Be careful what you wish for....

Disclaimer: I'm not J.K. Rowling, just incase you were mislead into thinking I was.

Oh. And I don't own the rights to any of the characters. I can't afford the copyright.

Author's note: The ultimate in Fi-fo boredness. A fanfic. *sighs* I don't know when this is set, it's just a kind of mindless babble fic, a few "What if's?" and a couple of moral lessons for good measure, seeing Ms. Rowling puts so much stock in them.

And yes, I do babble on a bit. Grit your teeth. I ADORE setting the scene.

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It was Christmas Eve. The tiny little tree was bedecked with seven generations of hand made children's decorations, some tatty old Christmas balls and lights that winked and changed colour magically. Beneath the scrubby and overweighed bows lay a positive mess of brightly coloured packages of different shapes and sizes.

The hearth was set and blazing, with eleven stocking hung over the mantel, eleven different names embroidered upon the fronts of them in gold thread,  magically enforced with charms that made each stocking wail loudly if the wrong person tried to get into them. They read; Arthur, Molly, William, Charles, Percival, Frederick, George, Ronald, Virginia and, at the end of the line, two noticeably new ones- Harry and Hermione.

The house itself was s shambles of Christmas mess, there were pine needles everywhere, and tinsel hung from the roof in great, bushy bundles. There were lolly wrappers on the floor, and all the tattered chairs were squashed around the fire, covered in mince tart crumbs and spots of Eggnog.

Delicious smells spiced the air; plum duff, roasting turkey, cinnamon, pine, gingerbread, and sugar- it was all there.

By far, it was the best place Harry could think of for Christmas.

He and Hermione had been invited to spend their Christmas break with all nine Wesley's, and Harry had snapped up the opportunity with a great deal of enthusiasm. Hermione only slightly less so. Harry'd never had a proper family Christmas before, and had, so far, found it to be one of the best things that'd ever happened to him.

All the Weasly's doted on him in such a way, it was almost frightening. Mr. Weasly, as usual, bombarded both Harry and Hermione with questions about gas ovens and other "Muggle" artifacts, eventually getting so dreadfully excited over Hermione's explanation of parking meters he accidentally spilt his Pumpkin juice on Crookshanks, who'd been comfortably curled in his lap. The infuriated cat had left great scratches on his legs as he made a run for it.

Mrs. Weasly treated him like some starved little forest animal in need of anything and everything she could find to stuff in his mouth, along with a great deal of attention and warm words, affection, hugs and warm, freshly pressed laundry.

Bill and Charlie were even more fascinating then when Harry last met them, Bill was full of exciting stories about a rouge Goblin strike on Gringotts, where he worked, and the open, pitched battle that had ensured while Charlie told of a particularly cantankerous young Vipertooth he'd been commissioned to spend time studying.

The twins were full of holiday pranks that more often then not sent the others running from the room- not only from the havoc they'd caused, but the blistering words of Mrs. Weasly as she shrieked scoldings at them like a human Howler.

Ginny had an embarrassing habit of going as red as the Santa hat her father wore every time she saw Harry. She had seemingly gotten over this habit when he first came over, but it came back with a vengeance after a particularly embarrassing moment when she'd walked boldly into the bathroom to use the privy to find Harry stepping out of the shower with naught but a shocked expression. Harry could still hear Ron's laughter...

Right now he, Hermione and Ron sat in front of the fire, roasting toast to a delicious brown, and using a pat of butter Mrs. Weasly had provided to spread. They'd been promised hot chocolate and marshmallows to roast later on, and in that warm, cosy environment, they'd turned to their favorite subject... verbal Malfoy bashing.

 "I wonder what that slimy git's up to for Christmas?" Ron said over a mouthful of toast "That's IF his evil family celebrates something as good as Christmas..."

"Probably getting loads of presents from his father" Hermione said wrinkling her nose "Him and his horrid family all basking in their wealth and talking about evil things, no doubt. Poisoning each other with horrible bigotry." She shuddered slightly, bringing her toast out to check it. Harry opened his mouth to add another snide comment to the others' but Ron over rode him.

 "Wouldn't be bad though, I gotta admit, living in a ruddy great house with huge Christmas dinner and all." He sighed, picking at a burnt bit of crust.

 "Come off it, Ron, I think it's great here." Harry butted in, seeing the broody look on Ron's face "It's the best Christmas I've ever had"

Ron brightened a bit. "S'not that I don't like it here and all" he amended slowly "I just wonder what it'd be like, you know? 'S really unfair that a rotten little-" (He called Malfoy something that made both Harry and Hermione look around nervously for parents) "-like him gets everything." Harry nodded slowly

 "He's always talking about how much he has and how great his Dad is." Harry's mouth made a tight, displeased line as he pictured the scene.

Hermione stirred the flames viciously. "He's probably boasting. Trying to make us all jealous..." She caught their looks "Oh come on, do you really think he's got that sort of charmed lifestyle? Sure his house is big, no doubt, to have a house elf in it, and we KNOW his father's a bit well off but..." She caught their skeptical looks "Okay fine, maybe we'd all like a bit of Malfoy's life, but there's no use in...."

She cut herself short as Mrs. Weasly came bustling in with the hot chocolate and a packet of marshmallows, taking the butter dish and the bread away, giving them all warm smiles.

When she'd left, they started up their conversation again.

"It's not like we're going to turn INTO Malfoy or anything Hermione." Harry laughed "you don't have to take it all seriously...."

