Title: Red Strings of Fate

Summary: Instead of meeting with Dumbledore when Voldemort killed him, he meets Fate who grants him one wish. Harry only wishes to be where he is the happiest. So, why did he wake up with two husbands—and why is Snape calling Hermione…'love'? What the heck is going on in this world!? AU. Threesome! BZ/HP/DM.

Genre: Romance/Drama

Rating: Mature

Pairing (s): Blaise/Harry/Draco. Severus/Hermione. mentions Harry/Ginny. Theo/Ginny. other minor pairings.

Warning (s): lemons. au. angst. non-canon. fluff. strong language. bottom!Draco. switching!Harry. top!Blaise. dirty talk. possessive!Harry. blood. violence. rimming.

Author's Note: Anyways, the part in italics at the beginning is taken from the seventh book and is not mine but JK Rowling's. As well as the characters but we all knew that though so on to the story! Enjoy!

. . .

"All endings are also beginnings. We just don't know it at the time."

- Mitch Albom

. . . .

Chapter One: Tea with Fate

"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived."

None of the Death Eaters moved. They were waiting. Everything was waiting. Hagrid was struggling, and Bellatrix was panting, and Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his—

Voldemort raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear—

He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.

Harry inhaled sharply as he woke up with a start, his rattled breathing the only audible sound in the too white space — he couldn't really call it a room, it had no door — it echoed against the walls and reverberated towards himself. He clutched at his chest, feeling his heart pounding rapidly against his rib cage as he tried to desperately calm his shivering form and get his muddled brain to begin thinking again.

The last thing he remembered was the battle, Voldemort casting the death curse and—

Harry scrambled to his feet and was confused to see that he was dressed in white robes. "Merlin, what the bloody hell is going on?"

"I don't think you should be asking Merlin that question."

Harry jumped and turned around to face the voice that had spoken and he couldn't keep his jaw from dropping to the floor as he saw a girl – no, really, a woman— with silver, flowing hair and aqua colored eyes. Harry was so stunned by her beauty that he took a step back, uncertain of the being before him.

"W-who are you?" He managed to choke out, examining her critically; her white robes and simple sandals almost seemed wrong on her form — as if they did not display what she truly was. He aura alone screamed power, more power than any mortal could ever wield or imagine.

What was she, exactly?

"You have many questions, Harry Potter, and I shall answer them all. If you will, please, have a seat and I shall give you a cup of tea to calm your frazzled nerves."

Harry shivered as her voice washed over her, now noticing the sweetness and powerful tone of her voice, it was light and dark, strong and soft – it was intoxicating. Harry found himself wanting her to speak more.

He hesitantly, walked over to the white table that held a steaming pot of tea and two cups that were already filled with tea. The woman smiled indulgently at him as he studied her warily, falling to his seat slowly.

"Go on, I assure you, Harry Potter, it is not poisoned." She said, smiling as she motioned for him to take a sip of his tea before she picked up her own cup and sipped leisurely.

Harry gazed at the murky, brown tea and swallowed heavily, as he brought the tea to his lips and took a tiny sip.

The woman laughed as he gasped loudly in wonder before sighing as his muscles began to relax and his nerves calmed.

Harry blushed at the sound of her laugh, even her laugh sounded amazing! "Who are you?"

The woman smiled at him as her eyes twinkled – reminding Harry suddenly of Dumbledore. "I am Moirai or Fate as you are familiar with. More specifically, my name is Aida and I am the cutter of the red thread of life."

If Harry was still holding the tea, he would have dropped it; his eyes were wide and his jaw slacked as he looked on at the ethereal being in front of him who he was having tea with. Harry blushed in mortification as the thought entered his mind.

He was having tea with bloody Fate!

Harry felt his heart speed up as he cleared his throat before he spoke as casual as he could, "So, I'm dead, right?"

"Not quite, Harry Potter." She replied, amused as she brought her tea cup back to her lips for another sip.

