Harry Potter was non-responsive, practically catatonic. There was loud chattering and clamoring all around him, the sounds of people trying to figure out what was happening, but none of it reached him. He stared at the floor, swaying on his feet, vaguely hearing his name a few times. Everything was so loud. He just wanted it to go away. He desperately wanted to return to the sweet dream, where everything had seemed so perfect, even if just for a few minutes.

And then he could hear Fudge, yelling at Dumbledore, followed by a horrible wrenching feeling in his gut. He landed on the floor of Dumbledore's office, and just laid there, the cold stone floor almost comforting to him. The portraits on the wall were murmuring, wondering what was wrong with the student who had so abruptly appeared on the floor. He ignored them, closing his eyes and trying to block everything out.

How could he have been so stupid? If he had just been smarter, Sirius wouldn't be dead. If he had just tried harder to learn Legilimency, Sirius wouldn't be dead. If he had just listened to Hermione, if he had been more patient, if, if, if…

Silent tears rolled down his cheeks, he no longer had the energy to actually cry. He was still lying on the floor when the fireplace roared to life in a blaze of green light. He slowly pushed himself up off the ground, not looking Dumbledore in the eye.

He heard Dumbledore telling him that everyone was going to be fine. Nobody had been badly injured. It was great news. Everybody would recover. Sadly, Harry found that he didn't care. What did it matter that everyone was fine when Sirius was dead, and he wasn't?

He cleared his throat, closing his eyes for a moment. "Could we…talk later, professor? I need to lay down…"

Dumbledore seemed taken aback. He peered at Harry over his half-moon glasses, looking worried. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "Yes, Harry. Rest for now. We can continue this conversation as soon as you're feeling a bit better."

"Thank you," Harry nodded, heading for the door. It was a long walk back to Gryffindor tower when one felt this tired. Once out in the hall, he leaned against a wall, trying to steady his breathing. He could still see his mother, smiling so sweetly, flour on her cheek from the pancakes she'd made to go along with the eggs.

Dragging himself through the castle, he finally made it to the boys' dorm, where he promptly collapsed on his bed. He wasn't looking forward to when he would have to talk to Dumbledore again, but for now, he would just sleep. His eyes closed again, and he slowly drifted off into a peaceful oblivion.

Harry woke to somebody jabbing him painfully in the side. He opened his eyes with an annoyed growl, only to find that he was staring up at a rather cheerful looking Draco Malfoy. He was confused. What was Malfoy doing in his dorm, poking him, and looking happy?

"You look like shit, Potter." Malfoy grinned. "Your mum said you passed out like some pansy."

"M-Malfoy…?" Harry rubbed his face, slowly sitting up. What the hell was going on?

"No, I'm Ronald Weasely." The blonde said sarcastically. "Did you hit your head or something when you fell?"

Harry was still trying to figure out what was going on. As he slowly gathered his surroundings, he realized that he wasn't in the Gryffindor dormitories. Instead, it appeared, he was back in his bedroom from the dream. "Um," He looked back over at Malfoy. "How long have I been unconscious for?" "A few hours." Draco had a concerned look on his face. It was rather disconcerting for Harry. "You really had your mum and Sirius worried. I'll go let them know you're up. You get ready to leave."

"Leave?" Harry was confused again. "Where are we going?" He'd decided, that as strange as this dream was, since it was nothing more than a dream, he might as well go along with it.

Draco stared at him for a second. "How hard did you hit your head again?" He asked, almost sarcastically. "My dad's taking us to the game, remember?"

"O-Oh…right." He moved to stand up from the bed. Apparently, he'd be spending his afternoon with his rival and his death eater father. That was going to turn out well. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he walked over to what he assumed was his dresser.

"Alright, well, I'll be downstairs when you're ready." Draco waved nonchalantly at him and walked to the door.

Ater Draco had left, Harry sat back down on his bed, trying to sort out his thoughts. He'd had some strange dreams before, but why was he dreaming about being friends with Draco? And unlike most dreams, things were consistent here. In any normal dream, if he were to think back over what had happened so far, things would be fuzzy and rather nonsensical. This dream, however, he could even remember what happened in the previous one. Everything just seemed so real, as if he was ending up in an alternate reality every time he lost consciousness.

Sighing, he decided he would try to figure out what was going on later. For now, he needed to find something to wear to the quidditch game it seemed he would be seeing today. He went through his clothes in frustration. It was so odd that instead of seeing the ugly hand-me-downs that used to be Dudley's, he was now seeing rather nice dress robes and casual robes. Not being positive of what type of robes one would wear to a quidditch match, he grabbed a rather neutral looking navy blue set.

After getting dressed, he exited his room, trying to find his way down the hall and to the stairs. Several minutes later he'd made his way to the kitchen, where he was immediately ambushed by a worried looking Lily.

"There you are, Sweetheart, are you feeling better now?" She rested the back of her hand against his forehead, checking for a fever.

Harry smiled. It was nice. He never could've imagined what it would feel like to have his own mother be worrying over him like this. It was wonderful. "Yes, mum. Never felt better. Must've just had…low blood pressure or something."

Lily eyed him for a moment, before nodding and hugging him tight. "Good. You better get going then, Lucius is waiting and you don't want to be late for the game."