She frowned into her chocolate, Ron nodded with Harry

"It's just it'd be nice, I mean, you gotta agree with that..."

Hermione gave in and nodded, smiling "It wouldn't be bad." She swirled her hot chocolate. "Going around a dirty great mansion..."

"With parents..." Harry added

"Who have everything..." Ron finished. "Stupid, bloody Malfoy. Why are the good things all wasted on people who don't deserve it?"

"Lucius Malfoy?"

The voice was suddenly behind them, they all jumped. Harry was drinking at the time, and chocolate came dribbling out his nose. He hastily wiped it away before the others noticed.

Arthur Weasly had just apparated behind them.

"Ooo, marshmallows! Shove over a bit there Hermione..." He flopped down into a seat near the fire next to Hermione's, and speared a marshmallow

"Is that you Arthur?"

Mrs. Weasly popped her head around the door, Mr. Weasly beamed.

"Yes Molly love, just apparated from Perkins', Both wish us a merry Christmas. Going down to Yorkshire for their holidays."

"Good thing too, they need a bit of a break. Here, Give me a minute and I'll warm your dinner."

Molly smiled and vanished back into the kitchen. Mr. Weasly popped his browned marshmallow in his mouth, then turned back to the now silent children

"What's this about the Malfoy's?"

"Aw, nothing Dad, just thinking it's be kinda fun to live like they do with all the riches and the big house and stuff, and how it's been wasted on such a slimy family" He scuffed his shoe on the carpet. Mr. Weasly smiled.

 "Oh, I wouldn't say that." He said with a faintly bemused smile. Ron raised his eyebrows and looked at the other two. They both shrugged

"Listen, you've got to remember one thing, kids, and that's nothing is ever what it seems. I've been to the Malfoy mansion..." He made a face. Ron screwed up his nose

"What could be wrong with a dirty great mansion?" He asked with exasperation. Arthur continued to smile

"Many things Ron, many things. There's more to happiness then celebrity, and there's more to riches then money. But that's enough of that gloomy sort of talk! It's getting late and tomorrow's Christmas...."

They all nodded putting their dishes down, conversation quelled. They all headed upstairs after mumbled "goodnights". In the hall, Hermione wished them goodnight and peeled off into Ginny's room while Harry and Ron continued climbing to the top floor.

As Harry and Ron turned out the lights in Ron's room, after sliding into bed, Ron sighed "Would be good, I recon.... No matter what Dad says...."

***

MEANWHILE:

While Ron lay in his too short red paisley pyjama's in his tiny bright orange room thinking about he glory of the Malfoy's life, Malfoy himself lounged in black-green satin pyjama's, staring at the cathedral ceilings of his room- around the same size as one floor of the Weasly's house. He was spread out on the thick luxurious blankets of his huge bed, thinking. A few seconds before, he'd been reading. The little leather bound book was forgotten in a limp hand.

It was a volume about the rise and fall of the dark arts. However, it wasn't the one circulated among what was, in Malfoy's opinion, laughingly called the "Decent" wizarding community. It delved far deeper then any Diagon Ally bought copy.

It was his fathers, who had pressed it upon his son just this morning, informing his pale skinned son that he'd find it an interesting read. Draco, as his father had predicted, found it fascinating.

However, he was distracted from it now. The page a pale thin finger bookmarked had been the beginning of the chapter on the fall of the dark arts, starting with Harry Potter's intervention.

Draco had paused, to muse on his hated foe. Harry would be in that over stuffed horrid little Weasly shack. He'd overhead the scarfaced moron talking about it to one of his equally lame brained Gryffindor friends.

Draco sneered. He'd probably, in his stupid, blind fashion, think it was wonderful. Harry was indeed an idiot. It was hard to think someone that pathetic had lead to the downfall of the greatest wizard of all time… He absently tossed the book on the floor, a soft thud as it hit the thick, deep emerald carpeting.

Ron was there as well. Stupid Weasly, at the tail end of a family with more children then sense. He folded his arms behind his head and screwed up his nose. What would it be like, living in that horrid little hovel with no room to breath, being poor, getting hand me downs, everything the cheapest they could manage…

"Draco?" His mother poked her head around the door, scowling. Draco sat up; his eyes sliding guiltily top his father's book on the floor.
"Lights out. You should be in bed by now. Pick your father's book up and get to it. Have you brushed you teeth?

"Yes mother." He said dutifully, repressing the universal sigh over meddlesome parents.

"Don't take that tone with me, young man.  Pick it up."
He slid off of the bed and put the book on his side table. Narcissa nodded.

"If you aren't in bed by the time your father or I come to check on you…" The threat lay heavy in the air. His back was turned to the door, so he rolled his eyes

"Yes, mother…"

The door shut and his mother's footsteps padded down the balcony. He allowed a muttered complaint before slipping into bed, taking his wand from the bedside table and waving the candles out.

Yet it was a long time before he fell asleep. He heard someone open the door, and caught the moonlight glinting off his father's hair as he checked in on him a scant five minutes later. He sighed irritably after the door had closed, musing for a while on bossy parents, then, as he drifted off, back to how horrible it would be to be in Ron's hand me down shoes…..

Little did either Ron or Draco realize, but by thinking about each other's situations- the very act of imagining themselves in opposing places, no matter how longingly, or contemptuously they did it, they invoked a deep, inner magic...

And no, it's not slash, you naughty people!

So, Chapter one. It's pretty obvious WHAT'S going to happen… but not how it will run it's course… *snicker* I'll pop up the next bit when I get around to writing it…