Chapter 3: 2-1

“You... what on earth is going on?”

Those were his first words. I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the bluntness of it—coming from a man who always tried so hard to act composed.

“Who knows? What do you think is going on?”

“Don’t mock me, Harry. ...It is Harry, isn’t it? Truly?”

Draco’s voice was a low whisper. Between his youthful face and the pale blonde hair still fringe-thin against his forehead, he looked remarkably fragile. I lowered my own voice a fraction.

“With a ‘former’ attached to the front, yes. And you—are you definitely the Draco Malfoy I know?”

"If the Draco Malfoy you know is a stiff-necked man who started as your arch-nemesis and eventually settled into the infinitely awkward distance of being 'the parent of your child’s best friend,' then yes, I suppose I am."

"That circuitous, snide way of speaking settled it. You are my Draco."

"Oh, thank you for the compliment. My 'former' Harry?"

Though we spoke in whispers, our faces were inches apart in a silent challenge. It felt right, like a puzzle piece finally clicking into place. Yes, that expression was the only one that suited his face. A weak Draco was just... unsettling. It made my skin crawl.

“Actually, no, Harry. Let's save the pleasantries for later. We need to sync our information while we have the chance. You’re truly Harry Potter, and that boy over there is also definitely Harry? Why are there two Harry Potters...?”

“No, Draco.”

I reached out and tilted his chin up just as he was sinking into a serious, brooding face, forcing him to meet my eyes.

Look. The eyes reflected in yours right now—they’re hazel.

“There is only one Harry Potter. I am Maria Potter.”

“————”

His grey-blue eyes widened, trembling for a split second.

"I see... Yes, of course. Forgive me... Maria."

"It’s alright. I’m still not used to being called Maria instead of Harry by people who knew me as 'him.' Though, thanks to my little brother over there calling me that every day, I’ve finally started to recognize it as my own name. I’m just glad you didn't turn out to be a girl or someone else entirely. Or do you actually have a secret twin?"

"Not that I'm aware of. I can't imagine there being any name other than Draco for the Malfoy heir."

"Would you cry from loneliness if there were? Our cute little 'Master Draco,' the only son."

"How charming. If that were the case, I’d simply hand Father over to Mother while weeping with 'remorse,' ensuring he couldn't lift his head high around us for quite some time."

"You typical Slytherin."

"One must make use of adversity, surely? It’s a different way of using one's head. My 'brave and bold' Gryffindor?"

We fell into our usual banter. Even though we were meant to be discussing serious matters, I found myself enjoying the exchange of quips. I let out a tiny, hidden sigh of relief.

I didn't know the exact meaning behind that flicker in his eyes earlier, but to me, he had looked deeply pained.

“...Are you not lonely?” he asked.

“Why would I be?”

“Well... your appearance, your gender, even your name has changed. Which means, essentially, the 'you' of right now is—not the Hero who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“Unlike last time, I have people I can truly call family within arm's reach. When I say 'goodnight,' someone says it back. There’s always a warm hand to hold. Even when I can't see them, the fact that the people I love are alive isn't a lie. I don't have to deceive myself anymore—so of course, I’m lonely.”

“...Maria.”

“It’s your fault. Because you keep calling me Harry.”

Suddenly, a boy’s arm—healthier and sturdier than mine or Harry’s, yet still possessing a certain delicate quality—wrapped around my shoulder, drawing me toward his white collar.

He smelled of a freshly laundered shirt—and of himself.

“I am no longer lonely, from this very moment. Because you are here. I’ve finally found you. So—you can be everyone’s Maria. But you are my Harry. You can throw all that loneliness at me. Perhaps... that is why I am here.”

“...You’re an idiot, Draco. I’ve always thought so. You have a habit of jumping headfirst into trouble, don't you?”

“Don't be ridiculous. If anything, I’ve used that past life as a lesson to live this one with ultimate finesse. Being dragged into your mess is hardly 'trouble' at this point; it’s just routine. From my perspective, you’re the one who is foolish and dim-witted. You don't even know how to consider running away.”

I gave Draco—who was tentatively touching my red hair—one extra tight squeeze before pulling away. He looked at me with an exasperated yet nostalgic expression.

“You plan to stay by Harry’s side, don’t you? Even though you know what that means better than anyone. ...If it’s the current you, a version of you who isn't 'The Boy Who Lived,' you could live a normal life.”

