Shifting Realities

Author Notes: Apologies for 8 months without updates - the school year kinda consumed my life, and I completely forgot about updating the fic on this site -.-;

/.../ = thoughts

Chapter 5: Who Can Say

Who can say
Where the road goes
Where the day flows
Only time

- "Only Time," Enya

Draco Malfoy continued to stare at Harry as if the other man were some sort of bug he was observing under a microscope, then shrugged, shifting his eyes to Lupin. He smiled genuinely, and said somewhat cheekily, "Hey, Remus. I see you managed to survive the Bike From Hell once again. How many Muggles do you think you ran down this time?" He and Sirius both moved aside in order to allow Lupin and Harry to enter the house.

After setting the helmets down on an end table, Lupin made a beeline for a door to the left, mumbling something about needing to check his teeth for bugs. Sirius rolled his eyes, leaning against a bookshelf. "You can sit down if you like, Harry."

Taking up Sirius' invitation to sit, Harry collapsed in an armchair, letting his eyes wander all over the room, looking everywhere, in fact, except for at Malfoy. Harry found that, while the outside of the house still bore evidence of Lupin's mother's influence, the inside had apparently been redone since her residence. Besides the armchair, a couch stood in the lounge, both obviously of Muggle manufacture, much to Harry's surprise. A china cabinet in the corner appeared to be normal on first glance, but closer observation revealed contents that would be rather out of place in a normal Muggle home. The fireplace next to the cabinet had some rather odd objects on the mantel above it as well. Overall, Harry was reminded of the Burrow, only with everything on a smaller scale and less cluttered.

His face glowing from what Harry supposed had been a rather thorough scrubbing, Lupin stuck his head through the door. "How about I give you a tour of the house Harry, and then you can get settled into your room, all right?" Harry stood up, nodding to indicate that this would be okay with him. "Right then. So, this is the lounge - but then I guess you already knew that, hm?" He went back through the door, and this time Harry followed him into a small hallway.

"Straight ahead is the bathroom, to the left is the room Sirius and I share." At this, Sirius poked his head through the door from the lounge.

"Remember the warning, Remus..." Sirius began.

"Oh, right. Don't try opening our bedroom door before ten in the morning - I'm okay with getting up early, but Sirius is most decidedly not a morning person. Okay, that door is Draco's room, and the door next to that leads to what's going to be your room." Lupin opened this door, letting Harry in.

Placing his suitcase on the bed, Harry looked around. Besides the bed, there was an empty bookcase on the wall opposite the bed, a second door, and a closet. Curious, Harry opened up the second door, and found a small room with a sink, a large cauldron, and two more doors. He glanced at Lupin, his eyes questioning. "It used to be a washroom, but we converted it into a potion workroom. Kitchen's through there," he said as pointed to an open door in the workroom opposite the one Harry was standing in, "and the back yard is out that one. That's pretty much it."

Nodding, Harry stepped back and closed the door to the workroom firmly. "Thank you. Um... I think I'll just unpack now, and maybe take a nap. Mrs. Whelton and Alice didn't let me get much sleep last night - they insisted on throwing a 'Harry's going off to university' bash. I think it ended somewhere around two in the morning." He yawned hugely and sat down on the bed.

"All right. I'll just leave then, hm?" Shutting the door behind him, Lupin left.

Alone in the room now, Harry walked back over to the bed, and opened his suitcase, staring down at the contents. Pulling out the neatly folded clothing and placing it on the comforter of the bed, Harry grabbed his books from the case, then stalked over to the bookcase, intent on putting them away neatly on a shelf at eye level.

Grabbing the stack of clothing off the bed, Harry headed over to the closet next. The closet had no door, instead a curtain had been hung on a rod in front of it. Pushing the curtain to the side, Harry pulled a hanger off of the rod that spanned the width of the closet, then picked up a pair of trousers. As he worked, Harry stared off into space. It had been something of a shock, seeing Draco Malfoy here, of all places. Though he wondered vaguely why the other man was living with Lupin and Sirius, that was not what concerned him now. Instead, most of his mind was centered on the surge of emotions he'd felt upon seeing the Slytherin again.

