[Fic] Blink (8/10)
Title: Blink
Recipient/Trope: Bodyswap for gatewaygirl
Username: lordes
Betas: lordhellebore, amorette
Pairings: Harry/Draco. Mentions of: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Draco/Astoria, Draco/Blaise, Ginny/Oliver.
Characters: Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, George, Arthur, Molly, Kingsley, Hawkes Hawlish, Auror Williamson, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Voldemort, Bellatrix, Nott, Avery, Gawain Robarts, original characters. Mentions of: Luna, Umbridge, Blaise, Oliver, Astoria.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Rating: R
Warnings: Suggestive M/M relationship, original characters, unexplainable magic, hurt.
Word Count: 46 000
This Chapter: 4245
Summary: When Harry is approached for a favour by Draco Malfoy at the Ministry of Magic, only in his wildest dreams can he imagine what will await him in the morning to come; and when a mysterious man in a top hat appears, Harry fears he might be losing his mind. With his friends by his side and a very troubled Minister, Harry is desperate to find a solution for his blond problem as fast as he can - only that might prove more difficult than he initially expects. As he slowly gets immersed in a life so unlike his own, Harry comes to realise not everything is as black and white as he thought it was, and that the bad guy might not be the bad guy after all.
Author’S Notes: Originally written for the HD TROPES Fic Exchange, 2014
BLINK ON AO3
*
’Now, Harry you must know all about Muggles, tell me, what exactly is the function of a rubber duck?’ - Arthur Weasley (CoS - Movie)
‘Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. They are fast. Faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don’t blink.’ - The Doctor
- CHAPTER 8 -
Truths and Interrogations
Harry dragged himself out of bed the next morning, a continuous thumping inside his head trying to rip his skull in two. He called out for Woldy, who appeared already carrying a tray with the sweetest hangover potions Harry had ever taken.
‘Master Draco needed one too this morning,’ he said. ‘So Woldy figured Master Harry would want the same thing.’
‘Very good thinking, Woldy,’ Harry croaked. ‘Thank you.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the blissful feeling of the potion spreading through his body.
When the thumping had slowly dissolved into nothing more than a small headache, Harry got up and made his way to the showers.
Draco was already sipping a cup of what smelled to Harry like coffee when he came for breakfast. He briefly hesitated in the doorway before defiantly stalking forwards.
‘Morning,’ Draco said without looking up from his newspaper.
Harry blushed. ‘Morning,’ he mumbled, and reached for the nearest plate containing already buttered and still steaming toast.
From the corner of his eyes he saw Draco scowl at the paper in his hands and sip his coffee. Harry wondered if he even remembered last night at all.
When he’d woken up he’d first thought it had all been a dream, but as the memories kept flooding in the longer he was up instead of slowly disappearing out of reach, he’d had to accept that what he’d hoped had been a trick of his mind had actually happened.
Harry sighed as he took the first bite of his toast and closed his eyes momentarily, only snapping them back open when Draco spoke again.
‘We’ve been summoned,’ he said.
Harry swallowed the bite still in his mouth quickly. ‘Where?’ he asked, and took another bite.
‘The Ministry.’ Draco looked up to hand him an already opened envelope. Inside was a letter written in Kingsley’s neat handwriting, indeed instructing them to meet him in his office that day at 1pm sharp.
Harry ran a hand through his hair. ‘You think…?’
‘Not sure,’ Draco said, answering Harry’s unspoken question. ‘But let’s keep our fingers crossed.’
Harry nodded and focused back on his breakfast, which they finished in silence.
*
The wind whipped angrily at their coats as they made their way out of the Manor’s wards and grounds, the two Hit-Wizards Harry now recognised easily waiting for them as expected. Both of them were instructed to side-along Apparate with them, to make sure no set rule was - accidentally or not - violated in the process of getting to the Ministry.
Harry welcomed the familiar feeling of being pushed through a somewhat too tight tube, grateful for any kind of magic he was able to experience these days.
They appeared in the Atrium and turned several heads as they were escorted past the security guard at the front desk and towards the Minister’s office. However, instead of being allowed inside, they were stopped.
‘Mr Potter?’ the bigger of the two Hit-Wizards asked. Draco nodded. ‘Come with me,’ he said as he set out through one of the corridors Harry knew would lead to the lifts. Draco shot Harry a somewhat nervous look but followed nonetheless, leaving Harry alone with the shorter of the two men, waiting in front of the double doors that would lead him to Kingsley.
However, when the doors opened it wasn’t the Minister who was waiting for him, it was the head of the Auror office: Gawain Robarts.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Malfoy,’ he said and gestured at the chair in front of the Minister’s desk.
Harry nodded politely at him. ‘Afternoon,’ he repeated and sat down.
The moment he did, a series of things happened so fast Harry had barely time to process what was going on. The chair wound itself around his arms and legs as a Body-Bind Curse hit him square in the chest. Then a set of unfamiliar hands forced his jaw apart as Robarts carefully let a couple of clear drops drip into his mouth. With another simple spell he forced Harry to swallow, and a third released him from the Body-Bind.
Harry coughed, his throat burning slightly at the intrusion.
‘Is your name Draco Lucius Malfoy, born on June 5th, 1980 to pure-blood wizard Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and pure-blood witch Narcissa Aileen Malfoy - née Black?’
‘No,’ Harry choked out as another coughing fit ook over. He had expected what they’d forced him to take, but this had proved it: he had tried to say yes. Not sure whether this was on Kingsley’s orders or not - however much he dared doubt it wasn’t - he had decided to be careful, and had failed.
‘What is your name?’ Robart asked then.
‘Harry James Potter,’ Harry said, his mouth moving for him.
‘When were you born?’ Robart had sat down and was noting something down on the parchment in front of him.