"I don't understand…you're Fate – and might I add how fucked up you made my life to be, and I would gladly curse you to hell and back if I didn't think there wouldn't be consequences afterward."

Harry was surprised that after his little rant he was met with that lovely laughter as Aisa clutched the table to support herself. He watched wide eyed as Fate doubled over in laughter, her beautiful face alight with laughter as tears formed in her eyes.

"Forgive me, Harry Potter, but if you want to curse one of the Fates it would be better if you start with my sister, Nona, she is the one who creates the thread of life and creates events in one's life. I believe she was feeling rather adventurous when she made your thread, Harry Potter." Aida's eyes, once again, twinkled with amusement as she took another sip of her tea.

"Nona must not like me."

Aida laughed and shook her head, amusement clear in her eyes. "I suppose not, no. I think she was bored, regrettably."

"I can imagine." Harry mutter in rebuttal as he crossed his arms and glared at Aida. "If I am not here to die, then, why am I here?"

"Oh, do not be mistaken, Harry Potter, you are certainly dead. I just have not cut your thread yet to send you to the 'next adventure' as Albus Dumbledore called it." Aida's eyes twinkled again and Harry had a strong feeling that it was Dumbledore who taught her how to do that.

"Then…then why haven't you?" He knew he should be more upset that he was dead but his mind fleeted to seeing his mother, his father, Sirius, and Remus. His heart ached at the thought of seeing them again.

Somehow, he was okay with being dead.

Aida sighed, setting her teacup down gently and laying her hand delicately on her lap. "I have told Decima this when she measured your thread and stopped at the Great Battle of Hogwarts but I will not cut your thread now."

Harry was shocked, and he slumped against his chair and his heart plummeted to his stomach.

"So, I won't be able to see my mum and dad? Am I stuck here?" Harry grimaced at the thought, he would go insane with all this white and it seemed he was the only person in this place.

"No to both."

Harry frowned in confusion as he sat up straighter, "I don't quite understand…"

"We have watched you suffer, Harry Potter, so much suffer that even Nona regrets making such suffering in a thread for someone so light and pure. You are a very powerful wizard, Harry Potter, but due to your suffering you were never able to develop your core to its full potential and for that, we are regretful." Aida said, sadly, her head bowed throughout her speech as Harry just looked at her in horror and disbelief. Was this some type of goddess way of saying sorry?

"So, what do you plan on doing with me? Send me back to battle?

"Of course not," Aida snapped causing Harry to jump at the sharp tone. "For one, you are dead and such you will remain so as dictated by Mother Nature herself. Second, your world is already too corrupted and too evil so even if I did send you back and you did manage to kill Tom Riddle, you would never be happy—content, maybe, but never true happiness."

"True…happiness?" It sounded foreign to him, the thought of happiness. Harry was denied happiness his whole life and now he was being granted such a luxury, he felt himself grow wary. He had a feeling that this was too good to be true.

"You would never be with your soul mates and that is true happiness: the ones who love you unconditionally and without question."

Harry widened his eyes, he had a soul mate. His thoughts instantly went to Ginny; could she be his soul mate? He did feel protective of her and his last thoughts were about her. He did enjoy her company and she was funny, it also meant he would become part of the family if he married her which would mean the world to him, to have a family. That would make him the happiest.

Maybe…maybe, he was in love with Ginny. The thought didn't seem disturbing to him and he actually quite liked it.

"What are you planning to do?" Harry demanded his back straight and his green eyes rapt with attention.

"I will grant you one wish, anything you want whether it be to be with your parents or to find your soul mates, anything Harry Potter. That is your gift for enduring with our games." Aida responded, automatically, as if she was reading from a textbook.

"And you can do this for me?" Harry asked, letting hope swell in his heart.

Aida nodded, a small smile gracing her lips as she said, "Of course, Harry Potter. I can grant you whatever you want as long as it is reasonable."

Harry sat back in his seat stunned at the thought of being given whatever he wanted and he knew in the back of his mind that he wanted this, this wish that could change his life forever.

