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 subsequenta, 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.

“Finally decided to grace me with your presence, I see,” Malfoy said behind him, and Harry jumped so hard he slipped off the sofa. Malfoy sneered at him. “I’m so bloody honoured.”

Harry stared at him. Malfoy had put some clothes on by now, and was wearing a pair of deliciously soft looking faded jeans and an untucked white shirt rolled to the elbows. He stared at the place where two of the shirt buttons were undone, showing a hint of skin and the way Malfoy’s throat moved as he swallowed.

“Got nothing to say?”

Malfoy stared down at Harry, his grey eyes cold. And a little bit hurt, Harry was surprised to notice. What had Hermione said? Try not to act too suspicious. Right then. Harry cleared his throat.

“Er, sorry. It was work stuff, something important that I ot to tell Hermione about. I’m back now though. Er, obviously.”

Malfoy snorted delicately and turned away. “Bloody figures,” he mumbled, walking off in the direction of what Harry assumed to be the kitchen.

Harry followed, wracking his brain toe up with a way to fix this. Whoever this Harry was, he had clearly not been expected to go apparating off to his friends this morning, and Harry needed to fix this before anyone noticed he wasn’t acting in the right way. “I really am sorry,” he said, rounding the corner into the kitchen and

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