Outline 51
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is the sole property of JK ROWLING and a select number of Publishing Houses worldwide hold a limited amount of rights to its usage. I do not own nor do I make any profit from the writing and publishing of this story. The characters here-in are still hers. The idea behind the story is my own and as such is mine to do with as I please. Also, this chapter has not been beta-read, so I apologize ahead of time for any grammar and/or spelling mistakes.
Synopsis: Harry is pretty sure he has been confunded. Why else would he wake up on a normal day of self-reflection and inner turmoil to find that nothing makes sense? He is apparently Head Boy, a student of Fryggindor House, and is quite friendly with Draco Malfoy, the resident paragon of equality amongst all magical kind and as of last term, his fiance.
Warnings: Not much to warn in this particular story. This is a slash fanfic with the pairing of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. So they're be some snogging (no buggering in this one) and maybe a tad further than that on one instance that I'm aware of at the moment, but nothing too explicit, I imagine. A heads up will be posted in individual chapters when our boys do anything more than a kiss and light frottage. Also, characters will be OOC (I'm hoping only a little, but in some instances it is unavoidable). This fic is really left-field a lot of the time, so I'm afraid that the characters reflect that in some shape way or form (especially as Harry has no idea what's going on). I'll endeavor to limit this as much as possible, but it's pretty much inevitable at this point. Read these now and forever hold your peace as I will not be posting the full disclaimer and warnings in future chapters.
See the end for Author Note.
Chapter One: Pigmole School of Sorcery and Magickal Stuff
Harry woke up late on a Friday morning.
This was the first of many things that really made no sense at all that day. For one, he could have sworn it was Monday last night.
On Tuesdays he did not have classes until ten giving him ample time to wake up late, hop down to the kitchen for a quick bite and then down to try and stumble through another day of potions. But on this particular morning he was awakened to a loud voice. "Oh I see how it is! Save the Wizarding World from one evil megalomaniac and you get to skive off Head Boy duties."
Upon awakening, Harry was nearly convinced that he was seeing things. Hermione Granger was in his room with her bushy hair pulled up into a high bun that looked heavy enough to topple her over. This was only strange because after the first week back Hermione had walked in on Dean and Seamus getting... reacquainted... and had swore a wizard's oath in her hysteria to never enter the boy's dorm again. No amount of apologies (or Ron's assurance that the tie on the door would forewarn her about any future escapades) had changed her mind. Harry had (unhelpfully) pointed out that that Hermione hadn't knocked once in the six years that she had been barging into the boy's dorms. It was miraculous that she had only just then walked in on something particularly private. "Hermione... you're in my room."
Her frown only deepened to McGonagall levels of disapproval. "Harry James Potter if you are not up in the next five minutes I will hit you with a bat bogey hex so hard you'll be shitting the bloody things for a week."
Harry jumped out of the bed and landed with a painful thud on the stone floor when his feet got caught in the cover. After all, a swearing Hermione was nothing to sneeze at. She was scary at the best of times, but bloody terrifying when she got wound up enough to swear. His aborted escape from bed did nothing to abate his friend's ire. In fact, it seemed to only aggravate her further. "Wonderful. Now I suppose you might expect a trip to the infirmary for that concussion you've just given yourself. Wouldn't that just be a lovely story for Madame Pomphrey? 'See he can run away from Death Eaters and Werewolves easy, but getting out of bed on time, that's beyond our Savior'!"
And with that she turned on her heels and whipped her wand out and blasted the bed with a wordless spell. It was a worrying shade of orange and smelled of rotting wood. Immediately the covers were vanished and Harry sat on the floor with nothing to protect him from a very homicidal sounding Hermione. "If you are not dressed in three minutes and outside I will jinx you so hard that pretty face of yours will be unrecognizable," and with that she stormed out of the room.