/I thought I got this all out of my system months and months ago,/ Harry thought angrily, grasping for another hanger. /But all I have to do is see him, and all the same old feelings come back again./ A hot, salty tear slid down Harry's cheek, and he slumped to the floor, abandoning the tasking of putting away his clothes. /I'm not going to let this get to me. Who cares about stupid Malfoy, anyway? He was just a bully in school, and anyway this isn't even the same Malfoy that I knew. He's probably a completely different person in some respects./ That was a slightly comforting thought, Harry decided.

His tears, however, had not stopped falling. "I'm going to have to live with him," he whispered to the empty room. "I'm going to see him every day in this little house. I'm going to be expected to speak to him, to interact with him."

Harry scrubbed at the tears with the back of his hand, then shot a desperate look at the door Lupin had left through. /I can't do it. It was hard enough before - I can't do this again!/

---

A light tapping on the door woke Harry from his doze. Blinking his eyes several times, he pushed himself up on the bed. He'd been having the strangest dream right before he'd been awakened; he had been trying to run away, only Malfoy kept on appearing in front of him, sneering and telling him how pathetic he was. /Where am I? Oh, right - Lupin's house./ The tapping came a second time on the door that led to the workroom. "Yes? What is it?"

"Evans? Dinner is ready, if you're willing to come out." It was Malfoy, and Harry had to restrain himself from gritting his teeth at the other man's polite, well-meaning tone.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Harry padded over to the door and opened it. "Thank you for telling me, Malfoy." He began to turn around in order to leave through the other door in his room, when Malfoy caught his arm. "What?" he snapped irritably.

"You can come through this way - that door goes to the kitchen," said Malfoy, jerking his head backwards, "and the kitchen goes straight to the dining room." He smiled at Harry. "Look, I'm not going to bite you."

Sighing, Harry acquiesced to being led to the dining room, where he found himself sitting next to Malfoy at the table. He kept his eyes focused on his plate, plowing through his food with a single-minded determination.

"So," Lupin spoke up through the prevailing silence, "did you know Draco at Hogwarts, Harry?"

Surprised, Harry chanced a look at Lupin, then returned his eyes to his plate and shrugged. "We were both Seekers for our House teams." /Better not say too much. I don't want to upset this Malfoy. He's not the same person that I knew; I shouldn't make him feel guilty for what the one I knew did./

Malfoy looked at him with interest, "So, you play Quidditch, Evans? Any good at it?"

Another shrug. "I guess. I caught the Snitch nearly every time. Don't play anymore, though."

He continued to answer questions from all three men in a similar, half-dead manner, until he finished his dinner, at which point he excused himself and retreated to his room.

---

Bright sunlight hit his eyes, piercing through his shut lids. Moaning, Harry drew an arm up in order to cover them. This tactic proved to be successful except for one thing - it was damned uncomfortable. Grumbling, he lowered the arm and turned over in bed. This was definitely an improvement, and for a time, Harry was able to sleep peacefully once more.

Then the birds started. Harry's eyes snapped open, and for a minute he just lay there, glaring at the wall. Having spent the last year living in the city, Harry had forgotten about the many disadvantages of living in less developed areas. At that moment Harry was reaping the benefits that came with his new home. Like most wizarding dwellings, Lupin's house was located in a rural area, far enough from most Muggles to prevent unwelcome attention. This also meant that there were no tall buildings to block the morning sun, and nothing at all to block the abundance of birds that greeted that sun with loud chirps of happiness.

Having decided that the world was conspiring against his intentions to sleep until eleven, Harry pushed himself up in bed, growling and glaring blearily at the window next to the head of the bed. He reached over and fumbled around for his glasses, which he was pretty sure he'd placed on the nightstand the night before. /Ah. Success./ Sliding the hooks behind his ears, Harry got up. He stumbled over to the door that opened into the hallway. Easing it open, he peeked out. Observing no signs of life, he stepped out into the hall, making sure to walk as quietly as possible. It couldn't be any later than seven o' clock, and he was not eager to upset his housemates by accidentally waking them up at an unbearable time of day.

