The Wish
Harry sat on the windowsill, the textbook clutched tightly in his hand as he watched the night sky. That morning had been horrible, and he wanted nothing more than to change it. He wished he could go back and stop himself from hitting Malfoy with that curse. He wished he could stop Katie from being cursed, or stop Malfoy from getting the mark. He wished for it to be over.
He wished for it all to be over.
The past six years had been nothing but constant fighting and, Merlin, was he sick of it all. He wanted to live in a world without Voldemort - a world where he could be married with children, a world with Sunday dinners at the Burrow and Hermione laughing and Ron playing chess and no more war.
He wanted it all to be over.
He watched the stars, watched as one of them glimmered slightly brighter than the rest, and thought of Sirius and of his desperate need for family. Finally, after an hour of clutching the book to his chest and watching that star continue to grow even brighter, he cast a quick tempus, saw that it was three in the morning, and glanced up again.
I wish this were all over and I was happy, he thought, and then thought it was silly of him to make wishes like this when he knew it would get him nowhere.
The boy trudged over to his bed, his sixteen year old body already wearing down from all the fighting, and fell asleep to the sound of Ron’s snores and Neville’s constant moving.
***
Harry woke to a much brighter light than he was used to seeing in his dormitory at Hogwarts, and squinted angrily before reaching over to grab his glasses. Upon first glance, the room looked like a hotel of sorts, only thrown off kilter by the dark tones found in everything other than the soft white sheets Harry found himself lying in. However, once he examined it, gazing at the clothes meticulously folded on the trunk at the end of the bed, picture frames he couldn’t quite make out covering the dresser and nightstands, he realized there was no way this wasn’t someone’s home.
Harry grabbed his wand off the nightstand, happy to find that it was in the same position he always placed it, close enough to grab if he was under attack, but not so close that he could knock it off in the middle of one of his nightmares.
He heard noises from downstairs, voices laughing and carrying up to where he was, and dishes clanging from where he presumed the kitchen was. As he moved, he got the sinking feeling that he knew this place, what with its winding halls and dark architecture. He knew that, with the addition of a screaming portrait and some decapitated elves, this would be identical to the home Sirius had grown up in. He thought that, perhaps if he took a slight detour, he would find a wall covered in a family tapestry, Sirius’ head burned off in anger.
The voices grew louder as he continued down the steps, one of which was strikingly familiar. Harry gripped his wand tighter as he entered an area he knew to be the sitting room. The grey couch was still there, tattered upholstery now fixed neatly. What shocked him, however, was the children dancing around with a white object in their hands - two of them to be exact - and a flattened version of a muggle television displaying the same moves they were following. The girl seemed much smaller than the boy, and couldn’t be much older than five. The scariest part of this image, however, had to be the two blonde heads poking up from the couch, one of which was much too familiar.
Harry’s hand was white as he gripped his wand, growing almost red as the tallest of the blondes stood up and turned to look at him. Draco Malfoy stood, giving the girl a high five as she finished dancing. The girl beamed at him, a look Harry never thought could be directed at Malfoy of all people, and giggled before her roaming eyes caught sight of the shocked man gripping his wand to his side.
Malfoy turned and, to Harry’s surprise, grinned at him in a similar way to the child, only there was something else hidden in the look. Harry glared at the man, whose expression turned to confusion as he began a ramble that Harry couldn’t possibly process in his current state.
“Darling,” Malfoy spoke excitedly, “Lily has just surpassed James in their dancing game and -”
Harry raised his wand, pointing it directly at Malfoy just as he had the day before.
“What kind of trick is this, Malfoy?” Harry ground out, his jaw clenched. He vaguely noticed the ‘children’ from earlier turning off the television and staring at him from behind Malfoy.
“Harry, love what are you on about?” Malfoy reached out, eyebrows scrunched together in concern as Harry glared at him. Harry backed away hurriedly, his wand still pointed at the man in front of him. He was able to notice, now, that Malfoy looked older. The man still had his hair, although it looked a bit thinner, but there were wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes.
“What kind of trick is this?” Harry continued, his wand shaking ever-so-slightly. “What, you wanted to get me back for yesterday? Wanted to take an aging potion and kidnap me for some kind of revenge?”