Harry sighed and rubbed his face tiredly, "I suppose you're not going to warn me about what to expect when I give you my wish, right?"

"I'm afraid not." Aida said, cheerfully, laughing when Harry gave her a dirty look. "What fun would it be to watch if who you are watching already knows the outcome? We are sending you to this world because you have a chance, a clean slant to be loved for who you are. It is the least we can do for what we have tasked you throughout the years."

"Right," Harry nodded, sighing. He thought hard about his decision and he knew he wanted this; he wanted this wish which would change his life for the better.

It was time he became selfish.

"Okay," He said, slowly, as he tapped the table top silently in thought. "Can I wish that Tom Riddle was never risen?"

"If Tom Riddle never had his reign then another would have taken his place as the Dark Lord, the Fates have foresaw it." Aida said, blankly.

Harry paled and his tea cup almost fell to the ground. "It's me, isn't it? If Voldemort hadn't risen again, I would have gone dark."

"Yes, Harry Potter, he would have more influence on you because of what you have inside you." Aida said, vaguely, causing Harry to frown.

"Inside me? What's inside m—Horcrux! I'm a bloody Horcrux." Harry realized with horror and he suddenly felt sick at the thought that a dark piece of Voldemort's soul lingered inside him. It made him feel dirty and sick and all he wanted to do is take a long shower and scrub his skin until the stench of Voldemort was off him.

"Yes, this is why my sister is adamant in killing you because a possible future shows that you would become so powerful that you will most definitely destroy all of Europe."

Harry blanched and looked at his hands, how could he be able to do all that? He was just Harry.

"I do not believe that, though," Aida said, firmly. "I believe you are good, Harry Potter."

"What made me go ballistic in that future?" Harry croaked out, his throat suddenly dry.

"The Light had killed your soul mates and you snapped. You wanted to destroy magic because you came to the conclusion that magic only brought pain and suffering so you sought out to kill anything that contained even a bit of magic in it. Soon, you killed off magic and began killing off muggles as well…" Aida trailed off as if she didn't want to think about the horrible things that Harry had done.

Harry wanted to vomit.

"Thank you for telling me this, I won't let myself be drawn into that darkness." Harry finished with a shaky smile.

Aida returned the smile before she said, "Now, what is your wish?"

Harry thought about it, he had been thinking about it since he first found out that he had a wish to give and he knew what he wanted, what he needed. He had suffered enough and all he wanted now was to see Ginny again and live happily.

He just knew Ginny was his happiness.

"I wish to go to a world where I will be the happiest." Harry said, firmly, his breath hitched in anticipation as Aida merely tilted her head and her aqua eye's glowed. Harry shifted; it was as if she was looking into his very being, his very soul. It made him immensely uncomfortable.

"You have two red strings that are connected to you, Harry Potter." Aida said, softly. "They are very strong, treat them well and be happy."

It was then that her words fully hit him and Harry jolted in alarm." Wait, what do you mean by 'them'?" Aida merely gave him a secret smile and realization dawned on Harry with a fierce blow. "No, no, no, no, I just want Ginny…who are them, anyways?!"

Aida let out a melodious laugh as she waved her hand and said, "Have fun, Harry Potter, do come back for tea."

Then, everything went black.

. . . .

Harry groaned as for the second time he woke up not knowing where he was. He sat up, his hand holding his pounding head as his world continued to turn. He blinked a few times and was finally able to shake off the horrible feeling of vertigo.

He looked around and widened his eyes; his jaw slacked as he looked around the large room that he had never been in. Where the hell was he? The bedroom was tidy enough, everything in its place except for a spot near the closet where dark robes were thrown haphazardly in the corner and he had a dreading feeling that it was his and this was his room.

The room of his so-called soul mates and it made a nervousness rise in the pit of his stomach as he was now saddled with two people for life, people he definitely didn't love.