Making his way from the hall to the lounge, Harry paused for a moment in the large entryway that led from the lounge into the dining room, sure that he had just heard someone humming. Proceeding cautiously, Harry walked into the dining room and poked his head into the kitchen. Lupin was humming softly as he started the small coffee maker that stood on the counter. "Professor? Are you up already?"

"Harry? Yes, I'm afraid I am. I want Sirius to run some errands today, and if I want him out of bed by a reasonable time I have to start the coffee early." He smiled helplessly, and Harry noted the mug the older man grasped with both hands, almost as if it were a lifeline. "You don't have to call me 'Professor' all the time, Harry. I never taught you, so it seems a bit silly. We're both adults, why don't you just call me Remus, like Draco does?"

"Um, all right..."

"Good, that's settled, then." He glanced down at the percolator, then back at Harry. "Care for a cup of coffee?"

Despite himself, Harry scrunched up his face and stuck out his tongue. "Good God, no! You couldn't get me to touch the coffee Sirius drinks with a ten foot pole - I know how strong he likes it. It's just plain disgusting."

Lu- Remus laughed. "I know the feeling. Actually, Sirius is the only one around here who drinks coffee. Draco and I just stick to tea," he said as he raised his own mug. "Would you care for some?"

Harry was about to say yes, when a strange sound from the lounge startled him, and he turned around to see what it was. Sirius walked in a straight line across the room wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms, his long black hair matted and scraggly. Though his eyes were still firmly shut, he turned to the left right before hitting the dining room table, the whole time sniffing enthusiastically. Stunned by the sight, Harry didn't move out of the doorway he was blocking in time, and the wizard walked right into him.

Grunting, Sirius turned his head back and forth, almost as if he was looking for something. "Remy, it's not fair to move the furniture around before I've had my coffee," he complained.

Harry glanced back at where Remus stood behind him, and saw that the other man was trying hard not to laugh. Sighing, Harry glared at the werewolf, then stepped to the side in order to let Sirius through.

Coming to a stop right by the coffee maker, Sirius held his right arm out to Remus, hand grasping. "Coffee?" he asked hopefully. Remus rolled his eyes, but he went ahead and filled a mug from the pot and placed it in Sirius' hand. Taking a long sip, Sirius smiled. "Mm. Goood." He wandered out of the kitchen and settled down at the dining room table.

"Tea, Harry?" Remus asked a second time.

"Huh? Oh, sure." Grabbing his own mug, Harry retreated to his room, where he shut the door and curled up in bed with a book. He'd decided that he didn't want to be around when Malfoy finally decided to grace the rest of the household with his presence.

---

"All I ever see you do is read. Don't you have anything better to do with your time?"

Marking his place with his thumb, Harry closed the book and looked up from where he sat on the front porch. "Why do you care, Malfoy?"

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy sat down next to Harry, causing the black haired man to flinch away. "It just seems that you could do some other things. You might be happier then."

"Who says I'm not happy? I enjoy reading. I like books." Flipping his book open again, Harry turned back to reading, determined to ignore the Slytherin.

"You enjoy reading, but are you happy? Looks like you're just trying to escape from what's around you, Evans." Malfoy leaned over to look at the book that Harry was reading. Snapping the book shut again, Harry glared at Malfoy.

"So what if I am trying to escape? It's none of your business," Harry growled, wondering whether it would be worth it to get up and find someplace else to read. While on the one hand it would mean admitting defeat, on the other he would be able to escape from Malfoy and finish the story he was reading. He turned his head to the side and looked down at the bushes next to the porch. Harry would have continued glaring, but he couldn't stand looking at Malfoy for too long.

Malfoy didn't reply, instead staring off into the distance, at the meadow on the other side of the road, at the flowers in the garden. Harry didn't really know or care; he had his own thoughts to worry about. /I can't leave - I can't let him know I'm afraid of him,/ he told himself sternly. /But I don't know if I can stand having him sit next to me much longer. It's too much, too close... why does it have to be so hard?/ His eyes began to itch with the tears that were begging to be let loose.

