Vagary

{Two}

"You look like you need a drink, Hare."

Harry was where Malfoy had left him, and he felt so very weak, sitting there in the house that wasn't really his, but wasn't exactly not-his either. Everything felt like a nightmare, if not for the amount of people here who were living. Speaking of, he would finally get to meet his parents in the flesh. The thought didn't excite Harry as much as it should what with everything going on and most likely never seeing them again after this. It made the moment bittersweet.

"Thanks, Malfoy, but if I'm going to see my parents tonight for the first time -and last- without ghosts or magic mirrors. I want to be sober." As much as his reply was slightly humorous, he had to bite back the ending of how being married to a Malfoy definitely might have convinced him to have that drink anyways.

"Are you nervous?"

"A bit," Harry admitted hesitantly, looking at his husband with guarded expressions. No amount of auror training or encounters with Voldemort could have prepared him for looking into a stranger's eyes and finding love there behind them.

"It's so weird, you know?" It seemed that Malfoy had no problem not holding back. "All this nonsense, it's almost like you lost your memory. I suppose if you and Herm fix this, I'll have my Harry back in no time, though."
Then he shrugged, a rather misplaced action on a prideful Malfoy, but so was the awkward smile.

"I reckon," Harry said cautiously. "Do you mind if I ask you a few more questions?"

"No, go ahead." Malfoy bit his tongue at the affectionate name he nearly clipped off the end of his answer.

"How'd this happen?" Nearly choking on the question as it were, he pointed pathetically between them to indicate what he meant by this.

"September first, nineteen ninety-seven. The beginning of our seventh year at Hogwarts. We had a compartment to ourselves since you told Ron and Blaise to scram, and Hermione was worrying over her Head Girl duties. I remember that day clearly, because we had been flirting all summer, but you denied any fancy you had to me the moment someone would ask. I think your mum told you something ridiculously Lily of her before you got on the train and you just flat out asked me to be yours."

Harry laughed, wishing he understood what Malfoy meant about his parents... wishing he knew his parents at all. Gods, he was jealous of Draco bloody Malfoy (Potter) for knowing things he could only ever fathom, and wouldn't even need to know past this evening. He wanted to hate him for it, and for so many other things, but that wasn't exactly a civil way to conduct one's self.
Wanting nothing more than to skip straight to dinner, he figured the best way to move forward would be to stay calm and roll with whatever Malfoy told him to do, not to fight him on it. When he got back, Harry needed to remind himself to go pick a fight with his own Malfoy in hopes to cure the paradox of knowing this one.

"When did we get married?" The ring had only told him the year.

Malfoy seemed to be on the same wavelength as he pulled off his own ring jokingly and stared at it much too far away from his eyes to actually be able to read anything at all.

"We were bonded at exactly eleven in the morning on September first, two-thousand and one. A brilliant summer Saturday if there ever was one."

"We're sentimental blokes, aren't we?" Harry jested.

"You could say that." Malfoy smiled, laughing lightly with Harry, even if he looked quite the bit in pain.

There was guilt surfacing in him, wondering how exactly Malfoy was dealing with all of this knowing someone who looked exactly like his husband sat before him, but this version was off by a couple slices of time.