Malfoy’s brow furrowed tighter as he stared at Harry. The blonde brought a hand up to rake through his hair, and Harry swore he saw a gold addition to the horde of silver rings Malfoy tended to wear.
“Harry-”
“STOP CALLING ME THAT” Harry shouted, not allowing Malfoy to explain or answer any of his questions. “You drug me, take some kind of potion, charm your little Slytherin buddies to look like younger versions of my parents, and call me Harry and love and darling? What on earth is your problem, Malfoy? I know I fucked up with that curse yesterday but need I remind you why we were in the bathroom in the first place? Should we ring Myrtle and have her recount the situation?!”
Harry moved, pointing his wand at the children as he did so. “Let me guess, you have Parkinson posing as the little girl, and then Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle as the others? Pathetic, Malfoy, that you thought I wouldn’t see through your Death Eater schemes.”
Malfoy shook as Harry spoke, gasping as soon as the last phrase exited his mouth. Harry watched as a single tear slipped from the blonde man’s eye, wand still trailed on the children, specifically the girl he knew to be Parkinson.
“Stop, Harry, please,” Malfoy spoke, voice soft, before raising it. “Teddy! Come get your siblings and bring them to your room please!”
Harry stayed silent, simply glaring at Malfoy as the man struggled to hold back tears. The clanging and music in the kitchen stopped and a teenager with turquoise hair and a physique that vaguely resembled Remus Lupin sauntered into the room, stopping only when he saw Harry’s wand.
“Dad?” The boy spoke, looking at Harry for some reason. Harry caught sight of the hazel eyes he had seen so many times on another face, and for a moment his wand dropped slightly. “Why are you pointing your wand at them?”
“Teddy,” Malfoy spoke softly. “Please bring your siblings upstairs, love. I believe your father has had another one of his bad dreams.”
The boy, Teddy, remained frozen, watching as Harry stared at him.
“Edward,” Malfoy whispered.
Teddy still did not move.
“Edward Remus Lupin you listen to me right now,” Malfoy spoke slightly louder. Harry’s head whipped around to look at him as soon as the name had left his lips. Teddy broke from his trance and brought his siblings, two of them crying, up the stairs.
“How dare you,” Harry whispered. “How dare you do this to me.”
Malfoy rubbed his temples, another tear escaping, then another, until he sat on the couch, head in his hands as he sobbed.
Harry watched, still glaring, as Malfoy pulled out his wand and lit up the room with a patronus - a stag - and whispered something to it. Not moments later, a familiar girl with a familiar head of bushy hair was stepping out of their floo, not looking up from the bag she was rummaging in as she spoke.
“Draco I keep telling you to -” the girl looked up at her best friend, stopped speaking, and then gave him the same look she did when she scolded him about his homework. “Harry why on earth do you have your wand pointed at Draco?”
“‘Mione thank goodness you’re here,” Harry kept his wand pointing at the puffy-eyed blonde. “Malfoy tricked me somehow. Last night I was in the dorm and this morning he had kidnapped me and brought me here and he’s transfigured the Slytherins into children and he called one of them Lupin and -”
He was cut off by Hermione walking over and taking his wand out of his hand, putting it into her pocket before steering him over to the same couch as Malfoy.
“Harry,” the girl spoke softly, “what year is it?”
Harry looked at her, puzzled. “1997, why?”
Malfoy looked up, seeming shocked by this. Hermione, puzzled, held Harry’s hands in hers, looking into his green eyes.
“Harry it’s currently 2017.”
***
Harry felt confused, more than he ever had, as Hermione spoke to Malfoy, calming the man down as much as she could as the blonde sobbed into her arms. Since when were the two friends? Since when did Malfoy call her ‘Mione? Since when did they forgive each other?
Hermione stood, looking softly at Harry as she offered him her hand.
“C’mon Harry,” she whispered, “time to go to St. Mungo’s”
Malfoy seemed to choke up even more after that, excusing himself to go into the kitchen for a moment. Harry and Hermione waited for him to come back, a decision that was definitely all Hermione, giving Harry what he felt was the perfect opportunity to ask her the most pressing question to him.
“Why is Malfoy here?”
Hermione sighed, placing her hand on his shoulder.
“Harry, you and Draco have been married for seventeen years.”
“What?”