At length, Malfoy finally spoke. "What are you trying to escape from, Evans?"

"Like I said before, Malfoy, it's none of your business." Turning so that his back was to the other man, Harry opened his book and tried yet again to read it. "Can't you leave me alone for once in your life? Would it really kill you to do that just this one time?"

With his back to Malfoy, he couldn't see the wizard's expressions, so Harry had no warning for what was said next. "Christ, you're impossible! I've only talked to you once or twice since you came here two weeks ago, and you're making it out to seem as if I'm constantly tormenting you or something!"

Harry decided that he'd had enough. He jumped to his feet and whirled around to face Malfoy. "And how do I know you won't constantly torment me?! Everyone else is exactly the same here as they were back home -Êam I supposed to sit here and happily wait for you to come and stab me in the back a second time? I'm not an idiot, Malfoy, I do learn from past mistakes!" His eyes flashed with anger, and he left, entering the house.

"I don't know what your problem is," Malfoy called after him, "but you had better deal with it - remember, it's going to be just the two of us here for the next nine months or so."

As he collapsed against the inside of the door to his room, Harry gloomily admitted to himself that Malfoy was right. Remus had to leave on the first of September; he had returned to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts the year before, apparently. The war against Voldemort had gotten so bad that parents didn't mind having their children taught by a werewolf anymore, as long as the man knew his stuff. And Sirius was to go with Remus as his lovable dog.

/Nine months of living in a small house with Malfoy,/ Harry thought dismally. /I may as well kill myself now and save him the trouble./ He blinked, then laughed bitterly, /What am I thinking? Help Malfoy? Hah! As if./

---

Holding a suitcase in each hand, Remus shot the two young men a worried look. "You'll send me an owl if there's any trouble, won't you, Draco?" Sirius, once again in his Animagus form, sat next to him, tongue lolling out, his tail thumping happily on the ground. He'd been playing fetch with Malfoy earlier in the morning, and the excitement hadn't worn off yet.

Laughing, the blonde nodded and made a shooing motion. "For the tenth time, yes! Now hurry up, or else you two will miss the train." Both Remus and Sirius were Apparating to King's Cross, and then taking the Hogwarts Express to the school.

Harry himself snorted at Malfoy's words. "And I don't think the Weasleys will let you borrow their car to get there if you do miss the train," he murmured.

"Hm? What was that about the Weasleys, Harry?" Remus asked, turning to look at the newest addition to the rather haphazard household.

"Nothing. You'd better go now; hope you have a brilliant year." Harry flushed, remembering that the Weasleys no longer had a car, since the Ford Anglia had gone wild after he and Ron had crashed it into the Whomping Willow. Or the Whomping Willow had crashed into it, they had never quite decided which it had been exactly. But maybe the car hadn't been crashed in this world...?

"See you at Christmas, then." Both wizards popped out of sight, and Harry let out a sigh and edged away from Malfoy on the porch.

"Please," Malfoy griped as he rolled his eyes, "I'm not contagious. And, contrary to what some may believe, I don't stab people in the back."

He stalked off inside, which was fine with Harry, who pulled a paperback out of his pocket and sat down on the porch, enjoying the day, which had not yet turned terribly hot. The peace was not to last, however. Soon, Malfoy was back out again, broom in hand. Harry watched as the Slytherin strode down the steps, mounted his broom, and sped off across the road to the meadow on the other side. There, the wizard flew up higher and began his aerial acrobatics.

Despite what he told himself, Harry soon found himself setting his book aside and watching Malfoy's aerial display. Even though he himself was not the one on the broom, Harry took joy in simply watching the way the broom was handled. The other man wasn't quite as good as Harry remembered from the games they'd played in seventh year, which was strange.

