author's notes:

* one of the strange pleasures of fiction is the possibilities of worlds that would never normally know each other meeting up. so when JohnsArmyLady challenged me to write a three-way cross-over story, i rose to it...

* this crossover contains characters from Harry Potter, Torchwood ánd Sherlock... and a bit of men liking other men... if you don't like, don't read...

* re. Torchwood - in my world, the third and fourth series have never happened... also Tosh and Owen haven't perished... this way i'm righting a very big wrong, i feel :-)

1. leap of faith

The day had started out normal enough. It had rained, and Draco Malfoy was busy trying to block it out with some violin music, while reading an old book on Magic Potions, written by his one-time Hogwarts professor, Severus Snape. He needed to, for research purposes, hoped that this would provide him with an angle that would make sense of the stuff he'd been working out for months now – a spell for (or rather: against) flatulence. The Ministry was keen on a result, and Draco was keen to give them one, but so far, not much had made sense. He had even asked an old fellow student, Neville Longbottom, for advice, knowing that he was studying herbs that had similar effects to the potions that he was working out, but Neville had nothing that could help him out in any kind of way.

Draco saw dark clouds still gathered over the beach that he looked out at through the window at the front of the old guesthouse where he had booked a room for a few weeks. He was going to speak to an old Witch with centuries of knowledge and who lived along the Welsh coast, on an unplottable piece of land that even he had some trouble finding. The Witch had been handy, and her knowledge had been very useful, but still Draco had trouble trying to locate a few of the ingredients, which the Witch said could be found along the coast of Wales, but failed to give him clues as to where exactly, as she was called away suddenly for Urgent Business (non-specified, he knew about those kind of Business trips only too well). He was quite happy to be away from Scotland for a while, as his relationship had been in a bit of a pickle, and space was very much needed, he felt. Even if his partner didn't…

He cooked some water in the small cauldron provided in a corner of the room, intent on having a cup of tea, and threw in some herbs that should calm his nerves a little, leave him feeling less frayed, and waited for the smells to be just right. The book with spells was directed back onto the pile next to his desk, and Draco went to lie down on his bed, when he heard a strange rumbling noise.

"Oh great," he thought, "thunder, just what I need…"

He was hoping to go for a walk along the beach after he'd had his tea, and then have a meal in the intriguing looking restaurant a few buildings on from the guesthouse, called The Gaping Fish, avoid the food in the guesthouse for an evening (Mrs Meagle was not the best cook in the world, but insisted on providing her guests with something splendid and hearty, as she'd call it. She was also very hard to say no to. Draco had managed to convince her that he was going to spend an evening with some friends, and she was okay with that… It was just like being back at Hogwarts, he'd thought. Even any of his boyfriends had never been that demanding…).

The rumbling noise faded away again, and Draco closed his eyes for a minute. He missed his home, suddenly. He missed having a meal cooked for him, and a cup of coffee brought to him, and the company of a lovely warm body in his bed when he was reading up for work, that warm, deep voice telling him that he shouldn't take too long, that he needs his sleep… Those dark, messy locks that framed that handsome face when Draco looked down from his book, and green eyes that looked up into his, and that smile…

More rumbling, and this time it was a lot more ominous sounding than the previous time, louder, and deeper, and the sky seemed to be going completely black now. Draco walked up to the window to see if it was clear out there what was going on, but more than darkness that had enveloped the Welsh coast wasn't visible. Flashes of lightening appeared, and a sudden quietness that was rather eerie, a bit like what happened to the world whenever Lord Voldemort was about to make his presence known to those in the wizard world. His presence and his power…