“It’s just my nature. Leftover habits from being a 'Former Hero.' Besides, I don't really understand what 'normal' is anyway.”

“Then, seeing as you’ll have your hands full with the two of you, I shall be the one to investigate this world. After all, we don’t even know if we’re actually dead or not. Right? Do you remember your final moment as Harry?”

“...Actually, now that you mention it...”

I had been aware of 'myself' since I was five, yet I hadn't thought about it once. It was frustrating, but he was right; I had been so preoccupied with protecting Harry from everyone around us that I hadn't had the luxury to think that far ahead.

“Normally this would be Granger’s job, I suppose. But I’d feel sorry for her, having to look after Harry, the red-headed boy, and Maria on top of it all.”

"So you’re saying you’ll look after me instead? You really are a fool."

We leaned our small faces toward each other and giggled. Such a charming, pretentious, annoying guy. And yet, he pulled it off so naturally.

“Well, I suggest you stay quiet for the time being. Shall we, My Lady?”

“If you insist, Kind Sir? But I’ll have you know, I don’t go looking for trouble on purpose.”

“Listen to yourself. Even now, aren't you thinking about how to Transfigure your uniform into a boy's version? It’s those little things that escalate into grand catastrophes—it’s the Potter way. And honestly, what is with that look? Even though you and he are twins, you look... well, it’s not that it doesn't suit you. But you’ve even changed the way you speak.”

"I look like my mother. Lily Evans. My eyes are my father's, though. Pretty, isn't it? As for my speech, my Aunt drilled it into me quite thoroughly. Being a girl is hard work. I think I’d be more on Hermione’s side than Ron’s this time around."

"I see. So, you look like the late Mrs. Potter... Is that... going to be alright...?"

With whom? Regarding what?

He didn't need to finish the sentence. I’m sure the image of a certain man—shaped like an oversized bat, the bravest man in the world—flashed through both our minds.

“Who knows? Whatever happens, happens. Maybe the grading standards for Potions will miraculously soften.”

“Unlikely.”

“Very.”

Despite saying it, we both shook our heads in unison without a second thought.

"Right, all finished. Your turn next, little lady. Sorry to interrupt you and your boyfriend."

"Oh my, Draco. Apparently, we look like a couple?"

“How horrifying.”

Madam Malkin called out after finishing Harry’s measurements. I stood up, leaving Draco behind. When Harry came running toward me, I gave him a 'well done' hug and tried to hand him off to Draco, but Harry clung to my clothes with a troubled expression.

Beneath that lightning-bolt scar, his eyebrows were knitted in the most adorable way.

“Harry?”

“I... well, Maria is definitely pretty and cute, and she’s reliable, yeah. I think she’s charming. But! She’s my sister! As her older brother, I think... this sort of thing is... STILL! Too early for you!”

There, I said it!—Harry’s face was beet-red with excitement. Draco and I groaned at the same time.

“See that, Draco?! This is the fruit of my labor! He’s like an angel, isn't he? I can’t believe he’s me!”

“Is that what happens when you strip away all the cheekiness...? Is he alright? Has he lost his cunning as well? I’m worried he’ll go off following some wicked adult at this rate.”

“If he does, I’m going with him.”

“I’m already pitying Professor Snape’s blood pressure...”

All of this was whispered while I covered Harry’s ears. Harry just looked blankly at me from within my arms, but the fact that he didn't pull away showed his complete trust in me, which only made him more endearing. The cheeky James or Albus would never have been like this.

I gave Harry one more squeeze and sat him down next to Draco.

“It’s okay, Harry. Your sister is devoted only to you. Why don't you listen to Draco tell you about school? Draco, you know what to do, right?”

“I know, so stop glaring. Go and get finished. A gentleman doesn't keep a lady waiting forever.”

“...You two just met for the first time, right?” Harry asked.

““Of course.”” we replied.

As Maria and Draco, anyway.

I’m sure Draco would explain things like the Houses and Quidditch, keeping my past ignorance in mind. I smiled suggestively at the thought. For all his faults, Draco Malfoy was surprisingly dutiful.

Leaving Harry with my mean but reliable best friend, I stepped onto the measuring block as if heading into battle.

“—Um, Madam?”

