonks started, and Harry waved them back to their seats.
"I'll keep an eye on him," said Harry, and followed him into the hospital's bathroom.
"What do you want, Potter?" said Malfoy wearily as he entered. "Can I not even use the toilet without you hanging about?"
"I'm making sure you don't scarper off. What with you having confessed to trying to kill Dumbledore and all."
Malfoy grimaced sourly. "You're sure it's not nostalgia?"
"What?"
"Well here we are. You, me, and a bathroom. It must bring back fond memories, no?"
Harry flushed. "No. You know it doesn't. I didn't mean for you to get hurt."
"Certainly looked that way from where I was lying and bleeding."
"I didn't know that spell would do what it did." He paused. "Did you get any scars from it?"
"Not bad ones. Snape was pretty good about healing them."
The door opened and Ron poked his head in. "You all right, Harry?"
"We're just talking," said Harry. "Don't worry, McGonagall took his wand, remember?"
Ron gave Malfoy an only slightly suspicious look. "You'll let us know if you need anything, right?"
"Yeah, thanks Ron."
They waited until the door closed.
"So what do you think we should do?" asked Harry. "With Harry Three, that is?"
"I believe him," said Malfoy, his voice low. "I think we should let them -- I mean, the older you and me -- MacCauley and Hayford, that is -- do what they came here to do."
Harry gazed at him. "Which means we'd forget all of this."
"A whole day," said Malfoy.
Harry blew out his breath, suddenly a little disgusted with himself. "Yeah, we're looking at losing a day. What about Remus and Tonks? And Fred and George -- and Snape? They're looking at losing so much more."
"I wonder what happened to me," said Malfoy.
"In Harry Three's time?" Malfoy nodded. "You could ask him."
Malfoy shook his head quickly. "I don't think I want to know."
"Have you taken a good look at MacCauley? How could it be worse than that?"
"You tell me. In MacCauley and Hayford's time, Snape is living underground with the Banned Order. In Harry Three's time, he's dead."
"He's a hero," Harry pointed out.
"A very dead hero," Malfoy shot back. Which was a good point, Harry had to admit.
"It's odd, that if MacCauley gets his way, we won't remember any of this."
"Or any of what'll happen in our future."
Harry nodded, and leaned against the wall of the bathroom. "I couldn't help noticing that in both futures, I’m not with Ginny."
"I noticed that."
"And in one, I’m with... you."
"I noticed that too," said Malfoy drily. "Why are you mentioning this? Feeling a little uncertain about your one true love?"
"Don't call her that."
"Ooh, trouble in paradise?"
"It's not paradise," he said flatly. "I mean, it is. Sort of. She's... we've had problems."
And no, this was absolutely not the thing to be talking to Draco Malfoy about. "Do tell," said Malfoy, a slightly malicious gleam in his eyes.
Harry blew out his breath. "I'm not sure she's my girlfriend right now," he said and almost immediately wanted to hit himself as he braced himself for another round of malice from Malfoy.
Malfoy opened his mouth, then closed it and the gleam dimmed a bit. "Why's that?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.
"Because I... because I'm a shit who doesn't really consider her very much," he said slowly.
Malfoy smirked. "Why's that? Is she, erm, missing something?" He paused delicately. "Something you're... curious about?"
"No. Not... no. I don't think." Harry cleared his throat. "It's not that."
He was curious, though. And... and seeing MacCauley and Hayford together was so strange, and unsettling, and... all right, maybe a little hot...
And it felt weird as hell to be chatting to Draco Malfoy about this, but only Malfoy could understand what it felt like to see your future self and feel close and yet so distant from them, and what it felt to see your future self so obviously messed up, and also so obviously so in love with someone you despised...
"Or is Weasley not living up to her reputation?" asked Malfoy blandly. "Not as adventurous as promised on the bathroom walls?"
"No, that's -- what?" Harry blinked at him. "What bathroom walls?"
"Maybe that's only in the Slytherin dorm, then," said Malfoy.
"She's adventurous enough--" Harry began and oh blast was he now trying to defend Ginny's honour by affirming that she was a slut instead of blaming her for being a prude? "This isn't a good topic," he said.
Malfoy shrugged. "Why? We probably won't remember any of this later," he pointed out. "It's almost like it doesn't count." He ran a nervous hand through his hair.
"I suppose not," said Harry.
"D'you know what?" said Malfoy, his voice tight. "If this doesn't count, then there's no reason not to... not to take advantage of that."
"What d'you mean?" asked Harry, and drew in his breath, startled, as Malfoy stepped closer to him.
"This," said Malfoy, and stepped closer and pressed their lips together lightly, then pulled back.
Harry gaped at Malfoy, dumbfounded.
"We won't remember any of this afterwards, right?" said Malfoy. "And your girlfriend just broke up with you, and at least part of you is turned on by those two in there." He waited a beat, and Harry realized this was his opportunity to step away. And then the opportunity was gone, and Malfoy reached for Harry and it was so bizarre, but it was true, wasn't it, that he wouldn't remember any of this, and Ginny had broken off with him, and there was no reason not to...
Harry found himself inexplicably not backing away, only drawing in his breath as Malfoy's lips touched his again, his mind reeling at everything that had happened today, all that he'd seen and heard -- Dumbledore's possible fate by the end of the day, Snape's role in all of this, and the two older versions of himself, both so incredibly wounded, one of them only held afloat by an older version of the boy in his arms -- all of it as out of control as he felt, and he realized Malfoy's lips were soft and warm and felt like refuge. He returned Malfoy's kiss, distantly noting that it wasn't really all that different from kissing Ginny, pulled Malfoy closer and felt Malfoy hard against him.
Malfoy's scent was spicy, his hands warm as they started to wander down Harry's back, his body firm, his heart racing under Harry's palm, and his lips were setting Harry on fire, God where the hell had Malfoy learned to kiss like this--
This was insane, totally mental, what the hell were they doing?
