A/N: It was my birthday on the fourth of January. I turned 17. Which is pretty damn cool. I was 14 when I first got on this website. Now it's 3 years later, and I think I'm a much better writer, considering all the helpful tips my readers have given me, thank goodness. And I hope in another 3 years, if I'm still writing on this website, I'll look back at the fanfiction I'm writing now, and realize that I'm even better then than I am now. Lol. Adios!

-CatJetRat

Chapter 4

Doubt

Normal POV

Malfoy didn't emerge from his bed until lunch, as he'd said he would. He came into the Great Hall with tousled, damp hair, correct robes on (Harry fidgeted with his own), and a smug expression on his face. He glanced at Harry, who glared in response, and smirked at his expression, walking over to sit at the Slytherin table. Harry grumbled under his breath and stabbed at his boiled potatoes violently, still annoyed at Malfoy's late appearance and, though he would never admit it, the fact that it was Malfoy's scent he'd caught a whiff of in the love potion.

"Something wrong, Harry?" A voice said.

Harry jumped, and looked to his father, who had spoken. James, he observed, looked rather haggard as well, with dark circles underneath his eyes. Harry fought to avoid remembering why this was, and nodded quickly. "Yeah. I just—didn't get that much sleep last night."

James grinned. "You too? It's kind of weird when you meet your son from the future, especially your son who looks like a carbon copy of you." His brow furrowed. "Except for your eyes. They look strangely familiar." He smiled, and his smile had a small trace of bitterness in it that Harry could only see because he was looking for it. "They must be your mother's eyes. Do we make good parents?"

"I'm not supposed to talk about it," Harry muttered uncomfortably. He did not want James to find out that he wasn't even in Harry's future, that, in fact, he would be dead in less than ten years.

"Right," James said, grinning. "But can I ask where you got that scar?" He pointed at Harry's forehead. Almost unconsciously, Harry reached up to touch his scar, which hadn't faded once he'd killed Voldemort, though he'd thought it would.

Harry grinned faintly, and then opted for a sort-of lie. "Let's just say I got it dueling," Harry said, smiling.

James laughed delightedly. "Well, did you win, at least?"

An odd look came over Harry's face, and he said, rather sadly, "Yes, I did…in the end."

James didn't seem to notice how disconcerted his son had become, and said, "Are you an Animagus?"

Harry nodded. During the war he'd studied up on Animagi and, with Professor McGonagall's help, had managed to become one. His form was that of a black panther. "Yeah, why?"

"Well, so am I—" James began, but Harry cut him off.

"I know," he said before he could stop himself.

James looked rather surprised, and said, "Well, of course you would know—you're my son. Sorry. Anyway, tomorrow's the full moon, and, well, I can't tell you all of it now, but we were wondering if you'd like to come exploring with us. We're all Animagi, except—"

"Yes, I know all about it," Harry interrupted, feeling excitement build in the pit of his stomach. "I know that you're Prongs, Sirius is Padfoot, Remus is Moony, and Peter is Wormtail, and I know the reason for all those names."

James was impressed. "Wow. How'd you find all this out? Did we tell you?"

"No, I—Do you still have the Marauder's Map?" Harry asked.

James shook his head, annoyance flashing across his features. "No, Filch, the new caretaker, confiscated it a few months ago. Bastard. We spent months working on that thing."

Harry grinned. "Well, in my day, Fred and George, the twins I was talking about, nicked it from Filch in their first year, and gave it to me when I was in third year. That's how I found out about your names. Pro—Remus explained it to me."

An evil smile lit James' face. "Did you just call Remus Professor?" he asked slyly.

Harry blushed, but didn't say anything. "Ha! I knew it!" James exclaimed. "I always knew he'd become a teacher. What does he teach?" When Harry remained tight-lipped, James resorted to begging. "Come on, it won't hurt to tell me that."

"What are you two talking about?" Sirius asked, looking over at them.

"Moony becomes a teacher," James said quickly.

"Dad!" Harry cried, reverting to calling James dad. James glanced at him quickly, an odd smile on his face.

"Oh, come on, Harry. It doesn't really matter that we know, now, does it?" James grinned.

Harry glared at him. "He teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts for one year at Hogwarts, the year I got the Marauder's map."

James nodded knowingly. "So that's why he was the one who told you about us instead of me."

Harry didn't say anything, instead choosing to concentrate on his stew. James didn't seem to take anything from his silence, and started teasing Lupin about becoming a Professor. Harry felt amused, and, at the same time, rather sick. He didn't want to leave here, didn't want to leave this time. While he missed Ron and Hermione, he'd had 7 years with them. He'd only had two with Sirius, four with Lupin, and none with his father. Never again would he have the chance to see James or Sirius again, after McGonagall figured out what spell they'd used, and the counterspell. For the first time in his life, Harry felt jealous of Malfoy. When they went home, Malfoy would still have Snape and Lucius. Harry would only have Lupin, the last of the Marauders. Harry blinked away tears, and tried to avoid thinking about it. It didn't matter to him that James was gay, or bi, or whatever he was. He was still Harry's father, and, after all, he'd married Lily, so maybe he'd gotten over whatever it was he was doing.

