Author's notes: I wrote this for the dramione-remix round 3 2012. This is my first story ever and it is complete. I'll update once a week, hopefully. My main language is not English but thanks to the wonderful dormiensa this fic is BETAed. Thank you for bearing with my mistakes :)

My prompt couple: Bonnie/Clyde. Warnings: sexual content, strong language, and violence.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe. This fic was made for fun and not for profit, if that were the case I would be a rich woman (which I'm not).

Part I

The first thing Harry Potter saw after waking up was the ruins that used to be the front facade of the Hogwarts castle. He sat up where he was. His hands touched something cold on the ground: it was snow.

How in the hell could it be snowing in May?

He got up and decided to check his surroundings. They were empty; not a living soul was near and there was only a backpack beside him that definitely wasn't his. He reached to grab it when a weird sensation came over his body, an odd feeling like he was inside an astronaut suit, able to touch something but not really feel; but all he saw was his gloved hands. Then, he became aware of his clothes. They weren't the ones Hermione had picked for him after his visit to Gringotts. He was dressed in a heavy snow cloak that he'd never seen in his life. Forgetting his clothes for a moment, he returned his attention to the backpack.

He searched through it and found a few sheets of parchment, a few supplies, and a wand, but it wasn't his. The air was getting cooler and darker, the castle looked haunted, dark and uninviting and nothing of the castle he remembered.

Harry was getting impatient and his head hurt with too many questions. Where was he? Better yet, why was Hogwarts like this? Why was it snowing in May? Where was everyone? What happened to Voldemort?

His last memory was that he was dueling with Voldemort one moment and in the next, everything went black.

He decided to go to Hogsmeade, thinking the small village might have more answers than the ruins.

The journey from the castle to Hogsmeade was as different as the castle itself. No grass, no little animals. Even the Whomping Willow was missing. It was like a drought had hit the surroundings, leaving everything infertile and him wondering if he was dreaming.

His feeling of lack of control was not appeased by that thought.

He tried to make sense of what had happened between his blacking out during his duel and waking up on the grounds of a destroyed castle. It was strange and he couldn't quite accept that he had seemingly only closed his eyes for a moment, only to open them to desolation.

Thankfully, Hogsmeade wasn't as different as the last time he was there, with all the shops closed and the streets giving off a sense of abandonment…

"Pst… Mr. Zabini," he heard someone whisper.

Harry searched for the voice; he saw nothing, just the empty main street. Seconds later, a movement from the corner of Honeydukes caught his eye.

"Mr. Zabini! Over here!" An old lady, vaguely familiar, called to him.

"Zabini?" he said.

The old lady gave him a funny look and said, "Tall, dark skinned, and high cheek bones. Miss Granger told me about you."

Harry was taken aback. He didn't know what to say. Never in his life has he been mistaken for someone else. He hated The-Boy-Who-Lived stuff, but he was kind of hurt he was not recognized for who he was. How could she have mistaken him for Blaise Zabini?

He turned his face, deciding what to say, when he saw the reflection of his face in a window.

What. The. Hell.

The reflection didn't show a pale, raven-haired boy with glasses and a funny scar but a dark skinned man in a snow cloak. The old lady cleared her throat to catch his attention again, and instead of asking her anything, he acknowledged with a nod.

He needed her to trust him if he wanted answers.

"Come here, then." The woman said, giving him look full of mistrust, a different look than the one she gave him at first. He supposed he shouldn't have hesitated, but in his defence, it was quite a shock to discover he now sported Zabini's face.

He followed her into the alley next to the building. She turned and walked into a small, old barn at the end of the passageway.

The woman quickened her pace and ran into the barn then immediately stepped inside; he followed suit. She gave him a relieved look and started searching for something in an old and dusted bookcase; Hermione would have reprimanded its owner over the state of these books. He chuckled, imagining her face and wondering where she was—and the Weasleys and everyone else, for that matter. He kept thinking about his friends and almost missed what the old lady was saying.

"… you have to understand, Mr. Zabini. In times like this, one can't be too careful. No one is who he says he is."

He didn't understand. "What?" he asked, confused.

The lady faced him and replied, "You know, the wards against the Ministry people and their lot."

"What?" he squawked. The woman pointed at his feet, where he saw odd-looking runes, and said, "The runes Miss Granger set up for our protection." She turned her back to him again and continued looking in the bookcase.

"You know where Hermione is?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course I don't!" she said. "She was here a few days ago. She said she won't be here until maybe after New Years'."

"Do you know how to reach her?" He was getting desperate, but the woman seemed to not have heard his question.