He felt bile rise up in his throat as he threw a glance over his shoulder to the bed and saw two lumps, chest rising and heads covered as the two slept peacefully. Harry was afraid to find out who his soul mates were and frankly, he had bigger problems as his stomach turned and he had a sudden urge to vomit all over the floor.

He didn't think his lovers would appreciate that very much.

He got up on shaky legs, feeling his stomach lurch again and he ran, pleading with the world that this was a bathroom as he opened the first door that he saw and sighed in relief as he saw the large bathroom.

He practically ran to the toilet, clutching it as bitter bile was forced out of his stomach leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and he gagged for a few moments, hoping the nausea would go away as he laid his head on the cool ceramic, trying to cool his feverish forehead. His stomach was still squeezing painfully and all he could do was clutch the sides of the toilet and try to calm down.

"What the hell have I gotten myself into?" Harry asked to thin air as he got up, sluggishly, and went to the sink; he opened the water and washed his face. He tried desperately to calm his beating heart but it was futile when he looked up and saw himself in the mirror.

"Bloody hell," Harry breathed, for a second he considered the idea that Aida had sent him to another person's body and this was all a big, fat mistake but no, there was the messy, dark hair and dark, green eyes but he looked younger…and happier. There was no worry lines or dark hoods under his eyes that showed he had issues sleeping, he imagined his body was nineteen even if his mind was only seventeen. "What the hell?"

What had he gotten himself into? He had two unknown people in a bed, he was in a unknown place and everything was wrong. So wrong, he was supposed to have woken up next to Ginny and he should've been content not frantic.

'Content but not happy,' A nasty voice in the back of his mind shot back to him. 'You wouldn't be happy with Ginny, you're happy here.'

"You're wrong," Harry said in a small whisper, glaring at his reflection—it was then he realized he was wearing contacts and not his glasses—and he clenched the side of his sink. "I was falling in love with her, we would have been happy."

"You're up early." A low, deep voice, that caused him to jump a feet high, said behind him and he quickly turned, clutching the sink for support as he was faced with one of his soul mates.

His mouth promptly fell open in shock and horror as his green eyes locked with chocolate brown eyes.

His mouth went dry when he raked the man's body from head to toe; his skin was the color of warm butterscotch, his tall frame leaned against the door frame of the bathroom with arms crossed around a bare, muscular chest and a chiseled, aristocratic face tilted to the side, stray curly, dark hair falling into the man's face and Harry had to wonder when Blaise Zabini had gotten so god damn sexy.

He shook his head, fiercely, wanting to erase the images of Blaise and him and—oh fuck.

He was screwed.

Utterly and completely fucking screwed over by goddamn Fate.

She must be having a riot over this, Harry thought angrily, his face pulled into a frown and tried desperately to ignore tall, dark, and handsome—

NO, NO, NO!

Zabini, Harry amended because no matter what world he was in, he still hated Slytherins and he was only seventeen, granted his body looked nineteen but he was seventeen mentally, for Christ's sake! He barely kissed a girl, not counting Cho's wet kiss in fifth year that was bad, very bad, so bad that—

"Tesoro," Blaise began when Harry's changed from shock to horror to a look of great constipation and he had to wonder if Harry had eaten something that didn't sit well with his stomach.

Draco did make dinner last night.

"Are you alright?" He continued, taking a step forward but stopped when Harry held a hand up to stop him. His eyes showed his concern for his love and he wondered what had happened to make him look so panicked and jittery.

"Stay where you are," Harry said his voice hoarse and his throat dry as he looked at the man and his resolve deepened. "Zabini."

Because this was Zabini, the quiet and mysterious boy that never spoke much but observed everything, knew everything. The one who hung out with Malfoy but never said anything, watched as the blond boy bullied and pushed around everyone without a word with dark, pretty eyes and –

He had to get the hell out of here.

"Harry, tell me what's wrong?" Zabini demanded but his voice was rough with worry and concern and Harry wasn't sure if he could say anything, if he could say that this wasn't his timeline, if he could say that he wasn't nineteen but seventeen, he wasn't even sure if he could speak.