‘The 31st of July, 1980.’
‘And to whom?’
‘James and Lily Potter.’ Harry started tugging slightly at the chair that was still holding him tightly. The Auror ignored it.
‘Have you, or have you not, cast any form or kind of modification spell on Mr Harry Potter and yourself in the recent past?’ Robart asked and put down his quill. He leaned back in Kingsley’s chair and leaned his arms on the armrests.
‘No.’
Robart nodded again. ‘I see, I see,’ he mumbled, and reached out with one hand to quickly browse the papers lying on the desk.
‘So...’ he started again. ‘Mr Potter is it, then?’
‘Yes,’ Harry answered.
‘You are Harry James Potter, stuck in the body of Draco Lucius Malfoy?’
‘Yes,’ he repeated.
‘And you’re sure of this?’
‘Yes,’ Harry insisted, getting slightly impatient.
Robart raised his chin. ‘Okay,’ he continued. ‘If you are, answer me this,’ he paused and stared at Harry. ‘Whose man are you?’
‘What?’ Harry asked, confused.
‘Think, Mr…Potter,’ the Auror said, not taking his eyes off Harry’s. ‘If you truly are who you say you are, you surely must know the answer to this… simple question.’
Harry wrecked his brain. Man? What man. He was nobody’s man. Had the Auror somehow found out about what had happened the night before? But surely a bit of snogging didn’t result in being anybody’s man now, would it? Merlin, how much he wished Robart would just retire, he’d been here long enough. Harry thought back to Scrimgeour and the interview he had wanted to set up for Harry with the man. Harry had refused at the time, and he would do it again if he had the chance, if it wasn’t for…
‘Dumbledore,’ he breathed as the sudden realisation hit him. ‘I’m Dumbledore’s man. I’m Dumbledore’s man through and through.’
*
‘My apologies for the unusual approach,’ Kingsley said once Harry and Draco had been reunited inside the Minister’s office and the Head Auror had taken off. The interview had gone on for a good hour, until the Veritaserum they’d given them hadn’t been trustworthy enough to continue anymore.
‘You could’ve told us,’ Harry said angrier than he had intended it to sound. Kingsley looked slightly hurt.
‘You know, I couldn’t have,’ Kingsley said. ‘You know Veritaserum isn’t as failproof when the subjected knows beforehand.’
Harry didn’t answer, but looked at his hands instead.
‘The results are extremely positive, though,’ the Minister continued and glanced at the two identical stacks of papers in front of him. ‘Your answers seemed to match each other perfectly.’
Draco nodded but Harry stayed rigid.
‘Harry,’ Kingsley tried, ‘be reasonable.’
‘Reasonable?’ Harry asked. ‘Ron and Hermione didn’t need Veritaserum to believe me.’
‘You have to understand that I’m under a little bit more pressure and carrying just a little more responsibility than Ron and Hermione.’ Kingsley’s voice had turned stern. He’d stood up and was now towering over both Harry and Draco. Harry turned slightly red under the penetrating stare.
‘We will go over the results of the interrogation again and will update you as soon as we know more,’ the Minister continued, picked up the individual stacks of paper and tapped them on the desk in order to straighten them. ‘You are dismissed,’ he said without looking at them.
Draco straightened the jacket he was wearing as he got up. ‘Thank you,’ he said, and reached out for Kingsley’s hand, who shook it.
‘You’re welcome, Mr Malfoy,’ he said and turned towards Harry.
‘I hope you understand that until we go through these,’ his hand was lying on their answers, ‘I can’t do anything about the restrictions the Ministry has put upon your freedom?’
Harry sighed, but nodded. ‘Can I at least visit Ron and Hermione later today?’
‘That shouldn’t be a problem,’ Kingsley answered. ‘I’ll notify them and Mr and Mrs Weasley about your arrival.’
The stern gaze had disappeared and had been replaced by something Harry couldn’t define. He wondered if Kingsley had somehow got the news of Ginny and him breaking up, but decided it wasn’t worth the bother for now. He’d worry about her when he had to go over to the Burrow. He tiredly raked his hand through his hair and saw Kingsley glance at the motion.
‘At what time?’ Harry asked.
‘What about five? I’m sure Molly would love to have you over for dinner again,’ Kingsley said.
Harry’s stomach did a backflip as he pictured himself sitting at the table with Ginny and Wood happily chatting together, and he felt himself go pale.
‘I… that’s sweet,’ he said, ‘but -’
‘They will pick you up at eight, then.’ Kingsley smiled at him and Harry knew he was referring to the two Hit-Wizards who seemed to accompany him everywhere he went.
‘That sounds nice, Kings,’ Harry said. ‘Thank you.’ And now he, too, was shaking Kingsley’s hand.
‘You look like you’re in need of another snog,’ Draco said as they made their way back down the Atrium to the spot where they’d be able to Apparate.
Harry glanced nervously at the two men walking on either side of them. ‘I thought you’d forgotten!’ he nearly hissed.
Draco chuckled. ‘And did that make you sad?’
‘No,’ Harry said defensively and scowled. ‘I was just wondering.’
‘Uh-huh,’ Draco retorted and smacked him softly on the arse.
Harry let out a tiny yelp and turned to tell Draco off for doing that in the middle of the crowded Ministry hall, but they’d already arrived at their Apparation point and were instructed to hold on to either of the outstretched arms.
‘If you don’t mind,’ Draco said as he stepped away after they’d arrived, ‘I’ve got some other errands to run.’ He winked at Harry. ‘See you in a few hours.’
However, after a few hours Draco still hadn’t turned up yet, resulting in Harry having dinner alone with Narcissa. It was a pleasant dinner, although not what it had been before she had announced to know the truth: the formerly so familiar motions now felt as unfamiliar as when he’d first woken up inside the strange body.
