Disclaimer: I own nothing, only my ideas and my twisted, twisted mind.
Authors notes: Another firsts sort of fic. Please be kind and constructive! I will take this further if interest is apparent. Enjoy!
Chapter One: Good morning, beautiful.
Harry groped blindly for his glasses, eyes hooded and encrusted with sleep as the day slowly broke. Upon realizing their absence from his nightstand, he opened his eyes, squinting through the expected fuzziness to find them. Except that fuzziness never came. That was the first strange event of the morning, although not nearly as shocking or stomach curling as the dawning realization that he was in green silk sheets, in a private room in the Slytherin dormitories. Harry panicked.
The details from the night before were groggy at best- it was a rare event for the Savior of the Wizarding World to allow himself the luxury of being intoxicated, but things had happened in a swirling blur the night before, and now, somehow, he was waking up – oh, naked, too! – in a private Slytherin dorm, unaware of how exactly he had ended up here.
He perked his ears, listening for some clue as to the whereabouts of his accidental drunken tryst partner, but the showers were not running- the room was completely silent. He looked around, eyes taking in the small figurines of dragons that dotted the shelves: pewter, glass, clay- a small army of petite dragons preened, huffed, and roared tiny roars as they woke up. There sat a golden snitch in a small glass box on one of the shelves, another clue. The room was impeccable, but comfortable, and Harry slowly came to the realization that it was a blokes room.
Shaking his head, Harry rolled out of bed, stumbling to the loo. Chances were high that his lover, upon realizing he was next to a Gryffandor bloke, had fled, and there would be a mutually agreed upon silence about the incident. If it had been the first time, Harry may have been more concerned.. But part of why he avoided drinking in excess was the unfortunate habit of waking up in rooms with other men the morning after, a misfortune that caused the downfall of his short lived affair with Ginny and almost a serious rift with Ron.
Harry frowned. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite place a finger on it. His walk wasn't quite as heavy, he felt somehow leaner and more catlike. Come to think of it, his skin was awfully soft, too. He glanced down for a moment, and at one look at that creamy white, almost translucent skin, and the shock of golden curls resting at his privates, he knew something was terribly, terribly out of place. Harry ran to the mirror.
"Malfoy!!" The roar reverberated off the tiles.
Draco awoke, eyes fuzzy, probably due to the excessive drinking the night prior. He blinked and blinked again, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, until he realized his vision was still off, and the whole room appeared to be covered by a film. What had he drunk last night, to cause such a vision change? He would make his way semi-blindly to the infirmary that morning, he decided. Through the thick fuzz of his vision, Draco was slowly able to make out his whereabouts. He was in a bunk, and his eyes were assaulted by red and gold. He was in the Gryffandor's dormitories? What had happened the night prior? Draco was scandalized, were his face seen here he would have hell to pay in the Slytherin court. He looked around, but it sounded like all of the other dorm mates were sleeping.
He wondered idly where whomever he had followed home was, or, for that matter, why he was wearing flannel pajamas that were far too large after what was apparently a drunken tryst.. in a shared dormitory? He swept his hair aside and realized it was time for a haircut, and that he sorely, sorely needed to moisturize his hands.
Draco climbed out of bed, stepping immediately into a pile of laundry, then took to squinting and peering as he attempted to navigate the maze to the loo. If he could get out of here before the others woke up, he could just act the innocent if anybody asked and pretend the incident never happened.
"Oy, Harry." Ron mumbled from the bunk above, sitting up from his slumber.
Draco froze momentarily, then darted before his red haired rival noticed him, scrambling into the loo. He noticed a shock of black hair and tan skin run by in the mirror and turned to face himself. Except that certainly, certainly was not him in the mirror. Draco shrieked, grabbing his – no, Potter's- hair in a panicked frenzy as he attempted to piece together what was going on. He heard two fast, thudding leaps and the door flung open, and a red haired mass that must have been Ron Weasley knelt beside him.
"Are you okay mate? Is it your scar? What did you see?" Ron fussed, sitting him on a stool and offering him some water while fussing over his- no, Potter's- scar.