Throwing caution to the wind and turning away from the insanity of what was going on outside this room, that's what. Malfoy's mouth left his and he moved to Harry's neck and Harry briefly thought this was a bad move -- more room to have second thoughts if he wasn't overwhelmed by Malfoy's mouth hot on his own -- but then Malfoy's lips reached the side of his neck and he lost the plot a bit, dropping his head back against the door of the bathroom because, oh, fuck, that felt incredible, and Malfoy's hand was going to the front of his trousers and Harry was harder than he could ever remember being--
He was gasping and helplessly rocking forward against Malfoy's hand, because God knew Ginny'd never gone this far with him, and he reached down to Malfoy's trousers -- what would it be like to touch another boy, he'd wondered, and now he was going to find out--
Malfoy's mouth left his neck and he moaned next to Harry's ear, pressing him hard against the door, the door handle digging into Harry's back, Malfoy thrusting against his hand, swearing softly, a whimper in his throat, and somebody could come in any moment now, and his back was going to be impressively bruised at this rate, and then Malfoy's mouth found his again, and anybody could come in--
"Oh shit," he said, wrenching himself away from Malfoy's lips, the hand that had been stroking Malfoy now grabbing Malfoy's hand away from his own trousers instead. "What the fuck are we doing?"
Malfoy was still panting, lips reddened, cheeks flushed, his grey eyes dark and hungry, and the sight had to be one of the hottest things Harry had ever seen, but he pushed that thought away in horror.
What the fuck had he just done?!
Malfoy closed his eyes and ran a trembling hand through his hair, his entire being screaming frustration and disappointment and humiliation, and Harry could still feel the heaving of Malfoy's chest against his, their bodies still pressed together against the door, and for the life of him he couldn't make himself push Malfoy away.
"Fuck, what the hell was that?" he repeated in a whisper, and Malfoy put a hand on the door and pushed off, turning away.
This was all so much worse for Malfoy, he realized suddenly. If Harry's mind was reeling with all he'd seen and heard today, if Harry was fearful of what had happened, if Harry was having a hard time accepting the whole Voldemort-Horcrux thing, what about Malfoy? To hear MacCauley tell it, the entire year had been hell for him, and now his whole world was being tossed upside down, the plans he'd made weren't going to work, and he didn't know what to do either...
Malfoy made a low noise in his throat and leaned back against the wall next to him, eyes closed, clearly trying to steady his breathing and get a grip again. And what had just happened wasn't Malfoy's fault, Harry realized with deepening shame. Malfoy had been acting on what he'd been feeling for a long time. Harry himself had just... gone a bit mad. He'd used a simple disagreement with Ginny as an excuse to do something completely fucked up; he'd been so eager to explore and get what he wanted that he'd told himself their spat was an actual break-up. He was going to have to Obliviate himself, no matter what happened next.
And how fucking cowardly was that?
He was more of a coward than Draco Malfoy. Very nice. Live with that, Potter, he thought in self-disgust.
He cleared his throat. "Malfoy," he said, his voice hoarse. Malfoy stiffened but didn't acknowledge him. "I -- fuck, I'm sorry." Malfoy's eyes popped open and he stared at Harry in disbelief. "I -- I'm sorry. I'm a total berk."
I'm sorry I went along with this, I'm sorry I pushed you away, I'm sorry I won't be repeating that again, I'm sorry you somehow fell for me, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.
"I'm really sorry," he repeated quietly. He cleared his throat. "Can we, erm, chalk that up to temporary insanity and leave it at that?"
Malfoy, incredibly, laughed. "You're unbelievable. Did you somehow miss the fact that the only reason I did that is that we're going to forget it?"
"I'm unbelievable?" said Harry. "Oi, I'm not the one who has a crush on someone they don't even like." He closed his eyes for a moment and gave himself another mental slap. "And, fuck, forget I said that part, too."
Malfoy snorted. "You're not the best at this, are you?"
"I did mention my girlfriend just ditched me, right?"
"Smarter than she looks, then."
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it." Malfoy frowned, then narrowed his eyes and peered at Harry's neck. "Erm. Potter." He waved at Harry's neck. "You'll want to do something about... that."
Harry turned and looked at himself in the mirror. "Bollocks."
"The spell's called 'Nehickeypas'," Malfoy said helpfully. "Although if you can keep up that level of blushing you probably don't need to worry. It's blending in quite nicely right now."
He whispered the spell to get rid of the impressive love bite on his neck, firmly put aside all thoughts of the bizarre bout of insanity he'd just indulged in, and turned his attention back to the others.
"About the forgetting everything," he said. "You realize it's not a sure thing, right? McGonagall's not convinced."
"Those two can't have come back for nothing," said Malfoy. "They risked a lot to get here. There's a reason for it. Besides, Granger's smart. If she knew what was going on, and was desperate enough to send them back..." He blew out his breath. "Unfortunately McGonagall just can't see that."
Harry nodded and straightened his clothing. "Erm... your tie," he said to Malfoy sheepishly, and Malfoy checked himself in the mirror and got rid of all evidence of what they'd done. Harry watched him, thinking. "She's not infallible, you know."
"McGonagall? Yeah, well, unfortunately, she's in charge."
"No, she's not."
"What?"
Harry gazed at him.
"What are you saying?" asked Malfoy.
"I'm saying, we can't just sit back and decide it's her place to decide what happens to all of us."
"Come on, Potter, what can we do if she doesn't change her mind?"
"There's how many of us now, who know about this?"
"Three of you, two of me, McGonagall, the werewolf, Weasley and his insane brothers, Granger, and my half-blood cousin."
"And soon enough, Snape. That's thirteen. And only McGonagall, Lupin, and Harry Three think we shouldn't let MacCauley do what he came here to do."
"It's not a democracy," said Malfoy.
"No, but it's not a dictatorship either," said Harry. It was going to be hellish, though, if McGonagall didn't change her mind. She would only be doing what she thought was right, and Harry sympathized, but she just didn't understand. And Lupin... there was no way Harry wanted to go against him. But it was really only McGonagall and Lupin who were blocking this, and--
"Harry?" Ron popped his head into the bathroom again. "McGonagall's back."
Link to Part Ia
Link to Part Ib
Link to Part IIa
Link to Part IIb (Previous)
Link to Part IId (Next)
Summary: Harry and Draco learn that Time is making fools of them again. And then they learn it... again.
Rating: R
Warning(s): Drug use, general confusion.
Epilogue compliant? That's a good question!
Word Count: ~39K
"You’re sure this is where the time traveller came?" said Harry, as they all waited in the Room of Requirement an hour later.
"I’m sure," said Hayford. "Hermione and Padma checked and double-checked. They're sure too. It'll happen in the next fifteen minutes."