Draco felt uncomfortable, like he used to in the days that the battle raged at Hogwarts, all those years ago. Something unpleasant was about to happen, he felt it in his gut, but what was it? The threat that Lord Voldemort used to pose was gone; Harry Potter and his friends had made sure of that (as Harry would remind him of every now and then, jokingly, saying that if it hadn't been for him and his mates, there wouldn't have been much chance of them being together at all, and wouldn't that be an awful thought), so it must be something else, another threat, but before Draco had the chance to come up with something viable, the world around him seemed to turn into something that resembled hell in his head – the wall next to his desk opened up, to let the sight of raging fire in, and then wind started blowing, making an enormous, thundering noise, blocking out anything else, like the ticking of the rain on his window. The gap in the wall emanated a foul smell, like trolls that hadn't bathed for months, and Draco felt like heaving, sat himself down on the bed to stop from falling down, and from the corner of his eyes he noticed a black, veiled, translucent figure appear, floating, and moving towards him. It looked vaguely like a Dementor, but before Draco had the chance to figure out what it actually was, he passed out and fell into a deep sleep.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

When Mycroft Holmes entered the living room of the small cottage he'd rented for a week a few hours later, he had expected nothing remotely resembling what he actually found. He thought there might have been Sherlock, his brother, ready to spoil his short, but desperately needed time-out here on the west coast of Wales. He also almost expected Anthea, his PA, tapping away on her Blackberry, waiting for him to return from his walk and tell him that The Country Needed Him… He even wouldn't have been thoroughly surprised if someone from the Ministry of Defence had been standing by the window… But instead he found a blonde young man, lying on his sofa, in a very deep sleep. He was lying on top of the blanket, draped as if placed there, arranged even, and Mycroft was taken aback a little by the view. He was rather beautiful, this young man, all elegant and slender, gracious looking, and he found himself staring at the sight before him, appreciating it quite a lot.

Mycroft stepped a little closer, trying to take in the way things had turned. He had just been for a long walk along the beach that stretched out on both sides of the cottage, which was quite small, but very cosy and just what he needed for a short break from the demands made on him in London. No demands were made on him here, nobody wanted him, and he could do what he pleased. And all he pleased was books, and walks, and the odd cup of coffee. The thought of lovely looking young chaps had indeed entered his mind once in a while, but this wasn't really what he'd expected.

Snapping himself out of the daze he had slipped into, Mycroft moved forward a little more, wanting to make sure that the vision in front of him was actually still alive, and he moved a hand towards the young man's face, near his nose, and decided that he was indeed breathing, if only slightly. Quickly he moved away again, not wanting to be too close in case the fair-haired lad on his settee was to wake and god knows what he might be thinking…

He looked around him, wondering how this guy had been able to get into his room. The door hadn't been forced, and the window was, although slightly ajar, locked as well, and no signs of a break-in were found. He could see no hatch door above him, coming from the ceiling, nor was there a door in any of the walls, hiding a secret passage way to another room. He kneeled down, looking for evidence of the carpet having been moved, or there being any sign of entrance there, but there too was not a clue as to how he could've been provided with a guest. A quick look upstairs ruled out ways of entering there as well.

Feeling rather flummoxed, and out of ideas, Mycroft sat down in the armchair near the window. The wind was playing with the net curtain, making it dance, and providing a view outside every now and then. The world was dark, with a few lights along the beach, but a serenity remained, nothing like it had been an hour or so before. There had been a thunderstorm, out of the blue, with lightning and a sudden darkness, and Mycroft had to make his way fast to a nearby beach café to hide from it. The freak storm lasted only minutes, and went away as quickly as it appeared, and while Mycroft and a few other customers in the café were nourishing their tea, the world looked rather lovely again, with the sun going down and the sky a bright orangey pink. As if nothing had happened.

There was some stirring on the settee, and slight groaning, and Mycroft swiftly turned his head to make out what his 'guest' was up to. He saw that the blonde tried to lift his head up, then thought better of that, and groaned some more. He rubbed his face with one hand, seemed to be taking in the surroundings by slowly turning his head, and when his eyes arrived at Mycroft, he stopped.

"Who are you?" he croaked.

"May I ask the same of you?" Mycroft answered in his usual unruffled manner, not taking his eye off the man on his settee.

"Why am I here? Have you abducted me?" the blonde spoke suddenly in a bewildered way, having lifted his head off the sofa now, carefully.

"No I have not. You were here when I came back from my walk, I found you, sleeping on my sofa, and I'm very intrigued to find out why that is…'

Nothing.

"And your name is…?"

