TITLE: Falling, Falling
AUTHOR: lmeden
PAIRING: Harry/Draco
RATING: R (mild)

WARNINGS: Character Death, Vampires, Insanity
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.

SUMMARY: Harry and Draco go very far back in time. By accident.
NOTE: I've had this in the works for a while (after reading "To His Coy Mistress" by Andrew Marvell), but what really seemed to pull it together was a mention by Hermione in The Price of Magic by ac1d6urn. "Some books in the Restricted Section transfigure their readers into rats or Petrify them or pull them onto the page. There are cabinets that trap people inside for weeks and doors that lead halfway across the globe." Well, I thought that there was something about paintings, but I guess not.

Prologue

The stone floor was so rough and unworn by the passing of feet here that each separate block was like a step. He had never been to this part of the castle.

Harry and Ron rushed down the winding corridors - they were late for Transfiguration. "I don't understand," grumbled Ron around mouthfuls of toast, "why you couldn't have woken me up earlier. You got up practically at dawn."

Harry glared back. "I was distracted." He had been - watching the sunrise and then trying to finish his Transfiguration essay. Before he had realized it, it was almost ten minutes until class began. Then, in his panic, he had discovered that Ron was still snoring away. Hermione had left them to their own devices ages ago. So, they were late.

He wondered where Malfoy was right now – what was he up to?

They were in the last hallways before the classroom when Harry noticed the painting. He had overlooked all the others in the halls, but this one caught his eye. It was a beautiful landscape of deep green trees. Something made him pause.

Then he knew. There was nothing besides the plants in the picture. All the pictures at Hogwarts had someone in them. Perhaps this painting's inhabitants had just left. In any case, the picture seemed so alive – even without life.

He would have to look at it later. Harry rushed to catch up with Ron and tried not to drop his bag in the process.

----

Though Harry tried to find the forest again the next day, he couldn't. It simply wasn't anywhere he looked. He tried all of the halls near the Transfigurations room, but nothing. He couldn't remember anything to guide him either. He hadn't been paying attention enough to remember what portraits had been nearby.

About ten minutes later, he gave up. It had only been a painting anyway. He could barely remember what had fascinated him so much the day before.

When he returned to Gryffindor, Hermione was nearly in crisis. He hadn't even been away for very long. He didn't understand she was so…then he remembered. They had planned to revise essays that morning. "Where have you been?" Hermione demanded.

Harry shrugged. "Outside."

She looked at him incredulously for a long moment, then grabbed her bag and stomped away. Harry sighed. Another lackluster essay for him. Hermione was far too upset to help him. He'd have to do something for her later.

How stupid it had been to search for that painting.

---

And then, weeks later when he was least expecting it, Harry found the painting again. Again he was fascinated by it, staring for a moment before he even realized what he had found. Deep within, Harry felt unease begin to stir. It wasn't right, that a painting could grab him so – make him want stare at it – fascinate him for no reason. It was enchanted, and he should get away from it.

Harry shifted to turn, but his eye caught on something that he had missed - or been too ensorcelled to see, a tiny part of him whispered. In front of the painting stood a boy with shining, whitish hair. Malfoy.

The other boy had a hand raised and stretched towards the painting, his lips slightly parted. He seemed even more entranced with it than Harry had been. Harry's unease turned into loathing. Malfoy was going to caress the panting that he had found.

How dare Malfoy stare so fixedly at Harry's painting? He stepped closer, then paused. This was completely horrible. The painting had grabbed him again. Slowing down, he tried to use reason. No use getting worked up about it. Taking a deep breath, Harry turned around. He would leave this time – leave that damn painting alone and never look for it again.

A hiss came from behind him – "Potter." Harry whipped back around.

Malfoy was staring at him, his face twisted in loathing, wand steady in front of him. Rage boiled inside Harry, but he tried to remain calm. He just wanted to leave. He could come back and see what Malfoy was up to later, but having a fight was simply not going to help that cause.

"Well, Potter? Too much of a coward to fight me, are you?" Harry saw red and whipped his wand out, but Malfoy stayed still.

"Calling me a coward, Malfoy? You're the one who's been sneaking around all year. I know you're up to something. You've been at it all year long. But it's almost spring, now. Too much of a coward to finish what you started?"

Harry saw Malfoy's face drain of blood with satisfaction. That was it – he'd hit it. Malfoy was a coward and too afraid to finish whatever Voldemort had sent his to do.

Harry was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he nearly didn't notice the sickly yellow of the hex Malfoy sent at him until it was almost of him. He dove the to side, hitting the floor jarringly. He whipped his wand around. "Stupefy!"

Wouldn't it be lovely to just leave Malfoy here as Malfoy had almost done to him on the train? He wouldn't break the boy's nose though – he wasn't barbaric. But Malfoy conjured a quick shield and Harry leapt to his feet and Harry's daydream shattered.

The leaves of the painting shuddered behind Malfoy's head, and Harry could almost believe that they were there in that forest. Then Malfoy moved and Harry threw a hex at him, and they were dueling again.

The duel continued for several moments – so long that Harry began to wonder why no teachers had heard them and come to intervene.

They made their way closer to each other as they dueled, and Harry was suddenly inspired. He sidestepped Malfoy's next curse, which looked far more dangerous than it should for a simple duel, and stepped right up to Malfoy and punched him.

The sudden shock of pain in his hand was worth it as Harry watched dull surprise spread across Malfoy's face. The boy stumbled backwards, his hand lashing out at the last moment and latching onto Harry's wrist.

Malfoy snarled, pulling Harry with him as he fell backwards. Startled, Harry fell forwards, his balance gone. He noticed at the last moment that Malfoy was falling towards the painting behind them.

Harry reached out to catch himself, but instead of hitting the painting, his hand passed straight through the canvas and a blast of icy air hit it on the other side. His eyes widened in horror.

In slow motion, Malfoy seemed to try to see what had terrified Harry so, then he had fallen back into the painting, his thin hand a tightening vise on Harry's wrist.

The last thing that Harry saw was the gentling rustling leaves above him.