"AHA!" She reached and dusted an old book. "Here it is! Take it. Maybe it can help with your problem. Professor Snape gave me all his books from the Hogwarts library ten years ago. But I can count with one hand how many times they've been used since. Miss Granger had this look like she swallowed something disgusting when she saw this bookcase, but what can I do? It would look suspicious if I had them clean and shiny when hardly anyone can read them."

His heart ached at the mention of Snape, the bravest and most misunderstood man he had ever known. He took the book and saw the title, "Healing the Dark, Book III: Blood Curses". Harry opened the book and saw only runes. Great, what in the hell would he do with a book he could not read?

"What do I do with this?" He said, frustrated, then added, "what problem?" He didn't hear her answer because something began to burn in his chest. He reached underneath his clothes and realized he was wearing two necklaces he hadn't seen before: one necklace had a silver ferret pedant that glowed and burned his fingers. Before he could inspect it further, the necklace shot a blinding light. Then, he disappeared.

Part II

After the nauseating and blinding feeling of Portkeying, the first thing Harry did even before opening his eyes was to search for his wand in his coat. Thank Merlin! He'd had the forethought of pulling his wand from his backpack into his pocket. It was always best to be prepared for anything.

He was in a fancy-looking living room, with a mahogany tea table, green, rich furniture, and large french windows with green drapes, but he couldn't see any picture or anything that might give away where he was. A room worthy of a wealthy Slytherin, he thought.

An uneasy feeling settled in his belly when he saw a large door open.

A ginger haired man entered the room and fixed his gaze on him. "Just in time, Zabini. Did you get the book? Hermione is getting on my nerves bitching about how she does not enough research material. Why the hell didn't she take the bloody book when she was there?"

Perhaps Harry couldn't be one hundred percent sure of the looks, but he was sure about the voice. After seven years of hearing it constantly, how could he not?

He knew this man.

"Ron?"

The red haired man looked to be in his late-twenties or early-thirties, with a strong and large body—the body of a warrior, not a seventeen-year-old schoolboy.

"Yeah… did you get it?" Ron gave him the same look of mistrust the old woman gave him.

"Ron, it's me! Your best friend!"

"Zabini, no offence, but we're not at that level of trust with each other. You may be better that Nott, but we're not best friends. Besides, Malfoy gives the best Christmas presents, so …" He shrugged.

"Malfoy? ... NO! I'm not Zabini, I'm Harry Potter!" He prayed to whatever deity that Ron would believe that he really was Harry Potter.

"That's not funny, Zabini." Ron seemed to think he was an imposter altogether because he reached for his wand.

"I'm not joking, Ron! I'm not Zabini, I'm Harry! Ask me anything and let me prove it to you!"

"Harry has been dead for the last ten years, Zabini! This isn't funny anymore!" Ron snapped.

"Dead?" Harry squawked. "No! I'm not dead. I just woke up in front of Hogwarts and then Portkeyed here! I'll prove it!"

"Fine. I don't believe you, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Tell me something that only Harry could've known." Ron said without lowering his wand.

"Um… all right, let me think…"

It seemed that he paused for too long because Ron looked ready to hex him. Harry quickly said, "YOU ONCE HAD A WET DREAM ABOUT FLEUR DELACOUR AFTER THE SECOND TASK DURING THE TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT IN FOURTH YEAR!"

Ron's face became as red as his hair before he reprimanded, "SHHHH! You prick! She can hear you. She's in the next room!" Then, his face went blank. "This doesn't prove anything. You could have used Legilimens," he added.

"You know I never figured out Legilimency or Occlumency. Use Veritaserum or something!" Harry hoped that there was a way to prove the truth.

"If you're willing to any means, then I'm taking you to Malfoy." Ron taunted.

"Malfoy… Why?" Why on earth would Ron trust anything to Draco Malfoy, pure-blood supremacist and general git?

Ron sensed his apprehension and said, "He's the closest we have to a Potions Master in the house, and I trust him."

"Why?" Harry asked again.

"Malfoy is one of the leaders…" Ron replied. Harry was speechless, although there were a million of questions bursting in his mind. Ron shut him up with something close to a evil grin, adding "… and Hermione's husband."

…

Harry Potter felt that his brain had melted to goo, so much had happened since he woke up. How much time had actually passed while he was unconscious? But what kept bothering him the whole time he was being moved at wandpoint were the same recurring thoughts. Hermione was married to Malfoy? He had been dead for ten years? He was Blaise Zabini?

Down the hallway they traversed, an endless number of green tapestries hung on the walls. Harry suspected that all the paintings had been taken down a long time ago, and during their removal, some had put a fight. The y stopped in front of tall oak doors at the end of the hall.

Ron knocked three times before he opened the door. He stepped inside, urging Harry to follow. Harry was greeted by a chamber full of books; there was no wall without a packed bookcase. He saw that there were no windows in the room, only one skylight under which was a grand desk with a blond man behind it.