‘Relax, Mr Potter,’ she said later that evening as they sat having their after-dinner coffee in the drawing room. Narcissa’s chair was facing the large fireplace, and she was reading a very old, very battered looking book. Harry had been glancing at the big clock on the wall, sitting with his back to the windows. It was forty minutes past seven. ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’
Harry looked at her. The flames of the fire were giving her hair a soft, golden glow as she moved.
‘It’s not...’ Harry began. ‘I’m not worried about Ron and Hermione.’ He felt a need to explain, although he didn’t know why.
‘I know,’ she answered him and closed her book gently before looking at him. ‘Draco told me about Miss Weasley this morning. I’m terribly sorry.’
‘Oh,’ Harry said a little dumbfounded. ‘Right. Well, it’s okay, really.’
‘Really?’ she repeated after him.
Harry sighed and let himself slump back onto the sofa. ‘No,’ he said and rubbed his hands over his face. ‘I don’t know anymore.’
Narcissa looked as if she approved of his answer. ‘And why’s that?’
Harry shook his head. ‘I mean, I was sad at first. I was.’ He started fidgeting with his sleeves. ‘But now… I’m still sad, but I’m also not sad, I just...’
But before he could finish the pointer on the mantlepiece told him it was seven forty-five, so he quickly excused himself and went for his coat so that at ten to eight, he was on his way towards the gates of the Manor for a second time that day.
Molly was the one who opened the door. Momentarily forgetting whom he looked like, Harry was slightly surprised that she didn’t move to let him in right away, but stood in the doorway of the Burrow, looking at him.
‘Is it really you?’ she asked after several long moments of silence and reached out with a shaking hand.
Harry nodded, and let her cup his cheek. She moved his face around gently, as if wanting to take in every curve and angle of his new face.
‘How did this happen?’ she said more to herself than to him before stepping forward and engulfing him in a tight hug. He gladly accepted the offer, hugging her back and breathing in her familiar scent. He’d had no idea how much he’d missed her.
‘So… no doubts, then?’ Harry asked uncertainly, but she merely shook her head and stepped back.
‘Of course not,’ she said as she grabbed his arm and squeezed. ‘Your eyes might be grey now, dear, but they’re still very, very much yours.’
Harry smiled at this and hugged her again. Walking in together, he saw Ron, Hermione and Arthur sitting at the kitchen table.
‘Harry!’ Hermione exclaimed, stood up and gave him another hug, followed soon by Ron. ‘Mate,’ he said as they parted, and smiled, looking at Arthur.
‘We’ve arranged for you to be picked up here at ten to nine,’ Arthur said. ‘Just in case. We wouldn’t want a repetition of what happened last time.’
Harry nodded. He had known that declining Kingsley’s dinner offer would mean he’d have very little time with his friends. He looked around the kitchen.
‘She’s not here,’ Hermione said, reading his thoughts. ‘She went to… to Oliver’s for the evening.’
It was as if an icy blanket had been draped over the kitchen. Arthur was looking at him with what Harry knew was pity. Ron was red in the face and was looking everywhere but at him, and Hermione was nervously playing with the ring on her finger. He couldn’t see Mrs Weasley, but felt her eyes prickling in his back.
‘It’s fine,’ he said, breaking the silence. ‘I mean, it wouldn’t have been good anyway to… you know.. if she was already here.’
‘Oh, come here,’ he heard before a bush of brown hair was all he could smell and see. He hugged Hermione back once more and leaned into it, enjoying the offer of comfort. Ginny might have left him, but he knew that Ron and Hermione would always be there for him, like his own personal anchor. And as long as he’d got them, Harry knew he would be okay.
The mood had shifted quickly after they’d sat back down. Mrs Weasley had made them all tea and biscuits, which they had consumed happily while Harry had told them everything that had happened since he’d come back from Azkaban. He left out the kiss he’d shared with Draco for now, deciding it wasn’t the right time.
George had come walking in only a little later, clapping him hard on the back and congratulating him on this excellent piece of magic. It had taken Harry a long time to convince him that it really hadn’t been him, yet George still insisted he’d collaborate with him to invent something like it for the shop, which had earned him a very condescending look from Mrs Weasley.
Time seemed to move at least four times faster than normal, and they were still in the middle of their conversation about all the wicked things they could do with Harry as Draco Malfoy - Ron had suggested he buy them all permanent places in the top box at the Quidditch World Cup, which had earned him affronted ‘Ron!’ from Hermione. ‘Well, he’s loaded anyway, isn’t he?’ Ron had suggested, but the topic of Quidditch seats had been dropped nonetheless - when there was a knock on the door.
Harry sighed, but obligingly got up and put on his coat, said goodbye to everybody - which in Mrs Weasley’s case was a hug that felt like it lasted a whole five minutes - and went outside to meet the Hit-Wizard who was going to Apparate him back home.
However, as he was approaching the stone wall indicating the place the Burrow’s wards ended, it wasn’t a Ministry official who was waiting for him.
‘Had fun?’ the familiar voice asked as Harry walked towards him. Draco quickly leaned forward and planted a solid kiss on Harry’s lips.
‘What are you doing here?’ Harry spluttered. ‘And where have you been?’
‘Getting jealous already, then?’ Draco grinned smugly as he grabbed Harry’s arm and Apparated them back to the Manor.
‘I thought you weren’t allowed outside of the house?’ Harry asked as they walked through the gates. He tried to ignore the tingling sensation he still felt on his lips.
‘No,’ Draco said, ‘That was you.’ He shot Harry an excited look. ‘Anyway, I’ve been shopping.’
‘Shopping?’ Harry asked rather cynical. ‘For what?’