"Um… Don't know…"

"Don't know… How convenient…"

"I don't know! I can't tell you cos I don't know…" the young man sounded fairly desperate now, and fell back onto the settee, with his hands in front of his eyes.

"Alright now, calm down… Whatever happened to you may have caused you a slight trauma to the head. I shall make you a cup of tea. Maybe things will start to come back in a short while…"

Mycroft moved towards the electric kettle in the tiny kitchen and with it walked up to the sink near the window, filling it with fresh water. While doing so he felt the eyes of the young man boring into his back, and this bothered him somewhat. Looking around to see what he was doing, he realised that he needn't worry much, as the lad on the settee was just about able to move himself to a sitting position, all the while groaning and looking upset.

"Don't strain yourself too much," Mycroft said, feeling a rush of concern. Where did that come from?

"My head…" the boy whimpered. He then noticed what Mycroft was doing and looked very confused. "What are you doing?"

"Boiling water so that I can make some tea for us…" Mycroft looked confused now. The trauma must be severe then…

"What, you don't use a cauldron? And there's no fire!"

"Um, no… We're not camping out in the woods now, are we?" God forbid, he added silently to that.

"Then how does the water boil?"

"Electricity…?"

"Sorry?"

"Elec… Look, don't strain yourself, okay? You've obviously had quite a trauma, if the simple concept of electric kettles puzzles you in this way."

The kettle came to boiling point and clicked off, spooking the young man a little, and he watched Mycroft with beady eyes as he picked up two mugs from a tray on the table, placed a small paper bag in each of them, poured steaming water from the strange white device into the mugs and left them to stew for a while. The bags were then taken out again with a teaspoon, and Mycroft asked if he wanted milk in his tea. Confused eyes stared back.

"No then… Here you go, I'll put your mug on the coffee table, you let it cool down a little first."

They sat in silence for a bit. Mycroft kept staring at the lad on his sofa, and the young man looked around the room, trying to make sense of where he was. He noticed a mirror near the fireplace, and looked at himself in it. Mycroft saw something happen, observed the small changes in his demeanour. His eyes seemed to realise something, and a smile appeared on his face.

"I remember now," the boy said. "I just looked in that mirror there, and think I know who I am."

"Okay then, out with it…"

"I'm... I'm Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy estate."

"Okay…" Mycroft wrecked his brain to figure out why he had never heard of this name before. All important families were known to him.

"I'm a wizard."

"You're a what?!"

"I'm a wizard, I work as a Healer, and I do research for the Ministry. And I live with Harry…" he carried on, oblivious to the utter confusion the other man in the room was in. "Harry! I must know how he's doing…" and he looked around for his wand, needing suddenly to get an owl to send a message. "Where's my wand? What have you done with it?"

"Your what? You talk in riddles, boy…"

'I need my wand, I have to get a message over to my partner, let him know I'm okay."

"You can use my phone, if you want…"

"Sorry?"

"My phone, to send a message… To let your boyfriend know…"

"I need an owl, Mr…"

"Oh, right… Mycroft Holmes," he answered as he held out his hand. Then: "Owl?!" staring at Draco slightly bewildered. "You really think you're a wizard?"

"I know I'm a wizard, Mr Holmes." Draco smiled a very striking, cocky smile at the older man in the room. "And a brilliant one at that."

Mycroft laughed, spilling some of his tea on his shirt, and looked at Draco, who stared back with charming confidence. "You're serious…"

"Yep, I'm serious… Here, let me show you," Draco looked around to see what would be harmless enough for a quick magic spell, and decided that the third mug would be fine. He concentrated, felt his head hurt a little, and pointed a hand at the white mug on the tray on the table, mumbled 'accio mug' and waited for the mug to move. When nothing moved, he tried it again, speaking slightly louder, but still the mug stayed put. Draco looked up to see Mycroft stare back, with eyebrows aloft.

"Some magic," he said.

"Maybe this room is hexed… It's happened before, and some spells wouldn't work. I'll try another…" he closed his eyes for some extra concentration and pointed his hand at the cup once more. "Wingardium Leviosa..."

Still nothing…

"Weird… I haven't needed my wand for years… Not since Harry taught me… Why won't it fly?"