After lunch, Harry went to Herbology, Malfoy trailing behind him. After a few moments Malfoy decided to catch up with him. Harry glanced at him, but didn't say anything. They reached the greenhouses, and took a table together, sitting in silence for a few minutes, before Malfoy finally decided to say something.

"Why are you wearing my robes?" he asked.

Harry glanced down at himself. "Crap," he muttered. In his distraction over his annoyance with Malfoy, and James talking to him, he'd forgotten to change. "I was in such a rush this morning that I put on the wrong robes. I meant to change at lunch, but I guess I forgot."

Malfoy nodded, and they fell silent again. As the silence stretched on, Harry searched frantically for something to say, but couldn't think of anything. What do you say to your arch rival after you've just found out that your two fathers have been shacking up?

Malfoy seemed equally uncomfortable, but he made no movement to get up. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Harry broke the silence. "Look," he said quietly. "I don't care about what our dads do, or did, or, whatever, in their free time. I don't care, and I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, neither do I!" Malfoy exclaimed, looking annoyed. "Is that why you're acting so strangely?"

"How am I acting strangely?" Harry asked in astonishment. "And how would you know how I behave?"

Malfoy shrugged. "You're just—not really talking, is all."

"What would you like to talk about?" Harry asked, annoyed. "Quidditch? Girls? How much you hate my guts?"

"I don't hate you," Malfoy said at once, and then winced, as if he hadn't meant to say that. Harry looked at him, startled.

"You don't?" he said, confused.

"No," Malfoy sighed. "I'm annoyed, sure, that you got us sent back in time, and that you continue to hang around with your idiotic friend Weasley, but no, I don't hate you."

"You're annoyed that I hang around Ron," Harry said flatly. "What about Hermione?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I don't really care about her. In case you haven't noticed, I've stopped saying 'Mudblood'."

"I did notice," Harry said suddenly, remembering that he'd wondered about this. "I couldn't figure out why."

"Isn't it obvious?" Malfoy asked, frowning at him. "I realized that Voldemort and his pureblood mania is bullshit."

Harry was surprised. Not only because Malfoy finally saw sense about purebloods and such, but also because he'd said Voldemort's name. When he mentioned this, however, Malfoy just laughed. "I should have known a long time ago that it was ridiculous to be afraid of a name."

Harry agreed, but couldn't find it in himself to say so. Fortunately, at the moment Professor Sprout got their attention. Harry was amused to see that she too looked exactly the same, except that she was much younger, in her early twenties.

"Okay, class. Today we will be working with Toprocks. Very difficult to crack, but when you do so, they exude a gray juice which can help tame chimaeras."

"Yes, because we're all going to have those traipsing around in our backyards," Draco sneered softly. Harry choked back a laugh. Professor Sprout ignored them, and began explaining how to crack the rocks, but Harry wasn't listening. Malfoy, when his jokes weren't directed at Harry or his friends, could actually be very funny. He had a dry, sardonic sort of humor, and didn't seem to take anyone or anything very seriously. He behaved as if he were above it all.

That night, as Harry took a shower, he wondered at the majesty of it all. He was going to go exploring with his father and friends tomorrow, and he was getting to see so many others that were dead, or he hadn't met yet. Harry desperately wanted to meet his mother, but was afraid that he might screw things up if he revealed that she was his mother. Maybe if he went at it from the angle that he thought she was cute, but that would just be too weird. Oh well, Harry thought as he turned off the water. At least I get to meet my dad and see Sirius again.

Harry was rather hoping that Dumbledore would get back to the school before he had to leave. It would be nice to see Dumbledore again, sitting at his rightful place in the center of the hall. Harry pulled a towel off of the rack and dried himself off. It was so nice to be clean again, and smelling normal, instead of like a mixture of Malfoy and grime. Harry wrapped the towel around his waist and went out into his and Malfoy's room.

"Are you finally done?" Malfoy snapped, turning around, a textbook open in his hands. "I was beginning to wonder if—" Malfoy's voice cut off abruptly as he took in the sight of Harry standing there in nothing but a towel. The textbook slipped from his suddenly nerveless fingers. Harry grabbed his wand and quickly cast a levitation charm before the book slammed into Malfoy's bare feet. He stared at Malfoy oddly.

"Malfoy?" Harry said, frowning. "Are you okay?"

Malfoy was silent and staring for a few moments, eyes darting around nervously, before snapping out of it. "Yes," he muttered, grabbing the floating book and tossing it on the bed. "I'm fine." He pushed past Harry into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Harry stared at the shut door, confusion etched in the lines of his face. What had that been about?

2007

Hermione flipped through what felt like the millionth book in the library. She felt frustration creeping over her normally optimistic view of the library. She wasn't even sure what she should be looking for! She had narrowed it down to something to do with Ancient Runes. She was looking for anything that could have caused them to disappear. So far, however, she had been unsuccessful. There were a few disappearing charms, but they were complicated, and since neither Harry nor Draco took Ancient Runes, it was nothing they could have achieved. Most likely it was a mistake.