It wasn't until the door slammed behind her that Harry noticed that the door was on the wrong wall. And his bed was abnormally large and comfortable. And his room was a lot bigger and less occupied than he remembered it. There was none of Ron's snoring or Dean's laughter or Neville's ramblings... none of the rest of the Gryffindor eighth year boys. Harry was in a room barren of everything that he had gone asleep to. Instead he saw the bed he had fallen out of and across from him the door next to it a table which housed a familiar looking uniform and bag. After he got up to grab his uniform the rest of the room made less sense. On the far side pressed against a window outlooking the Forbidden Forest was a desk stacked with an assortment of books and parchment. Next to it was an empty bird perch and a wardrobe that was closed with a mirror facing Harry. He started when he caught sight of his reflection.
What the hell had happened to his hair? What had once been untamed and unruly was cut much shorter than he recalled it to be and ruffled in what one could almost consider styled. But that was besides the point. How had someone successfully hexed him in his sleep and he hadn't even felt it? And why hadn't his hair grown back when they had?
"You better be dressed!"
The sound of Hermione's voice snapped him out of his confusion long enough so that he could throw his robe over his shirt and grab his bag. He then opened the door to be met with her displeased glower. "Glad you've decided to grace me with your presence," she snapped then stalked down the corridor.
Harry simply followed behind the girl. Ron must have done something seriously wrong if she was this irritable. Had his friend called her fat again? Or maybe he had mentioned an ex? "That's five points from Slytherin Greengrass for inappropriate displays of affection in the corridor and the same Corner from Ravenclaw."
Harry looked up to find a blond couple flushed in embarrassment near an alcove. Their disheveled appearance further proved they had just come from an early morning snogging session. "Come on 'Mione. It was really harmless."
The brown gaze his friend fixed him with had his protest shrivel and die. It also had the desired effect of giving the two lovebirds the time to make a run for it before Hermione's attention returned to them. She growled- actually growled- when she saw that the two were no longer there. "Come on then," she marched onwards.
Harry had enough time to note they were on the fifth floor- which was another thing that didn't make sense- when they entered the staircase tower and began traveling down towards the Great Hall.
"Morning Harry. Late start today?" a Slytherin student Harry had never before seen called as they passed.
"Uh, yeah. Slept in, I guess."
The redhead sent him a grin. "Might want to come up with a better excuse when you see Draco."
And with that the boy left.
Harry was very confused. "Come on," Hermione growled before she grabbed his arm and dragged him the last two flights to the second floor.
He briefly wondered if she was going to growl for the rest of the day or if it was a morning ritual of hers she had just picked up.
Hermione was in a more irritable mood than Harry had ever seen. This fact alone kept Harry from questioning her about the strange number of Slytherin students that tried to stop him for a conversation. By the time that she pulled them to what was apparently their everyday seat (but was on the wrong end of the Gryffindor table), Harry was sure he had been greeted by more than half of Slytherin house.
Which was just utterly ridiculous. His own house hadn't greeted him nearly as much.
"Wotcher Harry!" Colin Creevey called as he passed their seat to take a place further down the table.
Before Harry could say anything in reply a petite girl stepped up to the table and spoke over him. "Oh. You've just missed Draco. He's going to pout when I tell him," the girl said just as she took a seat next to Hermione.
It took Harry longer than a few seconds to recognize Lavender Brown. Her long curly hair had been cut short into this frizzy bob and the scars that Harry knew to be there just yesterday were absent. Then he noticed her words. "Malfoy?" Harry asked.
Lavender arched her eyebrows in a look of surprise. "Oh. You two have a spat did you?"
"Is that why you were late waking up," Hermione growled over her goblet, "Too busy pining after his royal poshness?"
"Like you're one to talk," Lavender spoke over anything Harry might have said in his own defense, "You've been more cross with Harry every day since Vince hasn't owled you."
"I will curse you," Hermione seethed before snatching a piece of toast off of the platter that just appeared.
If Harry had been hoping that the food would sooth her bad mood the vicious way she ripped into the toast showed that was not going to happen. More's the pity. "I'm sure he just lost track of time," Lavender sighed in commiseration.