True to his thoughts, he chokes as he opened his mouth, only a gasping sound coming out of his throat and he wonders if it was his own ability to not speak or if Fate was preventing him not to spill everything.

He betted on the second option.

"I'm fine," Harry said, roughly, when Zabini tried to come forward again and he could see the hurt flashing in those gorgeous eyes but he pushes his guilt down and leaned against the sink.

"Where am I, anyways?" Harry asked, as casually as he could though he was panicking inside and his heart was pounding in his chest.

"Home." Zabini said, blandly. He fiddled with the cord of his pajama pants that hung low on his hips and showed a bit of—

Whoa there, Harry!

Focus.

"Right," Harry said, nodding, pulling his eyes off from where he was staring at Zabini's finger on the hem of his pajama pants to the man's face and in that brief moment, he made up his mind as he pushed off the sink and made his way to the exit.

He had to find Hermione.

"Where do you think you're going?" Zabini growled, taking a hold of his forearm as he passed him and Harry shivered when the sound went straight to his groin and the place where Zabini had his arm at warmed at his touch.

"Away from here!" Harry yelled, because he was still seventeen, a child and he could throw a tantrum when he wanted to, dammit!

"Harry, what is wrong with you?" Zabini asked again, agitated, and Harry tried to pull his arm away from the man who only tightened his grip.

"What's with all the noise?" A sleepy voice asked and Harry could spot behind Blaise's tall form, a smaller body with a head full of platinum blond hair and half-lidded silver-gray eyes that showed confusion and concern.

It was then that Harry knew he was fucked.

"Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed in surprise and a little disgust, the hate he had for the blond rumbled in his chest and Malfoy took a step back in fear and hurt as Harry's snarled and glared at him.

"Harry, stop it!" Zabini said, sharply, seeing the hurt in his blond amore and it only made him angrier not sure what has gotten into Harry and what they did to make him so angry, he stepped in between the two when Harry tried to lunge at Malfoy. He grabbed a hold of both of Harry's wrist and pulled him flushed to his chest cause Harry to flush at the intimate touch.

"Why are you doing this, Tesoro?" Blaise asked, quietly, his face creased with worry and Harry fought even harder in his iron grasp.

Harry was angry, he didn't wish for this when he asked for happiness, he wanted a white picket fence, a lot of babies, and Ginny. Always, Ginny. Not this, not Malfoy and Zabini. No, he didn't want this.

"I don't want this," He whispered, and he doesn't realize he said it aloud until he heard Malfoy gasps and Zabini let go of his wrists as if he was burned. He took this opportunity of stunned silence to push past them both and left to find something familiar, something he knew that would never change no matter where he went.

Hermione.

He flung the door to the bedroom open and stepped out, running down the stairs and out the front door, he shivered as he was met with cool air and a rising sun beaming down on his skin and it was then he realized that he was only wearing boxers and blushed before running back inside.

By then, Zabini and Malfoy were standing at the bottom of the stairs. Zabini looked pissed and betrayed, his arms wrapped tightly around Malfoy's waist and Malfoy looked heartbroken, his eyes watery and angry and Harry turned away from those eyes, those eyes that pleaded for him to stay but he couldn't because he was confused and tricked and this just wasn't right.

Zabini had lied, this wasn't his home.

He could never have a healthy relationship with two Slytherins, it would never work especially with Malfoy. Merlin, knows how many times they had fought while Blaise watched, secretly siding with Draco. This was a fucked up relationship and he would get out of it and find Ginny, buy a house, and make fucking babies just to show Fate who was boss and piss them off.

Harry was sick of being Fate's bitch toy that did whatever they desired without a thought. He ignored the glaring fact that he had wished this into existence, he had wished for a world that would make him the happiest. That didn't matter now because this wasn't making him happy, he was actually rather pissed.

No, scratch that—he was seething.