The room looked rather messier than usual, thought Harry. And rather like the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, minus the beds themselves, with posters of West Ham and the Chudley Cannons, paintings in various stages of completion, some weird bulbous weeds, scorch marks everywhere, and an empty owl cage in the corner. The Room of Requirement supposedly became whatever the 'requirer' needed it to be, but Harry had half expected to find what the time traveller they were trying to stop had wished for. He supposed it made sense that the Room would instead become whatever Hayford wanted it to be, but... what did that mean for the time traveller who was coming? He couldn't imagine Fenrir Greyback wanting to travel back in time to land in a boys' dormitory--
Actually, from what he'd heard of Fenrir, maybe that was exactly what he would wish for. Harry's stomach did an unpleasant flip.
They waited in silence for a few moments.
"You all right?" Hayford asked MacCauley in a low voice.
"About as all right as you are," said MacCauley.
"My sympathies, then," said Hayford. Then he blinked and looked slightly annoyed. "Damn, I nearly forgot," he murmured to MacCauley. "Hermione said it looked like you could probably use some of this." He took out a small vial from his pocket, and MacCauley gave him a wry smile.
"Morph?"
Hayford nodded, and MacCauley stared at the vial in his palm for a moment, then folded Hayford's fingers around it and pushed his hand away. Hayford's eyebrows went up.
MacCauley shrugged. "Might need it more later," he said. He hesitated, then leaned closer and lowered his voice. "You know we could probably ask the twins to get you some Firewhis--"
"No," snapped Hayford. He closed his eyes briefly, then took a breath. "Sorry. No, no thanks."
"You're not exactly picking the best time in the world to pursue abstinence, you know," said MacCauley.
"Pot, meet cauldron," said Hayford drily. "I'll tell you what. If we survive all this, I'm stopping cold."
MacCauley chuckled. "Think it's that simple, do you?"
"There's got to be a way to get rid of this... thing inside me," said Hayford, and Harry winced at the reminder. This thing, only a piece of his -- their -- parents' murderer, living on inside of both of them. It would make anyone turn to drink.
"Think that's all there is to it?" said MacCauley.
"Probably not," said Hayford. "But it'd be a start. Especially if I also didn't have to deal with Moody and the Order and Wiltshire and..."
MacCauley touched Hayford's shoulder, and Hayford covered MacCauley's hand with his. "We'll talk about it after," he said. "If there is an after."
Hermione cleared her throat. "I take it you two are a couple," she said to Hayford and MacCauley, her tone determinedly casual despite a bit of a rosy glow to her cheeks.
MacCauley gave a small chuckle. "Oh dear, is it obvious?"
Harry felt himself going red too. Which was ridiculous. He wasn't the one dating Malfoy, after all. No need to be embarrassed. Make that mortified. No reason at all.
"As in, dating each other?" said Ron.
"In fact, living together."
"You're joking."
"Not at all."
"Since when?" said Hermione.
"About four years."
"Why didn't you say so when you first arrived here?"
Hayford chuckled. "Why, are you under the impression that that would have made his story more believable?"
Harry shook his head silently. The passage of years aside, this was the same person who'd almost killed Katie Bell. And Ron. How could anybody get over that? How could Hayford get over that?
"What happened to Ginny?" asked Ron, and Harry really wasn't sure he wanted to know.
Hayford and MacCauley traded a glance, and Hayford shrugged. "Just didn't work out."
Harry's ears were feeling hot now, and he desperately wished Ron and Hermione were somewhere else. Anywhere else. Romania seemed about right.
"And when did... this," Ron gestured between Hayford and MacCauley, "happen?"
"Oh he's known he was bi for ages," said MacCauley. "Since before Hogwarts."
"What?!" said Harry. "No I haven't!"
Hayford laughed. "No, he's just being a wanker."
"First year, then," said MacCauley.
"Seventh year, you arse," said Hayford with a chuckle. "I distinctly remember not having much room to think anything about boys before that, other than 'Is this one going to try for Ginny too.'"
"So much time wasted," said MacCauley, shaking his head.
"Don't go on about time wasted with me, Mr. 'Astoria Greengrass made me question my own gayness.'"
"She'd make any queer question himself," MacCauley protested.
"Maybe because she's got bigger balls than ninety percent of the blokes out there."
"And marvelous tits and no gag reflex whatsoever," said MacCauley.
"That's information probably better left private," said Hermione, and Harry gave her a grateful look. "And how did you two get together?" she asked, and Harry's gratefulness evaporated.
"Erm. Do we have to hear this?" asked Harry.
"Actually, I'm rather fascinated," said Malfoy blandly, and Harry shot him a glare.
"I really wasn't obsessed with him that way in sixth year, if that's what you're asking about," said Hayford.
"When did you become interested?" asked Hermione.
Hayford sighed and seemed to come to a decision. "If you must know, it was shortly after Ginny." He cleared his throat. "Erm, after she told me she was six weeks pregnant--"
"Pregnant?!" said Ron, and looked at Harry accusingly.
"...after I'd been away for two months," Hayford finished.
Ron's head snapped back to Hayford. "What?!"
Hayford shrugged. "I was away a lot. I had to keep secrets from her because of work. She didn't appreciate that. I got tired of her carping on and on about it. We were fighting more and more -- and you two weren't doing much better," Hayford glanced at Ron and Hermione. "For what it's worth, you two were over pretty soon after that, too. And Draco was there, and I'd wondered about other boys for a while, and then one day we'd both been drinking and... well--"
This time the flash and the billow of smoke didn't send Harry tumbling to the floor. It seemed different from the other two apparitions, though -- more whirly, less bright, with slightly less smoke. Apparently, MacCauley had been right and the original time traveller had been using a different method to come back.
A figure stumbled out of the smoke, lurching towards a small model of Hogwarts on a table and supporting himself on it, then sank to the ground, unconscious. Harry drew back his wand to aim it at him, and froze.
The room was utterly silent.
"Merlin's Y-fronts," said Ron faintly. "Now there's three of you."
MacCauley gave a deep sigh. "Splendid."
"Malfoy? What are you doing here?" asked the new time traveller, dazed, having woken up to the sight of MacCauley leaning over him. "Why do you look like that?"
"What are you doing here?" countered MacCauley.
The time traveller shook his head to clear it, then noticed the other people gathered around him. "I--"
"No, let me save your breath. You've travelled back in time to change the past, yes? Something to do with Dumbledore?"
The new time traveller was blinking rapidly, looking from one set face to another. "Who the hell are you?"
"Who the hell do you think we are, Harry?" said MacCauley impatiently. He gave a vague wave at the crowd. "Those are all people you might've been expecting to see here. This Harry and I," he indicated himself and Hayford, "came back here to stop somebody from pushing Dumbledore off the Astronomy Tower tonight." The other man gave a start. "We thought we were going to stop Fenrir Greyback. Apparently, we're supposed to stop you."
