DISCLAIMER:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Likewise, I make no claim to own the film Inception nor any of the details or quotes used in this piece of work; they remain the property of Warner Bros., Legendary Pictures and Syncopy.

A/N: This was a plotbunny that attacked me after re-watching the film Inception the other night. I wouldn't call it a crossover; I've just used details from that world and incorporated them into the HPverse. I've tried to create a fic that, like the film, does not give everything away, yet is still an enjoyable read. Please leave a review to let me know if you think I accomplished that :)

Leap of Faith

"Draco…"

The man in front of Harry looked to be around twenty years his senior, but Harry would recognise him anywhere, no matter what plane of consciousness. The grey eyes were still recognisable despite the tiny wrinkles that now framed them, and the white-blond Malfoy hair remained unmistakeable despite its apparent thinning since the last time Harry had laid eyes on it.

"…Potter?" A part deep inside Harry flinched at the greeting, even though he knew that Draco couldn't help it; he had probably begun to believe that this world was reality. Everything from before might as well not have happened.

"What are you doing, Draco?" They were in the middle of a deserted square; the only sound was that of the flowing water of the fountain which stood proudly in the centre. It was upon the edge of this fountain that Draco was perched, his hair glinting in the sun like the shiny cobbles which covered the ground of this place.

"I…it's none of your concern, Potter." Harry knew Draco well enough to know that this defensiveness was masking Draco's very real fear; perhaps when Draco had been alone he'd been able to convince himself that this was reality, but Harry's sudden presence here must have thrown up a number of questions that Draco's subconscious couldn't adequately answer.

"Draco, please. Maybe I can help." Harry thought about placing his hands on Draco's shoulders but then thought better of it considering the skittish body language of the other man.

"No one can help me anymore. I'm alone." Draco was looking into the deep blue depths of the fountain, his voice barely a whisper almost drowned out by the sloshing of the water.

"That's not true, Draco."

"What would you know, Potter?" Even then Draco did not turn to look at Harry, who was now sat next to Draco on the rim of the fountain.

"Probably more than you." That did it; if there was one thing Draco couldn't stand it was the insinuation that someone knew something he didn't. He turned his head sharply to glare at Harry, his grey eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Really?" Harry could tell from the cold tone that it was meant to be a rhetorical question. Draco evidently didn't trust Harry in this place, which was understandable since he probably believed he had been deserted by everyone he'd ever known.

"I'm here to help you, Draco."

"As I said already, Potter-"

"'No one can help you anymore', I know. But just trust me, will you?" Draco scoffed but the sound only spurred Harry on further. "What have you got to lose, Draco? Why not take a leap of faith? Just tell me what you need."

Draco slipped off the edge of the fountain and brushed off his smart black trousers as he stood. For a few moments nothing further was said until Draco, with his body turned away from Harry, nodded and took a deep breath.

"I need to find my father." Harry refrained from pointing out that Lucius had died in Azkaban the previous year, realising that to get Draco out of Limbo, he needed his trust, and therefore he needed to seem willing to help Draco accomplish this task.

"Why do you need to find him?"

"I…" Draco stuttered for a minute, bringing his arms around his body and hugging himself as he tried to think of his answer. Now that he looked over Draco, Harry realised the other man was dressed in his old Slytherin uniform, only an adjusted version to fit his forty-five year old form. "I just do."

"But why, Draco?" Harry knew pushing Draco was like waving a red rag to a bull, and the results would be just as spectacular.

"Why the fuck does it matter to you, Potter?" Draco spun around and glared at Harry, his eyes keeping a steady gaze but his hands were shaking at his sides.

"Because if I'm going to help you I need more information."

"I don't need your help though! You're the one forcing it on me! I've been doing this for twenty years, Potter-"

"And you still haven't found him, have you?" Draco briefly looked as if Harry had slapped him before he recovered.

"And what makes you think having you around will make the search any more successful?"

"Two heads are better than one, right?" Harry smiled winningly and Draco rolled his eyes, but the lack of acerbic retort was as much of an agreement as Harry was going to get.

The two set off walking through the cobbled streets of Draco's Limbo, and Harry felt momentarily disorientated when the narrow street of terracotta-roofed houses stopped abruptly to make way for a panorama of green fields and English countryside that Harry recognised from the past.

"Your father isn't at the Manor, Draco." Draco paused slightly ahead of Harry, not looking back as he spoke.

"And how do you know that, Potter?"

"Because I've already been inside the Manor and there is nothing there." Draco wrenched his gaze away from the grand Malfoy home that stood proudly before them in order to shoot another suspicious glance at Harry.

"And why were you inside my Manor?" Harry briefly considered lying or evading the question, but he didn't want to drag this out any longer than was necessary; he missed the real Draco, his Draco, the Draco whose limp body was lying on the chaise longue of his study where Harry had placed him after hearing the crash from Draco's potions lab and finding the blond unconscious on the ground.