"What do you want, Weasley? Is dinner ready?" The blond man asked without lifting his head from the long parchment he was reading.

"I need your assistance, Malfoy." Ron requested.

At this, Malfoy lifted his head.

Now, Harry could see the changes in Malfoy. He wasn't as large as Ron, but he wasn't thin, either. He had his long, white-blond hair in a ponytail, making him look like a young version of Lucius Malfoy.

"What is it?" He said, fixing his gaze on Harry.

"Zabini says he's Harry Potter. I asked him something that only Harry could know and he answered correctly. But I'm not completely convinced. I don't know who this man is, but he's certainly not Zabini." Ron kept his gaze fixed on the former Slytherin, daring him to laugh.

Malfoy didn't but replied, "And what did he reply, if may I ask? The number of wet dreams you had starring Madame Rosmerta?"

"This is serious, Malfoy!" Ron pulled out his wand.

Malfoy seemed to sense finally how tense the red-haired man truly was. "What do you want me to do, Weasley?"

"Veritaserum and Legilimency," Ron replied.

"All right, but for this case, it would be better with my own truth serum, I think." Malfoy pulled out a tiny green bottle from a drawer of his desk and stood, walking towards Harry. Ron ordered Harry to sit, after summoning a chair, and to take the bottle from Malfoy.

"Cheers," Harry said before drinking the acidic liquid. He felt as if he'd just sucked a sour lemon. The liquid impregnated his throat and a rush of heat went to his brain. This feeling, added to the anxious feeling in his stomach, did nothing to help his nervousness.

Ron checked Harry's eyes, noting his dilated pupils, and began with the interrogation.

"What's your name?"

"Harry James Potter."

"What day is it today?"

"Before I woke up, it was May 2, 1998. But you claim that ten years have passed since I woke up, so I don't know the answer to that question."

At this, Ron stared pointedly at Draco. He continued the interrogation.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"Casting a spell against Vol—"—Ron quickly shushed him, although he motioned for him to continue—"… the Dark Lord. Then, everything went black."

The interrogation went on after that, with questions like, "Who were your parents?" "What was the last thing Dumbledore said to you?" and other questions about his childhood. Afterwards, the Slytherin used Legilimency on him and confirmed his answers.

"This is weird. He has Potter's memories. It has been more than two hours, so he isn't Polyjuiced, making this is Zabini's body…" Malfoy was interrupted when Ron hugged Harry like the lost friend he was.

"Harry! It really is you! I've missed you so much!" The Gryffindor cried.

"Ron, I've missed you, too, but to me, it seems I just saw you in the Great Hall not long ago." Harry responded, fighting the urge to cry.

"How cozy, The Golden Trio reunited. Well, almost. Just add Hermione and the picture is complete. I always knew you had a thing for Potter, Weasley." Draco sneered without malice.

"Shut it," Ron responded without letting go of Harry. "How did you come back? It's been so long."

"Yeah Potter, all that bullshit about The-Boy-Who-Lived ended up being true after all. How did you do it?"

The three men were interrupted by a knock. The door opened, revealing a brown-haired witch.

"Draco, it's time for dinner... Oh Ron! Blaise! Dinner is ready. Blaise, did Mrs. Figg give you the book?"

"Hermione! This is not Zabini! This is Harry! We already interrogated him and confirmed it!" Ron's face was as bright as a kid inside a toy store.

"That's not funny, Ron!" Hermione chided the man.

"It's true, love." Draco said to Hermione.

"Harry? How?" Hermione must have really trusted Malfoy because she ran to hug Harry. She kept saying his name but couldn't help asking him the same questions as Ron.

"This would be better with some food, don't you think? Or better yet, Firewhiskey." Malfoy said, but everyone ignored him.

Hermione, still hugging Harry, responded, "Oh yes, you must be starving Harry! Come on!"

With all that had happened, Harry hadn't had time to think about food, but now he realized he was starving. He couldn't recall the last time that he ate, so the sound of food was appealing. The four walked along the same hallway that Harry and Ron had just traversed. Ron keep hugging him with one arm. Hermione was doing the same until Malfoy put his arm around her shoulders, nudging her to walk ahead of them.

With this arrangement, Harry was able to observe Hermione and the changes in her. Her hair wasn't curly any longer; she had pixie cut. It didn't make her ugly per se... just different; she was rather pretty… and she was a woman now. That was the most radical change; she was still petite but with curves in the right places.

He became embarrassed thinking about his best friend's body but couldn't stop looking her. Malfoy lowered his arm to her waist and Harry suddenly remembered they were married.

"Is it true you two are married?" To Harry it was impossible, but he couldn't deny what his eyes were seeing.

Hermione turned to look at him and said, "Yes, Draco and I have been married the last five years."