And with that, they left, Harry's mind still swirling with thoughts. He stared out the window of the Ministry borrowed car, watching the countryside fly by. It was a relatively quiet ride and Harry found that he didn't feel uncomfortable being so close Lucius Malfoy. He didn't seem to be the same imposing, cold Lucius Malfoy of the real world.

"So, Harry," Lucius broke the silence after nearly an hour. "Have your parents decided if they're sending you back to school next year?"

Harry was thrown off. "E-Eh?" What on earth was Malfoy talking about?

Draco glanced over at Harry, noticing his confusion. "Harry hit his head rather hard today, Father. He seems to have some sort of memory loss."

"Oh." Lucius frowned, giving Harry a concerned look. "Are you sure you should be going with us then? I know that if Draco hit his head, Narcissa wouldn't even let him think about getting out of bed."

Harry shook his head. "I'm fine. I've just…forgotten some things." He lied. You can't forget what you never knew. "Like why my parents wouldn't want me to go back to Hogwarts."

Lucius nodded in understanding, still looking rather concerned. "Well, because of Albus Dumbledore, of course."

Harry felt his rage building at those words. Remembering that things were so different in this world though, he took a deep breath, calming himself down. "What's wrong with Dumbledore?"

"Dad, I think we should have the healers take a look at Harry when we get there." Draco mumbled. "I didn't think his head injury was this bad."

Harry shook his head. "No, no, I'm fine. I'm sure I'll…remember in a bit." He went back to staring out the window.

An uncomfortable silence fell, lasting the rest of the ride. Lucius seemed to be deep in thought, and Draco kept shooting Harry worried looks.

xxxxxx

When they finally got to the quidditch pitch, Harry forgot about everything. All of his worried thoughts about what was real were pushed to the back of his mind, in favor of the excitement of everything around him. He jumped when Draco grabbed his hand. "Come on. Let's go find our seats." Draco grinned, tugging on his arm.

He let Draco pull him along, and wasn't surprised to find that their seats were in the minister's box. "Of course,' He thought to himself. 'They are the Malfoy's, after all.' He shook his head, wondering if Fudge was still the minister.

"Look what the cat dragged in, Ron." A familiar female voice by the door of the box made Harry turn. Ginny Weasley was standing in the doorway, sneering at Harry and Draco and looking rather malicious. Ron was standing next to her, an identical sneer on his face.

"Unless you have seats in here, which I doubt you do," Draco glared at them. "I'd leave before either my father or Minister Riddle get here. Nobody that supports Dumbledore is welcome here."

"Consider yourself lucky that your daddy is close by, Malfoy." Ron was giving them both dirty looks. "Or we'd kick both you, and your little girlfriend here's arses."

Harry's eyes widened as the two of them walked away. If Ginny and Ron seemed to hate him, then what was Hermione like?" He frowned, trying to decipher what all had been said. Obviously, Fudge wasn't the minister. So who was Minister Riddle? And…

Harry's cheeks turned red. "What did Ron mean when he called me your girlfriend?"

Draco glanced over at him, sitting down. "Nothing, Harry. He was just being a prat."

Harry nodded, lapsing back into silence as he sat down next to him. He could understand that. Ron was prone to calling people he disliked by odd names. He settled into his seat, waiting for Lucius and this mysterious Minister Riddle to show up. And then they did.

Harry jumped up, his eyes wide, as the minister walked in with Lucius, the two of them speaking in hushed tones. Minister Riddle looked up, his dark hair showing hints of graying, his brown eyes laughing at something Lucius had just said. "Ah, Draco, Harry…" He smiled at the two of them. "How are you doing, Harry? Lucius told me about your fall." His voice was smooth and silky, his smile charismatic. It wasn't hard to figure out how Tom Marvolo Riddle managed to become Minister of Magic.

"I-I'm fine…" Harry forced himself to calm down. This man was not Lord Voldemort. He did not seem to be evil, and he had not killed Harry's parents. There was no reason to be hostile to him.

"Good, good." Riddle nodded, taking a seat, and going back to talking in the hushed tones with Lucius.

Harry sighed, sitting back down next to Draco, who glanced worriedly at him again. Harry gave him a strained smile and settled back as the game begin.

xxxx

Again, Harry forgot all his worries, cheering loudly as the Holyhead Harpies beat the Falmouth Falcons. He and Draco had jumped from their seats pulling each other into a hug in excitement. It seemed as if everything was in slow motion as Draco leaned in towards Harry. Draco's pale lips pressed against his own, and it was like nothing Harry had ever felt.

A feeling of warmth spread through him, and he found that he didn't care that he'd spent the last several years hating the blonde. He also didn't care that Malfoy was a guy. As Draco's tongue snuck out to caress his bottom lip, he forgot to breath. And then, he was falling into darkness.

Ron and Hermione were leaning over him as he opened his eyes this time. Harry sat up slowly, ignoring the worried looks on his faces. It wasn't fair that he'd woken up. He ignored Hermione's questions as he climbed out of bed, deciding to go get breakfast. After getting food, he planned to head to the library, to look into alternate realities.

He was determined to prove that the other world wasn't a dream.

Author's Note: Well, that was more difficult to write than I'd expected. I'm having issues plotting out what to do next. This chapter is dedicated to Twinblade Alchemist and oreos and angels. Thank you for being so kind as to put me on alert. You two are what made me determined to finish this chapter, even though it was so hard. XD