So, he ignored them and walked into what he's guessing—he's guessing an awful lot today—is the kitchen and he's relieved when he sees a list of Floo addresses on the fridge and the first one is Hermione, he reads it quickly. Then, he made his way out of the kitchen and ignored the two silent Slytherins, somehow navigating his way to the living room; he spots the fireplace and the bowl that sat on the tapestry.

He didn't stop to wonder and question the name of the house he was heading to nor does he turn when he hears Zabini growl in anger and Malfoy whimpered in distress as he grabbed a fistful of Floor powder and throws it in the fireplace.

"Harry, don't." Zabini warned, practically restraining himself to not go after Harry as he stepped in the green fire and looking at them with those hard, cold eyes and he knew this wasn't his Harry; his Harry never looked at them with such cold eyes.

Sure, they had their fair share of rows and fights where one of them had to leave for a few nights to cool off but they always came back and they always had a reason to leave but Harry was just leaving without a single explanation and hatred filled in his eyes and it hurt, it hurt so much damn it because he gave these two men everything he had these past four years and it was like a smack in the face to hear Harry say he didn't want this.

He didn't want them.

"Harry, why are doing this? Where are you going?" Blaise's anger only surged for what he's doing to their third, to their Draco who was always insecure about his place in their triad and how inadequate he felt compared to the other two. Now, this was happening. Blaise knew he would have to do major damage control later on with Draco who would blame this on himself.

Blaise would let him go because whatever was wrong needed to cool down, he couldn't go after him when Harry was so high on emotions but he knew where to look for him, at least.

Harry would always go to Hermione's after a row but this, this was different. Something in Harry's words held finality in it as if what they had was truly and utterly over but Blaise refused to let Harry go without a fight. they had worked too long and hard on this relationship to just give it up, there was too much blood and tears in this love for it to be broken so easily. No, Harry would just have to pry Blaise off him when he was dead but never before that. He invested too much in this, damn it!

"I'm leaving," Harry said before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Don't come looking for me…Prince Manor!"

It was then that Draco crumbled to the floor, sobbing and clawing at the tiled floor in anguish as if a part of his heart has been ripped out of his chest and surely it has been. He was so confused and hurt because Harry wasn't next to them, Harry wasn't making them breakfast, Harry wasn't smiling at them as if they were the most precious things in the world, Harry wasn't there.

Blaise looked pained as one of his husbands walked out on him—on them and he feels the same as Draco but he doesn't show it because he has to be strong for the love he still has so he merely kneels next to Draco's prone and shivering form and stares blankly at the opposite wall as Draco collapsed against him in tears and snot and screams and he feels helpless.

Harry was gone.

. . . .

Harry stumbled and fell out of the fireplace, grumbling about stupid fireplaces and how no matter which world he was in he would never get flooing. He blushed when he was now half naked and covered in soot in someone's living room.

"Well, this isn't surprising at all." A familiar voice drawled while Harry's head was bent and muttering to himself, he froze in mid-pat because he knew that voice, that voice that had died only hours before in his world. The voice that he had grown grudging respect for if only because of this man's last moments and his efforts to redeem himself.

"P-Professor Snape?" Harry croaked, his throat dry as his head shot up and—dear, Merlin—there was Snape, tall and regal as he once was but he seemed more relaxed, more…happy.

Fuck, were all Slytherins happy in this world?

Snape merely raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes showing surprise and concern as he said, slowly. "Have you rowed with them again, Harry? Because hiding out here won't do you any good."

Harry choked on the very air he was breathing because Snape is calling him Harry and is showing concern…for him. He shuddered, suddenly feeling dirty at the thought of Snape ever feeling distress for him and he wonders how everything had come to this.

Surely the Floo has gone bonkers and sent him somewhere that he didn't mean to go. Surely, this wasn't where Hermione lived—not with Snape because Snape hated Gryffindors especially any Gryffindors having anything to do with Harry.

Snape gave him another look before he turned and walked out the living room, calling out to some unknown person—because it couldn't be Hermione, never Hermione— "Love, your lap dog is here."