‘For you,’ Draco answered and the smug grin was back on his face. ‘Well, technically for me.’
The doors opened for them and they took off their coats, handing them to Clifton, who bowed and wished them both a good evening.
‘I’m not following you anymore,’ Harry said as they walked towards the drawing room. Narcissa was no longer there, the book she’d been reading lying closed on the coffee table.
Draco called out for Woldy - who appeared immediately - and asked him to bring them two glasses and their 1946 Macallan Whisky.
‘I figured that if we were going to be stuck in each others bodies for a while, I better make myself comfortable.’
‘Meaning?’ Harry asked.
‘Meaning clothes, Harry,’ Draco said. The elf came bobbing back in, a silver tray held high above his head.
Draco poured them both a drink and handed one of the crystal glasses to Harry. ‘Try this,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’ll love it.’
Harry made the liquid swirl in his glass, it’s rich aromas almost making his mouth water.
‘Enjoy that,’ Draco said and pointed with his glass at Harry’s. ‘It was the only one ever made.’
Harry looked up, shocked. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I bought it off an auction,’ Draco explained. ‘Last of its kind, made with coals that were shot up during the Second Muggle World War.’
‘You’re kidding me.’ Harry said, but Draco just grinned.
‘Absolutely not,’ was the answer. Draco raised his glass to his lips and moaned softly into the air, letting himself relax on the sofa.
Harry looked down at his glass. ‘And you’re sure it’s okay if we drink it?’ he asked tentatively.
‘Just relax, Harry,’ Draco said, his eyes closed, and Harry obliged.
With his own eyes closed, Draco sneaked in another kiss, this time tasting of nothing but the heavy whisky. Harry didn’t mind and spread his legs willingly as Draco climbed on top of him on the couch. Their moans and sighs filled the air until the early hours of dawn, where they fell asleep on the couch, limbs tangled and heads foggy with lust and alcohol.
Morning came too soon, and when Harry opened his eyes, he groaned. There was no hangover, though, not this time. The bottle - Harry thought Draco had called it a Lalique Cire Perdue decanter - was still standing on the table, half full.
He looked around for Draco, but found nothing but a small rectangle box wrapped in auburn velvet, a black ribbon tied around it and a note lying on top of it that read Happy early Birthday, Harry.
Harry scowled, reaching out for the gift. He tugged at the ribbon and took off the soft fabric. He gasped. Inside the box, lying on the same auburn material that had been around it, was Draco’s wand. His wand. He quickly picked it up and felt a tingling sensation go all the way from his fingers to his toes.
‘You like it?’
Harry’s eyes shot up. Draco was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.
‘How did you get this?’ Harry asked in wonder. He’d had the impression he wouldn’t be seeing his wand for a long time to come.
‘I suppose Harry Potter might’ve pulled some strings for me,’ Draco said and laughed at Harry’s raised eyebrows. ‘Fine, I only went back and talked to Kingsley.’ He nodded at the wand. ‘He was going to send it to you through owl post today or tomorrow anyway, but I thought this would make for a nicer return.’
Harry grinned and swished it around in the air, making sparkles fly from the end. ‘Does everything have to be over the top with you?’ he asked with a smile.
Draco shrugged. ‘It keeps life interesting.’ He walked towards Harry and slowly leaned over him, his face hovering inches above Harry’s own. ‘Sleep well?’ he asked and placed a gentle kiss on Harry’s mouth.
Harry sighed happily, once more pushing away the thoughts and doubts he had about what they were doing. It didn’t matter, not right now. ‘Brilliant,’ he answered between kisses. ‘I need to shower, though.’
Draco pulled back, making Harry want to moan at the loss of contact. Pushing that particular thought away as well, he got up and, with another soft smack on the arse by Draco, made his way to the showers.
*
‘Can I ask you something?’ Harry asked later as they were sitting by the pond once more. They had decided that they’d seen enough of the stale-smelling library and its old books. If there was going to be a solution, it wouldn’t be in text. Harry added another layer to their warming charm.
‘You already have,’ Draco said, and Harry could hear he was smiling.
‘You said you’d cheated on Astoria with Blaise,’ Harry began, and Draco hummed in confirmation. ‘So, where is he now?’
‘Where’s Blaise, you mean?’ Draco asked and turned towards Harry, who nodded. ‘My, Potter, checking out your competition, then?’
Harry didn’t answer, so Draco continued. ‘I don’t know, probably somewhere shagging someone or something,’ he said and leaned back against the oak.
‘Something?’
Draco chuckled. ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘Blaise is a great fan of calling himself a “free man”.’
Harry shivered, imagining Blaise and several objects. His expression probably gave him away, because Draco laughed louder. ‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘Don’t try, trust me, you’ll only torture yourself.’
‘So you and Blaise...’ Harry tried to form what he wanted to say in his head, but drew a complete blank, not sure if it was what he wanted to know or not, or where he wanted to go.
‘Blaise and me nothing,’ Draco answered. His voice had turned soft. There was a silence and then Harry felt his hand being covered. He looked sideways to see Draco was still looking at him. With a rush of what felt to him like Gryffindor bravery he spread his fingers, letting Draco link his own through them.
‘You were right,’ Harry said after a while. He had been staring over the pond, their hands still entwined.
Draco grinned at him. ‘I told you; all you need is a good snog.’ He bumped his shoulder into Harry, who laughed.
‘No, you prat,’ he said. ‘I mean yes, that too, but I actually meant about your father.’
Draco’s hand twitched in his own, his grin faltering. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked, and for the first time Harry could see what Narcissa and Molly had meant. He did see Draco behind his own eyes, with all his insecurities and uncertainties.
‘We should talk to Kingsley.’