"Because I was looking for you, Draco." Draco didn't seem to know how to respond to that, so Harry carried on. "No one was at the Manor, no one was at Hogwarts, no one was in Gringotts…" Harry smiled briefly as he remembered the incredulity he had felt when he realised Draco's subconscious had reconstructed the lopsided bank building here in Limbo. "I've been searching this place for years, Draco, and I haven't found anyone else here but you."

In all honesty, he hadn't been looking for anyone else, but the fact remained that this place was deserted.

"Why are you looking for your father, Draco?" Maybe it was the pleading tone of his voice, or maybe it was the realisation that if Harry Potter, universally recognised Saviour of the Wizarding World, had spent years in this place and not found his father then the task itself might be futile, but either way it seemed as if Draco's resistance was crumbling.

"Because he knows the way out." It was hard to reconcile that statement with the forty-five-year-old version of Draco who stood in front of him. It was a statement and a tone of voice that made Harry feel as though he was in fact talking to a younger version of Draco, younger even than the Draco whose mind he had entered to bring his boyfriend back; that statement was one of the seventeen-year-old to whom that Slytherin uniform belonged.

"What do you mean, Draco?"

"When we were here before, he was the one who got us out, who got us home, but I can't remember how. I've been trying to remember for twenty years but I just can't." If it had been the seventeen-year-old version of Draco, Harry was sure that he would have been sobbing. As it was, the forty-five year old was simply wringing his hands in nervous agitation with a drawn expression on his pale face.

"You've been here before?" Draco nodded and tried to straighten out his hands but they were shaking too much. Harry walked over and took them in his own, unable to restrain himself from trying to comfort Draco any longer. Draco peered up at him, a shadow of recognition flitting briefly over his face before it was gone, but he didn't pull away even then.

"Yes, once during the War. My father and I were researching something for the Dark Lord while he was at the Manor. I don't remember what - everything is so disjointed and confused - but I know somehow we ended up here, and it was empty; empty of people, empty of buildings. So we built our own world. We built replicas of the most important buildings we could think of…" He trailed off and looked back up at Harry. "But you know all about those now, I suppose."

Harry nodded, unwilling to talk in case it prevented Draco from carrying on with his tale.

"Anyway, we were here for years. I think I'd almost forgotten that we'd ever lived anywhere else, but my father never forgot. I think his fear of failing the Dark Lord again was so deeply entrenched in him that he couldn't stop searching for a way out. All I remember is retiring to bed one evening and then the next thing I knew…I woke up on the floor of my father's study, back in my seventeen-year-old body, as if time hadn't been able to move on without us there.

"I think my father put me under some kind of enchantment so that I would forget a lot of what had happened, or so that I would disregard it as nothing more than an unusual dream, because I know I hardly thought of it before I came back here this time…but as soon as I did everything came back to me. Well, everything except how we got out."

"So you know this isn't real?" Harry had thought it would have been a lot harder to convince Draco to return with him, but he had to admit that it still stung that Draco couldn't seem to remember what they were to each other.

"What does 'real' even mean, Potter?" Suddenly the vulnerable seventeen-year-old was replaced by a weary, disillusioned forty-five year old. Harry was getting a headache trying to keep up with the many different sides of Draco Malfoy.

"Well…real is…" Draco perked a pale eyebrow in condescension, as if he could see Harry's thoughts and know that Harry had no idea how to define reality.

"Are you real, Potter?"

"What…yes, of course I'm real, Draco, I-"

"Prove it." Harry couldn't even think of a verbal response to that, so he just did what his instincts told him to do; he kissed him.

At first Harry could tell that Draco was confused; he stood there immobile for a few moments while Harry gently edged forwards, pressing his lips a little more insistently against Draco's until he felt the other man push back, hesitantly at first, as if not trusting that Harry wouldn't disappear if he let his control slip. But then Harry opened his mouth, coaxing Draco to follow, and when their tongues met neither could hold back anymore.

Harry brought his arms around Draco, tangling his fingers in the blond hair that felt exactly as soft as it did back home, while Draco pressed himself closer and closer to Harry. He gripped Harry's shoulders so tightly that Harry wouldn't have been able to move from that place even if he had wanted to. It was a needy, vulnerable gesture, as if Draco was afraid that Harry would leave him here alone again, and it made Harry's heart clench at the thought of how miserable the last twenty years must have been for Draco alone in his own subconscious.

Pulling back, Harry rested his forehead against Draco's, his right hand cupping the back of the other man's head.

"We…?" Draco looked up and, although outwardly he was still the forty-five year old version that resided in this place, Harry thought that he could at last see his own Draco in there somewhere, as if the kiss had given his subconscious the kick it needed to remember.

"Yeah." Harry smiled and kissed Draco's forehead gently, wrapping his arms around the other man in an embrace.

"And that's why you're here, to save me. How heroic." Draco surmised, and Harry could tell without seeing his face that the blond was smirking.

"Don't get cocky, Draco, or I'll just as easily leave you here." Harry warned, but his words were at odds with his actions as he rested his cheek on the top of Draco's head.