The man was frowning, confused. "Fenrir? Pushing -- no, that's completely mental, that's not--"
"Did you come back in time to push Dumbledore off the Tower?" asked Hayford.
"Push him off?!" said the new Harry. "Why the hell would I do that?!"
"So what did you come to do?"said Harry.
"To save him!" said the new Harry. "And keep the Death Eaters from coming into Hogwarts!"
"All right, this is getting bewildering," said Malfoy dazedly. "Can one of you just... do something about..." he waved his hand at the three Harrys, "this? It's getting on my nerves, badly, that you all look and sound the same."
"You know for the first time I really understand poor Mum," said George to Fred. "Let's not do the switching thing to her again, all right? Ever?"
"Ever," Fred nodded.
Hayford blinked, then laughed. "Right, yes, I suppose it is confusing. Here, I'll change my own colouring for the next few hours," he said, and took a sip of the Morph potion he'd brought for MacCauley. Harry watched, fascinated, as his hair turned light blond and his eyes turned grey, and reflected that despite the fact that he and the newest Harry had the same colouring, it had to be pretty easy for everyone to distinguish him from either of his older versions. He hadn't felt this skinny and spotty and full of awkward angles since the first time he'd spoken to Cho. The two older versions of himself both looked so much taller, stronger, their voices so much deeper -- the one from MacCauley's time slightly raspy, no doubt from smoking Gillyweed -- and their eyes tired and filled with pain.
"I loathe those colours on you," MacCauley remarked. "I swear you do it on purpose to make me jealous. Besides, you can't pull it off, at all." He glanced at the third Harry. "Funny, when I got here I was happy to see your younger self, because I thought it was as close as I'd ever get to seeing you again. And I'm glad you've come back yourself. But this..." he nodded at the third Harry, "this is rather too much of a good thing."
Hayford chuckled and put a hand on his arm and the third Harry blinked at them, bewildered.
"I take it we're not a couple in your future, then," said MacCauley.
Harry Three recoiled. "What?! No! Of course not! Don't be disgusting!"
Hayford laughed. "Oi. That's my boyfriend you're insulting," he said, and Harry Three gaped at him.
Hermione cleared her throat. "So what happened?" she asked. "Where -- when are you from?"
"2001," said Harry Three, tearing his eyes away from Hayford and MacCauley.
"What's your time like?"
"Hell."
MacCauley rolled his eyes. "I think we figured that one. Summary, in fifty words or less? Is Voldemort dead in your time?"
"Yeah."
"Since when?"
"May of 1998."
Harry started. That was awfully close. "Even though Dumbledore supposedly died -- will die in just a few hours?"
"Yeah."
"So why--"
"No, let’s start at the beginning," said MacCauley. "What happened the night he died?"
Harry Three swallowed. "I’d gone with him, to try to find one of Voldemort’s Hor--" he broke off, biting his lip and glanced around at the people listening to him.
"They all know about Horcruxes, you can go on," said Hermione.
Harry Three’s eyes widened, but he still looked uncertain.
"Harry," said Lupin gently, putting a comforting hand on Harry Three's shoulder, "if you're worried about letting out Order secrets, you don't have to be. Everyone here is either already in the Order or under our control," he glanced at both Malfoys, "and even if you don't believe that, you know now that the biggest secret -- the Horcruxes -- is now common knowledge."
Harry Three gazed at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly and began to speak. "We went to a cave. Thought we’d found it, but Dumbledore was... hurt, getting it. By the time we got back to Hogsmeade he was incredibly weak, and there was a Dark Mark over the Astronomy Tower." MacCauley and Malfoy traded a glance. "We flew back to Hogwarts and he wanted me to get Snape for him, but when we got to the Tower, Malfoy was waiting for him."
"By myself?" asked Malfoy.
"Yeah."
"It never did work, then," Malfoy muttered.
"What didn’t work?"
"The Cabinet."
"No, it worked."
Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up. "But then how -- why--"
"All the Death Eaters who’d come through were delayed by people from the Order, and the DA, fighting them -- I’d given them Felix Felicis but some of them were still injured, Bill Weasley was mauled by a werewolf--" and Ron made a soft sound of dismay. "They did get to the Tower eventually -- used Peruvian Darkness Powder to get past the Order and DA--" Fred and George started, their eyes wide. "You were supposed to kill Dumbledore right away, but he stalled, and got you talking, and you looked like you were going to defect. You even lowered your wand."
Malfoy gazed at him, troubled.
"Finally Snape and the other Death Eaters showed up, and Snape killed Dumbledore--"
"What?!" There was a general outcry and Harry Three shook his head impatiently.
"No, no, it wasn't -- he only did it because Dumbledore had asked him to, he didn't want to--"
"Oh my God,"said MacCauley. "Severus told me that once. How Dumbledore made him swear that he’d kill him if it came down to it, to spare me having to commit murder."
"He did?" said Hayford. "You never told me that."
"Severus didn't want it commonly known," said MacCauley.
Harry's mind was reeling. Snape? Forced to commit murder? On Dumbledore's orders?
"So how are you going to stop any of this from happening again?" asked MacCauley, as if he hadn't just delivered a piece of stunning news.
"I know a curse. I can make the Vanishing Cabinet kill anyone who goes through it."
"That’ll take care of the Death Eaters," said Hayford. "What about Draco?"
"I know when he got up to the Tower. I know Dumbledore will be holding him off, but just in case Malfoy suddenly decides to grow a backbone, I’ll be there to stop him from hurting Dumbledore. And keep Dumbledore on the Tower so that Snape can help him."
"He’ll still die in less than a year," said MacCauley. "Severus told me the injury to his hand--"
"I know," said Harry Three. "He’ll have that year, though. And I can let him know where the Horcruxes are. And it'll all be so much easier."
"Harry, hasn't anybody told you it’s dangerous to play with time?" said Hermione.
"You did, actually," he said. "It's your research that got me interested in all of this. It's your spell that I used, when I realized I could time travel without dovetailing, and actually change the past."
"And you still decided to ignore my warnings, and come back here to change things?"
Harry Three smiled at her sadly. "I had to," he said.
"Why?"
"Because everything's fucked up."
"How?" asked Tonks. "What happened?"
"Everything went wrong," said Harry Three. "The War... there was too much death, and too much violence, and four years later none of us are getting over any of it."