Chapter 9: The Man in the Top Hat
Recipient/Trope: Bodyswap for gatewaygirl
Username: lordes
Betas: lordhellebore, amorette
Pairings: Harry/Draco. Mentions of: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Draco/Astoria, Draco/Blaise, Ginny/Oliver.
Characters: Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, George, Arthur, Molly, Kingsley, Hawkes Hawlish, Auror Williamson, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Voldemort, Bellatrix, Nott, Avery, Gawain Robarts, original characters. Mentions of: Luna, Umbridge, Blaise, Oliver, Astoria.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Rating: R
Warnings: Suggestive M/M relationship, original characters, unexplainable magic, hurt.
Word Count: 46 000
This Chapter: 4245
Summary: When Harry is approached for a favour by Draco Malfoy at the Ministry of Magic, only in his wildest dreams can he imagine what will await him in the morning to come; and when a mysterious man in a top hat appears, Harry fears he might be losing his mind. With his friends by his side and a very troubled Minister, Harry is desperate to find a solution for his blond problem as fast as he can - only that might prove more difficult than he initially expects. As he slowly gets immersed in a life so unlike his own, Harry comes to realise not everything is as black and white as he thought it was, and that the bad guy might not be the bad guy after all.
Author’S Notes: Originally written for the HD TROPES Fic Exchange, 2014
BLINK ON AO3
*
’Now, Harry you must know all about Muggles, tell me, what exactly is the function of a rubber duck?’ - Arthur Weasley (CoS - Movie)
‘Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. They are fast. Faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don’t blink.’ - The Doctor
- CHAPTER 8 -
Truths and Interrogations
Harry dragged himself out of bed the next morning, a continuous thumping inside his head trying to rip his skull in two. He called out for Woldy, who appeared already carrying a tray with the sweetest hangover potions Harry had ever taken.
‘Master Draco needed one too this morning,’ he said. ‘So Woldy figured Master Harry would want the same thing.’
‘Very good thinking, Woldy,’ Harry croaked. ‘Thank you.’ He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the blissful feeling of the potion spreading through his body.
When the thumping had slowly dissolved into nothing more than a small headache, Harry got up and made his way to the showers.
Draco was already sipping a cup of what smelled to Harry like coffee when he came for breakfast. He briefly hesitated in the doorway before defiantly stalking forwards.
‘Morning,’ Draco said without looking up from his newspaper.
Harry blushed. ‘Morning,’ he mumbled, and reached for the nearest plate containing already buttered and still steaming toast.
From the corner of his eyes he saw Draco scowl at the paper in his hands and sip his coffee. Harry wondered if he even remembered last night at all.
When he’d woken up he’d first thought it had all been a dream, but as the memories kept flooding in the longer he was up instead of slowly disappearing out of reach, he’d had to accept that what he’d hoped had been a trick of his mind had actually happened.
Harry sighed as he took the first bite of his toast and closed his eyes momentarily, only snapping them back open when Draco spoke again.
‘We’ve been summoned,’ he said.
Harry swallowed the bite still in his mouth quickly. ‘Where?’ he asked, and took another bite.
‘The Ministry.’ Draco looked up to hand him an already opened envelope. Inside was a letter written in Kingsley’s neat handwriting, indeed instructing them to meet him in his office that day at 1pm sharp.
Harry ran a hand through his hair. ‘You think…?’
‘Not sure,’ Draco said, answering Harry’s unspoken question. ‘But let’s keep our fingers crossed.’
Harry nodded and focused back on his breakfast, which they finished in silence.
*
The wind whipped angrily at their coats as they made their way out of the Manor’s wards and grounds, the two Hit-Wizards Harry now recognised easily waiting for them as expected. Both of them were instructed to side-along Apparate with them, to make sure no set rule was - accidentally or not - violated in the process of getting to the Ministry.
Harry welcomed the familiar feeling of being pushed through a somewhat too tight tube, grateful for any kind of magic he was able to experience these days.
They appeared in the Atrium and turned several heads as they were escorted past the security guard at the front desk and towards the Minister’s office. However, instead of being allowed inside, they were stopped.
‘Mr Potter?’ the bigger of the two Hit-Wizards asked. Draco nodded. ‘Come with me,’ he said as he set out through one of the corridors Harry knew would lead to the lifts. Draco shot Harry a somewhat nervous look but followed nonetheless, leaving Harry alone with the shorter of the two men, waiting in front of the double doors that would lead him to Kingsley.
However, when the doors opened it wasn’t the Minister who was waiting for him, it was the head of the Auror office: Gawain Robarts.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Malfoy,’ he said and gestured at the chair in front of the Minister’s desk.
Harry nodded politely at him. ‘Afternoon,’ he repeated and sat down.
The moment he did, a series of things happened so fast Harry had barely time to process what was going on. The chair wound itself around his arms and legs as a Body-Bind Curse hit him square in the chest. Then a set of unfamiliar hands forced his jaw apart as Robarts carefully let a couple of clear drops drip into his mouth. With another simple spell he forced Harry to swallow, and a third released him from the Body-Bind.
Harry coughed, his throat burning slightly at the intrusion.
‘Is your name Draco Lucius Malfoy, born on June 5th, 1980 to pure-blood wizard Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and pure-blood witch Narcissa Aileen Malfoy - née Black?’
‘No,’ Harry choked out as another coughing fit ook over. He had expected what they’d forced him to take, but this had proved it: he had tried to say yes. Not sure whether this was on Kingsley’s orders or not - however much he dared doubt it wasn’t - he had decided to be careful, and had failed.
‘What is your name?’ Robart asked then.
‘Harry James Potter,’ Harry said, his mouth moving for him.
‘When were you born?’ Robart had sat down and was noting something down on the parchment in front of him.
