House: Hufflepuff
Position: Muggle Studies
Drabble
Prompt: [Emotion] Disgust
Word Count: 973
AN: Post-second wizarding war, body-swap AU
When two spells collide, there are often consequences. Some of these can be disastrous, where others may save the day. Many different factors can change the effect a spell combination can make — the proximity of the wizards casting the spell to the point of impact, which spells have been cast and whether the spellcaster is good or evil. Who was to know that when two wizards tried to turn a mouldy old fairy-tale book into a Portkey, their combined charm would have such a strange result?
The first thing Draco Malfoy noticed as he pulled himself up from the floor was that his viewpoint had changed. He felt taller, though not by many inches, but it was enough for him to be able to see things he usually couldn't without having to crane his neck awkwardly.
The second thing he noticed that indicated that something wasn't quite right was that he seemed to be staring back at his own body. He shook his head; he must be still stunned by the backfired spell and was having some sort of out-of-body experience.
But out of whose body?
The third indication that he wasn't currently himself was that as he watched himself open his mouth, the voice coming out of it wasn't his own. It was much more pompous and self-righteous and almost like a Weasley's.
His stomach churned, and bile threatened to bubble up and spill over.
"No, it can't be," he thought to himself as he lifted the hand that currently belonged to him and stared at the freckles that adorned the back of it. Slowly, he lifted the hand—strange, gangly and alien-like—to push back his glasses but then froze. When did he start wearing glasses? He had perfect vision, he was a Pure-blood after all, and his parents had spent a lot of money during his teen years on potions that would make sure it stayed that way. Glasses were a sign of weakness, and Pure-bloods did not have flaws, at least not the rich ones.
Draco carefully retracted the moments leading up to the small explosion that had thrown him to the floor in the first place. He was still in the Department of Transportation; so at least he hadn't been transported somewhere else. The last thing he could remember was that his boss, Percy Weasley, had been teaching him the correct way to set up a portkey.
They had been arguing—Percy wasn't exactly the best teacher. He had an irritating way about him and seemed to know exactly which buttons to press to wind Draco up. He was a blood traitor, Draco wrinkled up his nose in distaste at even the thought of the word. In the heat of the moment, both of them had angrily raised their wands and shouted Portus in unison. Their charms had collided above the fairy-tale book, sending both wizards flat on their backsides.
The rising bile got too much for him. As quickly as his new too-long legs would allow him, he ran to the nearest bathroom. He threw himself into the first cubicle, groaning as his new height forced his head to collide with the ceramic before spectacularly losing his lunch.
Everything was wrong, and nothing felt right anymore.
As soon as he was sure that the onslaught of vomit was over, Draco flushed the toilet and stepped back out of the cubicle, only just managing to stay upright on his jelly legs. He rinsed his face in the sink, only allowing himself a glimpse at the reflection staring back at him before scrunching his eyes up. He didn't want the sudden lurch of his stomach to give him away again.
Draco was definitely, currently, Percy Weasley.
The sound of the bathroom door closing pulled him out of his impending panic attack. Draco clutched the cool sink as he turned his head, trying to keep himself grounded as he watched himself walk into the room. The moment felt surreal, and it almost sent him hurtling back into the cubicle.
"What the hell, Weasley?" Draco thought that maybe he was finally going mad as he shouted in the general direction of where his body now stood. He couldn't even bring himself to look at it. The disgust of occupying a blood traitor's body was far too overpowering. He clamoured for a rational reason for the anomaly—maybe he banged his head when he fell and had a concussion?
"I… I think we should go to St. Mungos. I b...brought the book," the person that was formerly Draco Malfoy stuttered. It made Draco's blood boil to hear that whiny, pompous voice come from his beautiful face.
Draco nodded his now ginger head in response and tried his best to gather his thoughts. "Can we apparate straight from here? I don't want to risk having to talk to anybody. We'd be the laughing stock of the Ministry, and my family has suffered enough."
Percy, in Draco's body, matched Draco's nod—worry etched over his pale, drawn face. In any other situation, Draco would have liked the time to admire how handsome he looked—it wasn't very often you had a chance to view yourself from somebody else's eyes—but this wasn't the moment. He pulled Percy's wand from Percy's pocket and hoped to Merlin the stupid thing would work before apparating to St. Mungo's without another word.
⁂
"That's utter crap. You're making it up!"
"I'm sorry, Mr Weasley, I mean, Mr Malfoy. We ran some diagnostic charms, and it seems the fairy-tale book was hiding some latent magic. When your charms hit it, the result took inspiration from the stories inside. Only True Love's Kiss can break the spell," the healer sighed wistfully. "Now, this might come as a shock for you, but since you're the only two wizards that have come to us with this… issue, I would really like to study you further. If you just—"
The healer's voice disappeared under the pounding of blood in Draco's ears. He gulped as he turned to look at Percy, feeling no relief as he saw the same look of shock etched over his face too.
Draco wondered if the blood traitor was thinking the same thing—how the hell was he going to be able to kiss himself?!