Harry glared at his ex-professor's back as he sauntered out, then he heard a voice and then, he has to clutch his chest as Hermione—beautiful, intelligent Hermione—pokes her head into the room and then she smiles and suddenly, everything is alright.

Because Hermione is here and they're still friends and it feels right.

"Harry? What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, walking into the room, her hair was ruffled and she only wore a tank top and shorts but Harry is so relieved to see her that he thinks he might cry.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked, coming to stand in front of him, concern in her eyes when Harry just opened his mouth before closing it, he repeats the action several times not sure what to say when Hermione is there and it feels normal except it's not—not when Snape is in the next room and he lives with two Slytherin that he swears he hates.

"Why is Snape here?" Harry managed to choke out after several minutes of silence and Hermione jumps, surprise that Harry spoke at all.

Hermione blinked before she frowned, looking at him suspiciously. "Harry, Sev is my husband."

Suddenly, everything is not alright and he feels as if he just awoken from one nightmare only to enter another and he's lost and confused and—

"Harry? Harry! Are you okay?" Hermione is saying her voice cracking with apprehension but Harry can't concentrate, not when there's a rushing in his ear and his heart is thudding in his chest and he can't grasp it, he can't comprehend this.

What the FUCK is going on?

"What is going on? How the hell did you marry Snape?!" He shouted, angrily, and Hermione looked surprised as if they had this conversation before and, maybe, they have but Harry is only seventeen and this—all of this must be some sick joke because none of this made him happy.

He's painfully aware of Snape's presence near the doorway of the living room, looking at him calculatingly and for some reason it only made Harry angrier.

"This is all so fucked up," Harry ranted, he needed to rant because he hasn't had a chance to and all this pent up confusion and anger is getting to him. "First, I wake up in a bedroom with Malfoy and Zabini and then this! What the hell is going on? I can't—this isn't what I wanted."

"Harry, what?" Hermione asked, shaking her head in confusion and she knew now something was terribly, terribly wrong with Harry.

But nothing was wrong with him, Harry was fine. It was the world and Fate's sick sense of humor that was wrong and he was stuck in the middle of it when all he wanted was to crawl into a hole and cry.

"Harry, please," Hermione pleaded but Harry didn't know for what. He was breathing heavily and his hands were clenching and unclenching, he just wanted to punch something. "You, Draco and Blaise are married just as Severus and I are."

Harry shook his head—the repetitive motion making him a bit sick— because he knew what that meant and he refused to believe that his happiness was with two men he hated and not with Ginny—red haired and fiery and lovely—who would make a great wife and they would have many kids together— maybe three—but not this. He hated this.

"Nothing makes sense." He whispered harshly, clenching his eyes tight and begging the fates to send him back. He would rather face Voldemort than this fucked up, messed up world.

"Harry," Hermione came forward, her hands shaky as she reached up to touch his cheek and he looked down at her , his eyes filled with anger, pain, sorrow, confusion and lost.

He was so lost.

"Harry," This time it was the smooth voice of Snape that had spoken from his perch at the doorway of the living room. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Harry stared at him blankly, he couldn't tell them the truth because he just knew that he wouldn't learn anything if he said at the end of seventh year so instead he lied, "Beginning of sixth year."

Snape's eyes lit up in understanding and he nodded his lips thin as he said, "I see. Love, he obviously lost his memories."

Hermione looked back at her husband—Harry shuddered at the thought of that, how could one marry a bat?—and nodded, realization dawning on her face. "Of course, oh Harry, why is it always you? Even after Hogwarts!"

He asks himself that question every night before he goes to bed, too.

"Should I go inform Lily?" Snape said, casually, and Hermione nodded, leading Harry to sit on one of the sofas.

"Harry, I know this is confusing and scary but you have to work with me here." Hermione's soothing voice calmed him somewhat as he leaned against the chair and sighed.

"Aren't we a little too young to be marrying?" Harry said, disgruntled, ignoring the fact that he would had asked Ginny to marry him after the war.