‘The 31st of July, 1980.’
‘And to whom?’
‘James and Lily Potter.’ Harry started tugging slightly at the chair that was still holding him tightly. The Auror ignored it.
‘Have you, or have you not, cast any form or kind of modification spell on Mr Harry Potter and yourself in the recent past?’ Robart asked and put down his quill. He leaned back in Kingsley’s chair and leaned his arms on the armrests.
‘No.’
Robart nodded again. ‘I see, I see,’ he mumbled, and reached out with one hand to quickly browse the papers lying on the desk.
‘So...’ he started again. ‘Mr Potter is it, then?’
‘Yes,’ Harry answered.
‘You are Harry James Potter, stuck in the body of Draco Lucius Malfoy?’
‘Yes,’ he repeated.
‘And you’re sure of this?’
‘Yes,’ Harry insisted, getting slightly impatient.
Robart raised his chin. ‘Okay,’ he continued. ‘If you are, answer me this,’ he paused and stared at Harry. ‘Whose man are you?’
‘What?’ Harry asked, confused.
‘Think, Mr…Potter,’ the Auror said, not taking his eyes off Harry’s. ‘If you truly are who you say you are, you surely must know the answer to this… simple question.’
Harry wrecked his brain. Man? What man. He was nobody’s man. Had the Auror somehow found out about what had happened the night before? But surely a bit of snogging didn’t result in being anybody’s man now, would it? Merlin, how much he wished Robart would just retire, he’d been here long enough. Harry thought back to Scrimgeour and the interview he had wanted to set up for Harry with the man. Harry had refused at the time, and he would do it again if he had the chance, if it wasn’t for…
‘Dumbledore,’ he breathed as the sudden realisation hit him. ‘I’m Dumbledore’s man. I’m Dumbledore’s man through and through.’
*
‘My apologies for the unusual approach,’ Kingsley said once Harry and Draco had been reunited inside the Minister’s office and the Head Auror had taken off. The interview had gone on for a good hour, until the Veritaserum they’d given them hadn’t been trustworthy enough to continue anymore.
‘You could’ve told us,’ Harry said angrier than he had intended it to sound. Kingsley looked slightly hurt.
‘You know, I couldn’t have,’ Kingsley said. ‘You know Veritaserum isn’t as failproof when the subjected knows beforehand.’
Harry didn’t answer, but looked at his hands instead.
‘The results are extremely positive, though,’ the Minister continued and glanced at the two identical stacks of papers in front of him. ‘Your answers seemed to match each other perfectly.’
Draco nodded but Harry stayed rigid.
‘Harry,’ Kingsley tried, ‘be reasonable.’
‘Reasonable?’ Harry asked. ‘Ron and Hermione didn’t need Veritaserum to believe me.’
‘You have to understand that I’m under a little bit more pressure and carrying just a little more responsibility than Ron and Hermione.’ Kingsley’s voice had turned stern. He’d stood up and was now towering over both Harry and Draco. Harry turned slightly red under the penetrating stare.
‘We will go over the results of the interrogation again and will update you as soon as we know more,’ the Minister continued, picked up the individual stacks of paper and tapped them on the desk in order to straighten them. ‘You are dismissed,’ he said without looking at them.
Draco straightened the jacket he was wearing as he got up. ‘Thank you,’ he said, and reached out for Kingsley’s hand, who shook it.
‘You’re welcome, Mr Malfoy,’ he said and turned towards Harry.
‘I hope you understand that until we go through these,’ his hand was lying on their answers, ‘I can’t do anything about the restrictions the Ministry has put upon your freedom?’
Harry sighed, but nodded. ‘Can I at least visit Ron and Hermione later today?’
‘That shouldn’t be a problem,’ Kingsley answered. ‘I’ll notify them and Mr and Mrs Weasley about your arrival.’
The stern gaze had disappeared and had been replaced by something Harry couldn’t define. He wondered if Kingsley had somehow got the news of Ginny and him breaking up, but decided it wasn’t worth the bother for now. He’d worry about her when he had to go over to the Burrow. He tiredly raked his hand through his hair and saw Kingsley glance at the motion.
‘At what time?’ Harry asked.
‘What about five? I’m sure Molly would love to have you over for dinner again,’ Kingsley said.
Harry’s stomach did a backflip as he pictured himself sitting at the table with Ginny and Wood happily chatting together, and he felt himself go pale.
‘I… that’s sweet,’ he said, ‘but -’
‘They will pick you up at eight, then.’ Kingsley smiled at him and Harry knew he was referring to the two Hit-Wizards who seemed to accompany him everywhere he went.
‘That sounds nice, Kings,’ Harry said. ‘Thank you.’ And now he, too, was shaking Kingsley’s hand.
‘You look like you’re in need of another snog,’ Draco said as they made their way back down the Atrium to the spot where they’d be able to Apparate.
Harry glanced nervously at the two men walking on either side of them. ‘I thought you’d forgotten!’ he nearly hissed.
Draco chuckled. ‘And did that make you sad?’
‘No,’ Harry said defensively and scowled. ‘I was just wondering.’
‘Uh-huh,’ Draco retorted and smacked him softly on the arse.
Harry let out a tiny yelp and turned to tell Draco off for doing that in the middle of the crowded Ministry hall, but they’d already arrived at their Apparation point and were instructed to hold on to either of the outstretched arms.
‘If you don’t mind,’ Draco said as he stepped away after they’d arrived, ‘I’ve got some other errands to run.’ He winked at Harry. ‘See you in a few hours.’
However, after a few hours Draco still hadn’t turned up yet, resulting in Harry having dinner alone with Narcissa. It was a pleasant dinner, although not what it had been before she had announced to know the truth: the formerly so familiar motions now felt as unfamiliar as when he’d first woken up inside the strange body.