"What d’you mean?" asked Tonks.
"For starters, you and Lupin got married--" Harry Three began, and Lupin and Tonks both blushed again, and Tonk's hair was now closer to fuchsia than rosy pink, "but you were both dead before your first anniversary. Your son was only a few months old."
Tonks frowned. "You're serious?"
"You dad died, too, and your son, Teddy -- he's four, he's being brought up by your mother, who really can't do it. He's full of energy, and she has none. She's been in mourning for so long, for all of you... I try to help but I don't know what the hell I'm doing with him..."
"We had a son?" said Lupin.
"Think someone needs to read up on werewolf contraception, Remus," said MacCauley drily, and Lupin glanced at him, a bit surprised at the familiar address. Harry supposed MacCauley and Lupin were closer than mere former student and professor in his future.
Harry Three turned to the twins, and hesitated before speaking. "You died, Fred." Fred's eyes widened, and George paled. "You died in a corridor during battle, I was with you, and one moment you were joking with Percy and the next you were dead. You haven't got over it yet," he said to George. "I can't... you don't want to know what life is like for you now. It's four years later and you still..." he trailed off, shuddered. He took a deep breath. "And your stories were repeated fifty times, at Hogwarts alone. In the months that I spent flailing about trying to figure out what to do, hundreds of people were arrested, disappeared, killed, Dementor-Kissed..."
"It's four years later, though," said Hermione. "Isn't life getting better? For anybody?"
"Nobody I know. You two," he motioned to her and Ron, "you've been on-again, off-again for years. Too much grief, and too much fighting because you're both so bloody messed up..."
"And you and Ginny?"
"Same story, only a lot uglier and with a lot more broken dishware. I'm pretty sure the last break-up was the last straw."
“Alcohol have anything to do with that?” asked MacCauley drily, and Harry Three’s eyes widened. "Never mind, none of my business. Well, the future you gave us -- the future you will give us, that is -- isn't much better than that. Only it also comes with a complete breakdown of the fabric of space and time. So all in all, I'd say yours is the less miserable path, wouldn't you?"
"Dunno about you," said Hayford, "but I'd much rather deal with a shitty world that's got a hope in hell of still existing for more than eight years or so than one that doesn't. Why couldn't you leave well enough alone?"
"Just how are you going to make the Cabinet kill the Death Eaters?" asked MacCauley.
Harry Three eyed him suspiciously, but a quick glance around the room seemed to convince him it was safe to continue.
"A variation of Strigonomasmobile."
"Those are spells designed to cause harm to witches and wizards using objects for traveling illegally, aren't they?" asked Hermione. Harry Three nodded. "Used by the Ministry to prevent entry to forbidden places."
"Like the Department of Mysteries, yeah," said Tonks. "It was hellish trying to figure a way in last year when the Order was setting watch there."
Lupin closed his eyes briefly and muttered something under his breath. "Harry." All three of them turned to him, but he was addressing the man on the bed. "You're going to use Strigonomasmobile?"
"Yes. It'll work, no Death Eaters--"
"Dora, do you remember how we finally circumvented the one at the Department of Mysteries?"
Tonks frowned. "You went in and -- oh bollocks."
"What?"
She turned to Harry Three. "Remus and Dobby went in and disarmed the wards. He was able to do it because Strigonomasmobile is only effective against witches and wizards. It doesn't affect house elves... or werewolves."
Harry Three gaped at her, stricken.
"So after you left the Room of Requirement, Fenrir came through," said MacCauley. "Then he wasn't a time traveller after all." He shook his head. "And it's your fault I got mauled by him, then," he said to Harry Three. "I tried to step between Fenrir and Dumbledore, and he just swatted me aside and ripped my arm open. That’s why I began to use the Morph potion; it’s the only thing that’ll help the pain from werewolf wounds."
"Everything was so confused, though..." muttered Hayford, running a hand through his messy blond hair, making it even messier. "I remember Fenrir rushing past, I remember suddenly being able to move again, but it's all so blurred together..."
"That was you too, wasn’t it?" said MacCauley to Harry Three. "You were up on that Tower, you Confunded us while you tried to figure out what to do. See if Dumbledore was dead. See if any other Death Eaters had managed to come through. And then you left."
Harry Three was shaking his head. "No, that -- I..."
Harry felt a pang of sympathy for the wreck sitting before them, being accused of doing all sorts of things he hadn't done yet.
"What’s your plan?" he asked the bewildered man. "After you save Dumbledore?"
Harry Three frowned. "Plan? Nothing. He'll survive, he'll help you to find all the Horcruxes, and kill Voldemort. You’ll get it done faster than I did. All those people won’t have to die while you’re trying to figure things out on your own." He paused. "I also... I've got Dumbledore's wand, I took it from his grave--"
"Why the fuck would you do that?" asked MacCauley.
Harry Three rubbed a hand over his face wearily. "It's supposed to be unbeatable. It's the Elder Wand--"
"Oh God you really have cracked," said MacCauley. "The Elder Wand is a bloody fairy tale, you dolt! Next you're going to tell us you've also got the Resurrection Stone and the Cloak of Invisibility! Or maybe you've brought Babbity Rabbity herself, Cackling Stump and all?"
Harry Three gave him a wry smile. "The Stone's lost, but I do have my Cloak--"
"Don't be an arse, Harry, we all know about your Cloak. I've even got it with me. And I suppose you," he turned to Harry, "have one too?"
Harry nodded. "Back in my room."
"So we have three of the Deathly Hallows; does that make us all the Masters of Death now?"
Harry Three scowled at him. "No, it doesn't, because it's supposed to be the different Deathly Hallows. But the Cloak is one of the Hallows, whether you believe it or not."
"If you actually believe--" MacCauley began, but Hayford interrupted him.
"So what will you do if you don't save Dumbledore? Kill off the remaining Horcruxes, then go after Voldemort?"
Harry Three blinked.
"Because it looks like you did. In our timeline."
"I did?"
"The Death Eaters never came into Hogwarts. A bunch of them disappeared that night, actually. But Fenrir Greyback got in, and pushed Dumbledore off the Tower. Dumbledore died a year later, never having regained consciousness."
"Fuck," said Harry Three softly.
"And there were a bunch of odd incidents in the month between Dumbledore's fall and Voldemort’s death." Harry Three’s eyes widened. "At the Room of Requirement, Gringotts, and Grimmauld Place. Any of those ring a bell?"
Harry Three nodded slowly. "Did... so Voldemort did die?"