“Yes, dear?”

As Madam Malkin continued her work—her mouth, hands, and wand all moving busily—I made my request.

“Now then, you two come back in a bit to pick up your uniforms. They’ll be ready by the time you’ve finished your other shopping.”

““Yes. Thank you, Madam Malkin.””

When we finally left the shop—Draco having waited for me through my lengthy 'adjustments'—a massive, black, shaggy shadow was waving at us with equally massive gestures. In one hand, he held two double-scoop berry and chocolate ice creams. They were already starting to melt.

“Hagrid!”

Harry, who had taken a total liking to Hagrid, beamed instantly.

“Look, Maria! Hagrid has ice cream!”

“So that’s why he was waiting outside,” Draco muttered calmly.

Harry looked like he was about to sprint off. However, since he was holding my hand, he could only stamp his feet impatiently. Seeing the intensity in those green eyes—shimmering like the surface of water—I nodded to show I understood, then looked up at Draco.

“Well, I’ll leave you here.”

“Eh? Draco, you’re not coming with us?” Harry asked.

“My father and mother are waiting for me. ...Besides, if I were there, I’m sure he would be displeased.”

'He' referred to Hagrid, who was looking at Draco curiously. Do you know Hagrid? Harry’s head tilted, the question written all over his face. I gave a bitter smile.

It was true—Hagrid hated Malfoys. Or rather, Malfoys hated Hagrid.

“I’ll see you at Hogwarts.”

As Draco leaned in close to Maria’s face, Harry’s already large eyes went wide. Draco then gave Harry the same brief, polite brush of the cheek. With a beautiful smile, the boy—who looked like an incarnation of light itself—departed. Maria watched him go with a sigh, while her counterpart, Harry, stood there with his mouth agape.

It wasn't just the boy’s graceful movements that had stunned them. It was the fact that it was their first time receiving a cheek kiss. (For 'Maria,' too).

“Maria... do people usually kiss people they just met?”

“Hmm, probably not. ...Force of habit, maybe?”

“Habit?”

“Nothing, just talking to myself.”

I shrugged, ruffled Harry’s messy hair, and finally started walking toward Hagrid.

At that moment, a hilarious misunderstanding was born in Harry’s mind: Draco acts cool, but he’s actually really aggressive with physical affection... But that wouldn't come to light until much later.

“All right there! Maria, Harry. Took yer time, didn’t ya? I managed to polish off five of Florean Fortescue’s ice creams while waitin'. —So, was that lad an acquaintance of yours? Eh?”

“Maria took a long time. I met Draco inside the shop! He’s very knowledgeable and told me all sorts of things about Hogwarts. He’s a new student too. I’m really looking forward to seeing him again!”

“Ye mean ye only just became friends? That—well, that won't do, Harry, Maria. Especially Maria. This is no good.”

““Eh?””

We were heading toward Flourish and Blotts for our textbooks, poking at our rapidly melting ice cream, when Hagrid suddenly crinkled his bearded face in such a massive frown that I nearly dropped my cone. He looked fierce enough to make a dragon run away.

“Maria, Harry. Mebbe ye don't know 'cause o' how them stiff Muggles treated ye, but see, that kind o' greetin' is for folk who are close. First meetin', and between a boy and a girl? That’s goin' too far, that is. Maria, yer a girl. And ye look just like Lily—aye, yer pretty! —No, Harry, I don't mean you aren't! Yer a handsome lad too—now listen, if anyone tries that again, ye give 'em a good slap and run away. Ye two need ter be more on yer guard.”

““…………””

Getting a perfectly sensible lecture from Hagrid of all people caused Maria to finally drop a glob of ice cream from her spoon. And Harry’s misunderstanding deepened even further.

“Well? Where’s yer answer? Harry, Maria.”

““Right, we’ll be careful.””

The twins answered in perfect unison, their voices and words identical. But the meaning behind them was entirely different.

(Maria: I’ll be careful. I’m one thing, but this Harry is so soft and airy he probably doesn't understand the implications. I have to look out for him.)

(Harry: I’ll be careful. I have to tell Draco that even if he loves physical affection, he shouldn't kiss girls he’s just met. Draco is surprisingly ditzy; I have to look out for him.)

The truly innocent never realize they are innocent. Only the person themselves remains in the dark.