Chapter 94: Harry Potter and the Butterfly's Dream ─ １ｰ1
“—Harry?”
A familiar voice accompanied by a shake to my shoulder woke me up. Why was he shaking my shoulder while calling out to Harry? Harry should be right next to me.
“Harry, what are you doing in a place like this? Wake up. Where is Maria?”
“What are you talking about... Draco?”
Despite being so comfortably wrapped in the softness of the grass, the person desperately wanted to drag me out of my slumber. I reluctantly sat up. —Something slid off the bridge of my nose.
“Hmm?”
I opened my eyes. No good. My brain wasn't awake yet. Everything in front of me was incredibly blurry. I couldn't even tell what I had dropped, as it blended into the ground.
“Hey, you dropped your glasses, Harry.”
“See, Harry? You really are so careless—w-wait—”
Through my blurred vision, I locked eyes with the outline of the person who looked like they were made of dazzling light.
“...Harry?”
—My voice.
...No, no, let's calm down. This is the third time. By the third time, even I should be used to—as if I could ever get used to this!
“......Draco, could you lend me my glasses?”
“What do you mean 'lend'? They're yours.”
Taking them from Draco, who had picked them up for me, I settled the pads onto my nose and hooked the temples over my ears. The world in front of me instantly cleared up through the lenses. Now that I could see his distinct features, Draco was peering down at me suspiciously, his elegant brows furrowed.
...How nostalgic, this feeling. The sensation on the bridge of my nose was striking. Fortunately, I hadn't inherited Father's poor eyesight, so I had been fully enjoying life with the naked eye until now.
“...Draco, what color are my eyes?”
“You're acting strange today. They're green, obviously.”
Hearing Draco state it as an absolute fact, I calmed my heart and smiled.
“—Draco, to be completely honest, I've always thought that chest in the Horcrux room was in terrible taste.”
“I seriously question your taste if you can't appreciate the beauty of that design, Mari—”
Once again, we stared at each other blankly. This time, it was Draco's turn to look like a startled pigeon.
“............Don't tell me—Maria?”
“If you mean the Harry Potter who is usually called that by you, then yes, it's me.”
I nodded weakly, feeling as though my consciousness was drifting away. Draco looked just as faint.
“...Which means, right now, in Maria's body...?”
“...Probably my younger brother, Harry.”
A dry breeze whistled between us. —Right, the wind. Why was I sleeping outside in the first place?
“Hey Draco, did you find me here?”
“No...”
Draco shook his head at me, looking utterly at a loss as he surveyed our surroundings.
“I was sleeping here too. Or maybe I collapsed. Then, since you were sleeping right next to me...”
“So you just happened to wake up first, meaning you don't grasp the situation either.”
I took a proper look around as well. We were on the Hogwarts grounds. I could see the lake. Everything seemed completely normal.
“Anyway, first we need to find Harry... wait, that's confusing, let's call him Maria for now. Let's meet up with Maria. He must be in a total panic right now.”
As I stood up, Draco looked toward the castle corridors and let out a faint chuckle.
“—It seems we won't need to go looking for them.”
“Eh?”
A girl was heading our way, her rich, deep red hair fluttering in the wind. Ah, Maria—wait, what?
“Potter! Professor Sprout explicitly said last week that our next Herbology class is in Greenhouse Two! Don't tell me you're planning to skip again—Mr. Malfoy?”
The girl, hands on her hips and chest puffed out in anger, looked exactly like Maria—but upon seeing Draco, her voice trailed off timidly. An indescribable silence fell between the three of us.
“Why is a graduate like you here... and what's more, did you drink a Shrinking Solution? ...Potter, what are you plotting? Depending on what it is—no, regardless of what it is, I am reporting this to Professor McGonagall.”
Snapping back to reality, the girl stomped her foot and prepared to turn on her heel. In a reflex, I grabbed her arm. I felt a faint scent of flowers waft from her dancing red hair. Or at least, I thought I did.
—This is bad. I don't know exactly what's happening—but I have a feeling something is horribly wrong!
“Wait! We—”
“Let go of me! Potter, I have absolutely no intention of getting dragged into whatever ridiculous prank you're pulling!”
“No, that's not it. Just listen... could you please just listen to us?”
“............Did you eat something strange? Are you seriously asking for my permission?”
The girl questioned me, emphasizing every single word with absolute suspicion. A sensation like ice water sliding down my spine washed over me. —No way.
“You, who completely ignores my wishes, who laughs in my face no matter how much I beg you not to break the rules or to stop your pranks on him—you're asking me for a favor? And you expect me to grant it? How incredibly convenient for you.”
“Uh—ah...”
It can't be. This has to be a joke. Looking at her eyes up close made my heart pound violently.
With green eyes—the exact same eyes as mine, Harry's—with wavy red hair that cascaded down to her back—with a beautiful soul that could protect someone with all her might—could it be—no way—no way—
“Forgive us, Miss. He didn't mean to be rough. It's just... we don't know you.”
Draco gently untangled my hand from hers and stepped between us. He placed a hand on my back to steady me. I was shaking, pathetically flustered.
“...Is this some kind of joke, Mr. Malfoy? Oh, I see. I suppose someone of lowly blood like me isn't even worth remembering the name of?”
“No, that's not it. Please, calm down. First of all, I... I am not Lucius Malfoy.”
The girl finally faced us directly, glaring at us with her emerald eyes that shone like jewels. —Beautiful.
“I will ask you one more time. —What kind of joke is this?”
“Ah...”
My voice trembled. The hand on my back gently stroked it. I focused my awareness entirely on that touch to keep my mind from shattering completely. It was a gentle, comforting—deeply reassuring hand.
“Harry, let me handle the talking. ...Is that alright?”
“Y-yeah.”
“...Harry?”
Ah—
“Are you not James? —Your name is Harry?”
Ah, ah—your voice. Not a version shown to me by a Dementor or someone else's memory, but the real you—calling my name—calling me—
“I am Draco Malfoy. And he is—Harry Potter.”
The girl arched an eyebrow. She shot a sharp, assessing look between Draco and me. Then, after a brief pause—she continued.
“I'm Lily. —Lily Evans.”
I had just encountered the past of the person I could never touch again.
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