"Yes, he did," said MacCauley.
"And his snake?"
"Yes. Found her dead next to him. In the Forest of Dean."
"So that's why it didn't matter that I didn't kill Voldemort," said Hayford thoughtfully, his grey eyes distant. "The prophecy did come true after all. I did kill him. Or rather, you did," he said to Harry Three. "Or you will."
"And in your timeline there wasn't a Ministry controlled by Death Eaters?" said Harry Three. "Or mass disappearances of Muggle-borns, or a war that almost destroyed Hogwarts?"
"No," said Hayford.
Harry Three took a deep breath.
"Unfortunately, you never did kill off the last Horcrux," said Hayford.
"What?"
"The one inside me," said Hayford. "I dunno why. But it's still here. He's still here."
Harry Three stared at him.
"What were you going to do? Kill me after killing Voldemort? Because apparently, you failed to do that. Either he killed you too, or you just forgot to cross the last t and dot the last i in your plan, who knows, who cares. Thanks to you, I’ve been carrying him around for seven years while he grows stronger. You fucking incompetent bastard!"
This wasn't quite like a nightmare, thought Harry vaguely as they sat and waited for McGonagall to return with Snape. Nothing that horrific had actually happened; nobody was actually dead, no harm had been done -- yet. But it was all utterly mental and had that unreal quality of dreams, or Divination homework invented at four in the morning.
Ron and Hermione were talking quietly together, and he devoutly hoped that their conversation was about whether or not they would ever be a couple, and if so, whether they would be able to not get divorced and end up hating each other. Because otherwise they were probably discussing Harry's own relationship with Ginny. Or, worse yet, his possible relationship with Malfoy.
The other Order members, Lupin and Tonks and Fred and George, were all huddled around Harry Three, busily discussing Order business no doubt. Or perhaps discussing Fred and George's newest inventions, it was hard to tell, as Harry Three looked in more dire need of cheering up than anybody Harry had ever met. Or possibly in need of a stiff drink. Just like Hayford.
Well, that was one lesson Harry could take from all this: he was never going to even think about trying Firewhisky again, no matter what Ron said. Sure, it looked interesting, but apparently he really couldn't handle it. Of course, if MacCauley and Hayford had their way, he wouldn't remember that he shouldn't touch the stuff.
MacCauley and Hayford were in their own world, heads together, talking quietly, Hayford's fingers tracing random patterns over the freckles on the back of MacCauley's hand. Hayford leaned over and kissed MacCauley and Harry turned away.
Best not think about that, really.
"And now you’re just as desperate as I am, aren’t you?" said Malfoy quietly taking a seat next to Harry. Harry tensed slightly. "Relax, Potter, I'm sure you'll be all right."
"How? I've got a piece of Voldemort inside me. How can that be all right?"
"It's hardly your fault."
"He killed my parents and tries to kill me every couple of years like it's a tradition, but somehow, he’s inside me. He’s the reason I can hear snakes. I thought it was so cool, to be able to do that, and now I find it’s just--" Harry shuddered. "Fuck, this is sick."
Malfoy rubbed a weary hand across his face. "It’s not your fault, Potter."
"I know -- but... fuck!"
"Potter, come on," said Malfoy.
"Besides -- did you see him? Both of him? The one from the right timeline looks like shit and has just come back to try to fix everything but he’s too fucked up to do anything right, and the one from the wrong timeline is becoming Voldemort! I’m becoming Voldemort!"
"He's not you!" Malfoy snapped.
"Yes he is! They both are! And one of them is a monster in the making and the other one’s a complete victim and about to fuck up everything..."
Malfoy put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. "Potter! Get a fucking grip!"
Harry put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, bowing his head and closing his eyes.
"Look, you... you aren’t them," said Malfoy. "And now you know, and you’ll do things differently. You’ll track down all the Horcruxes and then-"
"And then I'll have to die, won’t I?"
"Of course not! Harry Three didn't die! Somehow he's alive and not a Horcrux and I know he said it was complicated but you just have to figure out how he did it and--"
"And how do I know I’ll be able to do whatever he did to survive?"
"Because you did it before."
"He did it before. Not me."
"You know where all the Horcruxes are now. You know how to kill all the Death Eaters, you know--"
"Yeah, well Harry Three knew too, didn’t he? And look at how well that turned out for those poor bastards from the alternate timeline."
"He was working alone. You won't be."
Harry suddenly realized Malfoy was still holding his shoulder, and was sort of rubbing it in sympathy. And that it felt pretty good.
A completely bizarre and utterly inappropriate image of Hayford and MacCauley holding on to each other floated through his mind, and it was insane how much he felt like he wanted nothing more than to take more comfort than he should from Malfoy. Really, it was Ginny he wanted, he told himself. This was just a reaction to finding out he might have to die in the near future. But...
"How do we know?" he said, forcing himself not to react to Malfoy's closeness. "Things could go wrong. Somebody could blab to Voldemort -- you saw how many people know by now. Voldemort could make himself even more Horcruxes. I could fail again--"
"Stop it."
"And there’s no good future to look forward to here."
"Yeah, there is. The one where you kill that bastard completely, and do what Harry Three did, and come back to life yourself."
Harry sat back up. "Hang on," he said. "That’s a good future, to you?"
Malfoy suddenly stopped rubbing his shoulder.
"Erm."
"You sound like you’re going to defect."
Malfoy swallowed.
"Are you?"
Malfoy gazed at him, uncertain, searching for something in his eyes. Then he pressed his lips together and gave a small nod.
"Wow."
"I don’t see that there’s much choice," said Malfoy.
"Maybe not."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Harry finally broke it. "Does you deciding to come over to our side have anything to do with... erm. With me?"
Malfoy bristled. "Why?"
"Just asking," muttered Harry, wishing he hadn't asked. Wishing MacCauley and Hayford weren't on the other side of the room, quietly embracing, because now he was mortified and it was pretty obvious Malfoy was, too. And normally an embarrassed Malfoy would be a happy thing for Harry, but somehow in the last few hours he'd started to actually almost like Malfoy, and now...
"I don't know," said Malfoy finally. "Maybe. But it's mostly... well, it's not going to work, is it?"
"What isn't?"
"The Cabinet."
Harry was brought down to earth with a sudden thump. Right. The Malfoy he'd met today, the older one with the red hair and freckles and the tragic story that made Harry want to help him, wasn't the one sitting next to him. Wasn't his Malfoy. His Malfoy had had no basic change in ideology, no maturing, no realization that he'd been wrong all along -- he was just being practical and acting out of self-preservation.
