Sixteen Candles - Chapter Seven
Standing in front of Mum and I were two people I would have failed to recognize without prior knowledge to who they were. Draco's neat, silver – blonde hair was no longer short and molded, but just below his ears and loose. He wasn't the skinny, pale boy I knew him to be; instead, he was much tanner than I was used to seeing, and he boasted muscles twice the size of my own.
… I think.
What did I look like, anyway?
Severus Snape was almost completely unrecognizable; his sallow, milky skin was replaced with a healthy, almost rugged complexion. Gone was the greasy long hair, with short clean instead. His eyes weren't filled with the loathing I knew so well, instead he seemed happy, almost overjoyed, to be standing here with the three of us.
What the hell happened?
"Harry!" Draco exclaimed, brushing past Mum to where I was standing and handed me a carefully wrapped scarlet package. "Happy Sixteenth!"
I smiled and took the gift gratefully. Not knowing what else to do, I simply nodded and thanked him.
Mum sensed how uncomfortable I was and quickly ushered the three of us into the living room, allowing me to sit down once more and try to clear my mind.
"Severus," Mum said quietly, "Draco… There's something we need to explain."
"So you really can't remember anything then?"
It was half an hour later, and while the adults conversed in the dinning room trying to figure out what may have happened, Draco and I sat across from each other and talked.
"I can remember everyone…" I paused, trying to figure out how to phrase what I was about to say. "It's just that everything and everyone's different, that's all. It's as if I'm in a strange dream where everything is almost the complete opposite of what I know."
Draco nodded, and then looked at me with a curious expression.
"So what was I to you in this 'other world'?"
I sighed, "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you we were best of friend, because we most certainly weren't. Rather, we disliked each other immensely – I'd even say on occasion, we hated each other."
Draco grinned, "Sounds like us."
I blinked, trying desperately to mask the astonished look that had just appeared on my face.
"Sorry?"
He grinned once more, "If we weren't best of friends, Harry, there's no doubt in my mind we'd hate each other."
"Really?" I said quietly, "Well, that's quite the surprise."
Draco leaned forward eagerly, his silver hair falling into his eyes, "So tell me about me in this other world. Was I handsome? Was I wonderfully kind to orphans? Did I torture small animals?"
"Your father was alive," I all but whispered, "Alive and ready to kill me."
Draco's mouth dropped open, "You're joking?"
I shook my head, "No, I'm not. You look a whole lot different though, to answer your questions. Hair's a bit longer, you're not nearly as skinny and pale as you were. I'm not too sure about the whole torturing small animals bit, although it wouldn't surprise me. You weren't kind to me at all, and I am – was, sorry -- an orphan."
Draco raised an eyebrow, "Your parents were dead? Sorry to hear that, really."
It was amazing, the conversations Draco and I could have when we weren't trying to gauge each other's eyes out.
I shrugged, "I never knew them, really. Voldemort killed them on Halloween, 1981 – I was just a baby. When he tried to kill me, the spell reflected back onto him and killed his body, leaving me with this."
I raised my hand to my forehead expectantly, running the tips of my fingers over the place my scar resided…
…and all of the sudden, I realized something.
There was no scar.
Standing in front of Mum and I were two people I would have failed to recognize without prior knowledge to who they were. Draco's neat, silver – blonde hair was no longer short and molded, but just below his ears and loose. He wasn't the skinny, pale boy I knew him to be; instead, he was much tanner than I was used to seeing, and he boasted muscles twice the size of my own.
… I think.
What did I look like, anyway?
Severus Snape was almost completely unrecognizable; his sallow, milky skin was replaced with a healthy, almost rugged complexion. Gone was the greasy long hair, with short clean instead. His eyes weren't filled with the loathing I knew so well, instead he seemed happy, almost overjoyed, to be standing here with the three of us.
What the hell happened?
"Harry!" Draco exclaimed, brushing past Mum to where I was standing and handed me a carefully wrapped scarlet package. "Happy Sixteenth!"
I smiled and took the gift gratefully. Not knowing what else to do, I simply nodded and thanked him.
Mum sensed how uncomfortable I was and quickly ushered the three of us into the living room, allowing me to sit down once more and try to clear my mind.
"Severus," Mum said quietly, "Draco… There's something we need to explain."
"So you really can't remember anything then?"
It was half an hour later, and while the adults conversed in the dinning room trying to figure out what may have happened, Draco and I sat across from each other and talked.
"I can remember everyone…" I paused, trying to figure out how to phrase what I was about to say. "It's just that everything and everyone's different, that's all. It's as if I'm in a strange dream where everything is almost the complete opposite of what I know."
Draco nodded, and then looked at me with a curious expression.
"So what was I to you in this 'other world'?"
I sighed, "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you we were best of friend, because we most certainly weren't. Rather, we disliked each other immensely – I'd even say on occasion, we hated each other."
Draco grinned, "Sounds like us."
I blinked, trying desperately to mask the astonished look that had just appeared on my face.
"Sorry?"
He grinned once more, "If we weren't best of friends, Harry, there's no doubt in my mind we'd hate each other."
"Really?" I said quietly, "Well, that's quite the surprise."
Draco leaned forward eagerly, his silver hair falling into his eyes, "So tell me about me in this other world. Was I handsome? Was I wonderfully kind to orphans? Did I torture small animals?"
"Your father was alive," I all but whispered, "Alive and ready to kill me."
Draco's mouth dropped open, "You're joking?"
I shook my head, "No, I'm not. You look a whole lot different though, to answer your questions. Hair's a bit longer, you're not nearly as skinny and pale as you were. I'm not too sure about the whole torturing small animals bit, although it wouldn't surprise me. You weren't kind to me at all, and I am – was, sorry -- an orphan."
Draco raised an eyebrow, "Your parents were dead? Sorry to hear that, really."
It was amazing, the conversations Draco and I could have when we weren't trying to gauge each other's eyes out.
I shrugged, "I never knew them, really. Voldemort killed them on Halloween, 1981 – I was just a baby. When he tried to kill me, the spell reflected back onto him and killed his body, leaving me with this."
I raised my hand to my forehead expectantly, running the tips of my fingers over the place my scar resided…
…and all of the sudden, I realized something.
There was no scar.