"Words, empty words." Draco shook his head, "We both know your Hero Senses would never allow you to abandon someone in need."

"They might make an exception for a snotty little brat like you."

"Whatever, Harry. Now, I assume you have a brilliant plan for our escape?"

Harry loosened his hold on Draco as the blond stepped back with an expectant look on his face. For a moment Harry couldn't help but wonder whether Draco would actually be this obnoxious at forty-five in reality. In a strange way, he hoped he would be.

"Erm…well-"

"You best have a plan, Potter." Okay, maybe a little less demanding would be preferable.

"Of course I have a plan, it's just…we have to die." Harry rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably as Draco's grey eyes bore into him.

"Excuse me?"

"That's how you get back from Limbo; you have to die. Your father must have killed you in your sleep last time to spare you the pain, because in this state you still feel pain, pain being in the mind and all…" Harry trailed off as he realised Draco's face was thoroughly unimpressed. "But yeah, we'll have to kill ourselves."

"And if you're wrong? If your plan fails?"

"It won't fail because I'm not wrong!"

"Harry, you forget that we were at school together. I remember your abject lack of concern for thinking things though thoroughly before acting and then ending up in sticky situations, but this is my life we're talking about here. I, unlike you, have not had the privilege of facing death twice and coming away unscathed!"

"Draco, trust me." Harry held Draco's face between his hands, his fingers rubbing soothingly over the other man's cheeks. Eventually, after a few moments, Draco closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath.

"Okay." He swallowed heavily and then looked up at Harry with a determined set to his jaw. "How do we do this?"

"However you want." Harry tried to smile but it didn't quite reach his eyes as he tried to ignore Draco's words; it was true that in the past his plans never really had gone as he'd hoped. But still, hadn't he always managed to come out on top somehow? He had to believe that would be the case now as well.

"Will…will you do it?"

"Draco…I can't kill you." Even if he wouldn't really die, Harry didn't think he'd ever be able to bring himself to hurt Draco, let alone kill him.

"Okay." Draco swallowed and took a steadying breath. "But I'm going first."

Harry couldn't quite stop himself from snorting at that. "Whatever you want."

"Because that way, if it goes wrong and I do actually die, I can come back and haunt you." His tone was threatening, but Harry could tell from Draco's eyes that he was using this to cover his fear.

Stepping forward and taking Draco's lips in a sweet kiss, Harry tried to reassure the blond (and maybe himself, too) that this would all work out fine and that, as wonderful as this felt after spending so long lost and alone in the blond's subconscious, it would be even better back in reality, back in their own twenty-five-year-old bodies.

When Draco pulled away he had a shining silver dagger in his hand.

"Leap of faith, right?" he flashed Harry a shaky grin before suddenly driving the dagger into his stomach, his knees buckling and a groan escaping his clenched teeth as the blade sank in to the hilt. Harry rushed forward to catch Draco as he fell, settling him down on the grass beneath them that was already fading to grey and which turned to dust under Draco's limp form.

Harry realised that Draco's Limbo was falling apart around him and he didn't have time to dwell on the sight of the stilling blond on the ground. Hoping that he would wake up in the wingback chair that he had pulled up next to the chaise longue in Draco's study, Harry yanked the knife from Draco's stomach and, with a last glimpse around him at the beautiful Manor crumbling to the ground in a cloud of dust, Harry plunged the knife into himself.

Falling to the ground next to Draco, Harry closed his eyes against the blood red sky above him.

Harry gasped as he woke up, blinking as he tried to adjust his eyes to the darkness of the study after the bright sunny scene outside Malfoy Manor.

"You are such an idiot." Draco was apparently still stretched out on the chaise longue, his face coming into view as Harry took his glasses from the desk and replaced them on the bridge of his nose.

Wandlessly gesturing for the wall sconces to be lit, Draco pulled himself up from his previous position and sauntered over to Harry, coming to a stop leaning against the desk in front of Harry with his arms folded across his chest.

"I am?"

"You are. You and your stupid Gryffindor Hero Complex."

"I'm sorry, are you complaining that I saved your life?"

"I'm complaining that you almost sacrificed your own to do so. There are trained professionals for that, Harry. There was no need for you to go in after me."

"Yeah, well, maybe I didn't like the thought of some random stranger invading your mind and prodding about in your subconscious."

"So you decided to do it yourself?" Draco shook his head in exasperation but there was no real bite to it.

"Why bother hiring someone else when you've got a world-famous hero right here at home?" Harry knew Draco well enough by now to know that making light of such situations was the only way forward; Draco was definitely not one to bare his soul and profess how scared he'd been or how he would be eternally grateful to Harry for bringing him back.

No, instead he simply sat down on Harry's lap and allowed his boyfriend to wrap him up in an embrace as he buried his once-more youthful face against Harry's neck and planted a soft kiss there.

"Well, quite."

"So then, aren't you going to fall to your knees and start worshipping your rescuer?"

Draco just settled in closer to Harry before replying.

"In your dreams, Potter."

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