"Do you want your arse to come out of your ears? Keep talking Brown. I dare you."
For Lavender's part she looked more amused than threatened and simply set her sights on Harry. However it was Parvati Patil that came up to their spot and spoke next. "I saw Draco leave the Great Hall after Professor Snape just a few minutes before you two came in. Bully for you Harry."
"Huh?"
"Harry and his highness had a lover's spat yesterday and now the two are on last name basis," Hermione said.
Parvati looked genuinely horrified when she turned her gaze back to Harry. "But what about? He was as eager to see you today as any other day and actually groaned when Professor Snape came to get him. I thought he was going to hex the man."
"Snape?" Harry asked.
"Of course, who else," Lavender added, stepping back into the conversation.
Severus Snape was dead, killed by the Dark Lord in the final hours of the Battle for Hogwarts. The man had been instrumental in Harry's success in the war. But that did not make him any less dead. Actually his death was kind of the catalyst for him being so helpful. Apparently dead Snape was equal to a useful Snape (which was rude when Harry thought about the life the man had lived, but he had still been a right bastard to an eleven year old he had never met, so he was allowed at least one rude thought about the man a day).
The mere fact that both Lavender and Parvarti mentioned him was strange. Add in the fact that they mentioned the man without a derisive snort or even a glower (and had even attached the title Professor to his name) just made no sense whatsoever.
It was ridiculous.
But that seemed to be the theme of the day.
"Don't tell me you and Draco fought over Professor Snape again?"
Harry continued to stare incredulously at the girls surrounding him. At least Hermione looked like she couldn't care less about their current conversation. Then again, she also looked like she could care less if they dropped dead at the moment.
Or rather like she would gladly play a helping hand in orchestrating their deaths. "Parvarti!"
The trio looked up to see Padma Patil come storming towards the table. Immediately Parvarti and Lavender sent a knowing glance at Harry (who, it should be noted had no idea what it was the knowing glance was supposed to communicate) before the two jumped up and ran out of the Great Hall. Padma took off behind them. "No running in the corridor. Five points each!" Hermione griped before throwing back a glass of pumpkin juice.
Harry reached for his own goblet only to notice Ron walking past him. "Oh, Ron. Over here."
Ron slowed and threw a quick glance towards the Hufflepuff table before he turned and walked back up to them. Harry grinned at him, but Ron did not sit down. In fact, he seemed to get even more standoffish. "If you don't have any proof, I reckon you're wasting your time Potter," he said.
Harry stared at his best friend in confusion. "I-but... Potter?"
He raised his own eyebrows clearly waiting for Harry to say something more impressive. "That's..." Harry tried again, "That's my last name."
"Yeah," Ron said curtly, "And what of it?"
"Well. Why call me that?"
Ron snorted and turned on his heels. "Not everyone has to like you Potter."
It was only as he left that Harry noticed the yellow trimming on his school robes. Was Ron wearing Hufflepuff robes? "What was that all about?" Hermione asked.
"I was hoping you could tell me," Harry said.
Instead of answering she came to a stand. "You let me know how that Inter-house Unity thing works out for you and Boy Wonder."
Harry was about to ask who Boy Wonder was when she grabbed his sleeve and dragged him up by his robe. "Come on. We have to report to the Headmaster before we go to Charms."
Harry didn't dare correct Hermione on McGonagall's proper title. Knowing his luck she might start breathing fire.
"Morning Harry," yet another Slytherin called as they left the Great Hall.
Harry simply waved a greeting and followed Hermione. No use worrying about the insanity of the Slytherin house. If Harry worried about half of the things that made no sense today he was sure to be driven spare by lunch.
When Hermione stopped at a door on the fourth floor in the Transfiguration Corridor, Harry found the need to say something. "Did you forget the way 'Mione?"
"Did you forget that Stinging Hex I hit you with last month Harry?" she snapped back in a parody of his innocent question.