Hermione had a fond smile on her lips. "Your exact words were 'Carpe Diem' if I recalled."

Seize the day, my ass.

"I don't understand how did I end up with them?" Hermione ignored the bitterness and resentment that laced Harry's words and instead sighed.

"I actually don't know," Hermione said, smiling sadly. "You'll have to ask them."

"Right." Harry shot back, bitterly, "That'll go on well."

Hermione chuckled, her brown eyes as she said, "I forgot how difficult your sixteen year old self could be."

Harry flushed, disgruntled because he's actually seventeen. "Whatever."

"Harry," Hermione sighed, looking at him sadly. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" Harry mumbled, looking away from her.

"Don't shut everyone out." Hermione said, reprimand in her voice and Harry couldn't bear to hear the disappointment in her voice anymore. "We just want to help you, I know you're confused; suddenly you're nineteen, married and so are your friends but everything has changed since sixth year and I just hope you open your mind—and heart—to Draco and Blaise because they really do love you."

Harry scoffed, scowling at the far wall and Hermione sighed, placing a hand on his thigh. "Go to sleep, I'll wake you once Sev comes back."

Harry nodded, laying on the couch and allowed Hermione to cover him before she left and Harry shut his eyes, wishing that he didn't ask for happiness but something safer, maybe, he should've just wished for Ginny and three children. It would have made life much easier.

"This isn't happiness." Harry said, his eyes closing on their own accord.

This was more like a nightmare.

. . . .

Harry woke up to unfamiliar voices near him talking and he tried his best to make it look as if he was still sleeping so he could eavesdrop.

"You said he lost his memories?"

"Yes, he's mentally a sixteen year old and his feelings reflect that."

"Aw, I thought he became a baby again."

"Idiot. That's deageing and has nothing to do with this."

"How boring."

"You imbeciles." That was definitely Snape.

"Shush, all of you, you'll wake him."

"Yeah, Padfoot, you'll wake him up." Harry couldn't help but open his eyes and jolt up, because that was Sirius' nickname and Sirius was dead but he was here and he wanted to cry and apologize because he was so, so stupid.

"Sirius?" He choked out, there was his godfather looking so young and less like an ex-convict, the same mischievous glint in his eyes and Harry missed it, he missed him.

"Hey, Harry, how are you feeling?" He blinked when a face that should've been familiar but he couldn't quite place it came in front of him, smiling warmly at him.

"Who are you?" Harry said, bluntly, frowning.

The man blinked once then twice before he said, "You don't remember your old man, Harry?"

Harry's eyes widened and realized why the face looked so familiar. He jumped because there was James Potter, crouching and looking at him with worried hazel eyes. He wondered how he missed it when it was so obvious that this was his father.

"Dad?" Harry choked out; his eyes watering as his lips trembled and he didn't care how he must've looked lousy over the sight of his father. Damn it, he deserved to be happy to see his father alive and well.

"Whoa, whoa there, Harry, calm down." James said, his eyes shining with his concern. He rubbed his son's back as Harry wrapped his arms around him and sobbed even harder when a red haired woman came to kneel next to James and hold him. She was beautiful, she was everything Harry ever dreamed his mother would look like; with her fiery, red hair, and light freckles splattered on her face and bright, expressive, green eyes that were so soft and loving that Harry felt his heart ache.

"Mum," Harry said, he was so happy and he wasn't sure if they knew it but he didn't care, his parents were, Sirius was here, this was happiness. "I'm so sorry."

"What for, sweetie?" Lily asked gently, rubbing her son's shoulder but Harry didn't reply instead burying himself deeper into the warmth of his parents. This was where he belonged. He didn't even notice that the others had left to give them some time.

"Please," He begged, looking up at them both, not looking nineteen at all but a child starved for his parent's attention and love. "Can we stay like this...just for a little while?"

They never questioned why or what and Harry was grateful for that because he didn't know why himself, he just knew that having two husbands and this messed up world wasn't so bad when his parents held him like this.

. . . .