‘Relax, Mr Potter,’ she said later that evening as they sat having their after-dinner coffee in the drawing room. Narcissa’s chair was facing the large fireplace, and she was reading a very old, very battered looking book. Harry had been glancing at the big clock on the wall, sitting with his back to the windows. It was forty minutes past seven. ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’
Harry looked at her. The flames of the fire were giving her hair a soft, golden glow as she moved.
‘It’s not...’ Harry began. ‘I’m not worried about Ron and Hermione.’ He felt a need to explain, although he didn’t know why.
‘I know,’ she answered him and closed her book gently before looking at him. ‘Draco told me about Miss Weasley this morning. I’m terribly sorry.’
‘Oh,’ Harry said a little dumbfounded. ‘Right. Well, it’s okay, really.’
‘Really?’ she repeated after him.
Harry sighed and let himself slump back onto the sofa. ‘No,’ he said and rubbed his hands over his face. ‘I don’t know anymore.’
Narcissa looked as if she approved of his answer. ‘And why’s that?’
Harry shook his head. ‘I mean, I was sad at first. I was.’ He started fidgeting with his sleeves. ‘But now… I’m still sad, but I’m also not sad, I just...’
But before he could finish the pointer on the mantlepiece told him it was seven forty-five, so he quickly excused himself and went for his coat so that at ten to eight, he was on his way towards the gates of the Manor for a second time that day.
Molly was the one who opened the door. Momentarily forgetting whom he looked like, Harry was slightly surprised that she didn’t move to let him in right away, but stood in the doorway of the Burrow, looking at him.
‘Is it really you?’ she asked after several long moments of silence and reached out with a shaking hand.
Harry nodded, and let her cup his cheek. She moved his face around gently, as if wanting to take in every curve and angle of his new face.
‘How did this happen?’ she said more to herself than to him before stepping forward and engulfing him in a tight hug. He gladly accepted the offer, hugging her back and breathing in her familiar scent. He’d had no idea how much he’d missed her.
‘So… no doubts, then?’ Harry asked uncertainly, but she merely shook her head and stepped back.
‘Of course not,’ she said as she grabbed his arm and squeezed. ‘Your eyes might be grey now, dear, but they’re still very, very much yours.’
Harry smiled at this and hugged her again. Walking in together, he saw Ron, Hermione and Arthur sitting at the kitchen table.
‘Harry!’ Hermione exclaimed, stood up and gave him another hug, followed soon by Ron. ‘Mate,’ he said as they parted, and smiled, looking at Arthur.
‘We’ve arranged for you to be picked up here at ten to nine,’ Arthur said. ‘Just in case. We wouldn’t want a repetition of what happened last time.’
Harry nodded. He had known that declining Kingsley’s dinner offer would mean he’d have very little time with his friends. He looked around the kitchen.
‘She’s not here,’ Hermione said, reading his thoughts. ‘She went to… to Oliver’s for the evening.’
It was as if an icy blanket had been draped over the kitchen. Arthur was looking at him with what Harry knew was pity. Ron was red in the face and was looking everywhere but at him, and Hermione was nervously playing with the ring on her finger. He couldn’t see Mrs Weasley, but felt her eyes prickling in his back.
‘It’s fine,’ he said, breaking the silence. ‘I mean, it wouldn’t have been good anyway to… you know.. if she was already here.’
‘Oh, come here,’ he heard before a bush of brown hair was all he could smell and see. He hugged Hermione back once more and leaned into it, enjoying the offer of comfort. Ginny might have left him, but he knew that Ron and Hermione would always be there for him, like his own personal anchor. And as long as he’d got them, Harry knew he would be okay.
The mood had shifted quickly after they’d sat back down. Mrs Weasley had made them all tea and biscuits, which they had consumed happily while Harry had told them everything that had happened since he’d come back from Azkaban. He left out the kiss he’d shared with Draco for now, deciding it wasn’t the right time.
George had come walking in only a little later, clapping him hard on the back and congratulating him on this excellent piece of magic. It had taken Harry a long time to convince him that it really hadn’t been him, yet George still insisted he’d collaborate with him to invent something like it for the shop, which had earned him a very condescending look from Mrs Weasley.
Time seemed to move at least four times faster than normal, and they were still in the middle of their conversation about all the wicked things they could do with Harry as Draco Malfoy - Ron had suggested he buy them all permanent places in the top box at the Quidditch World Cup, which had earned him affronted ‘Ron!’ from Hermione. ‘Well, he’s loaded anyway, isn’t he?’ Ron had suggested, but the topic of Quidditch seats had been dropped nonetheless - when there was a knock on the door.
Harry sighed, but obligingly got up and put on his coat, said goodbye to everybody - which in Mrs Weasley’s case was a hug that felt like it lasted a whole five minutes - and went outside to meet the Hit-Wizard who was going to Apparate him back home.
However, as he was approaching the stone wall indicating the place the Burrow’s wards ended, it wasn’t a Ministry official who was waiting for him.
‘Had fun?’ the familiar voice asked as Harry walked towards him. Draco quickly leaned forward and planted a solid kiss on Harry’s lips.
‘What are you doing here?’ Harry spluttered. ‘And where have you been?’
‘Getting jealous already, then?’ Draco grinned smugly as he grabbed Harry’s arm and Apparated them back to the Manor.
‘I thought you weren’t allowed outside of the house?’ Harry asked as they walked through the gates. He tried to ignore the tingling sensation he still felt on his lips.
‘No,’ Draco said, ‘That was you.’ He shot Harry an excited look. ‘Anyway, I’ve been shopping.’
‘Shopping?’ Harry asked rather cynical. ‘For what?’