Harry quickly stopped talking. It was stupid of him to forget Hermione wanted to kill everything that breathed that morning. This seemed to doubly apply to him.
The door opened. And out stepped Professor Dumbledore. "Ah. Miss Granger. I was wondering when you two would be appearing. A few minutes later than usual, aren't you?"
"Blame him. Apparently the happy couple had a lover's spat last night and he slept in."
Harry was still stuck on the fact that Albus Dumbledore was standing before him in an emerald green robe with gold shooting stars flitting across the fabric.
"Aha. To be young again. Well you two best hurry inside. We will want to give Harry plenty of time to garner the favor of young Draco once more."
Harry followed the two still trying to speak. Was this a joke? Or a dream? "Professor... you're... alive?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "An astute observation, Harry."
"What's next? 'My Professor, you have a beard?'" Hermione drawled.
Harry narrowed his gaze at Hermione, Dumbledore forgotten. "You've been especially cranky this morning."
"Well you have been especially stupid. For every action there is an equal and oppo-"
"Miss Granger, perhaps we should save that particular discussion for another time?"
Despite whatever alternate universe Harry had found himself in, Hermione still held the staff members in the utmost respect and remained silent upon Dumbledore's request. Harry thanked the heavens, Merlin, Godric Gryffindor and the second star on the right. "Now. As for your duties for this upcoming week, I have been told that Mr. Malfoy's Society for the Protection and Equal Welfare of Magical Creatures has been funded by a few notable franchises and he has been able to organize a fundraiser gala. For Hogwarts' part the Board of Directors have allowed him to have it here."
"Absolutely not."
Hermione had immediately answered, but Harry was still stuck on the words protection and equal having come out of the Professor's mouth following the name Malfoy.
"And I imagine some foreign dignitaries might deign to attend this gala even if they have decided to have no interaction whatsoever with previous contacts they have made with anyone here."
Harry stared at Hermione. Then he stared at Dumbledore. Had the words 'Mr. Malfoy's Society for the Protection and Equal Welfare of Magical Creatures' come out of the Headmaster's mouth? And had Hermione just vetoed a fundraising gala for a SPEW incarnate?
"I... I-what?"
"As eloquent as ever," Hermione snapped back.
"I believe Harry is trying to explain that truly this is not a request but more of a warning. I have little authority in denying this gala and seeing as your presence is not expressly demanded you do have the right to not attend and meet such foreign dignitaries you might wish to otherwise avoid."
That was not what Harry had tried to say at all. But it did make a good deal of sense. In a ridiculous, and really made no sense, way. "Harry, my boy, I'm afraid that the same cannot be said for you. I imagine that Mister Malfoy will be quite cross if you do not attend his gala."
Harry nodded and remained silent. He figured that was the only way he was going to get out of this room with his sanity intact. With the way everyone kept mentioning Malfoy and dead Professors were returning from the grave, Harry was pretty sure he had just eaten something funny or maybe had inhaled potion fumes in class. "Now that we have come to an agreement on the matter-" Harry couldn't help but note that Hermione still looked quite sour about said agreement. "-I believe that you two have a Charms class to attend. Filius has always been a stickler for attendance and I'm afraid not even a note from me would spare you his ire. No, I imagine you best be off as soon as possible."
That seemed to be as much of a sending off as they were going to get and Harry stood, trying not to stare too hard at his mentor. Dumbledore had many faults that Harry had only discovered too late in life to confront the old man, but he knew one thing for certain. "It's good to see you Professor."
Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled with mirth and he sent Harry a wink over his half moon spectacles. "And you as well," the professor quipped. "Do not hesitate to call on me if you were to ever find yourself in need of a second opinion."
Harry smiled and nodded again, just as Hermione grabbed the arm of his robe and started to drag him out of the office and down the corridor. "We are already going to be late, Harry. You have all the time in the world to listen to the Headmaster prattle about."