And why did this surprise him?
"Besides," Malfoy continued, "what would be the point of defecting for you? You've got your Weaselette. Who could compete with her?"
Harry dropped his eyes, not particularly caring to admit to his current lack of 'Weaselette'. "Your Cabinet is going to work, though. Or... well, it will if Harry Three doesn't muck it up."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "How likely do you think that is, Potter?" he said, indicating all the people in the hospital room. "Even if I manage to get the time to go work on it and actually have my great breakthrough today, d'you really think anybody here is going to let me use it?"
Harry shook his head.
"I've got to use the loo," said Malfoy abruptly, and got up. Lupin and Tonks started, and Harry waved them back to their seats.
"I'll keep an eye on him," said Harry, and followed him into the hospital's bathroom.
"What do you want, Potter?" said Malfoy wearily as he entered. "Can I not even use the toilet without you hanging about?"
"I'm making sure you don't scarper off. What with you having confessed to trying to kill Dumbledore and all."
Malfoy grimaced sourly. "You're sure it's not nostalgia?"
"What?"
"Well here we are. You, me, and a bathroom. It must bring back fond memories, no?"
Harry flushed. "No. You know it doesn't. I didn't mean for you to get hurt."
"Certainly looked that way from where I was lying and bleeding."
"I didn't know that spell would do what it did." He paused. "Did you get any scars from it?"
"Not bad ones. Snape was pretty good about healing them."
The door opened and Ron poked his head in. "You all right, Harry?"
"We're just talking," said Harry. "Don't worry, McGonagall took his wand, remember?"
Ron gave Malfoy an only slightly suspicious look. "You'll let us know if you need anything, right?"
"Yeah, thanks Ron."
They waited until the door closed.
"So what do you think we should do?" asked Harry. "With Harry Three, that is?"
"I believe him," said Malfoy, his voice low. "I think we should let them -- I mean, the older you and me -- MacCauley and Hayford, that is -- do what they came here to do."
Harry gazed at him. "Which means we'd forget all of this."
"A whole day," said Malfoy.
Harry blew out his breath, suddenly a little disgusted with himself. "Yeah, we're looking at losing a day. What about Remus and Tonks? And Fred and George -- and Snape? They're looking at losing so much more."
"I wonder what happened to me," said Malfoy.
"In Harry Three's time?" Malfoy nodded. "You could ask him."
Malfoy shook his head quickly. "I don't think I want to know."
"Have you taken a good look at MacCauley? How could it be worse than that?"
"You tell me. In MacCauley and Hayford's time, Snape is living underground with the Banned Order. In Harry Three's time, he's dead."
"He's a hero," Harry pointed out.
"A very dead hero," Malfoy shot back. Which was a good point, Harry had to admit.
"It's odd, that if MacCauley gets his way, we won't remember any of this."
"Or any of what'll happen in our future."
Harry nodded, and leaned against the wall of the bathroom. "I couldn't help noticing that in both futures, I’m not with Ginny."
"I noticed that."
"And in one, I’m with... you."
"I noticed that too," said Malfoy drily. "Why are you mentioning this? Feeling a little uncertain about your one true love?"
"Don't call her that."
"Ooh, trouble in paradise?"
"It's not paradise," he said flatly. "I mean, it is. Sort of. She's... we've had problems."
And no, this was absolutely not the thing to be talking to Draco Malfoy about. "Do tell," said Malfoy, a slightly malicious gleam in his eyes.
Harry blew out his breath. "I'm not sure she's my girlfriend right now," he said and almost immediately wanted to hit himself as he braced himself for another round of malice from Malfoy.
Malfoy opened his mouth, then closed it and the gleam dimmed a bit. "Why's that?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.
"Because I... because I'm a shit who doesn't really consider her very much," he said slowly.
Malfoy smirked. "Why's that? Is she, erm, missing something?" He paused delicately. "Something you're... curious about?"
"No. Not... no. I don't think." Harry cleared his throat. "It's not that."
He was curious, though. And... and seeing MacCauley and Hayford together was so strange, and unsettling, and... all right, maybe a little hot...
And it felt weird as hell to be chatting to Draco Malfoy about this, but only Malfoy could understand what it felt like to see your future self and feel close and yet so distant from them, and what it felt to see your future self so obviously messed up, and also so obviously so in love with someone you despised...
"Or is Weasley not living up to her reputation?" asked Malfoy blandly. "Not as adventurous as promised on the bathroom walls?"
"No, that's -- what?" Harry blinked at him. "What bathroom walls?"
"Maybe that's only in the Slytherin dorm, then," said Malfoy.
"She's adventurous enough--" Harry began and oh blast was he now trying to defend Ginny's honour by affirming that she was a slut instead of blaming her for being a prude? "This isn't a good topic," he said.
Malfoy shrugged. "Why? We probably won't remember any of this later," he pointed out. "It's almost like it doesn't count." He ran a nervous hand through his hair.
"I suppose not," said Harry.
"D'you know what?" said Malfoy, his voice tight. "If this doesn't count, then there's no reason not to... not to take advantage of that."
"What d'you mean?" asked Harry, and drew in his breath, startled, as Malfoy stepped closer to him.
"This," said Malfoy, and stepped closer and pressed their lips together lightly, then pulled back.
Harry gaped at Malfoy, dumbfounded.
"We won't remember any of this afterwards, right?" said Malfoy. "And your girlfriend just broke up with you, and at least part of you is turned on by those two in there." He waited a beat, and Harry realized this was his opportunity to step away. And then the opportunity was gone, and Malfoy reached for Harry and it was so bizarre, but it was true, wasn't it, that he wouldn't remember any of this, and Ginny had broken off with him, and there was no reason not to...
Harry found himself inexplicably not backing away, only drawing in his breath as Malfoy's lips touched his again, his mind reeling at everything that had happened today, all that he'd seen and heard -- Dumbledore's possible fate by the end of the day, Snape's role in all of this, and the two older versions of himself, both so incredibly wounded, one of them only held afloat by an older version of the boy in his arms -- all of it as out of control as he felt, and he realized Malfoy's lips were soft and warm and felt like refuge. He returned Malfoy's kiss, distantly noting that it wasn't really all that different from kissing Ginny, pulled Malfoy closer and felt Malfoy hard against him.