"I'm fine! I'm fine! Just.. give me a second, okay?" Draco shooed Ron away, not sure what was going on, and loathe to accept care from a weasel. He closed and latched the door, starting the shower and closing his eyes to think for a moment. So, he was trapped in Harry Potter's body. How exactly this had happened, he was unsure, but he knew he had to figure out how to get out of it. Draco bit his lip for a moment. If he was in Harry Potter's body, then where was his? And where was Potter? This situation could be much, much worse, he realized, stripping off his clothes and leaping into the hot water.
There was an unusual thrill of discovery about that shower, as his soapy hands glided over a body that was very much not his, and he felt a certain level of shame about the way his rival was piquing his interest. A fleeting thought passed through his mind perhaps when this is all dealt with, I will try to be a bit more friendly with Potter. He closed his minds to those thoughts and focused on the mechanical actions of bathing.
Potter completely lacked all important grooming products, and after his shower Draco was disappointed to not have his extensive skincare products available, and felt wildly uncomfortable with going out in public with wild hair. Except you're not going out in public, Harry Potter is, and Harry Potter never has neat hair Draco reminded himself. Regardless, he smoothed his hair back and combed it as neatly as he could manage. He stumbled back out into the common room where the dorm mates were all rising, wondering where those blasted glasses were.
"Uh, Ron, do you know where I put my glasses?" Draco forced himself to avoid all snide comments and teasing jests for the moment and use Potter's allies. Ron pointed at his nightstand and Draco followed the line of his arm to that surface, groping until he found the metal and glass frames, and put them on.
Draco was wildly uncomfortable in this setting and situation, but if there was one thing he could do, it was act. He had sat through enough meetings and dinners he didn't really care about to learn how to adapt to other's expectations- there was no way he could fool Ron or Hermione, but he would avoid telling them until he was able to find his body and sort out what was going on.
Harry stormed through Hogwarts. It had taken him nearly half an hour to navigate through Malfoy's extensive wardrobe, but he had finally found a somewhat casual looking green tee shirt with a silver snake on it and black jeans. He had the inkling feeling the prat wouldn't appreciate his appearing in public while wearing such casual clothes, or with such wild hair (he had seen the various hair salves, but chosen to ignore them), but his top priority was finding Ron and Hermione and sorting this situation out.
"Sparkling Hippogryph" Harry spoke to the fat lady.
"Mr. Malfoy, that is yesterday's password." The fat lady admonished him.
"I'm Harry Potter!" Harry pleaded.
"Very clever Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter and his friends have already left for breakfast if you would like a word with him." She turned away then, effectively ending the conversation.
Harry fumed. He hadn't thought that people might not believe him, and that it may take further convincing than just claiming to be himself. He made his way to the Great Hall, immediately storming towards the Gryffandor table. He saw himself there at breakfast, laughing pleasantly with his friends. His hair was too neat, his manners almost impeccable, and was he wearing?
Draco felt wildly uncomfortable. He had managed to find Harry's only button down shirt and was wearing that with jeans. As soon as he arrived in the common room, Hermione had launched into a lecture about the woes of partying excessively the night before a potions test, and dragged him off to the Great Hall for breakfast. He claimed to have a headache when asked, giving him time to figure out how to behave, and excuse for "not acting like himself."
Breakfast eating was almost a disaster, and would have blown his cover if he hadn't excused himself to the restroom long enough for Hermione to fill his plate. He attempted to mimic Ron's eating habits, which, in combination with his impeccable manners, did not turn out very well, and had a great deal of trouble forcing the meat and egg breakfast down his throat when he was used to fruit and cream in the morning.
He was just getting into the groove of pretending to be Potter when he realized a very angry, very rumpled looking Draco Malfoy stalking across the hall. He turned smoothly in his seat, standing up at the last moment to face himself.
Harry huffed.
"How very Gryffandor of you to come charging at me like this, Malfoy," Draco spoke, with a light tease in his voice, "I thought perhaps we could settle our differences in a more civil manner this time, perhaps you would join me for tea and conversation before the potions exam?"
Harry deflated, disarmed. He had expected barbs, an argument, or something other than for Malfoy to invite him to tea. Ron and Hermione were looking at him with great suspicion, and he realized Draco had won them over in his body temporarily with smooth talking. Any argument that ensued now would not end well for him.
"Fine. 7th floor, by Barnabus. Potter."