分卷阅读4（1 / 2）

“Yes, although it might be a good idea for you to call him Draco, just for today.”

“What? Why?”

Hermione handed the boy over to Ron and steered Harry towards the floo. “Harry, I want you to think about one very important thing: this morning, when you woke up with Draco, when he kissed you, and with the er, the nakedness?”

So she had heard the part about the nakedness.

“Yes,” Harry said slowly.

“Did you like it?”

Harry spluttered, and Hermione used the moment to throw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace. “Harry and Draco’s house,” she said into the flames. “Just think about it, okay?” She pushed Harry into the fire, and as he spun away, he heard her call out, “And try not to act too suspicious!”

Harry skidded out of the floo and into a bright, airy, completely unfamiliar room. He brushed the soot from his t shirt and jeans as he looked around, his pulse jumping as he took in what clues the room had to offer him. There was a large wooden toy box in front of the huge windows, the lid pulled half off and toys spilling out onto the floor; a big yellow truck sat next to it, a barbie doll behind the wheel and a My Little Pony in the back; what looked like half a witch’s costume stretched over the stomach of a large teddy bear; a rocking horse that had had one of its white patches coloured in a variety of shades. A purple and blue pygmy puff rolled around in a cage on the opposite side of the room, letting out the occasional chirp as it smacked into the bars and reversed course. A dark green leather high back chair sat in one corner, facing out into the room and within easy reach of the bookcases sitting to either side of it. A big screen telly dominated one wall, opposite a comfy looking striped sofa, scattered with mismatched cushions and blankets. A tiny black shoe sat innocuously on one of the cushions.

And everywhere, everywhere, there were pictures.

Everywhere Harry looked, photographic versions of himself and many others waved back at him. He, Ron and Hermione sitting on a bench with scarves wrapped around their necks smiled at him from on top of the dresser; Molly and Arthur grinning down at a small bundle in their arms on the mantelpiece; a photograph of what seemed to have been Ginny’s wedding to Dean; Hermione in her wedding dress, scolding Ron for having his mouth full of cake—Harry remembered that one, he’d taken it just over a week ago at their wedding.

And interspersed between all of these were pictures of Harry and Malfoy. Malfoy pulling a face while Harry kissed him messily on the cheek; Malfoy with his arms wrapped around Harry’s waist, his chin resting on Harry’s shoulder; Malfoy sitting next to Harry on a sofa that was obviously in the Burrow; Malfoy playing with a little girl with long dark hair and wide grey eyes; Malfoy standing next to a hospital bed, staring down at the small baby Harry was holding in his arms.

And then his eyes lighted on a small black frame on the bookshelves, holding a picture of a shy looking Harry with his hands caressing his stomach lovingly. His very round, big stomach.

Harry’s hands flew to his own stomach, lifting up his t shirt and running over his taut muscles. What the hell? He hadn’t even known that wizards could do that…Okay no, he did know, because Charlie Weasley and his husband Evan had been talking about one of them getting pregnant recently, it’s just…he’d never seen it, and now here he was, staring at evidence that he’d done it himself.

Harry sank down onto the sofa, wincing when he landed on the discarded shoe. Okay, he just had to think about this for a minute. What had Hermione said? This was the effects of a spell, and something about a brief glimpse. But what was he briefly glimpsing at? A bad acid trip? Harry didn’t think he needed a lesson in responsible drug use. Maybe a look at how his mind would crack if he kept on spending so much time at work? It was true, Harry did work a lot, not leaving much time for a personal life, but he really didn’t think that this would be what his frayed mind would conjure up. An alternate universe of some kind? Harry didn’t know if such things existed, but if they did, then maybe Hermione’s reluctance to tell him much made a bit more sense. Maybe if he learned too much, he wouldn’t be able to get back to his own world?

Harry sighed and scrubbed at his face with his hand, pausing when he felt something unfamiliar moving across his skin. He stared at his left hand; on the third finger sat a simple, white gold band.

Harry thought he might be having a heart attack.

Okay no, he just had to take some deep breaths, and think. Wherever Harry was, an alternate universe, a mental breakdown, a massive bonk to the head and a subsequent coma, whatever, clearly things here were very different. He seemed to be married, for a start, and was living in what seemed to be a very beautiful house, and had had a child…

Harry felt light headed.

So, he was married, living in a house rather than a flat, with a child—Lissa? That’s what Ginny and Hermione had both called the little girl—and he seemed to be doing all of this with Draco sodding Malfoy.