‘For you,’ Draco answered and the smug grin was back on his face. ‘Well, technically for me.’
The doors opened for them and they took off their coats, handing them to Clifton, who bowed and wished them both a good evening.
‘I’m not following you anymore,’ Harry said as they walked towards the drawing room. Narcissa was no longer there, the book she’d been reading lying closed on the coffee table.
Draco called out for Woldy - who appeared immediately - and asked him to bring them two glasses and their 1946 Macallan Whisky.
‘I figured that if we were going to be stuck in each others bodies for a while, I better make myself comfortable.’
‘Meaning?’ Harry asked.
‘Meaning clothes, Harry,’ Draco said. The elf came bobbing back in, a silver tray held high above his head.
Draco poured them both a drink and handed one of the crystal glasses to Harry. ‘Try this,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’ll love it.’
Harry made the liquid swirl in his glass, it’s rich aromas almost making his mouth water.
‘Enjoy that,’ Draco said and pointed with his glass at Harry’s. ‘It was the only one ever made.’
Harry looked up, shocked. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I bought it off an auction,’ Draco explained. ‘Last of its kind, made with coals that were shot up during the Second Muggle World War.’
‘You’re kidding me.’ Harry said, but Draco just grinned.
‘Absolutely not,’ was the answer. Draco raised his glass to his lips and moaned softly into the air, letting himself relax on the sofa.
Harry looked down at his glass. ‘And you’re sure it’s okay if we drink it?’ he asked tentatively.
‘Just relax, Harry,’ Draco said, his eyes closed, and Harry obliged.
With his own eyes closed, Draco sneaked in another kiss, this time tasting of nothing but the heavy whisky. Harry didn’t mind and spread his legs willingly as Draco climbed on top of him on the couch. Their moans and sighs filled the air until the early hours of dawn, where they fell asleep on the couch, limbs tangled and heads foggy with lust and alcohol.
Morning came too soon, and when Harry opened his eyes, he groaned. There was no hangover, though, not this time. The bottle - Harry thought Draco had called it a Lalique Cire Perdue decanter - was still standing on the table, half full.
He looked around for Draco, but found nothing but a small rectangle box wrapped in auburn velvet, a black ribbon tied around it and a note lying on top of it that read Happy early Birthday, Harry.
Harry scowled, reaching out for the gift. He tugged at the ribbon and took off the soft fabric. He gasped. Inside the box, lying on the same auburn material that had been around it, was Draco’s wand. His wand. He quickly picked it up and felt a tingling sensation go all the way from his fingers to his toes.
‘You like it?’
Harry’s eyes shot up. Draco was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.
‘How did you get this?’ Harry asked in wonder. He’d had the impression he wouldn’t be seeing his wand for a long time to come.
‘I suppose Harry Potter might’ve pulled some strings for me,’ Draco said and laughed at Harry’s raised eyebrows. ‘Fine, I only went back and talked to Kingsley.’ He nodded at the wand. ‘He was going to send it to you through owl post today or tomorrow anyway, but I thought this would make for a nicer return.’
Harry grinned and swished it around in the air, making sparkles fly from the end. ‘Does everything have to be over the top with you?’ he asked with a smile.
Draco shrugged. ‘It keeps life interesting.’ He walked towards Harry and slowly leaned over him, his face hovering inches above Harry’s own. ‘Sleep well?’ he asked and placed a gentle kiss on Harry’s mouth.
Harry sighed happily, once more pushing away the thoughts and doubts he had about what they were doing. It didn’t matter, not right now. ‘Brilliant,’ he answered between kisses. ‘I need to shower, though.’
Draco pulled back, making Harry want to moan at the loss of contact. Pushing that particular thought away as well, he got up and, with another soft smack on the arse by Draco, made his way to the showers.
*
‘Can I ask you something?’ Harry asked later as they were sitting by the pond once more. They had decided that they’d seen enough of the stale-smelling library and its old books. If there was going to be a solution, it wouldn’t be in text. Harry added another layer to their warming charm.
‘You already have,’ Draco said, and Harry could hear he was smiling.
‘You said you’d cheated on Astoria with Blaise,’ Harry began, and Draco hummed in confirmation. ‘So, where is he now?’
‘Where’s Blaise, you mean?’ Draco asked and turned towards Harry, who nodded. ‘My, Potter, checking out your competition, then?’
Harry didn’t answer, so Draco continued. ‘I don’t know, probably somewhere shagging someone or something,’ he said and leaned back against the oak.
‘Something?’
Draco chuckled. ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘Blaise is a great fan of calling himself a “free man”.’
Harry shivered, imagining Blaise and several objects. His expression probably gave him away, because Draco laughed louder. ‘Don’t,’ he said. ‘Don’t try, trust me, you’ll only torture yourself.’
‘So you and Blaise...’ Harry tried to form what he wanted to say in his head, but drew a complete blank, not sure if it was what he wanted to know or not, or where he wanted to go.
‘Blaise and me nothing,’ Draco answered. His voice had turned soft. There was a silence and then Harry felt his hand being covered. He looked sideways to see Draco was still looking at him. With a rush of what felt to him like Gryffindor bravery he spread his fingers, letting Draco link his own through them.
‘You were right,’ Harry said after a while. He had been staring over the pond, their hands still entwined.
Draco grinned at him. ‘I told you; all you need is a good snog.’ He bumped his shoulder into Harry, who laughed.
‘No, you prat,’ he said. ‘I mean yes, that too, but I actually meant about your father.’
Draco’s hand twitched in his own, his grin faltering. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked, and for the first time Harry could see what Narcissa and Molly had meant. He did see Draco behind his own eyes, with all his insecurities and uncertainties.
‘We should talk to Kingsley.’
Chapter 9: The Man in the Top Hat