/There's another thing I'll never get to do again,/ he thought sadly. There had been so few things that had made him as happy as he had been when he was on a broom. But he wasn't a wizard anymore, he was a Muggle instead, and there was no chance he'd ever feel a broom clasped between his legs again. No, he would be stuck on the ground for the rest of his life, unless he decided to ride an airplane somewhere, and then it just wouldn't be the same thing. /Maybe I ought to take up hang gliding,/ Harry thought idly.

He winced as Malfoy kept on messing up one move. Finally giving in to temptation, Harry stood up and walk across the road to stand at the edge of the meadow. He watched as Malfoy positioned himself to try again, and called out, "You'll never get that spiral to work like that, Malfoy."

Apparently, Malfoy hadn't noticed Harry's approach, because he was obviously thrown off by the voice. Steadying himself, he glared down at Harry. "What makes you say that, Evans?"

"Because you're not sitting correctly. The thing that makes that spiral work is the fact that the broom is unbalanced - and you're sitting too far back for that. What you want to do is start flying in a straight line, then slant downwards and let your body slide forward until it's about a hands width from the tip of the broom. This throws the broom's balance off and makes it spiral during the plunge," Harry explained, demonstrating the technique with hands. He hadn't understood the move at first himself, having first learned of it from one of Ron's Quidditch magazines during his fifth year at Hogwarts.

Malfoy looked down thoughtfully and nodded. "If you say so..." He tried again, this time taking Harry's advice and moving forward on his broom at the last moment. To Harry, it looked as if the corkscrew worked so effectively that Malfoy almost didn't pull up in time. Once free of the spiral, Malfoy glided over until he was at eye level with Harry, and grinned. "Thanks for the help, Evans."

Harry shrugged, not looking at the man on the broom. "Thanks for not being stubborn about it. At least I didn't have to tell you the same thing half a dozen times before you'd try it this time," he said, thinking of the Malfoy that he'd been familiar with. The memory of trying to teach Malfoy brought other memories to the surface, memories that Harry would rather not think about. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to clear it of old words and familiar images. /I'm not going to think about that,/ he told himself firmly. /It's gone, it's over, and it never existed in the first place./ When he opened his eyes, he found that Malfoy was staring at him. "What?" he snapped.

"What do you mean, 'this time'? You've never told me about anything before, Evans." Malfoy was watching him suspiciously, obviously thinking that there must be something wrong with Harry's head.

"You're right," said Harry, smiling weakly. "I haven't." He scuffed his feet a few times, looking down at his shoes. Now that he was no longer talking about Quidditch, he felt awkward, standing there on the ground while Malfoy hovered in front of him. "I - I'm going back to the house."

Harry turned around and trudged back across the road, picking up his book as he climbed the steps to the porch. He glanced over his shoulder at one point and wasn't surprised to see that Malfoy was doing the same corkscrew over and over again, refining it now that he had the basics down. It was a good move, one that threw off players on the other team. The broomstick's twirl actually caused it to pick up speed, so that when you pulled out of the dive, you were going faster than the maximum speed for the broom.

It was also a very dangerous move, since it was possible for the broom to flip over, bucking you off. Because of this, it was a move mainly used by Seekers, since it favored smaller, lighter players. Before Harry had taught it to Malfoy, he had be able to use it to turn around many games.

Pausing in the doorway to the kitchen, Harry stared off into space. /Standing there... I could almost believe that it was seventh year again, and I was teaching Malfoy how to improve his abilities as a Seeker.../ He put his book down on the counter, and turned to the refrigerator, pulling out a loaf of bread and other items for a sandwich.

Spreading mustard on a slice of bread, Harry frowned. /And when he flew down after pulling off that corkscrew, it was almost as if he was going dismount and-/ Again Harry pushed the thought out of his head. /Idiot. Don't think about that. It was all fake, all a lie. He told you that, didn't he? Don't dwell on the past. Remember, nine months. You had best get better control of yourself./ But no matter how many times he told himself to forget, the memories kept returning when he least expected them.

---

Next chapter: Malfoy does domestic; Harry is informed of A Certain Threat to the human race; Malfoy learns about afterstories.