“You told me you fell in love with him during our sixth year, and hid it until after the war. Something about realizing he had never had a choice and that everything was forced on him by his father. It was completely true, of course, but no one completely understood how you went from cursing him in the bathroom to kissing him everywhere you could during eighth year.”
“Eighth year?”
“We weren’t in school seventh year. If you’re the Harry from when I think you are, you already know about Dumbledore’s theory. It was correct the entire time, and when he died we had to finish tracking the Horcruxes down.”
“Oh,” Harry mumbled. “But that doesn’t explain how I ended up married to him. And who are those kids?”
“You married him because you bring out the best in each other. If you just watch how he speaks to you and interacts with you, you’ll see it. He loves you so much, Harry, and you love him too. As for the children, Teddy is Remus and Tonks’, but since you’re his godfather you got custody of him as soon as you graduated. The rest belong solely to you and Draco, although he claims they’re more his since he carried them.”
“What?!”
“We are not unpacking all of that right now, Harry, we can speak about it later.”
Harry almost spoke against her, but between her glare and Draco making his way back into the room with a gruff “let’s go,” he didn’t dare to.
***
Draco Malfoy, Harry learned, could be quite a crier, especially when it came to Harry himself. Draco’s eyes remained puff throughout the entire consultation with the Healer at St. Mungos.
Wish Magick, they called it. Magic that had to be performed at a specific hour on a specific day or it wouldn’t work. It just so happened that Harry had managed to make a wish on May 13 at precisely three in the morning, the perfect time to use such magic, and upon his mention of watching a star during the time, the magic became even more complicated.
The Healer remarked that he hoped Harry had gotten everything he wished for, and upon the uncomfortable looks from the three others in the room, coughed uncomfortably and informed the group that the reversal potion could be administered on the next proper day for such magic.
June 13th, Harry thought, an entire month away.
Draco’s puffy eyes filled with tears as the Healer explained that, until then, Harry would be unable to remember anything from 1997 until then because, due to the magic being wished-based, and the lack of Harry wishing to remember his life, he technically did not have any of those memories hidden in his subconscious.
Draco cried fully once they got home, Hermione supporting him as Harry stood by awkwardly, not completely sure of what to do.
Upon hearing their entrance, Teddy entered the living room, shaking as he looked at the trio.
“Aunt Hermione?” the teenager asked softly, causing the bushy-haired woman to look over at him and Draco to force himself back into his composed expression from earlier in the morning. “What’s wrong? Is dad sick?”
Harry, still unsure of what to do, stood still as Draco swooped the boy into his arms.
“Everything is going to be okay, Teddy,” Hermione spoke softly, sounding slightly reminiscent of Molly Weasley. “Your dad had a bit of an issue with some magic and he can’t remember much, but they’re working on fixing it now, and it’s going to be completely over in a few weeks, okay?”
Teddy, looking unsure and a bit shaky, nodded as he held onto Draco. Part of Harry wanted to hug the two of them, hold them close and tell them everything was going to be okay, but he fought that part off like the Basilisk.
Draco stood and walked over to Harry, softly grabbing onto his hand before guiding him over to the couch. Harry realized with a start that, in his inward struggle, Hermione and Teddy had left the room and were nowhere to be found.
“Harry,” Draco started, choking as his brow furrowed again. “I know you don’t remember anything, but please just know through all of this that I love you and I’m here for you. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do. If that means holding you through the month, staying in separate rooms, or even-” he choked back a sob, “even me just going away for a little bit, I’ll do it. I just want you to feel safe, and I know that you haven’t in a long time but if me being here makes that worse, I don’t want to contribute to it.”
Harry stared at the man in front of him, this spectre wearing Draco Malfoy’s face, and in that moment, all he could think about was the bathroom. He thought that, perhaps, Draco Malfoy knew what it felt like to expect danger at every corner. He thought back to the wish he had made, the thought that he wanted nothing more than to be happy.
“Malfoy,” Harry trailed off, unsure of how to phrase his intentions.
Malfoy, of course, dramatic git that he was, took this as Harry wanting him to leave, and breathed in deeply before nodding and standing up. He shook his head for a moment, Harry watching him, and began to walk away when Harry spoke.
“You can stay.”
Malfoy turned, looked at Harry, and smiled.