Malfoy's scent was spicy, his hands warm as they started to wander down Harry's back, his body firm, his heart racing under Harry's palm, and his lips were setting Harry on fire, God where the hell had Malfoy learned to kiss like this--
This was insane, totally mental, what the hell were they doing?
Throwing caution to the wind and turning away from the insanity of what was going on outside this room, that's what. Malfoy's mouth left his and he moved to Harry's neck and Harry briefly thought this was a bad move -- more room to have second thoughts if he wasn't overwhelmed by Malfoy's mouth hot on his own -- but then Malfoy's lips reached the side of his neck and he lost the plot a bit, dropping his head back against the door of the bathroom because, oh, fuck, that felt incredible, and Malfoy's hand was going to the front of his trousers and Harry was harder than he could ever remember being--
He was gasping and helplessly rocking forward against Malfoy's hand, because God knew Ginny'd never gone this far with him, and he reached down to Malfoy's trousers -- what would it be like to touch another boy, he'd wondered, and now he was going to find out--
Malfoy's mouth left his neck and he moaned next to Harry's ear, pressing him hard against the door, the door handle digging into Harry's back, Malfoy thrusting against his hand, swearing softly, a whimper in his throat, and somebody could come in any moment now, and his back was going to be impressively bruised at this rate, and then Malfoy's mouth found his again, and anybody could come in--
"Oh shit," he said, wrenching himself away from Malfoy's lips, the hand that had been stroking Malfoy now grabbing Malfoy's hand away from his own trousers instead. "What the fuck are we doing?"
Malfoy was still panting, lips reddened, cheeks flushed, his grey eyes dark and hungry, and the sight had to be one of the hottest things Harry had ever seen, but he pushed that thought away in horror.
What the fuck had he just done?!
Malfoy closed his eyes and ran a trembling hand through his hair, his entire being screaming frustration and disappointment and humiliation, and Harry could still feel the heaving of Malfoy's chest against his, their bodies still pressed together against the door, and for the life of him he couldn't make himself push Malfoy away.
"Fuck, what the hell was that?" he repeated in a whisper, and Malfoy put a hand on the door and pushed off, turning away.
This was all so much worse for Malfoy, he realized suddenly. If Harry's mind was reeling with all he'd seen and heard today, if Harry was fearful of what had happened, if Harry was having a hard time accepting the whole Voldemort-Horcrux thing, what about Malfoy? To hear MacCauley tell it, the entire year had been hell for him, and now his whole world was being tossed upside down, the plans he'd made weren't going to work, and he didn't know what to do either...
Malfoy made a low noise in his throat and leaned back against the wall next to him, eyes closed, clearly trying to steady his breathing and get a grip again. And what had just happened wasn't Malfoy's fault, Harry realized with deepening shame. Malfoy had been acting on what he'd been feeling for a long time. Harry himself had just... gone a bit mad. He'd used a simple disagreement with Ginny as an excuse to do something completely fucked up; he'd been so eager to explore and get what he wanted that he'd told himself their spat was an actual break-up. He was going to have to Obliviate himself, no matter what happened next.
And how fucking cowardly was that?
He was more of a coward than Draco Malfoy. Very nice. Live with that, Potter, he thought in self-disgust.
He cleared his throat. "Malfoy," he said, his voice hoarse. Malfoy stiffened but didn't acknowledge him. "I -- fuck, I'm sorry." Malfoy's eyes popped open and he stared at Harry in disbelief. "I -- I'm sorry. I'm a total berk."
I'm sorry I went along with this, I'm sorry I pushed you away, I'm sorry I won't be repeating that again, I'm sorry you somehow fell for me, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.
"I'm really sorry," he repeated quietly. He cleared his throat. "Can we, erm, chalk that up to temporary insanity and leave it at that?"
Malfoy, incredibly, laughed. "You're unbelievable. Did you somehow miss the fact that the only reason I did that is that we're going to forget it?"
"I'm unbelievable?" said Harry. "Oi, I'm not the one who has a crush on someone they don't even like." He closed his eyes for a moment and gave himself another mental slap. "And, fuck, forget I said that part, too."
Malfoy snorted. "You're not the best at this, are you?"
"I did mention my girlfriend just ditched me, right?"
"Smarter than she looks, then."
"Thanks."
"Don't mention it." Malfoy frowned, then narrowed his eyes and peered at Harry's neck. "Erm. Potter." He waved at Harry's neck. "You'll want to do something about... that."
Harry turned and looked at himself in the mirror. "Bollocks."
"The spell's called 'Nehickeypas'," Malfoy said helpfully. "Although if you can keep up that level of blushing you probably don't need to worry. It's blending in quite nicely right now."
He whispered the spell to get rid of the impressive love bite on his neck, firmly put aside all thoughts of the bizarre bout of insanity he'd just indulged in, and turned his attention back to the others.
"About the forgetting everything," he said. "You realize it's not a sure thing, right? McGonagall's not convinced."
"Those two can't have come back for nothing," said Malfoy. "They risked a lot to get here. There's a reason for it. Besides, Granger's smart. If she knew what was going on, and was desperate enough to send them back..." He blew out his breath. "Unfortunately McGonagall just can't see that."
Harry nodded and straightened his clothing. "Erm... your tie," he said to Malfoy sheepishly, and Malfoy checked himself in the mirror and got rid of all evidence of what they'd done. Harry watched him, thinking. "She's not infallible, you know."
"McGonagall? Yeah, well, unfortunately, she's in charge."
"No, she's not."
"What?"
Harry gazed at him.
"What are you saying?" asked Malfoy.
"I'm saying, we can't just sit back and decide it's her place to decide what happens to all of us."
"Come on, Potter, what can we do if she doesn't change her mind?"
"There's how many of us now, who know about this?"
"Three of you, two of me, McGonagall, the werewolf, Weasley and his insane brothers, Granger, and my half-blood cousin."
"And soon enough, Snape. That's thirteen. And only McGonagall, Lupin, and Harry Three think we shouldn't let MacCauley do what he came here to do."
"It's not a democracy," said Malfoy.
"No, but it's not a dictatorship either," said Harry. It was going to be hellish, though, if McGonagall didn't change her mind. She would only be doing what she thought was right, and Harry sympathized, but she just didn't understand. And Lupin... there was no way Harry wanted to go against him. But it was really only McGonagall and Lupin who were blocking this, and--
"Harry?" Ron popped his head into the bathroom again. "McGonagall's back."
Link to Part Ia
Link to Part Ib
Link to Part IIa
Link to Part IIb (Previous)
Link to Part IId (Next)