"Because you're not really a wizard, and you're trying to wind me up?" Mycroft unfolded his arms and sat in the chair by the window, holding his mugs of tea near his face. "Just a wild stab..."

"I am, a wizard, Mr Holmes. Whether you believe me or not… Not many Muggles have come across…"

"Muggles? What in heaven's name is a Muggle? Where are you from, Mr Malfoy?"

"I live in Scotland, at the moment, but I've lived in Malfoy Manor, which is in Somerset until I went to boarding school, up in Scotland... Far away from people like you, so that I can do what it is I need to do… As I said, people like you…"

"Muggles," Mycroft said with an air of drama.

"Well, yes, you are unfamiliar with what we do, I've seen it before. And to explain what I am to you would mean you taking rather a big leap of faith, and I won't ask that of you… I do however need my wand back so if you have taken that from me, I would appreciate it if I could have to returned, thank you." Draco looked persistently at Mycroft, who stared at him is disbelief.

"I haven't seen a wand, Mr Malfoy. And if you don't mind, I would like to have a quick look on my laptop to see if I can find anything out about you. If of course you have given me your real name, and not some fictional one, cos that sounds funkier…"

"You do what you have to do, Mr Holmes." Draco pulled his legs up to wrap his arms around them and watched Mycroft's moves closely. "And what may I ask is it that you do, then? You exude a certain authority, a bit like my father used to, when he still meant something in the wizard world."

Mycroft smiled. He liked to be recognised for his standing, even by a strange young man like this one.

"I work for the government. But I can't tell you in what capacity... I'd have to shoot you, okay? Now, let me see… Malfoy, you said… Are there various spelling forms?"

Draco watched as his name was under scrutiny, saw the Muggle government man taping away on a keyboard and frown heavily. He tapped some more, looked at him and sighed.

"You're not in here," he heard.

"No, of course not. The Malfoys are unfindable in the Muggle World, we make sure of that…"

"But I can find something about that Ministry of Magic that you mentioned earlier. Why haven't I come across that before…?" Mycroft moved a hand to his mouth, assuming pondering mode. "The Prime Minister apparently gets a visit from one of your people once in a while… How come I didn't know this?!"

"Maybe your PM wanted to keep us to himself?" Draco smiled mischievously, and saw that this wasn't much appreciated. "Sorry…"

"Classified, apparently. Even for me…" Mycroft got his phone out, and pressed a few buttons on it, looking for a phone number, then put the machine to his ear and waited, lifting a finger towards Draco, mumbling, "Just a minute…"

Draco smiled, and made his way off the bed, very carefully. He had a quick look to determine whether or not his wand was around, did a quick accio wand, and sighed when nothing much happened.

"Yes, hello, Prime Minister, Holmes here, hi… Yes, I know… I'll be back soon, don't worry. No, I know, I apologise for the sudden nature of this, but I will be of so much more use to you next week… Oh, I see. Yes, I get that… again: apologies for that. I shall get Nigel on the case, sir. Just a quick query to you, sir, I have a young man here with me… no, not like that… and he's determined that he's a wizard. Now, I'm all for getting the asylum involved, but I found on the site that you have certain dealings with the Ministry of Magic, is that right? Oh… right… Okay… I see… Yes, I shall not bother you any more today… Thank you very much, sir, and I'll speak to you next week… Okay, cheers…"

"Well?" Draco asked.

"Well… Apparently you're right, about that Ministry… Apparently you guys do exist, and there's been a few more cases reported just now, of wizards trapped in our world. Something to do with that strange storm a little earlier today."

"Trapped?"

"Yes, trapped, and there's only one place that I can think of that wouldn't be alarmed by this, and possibly be sufficiently qualified to deal with it…"

"What, aurors?" Draco asked perplexed.

"No! Not aurors, whatever they are…" Mycroft looked a tad annoyed. He opened his laptop again and started looking for the information that he needed. When he found it, he turned the screen towards Draco, who stared at it nonplussed.

"What am I looking at?"

"This… Torchwood…" Mycroft snapped. "They'll know what to do…"