She slammed "A Guide to Ancient Runes" closed with a sigh. She would have liked to scream more, but she knew that Madam Pince would have her head if she pulled a stunt like that.

"Nothing useful?" a voice said in her ear.

She jumped out of her skin, letting out that small scream that was lingering inside of her. She whipped around furiously, glaring at a snickering Pansy Parkinson.

"Oh, stop chuckling!" Hermione snapped. "It wasn't that funny."

"As a matter of fact, it was," Pansy said, lowering herself into her seat and brushing her blonde locks out of her face. Hermione resolutely looked anywhere but at her once-enemy's pretty face. She didn't know what these feelings that erupted inside of her whenever she saw Pansy meant, and she didn't care. All that mattered was getting Harry back, and if that meant getting Malfoy back too, fine.

"No, I haven't had any luck," Hermione muttered, gathering up her books and putting them back on the shelves.

"What's with you?" Pansy asked, leaning back in her chair, form relaxed.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, steadily concentrating on where each book should go.

"I mean you're kind of being a bitch," Pansy said casually.

"What?!" Hermione wheeled around, staring at Pansy in shock. Pansy shrugged.

"Well, you're using short, terse sentences, you refuse to look at me, and you seem about to run away as fast as you can."

"I'm not—" Hermione stuttered, but there was no denying any of this, and for that matter, now that she was looking at Pansy again, she found that speaking no longer held any appeal. Pansy grinned, perfectly aware of this, and how uncomfortable she was making Hermione. She stood up, stretching languidly.

"I never knew you were such a tight-ass, Hermione," she said in a low, seductive voice. She walked closer and slipped a hand around Hermione's waist, whispering in her ear, "But I'd love to find out." At this point Hermione's hands were shaking so badly that she could barely keep her grip on her books. Pansy gently pulled the books out of Hermione's hands, and set them on the bookshelf. "Let Pince take care of them. I'm sure she has a spell that sorts them in seconds."

"I—I don't—" Hermione was incapable of forming coherent sentences at this point. Her heart was pounding loudly, and she had goosebumps all over, making her nipples hard.

"You don't what?" Pansy murmured, allowing her hand to slide up Hermione's shirt.

"I don't—" Hermione took a deep breath. "Think we should do this here."

Pansy laughed delightedly. "Why not? Public place? Or is it that you don't want Ron to find out about you?"

"Find out what?" Hermione said, barely paying attention to what she was saying. Pansy had somehow found her way inside of Hermione's bra, and was busy running her thumb over the cold nipple of Hermione's breast. Hermione was taking deep breaths, trying to get a grip, but it wasn't working.

"That you're gay."

That brought Hermione back to the present, real quick. She yanked away from Pansy, whose hand slid out from underneath her bra.

"I am NOT gay!" Hermione snarled.

Pansy had the audacity to laugh at her, before realizing that she wasn't joking. Then her face grew worried.

"Oh, Merlin," she said. "You're serious. I thought all I'd have to worry about was you not wanting to date a Slytherin. But no, it's much worse than that. You haven't even come to accept the fact that you're gay yet!"

Hermione glared at Pansy. "Why on earth would you think I'm gay?" she exclaimed. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"It's a little something we like to call gaydar, beautiful," she sighed. "When I realized that I was gay, about a year ago, suddenly it all became so clear to me who was gay and who was straight. I knew instantly that you and Potter were gay, and Draco, well, let's just say that I wouldn't be surprised if in ten years he's heading his own fashion team."

"Harry's gay?" Hermione said, confused.

"Obviously," Pansy scoffed. "Have you seen the way he looks at guys? And the girls he picks? Chang, the Weaselette? Both Quidditch players, both rather boyish. Both he realized he liked only after seeing them play Quidditch. Honestly, Hermione. With your powers of perception, I can't believe you didn't see it before."

"W-well," Hermione stammered. "I did have my suspicions in fifth year. I told Ron, but he laughed at me. After Harry's kiss with Cho, which he could only describe as "Wet", my suspicions increased, but I forgot about them. I think…I think maybe you're right."

"Of course I'm right," Pansy snapped. "I'm always right about this sort of thing. And I'm right about you," she added, taking a step closer to the scared brunette. She gently pushed her up against a low bookcase, and ran soft fingers through Hermione's bushy hair, which was surprisingly silky.

"M-maybe you're right," Hermione said, melting beneath Pansy's touch. Pansy smiled.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, beautiful," she said gently, and kissed Hermione. Hermione's eyes fluttered closed, and she kissed Pansy back, heart leaping as Pansy opened her mouth to hers.

"What are the two of you doing? Out! OUT!" Madam Pince's shriek of horror jerked them back into reality. "Take it somewhere else, honestly, kids these days!"

Pansy suppressed a chuckle as a frantic Hermione gathered up her things and rushed out of the library. Pansy took the time to make a very rude hand gesture at Madam Pince, before following Hermione out to Madam Pince's gasp of shock.

A/N: I kind of wanted to go into the fabulous sex that Pansy and Hermione have, but I decided that it could wait until next chapter, or the chapter after that. Anyway, there's another chapter for you. Adios!

-CatJetRat