He stumbled on a trick stair, but Hermione did not seem to care. In fact, she seemed to speed up as they made it to the third floor where the Charms corridor was located. Only then did she let go of his robe.
When Hermione and Harry finally entered into Charms, they were fifteen minutes late. Professor Flitwick was not pleased. "I am the first to support the Prefect system here, but I will not allow tardiness to become a habit for you two, Head Boy and Girl or not."
Hermione nodded and Harry felt himself flushing. He had never seen Flitwick so much as frown at a student. He had even been perfectly cordial to Umbridge when she was terrorizing the school. "Yes Professor," they said together.
Harry took a seat next to Padma Patil, the only chair left open when Hermione sat down next to Michael Corner. "Here are the notes from the first part of class," Padma greeted him.
"Thanks."
But when he took out a piece of parchment to copy down the notes, he stopped at the dashes and swirls on Padma's page. He was quite experienced with bad handwriting- his own was perfectly horrid in every way- but Harry was pretty sure that there wasn't a single letter involved in the abstract drawing on Padma's parchment. "Padma," he whispered and kept an eye out for Flitwick, "These notes..."
"Yeah. You can keep that copy as I've already charmed it to the shorthand that Draco has you learning. "
"Miss Patil, would you care to cast first?"
Both Harry and Padma jumped at the sudden appearance of the Charms Professor and Hermione's smug look did little to calm the guilt Harry felt when his partner rose from her seat. "Of course, Professor."
Harry didn't know what charm she was supposed to be casting.
By the look on Padma's face when she took out her wand, neither did she.
Flitwick's unimpressed stare showed that he knew this very well. "Having trouble Miss Patil? Perhaps Mister Potter will offer you his assistance."
Harry flushed and stood from his desk. "With your wand Mister Potter. No matter how impressive your wandless magic is, I'd imagine that you might want to keep all your fingers in case something goes wrong."
"Yes sir."
Harry reached into his robe pocket as slow as possible hoping to see something in the room that would give him a hint. But his wand wasn't there. Nor was it in his other pocket. "Perhaps you should try your wand holster sewn into your shirt sleeve?"
If Flitwick's voice was any more sarcastic Harry might have mistaken him for Snape. Sure enough when he traced his hand along his left sleeve a tingle of magic had his wand appearing in his right hand.
Huh. That was...
"Whenever you're ready Mister Potter."
Harry glance up at his Professor and somehow... just by looking at Flitwick he knew. He raised his wand and curved it into a figure eight and slashed down through it.
"Sanguinem Ultra."
Padma jumped back and released her wand with a hiss. Harry stared in disbelief as she began to hop up and down and shook her hand out. "Well done, Mr. Potter. Perhaps next time you can perform the spell from memory alone. You and Miss Patil may take your seats. And don't let me find you talking in my class again."
Harry nodded. It really made no sense to question Flitwick being so irritable nor how Harry had performed a spell he knew that he had never heard of before now. The rest of the lesson progressed in a much more normal manner. Or at least as normal as Charms can get when Flitwick looks close to hexing the students. It was a bit like watching a train wreck, really. Or at least Harry couldn't find himself to look away from the professor as he became more irritable by the minute.
"Bloody Fryggindors," Professor Flitwick mutterred under his breath as he left the grinning pair of Dean and Seamus.
Harry continued to stare in surprised horror. Flitwick, upon seeing his face, let out an exasperated sigh, "No offense to you or Miss Granger, I assure you Mr. Potter. I know not everyone in your house are as incorrigible as those two. But not all of them are as well put together as you and your comrade either. Honestly I don't see why we even bother sorting people into that house. Just hold up a sign saying hoodlums and hooligans wanted and you'll fill the spots just as well.." he continued down the aisle, muttering as he went.
Harry didn't know what to be stuck more on. The fact that Professor Flitwick had just swore or the fact that he had called the Gryffindor house- "Fryggindor?"
Padma Patil glanced up from her parchment and nodded. "Yeah. He's always detested your house, though. It's really shouldn't still surprise you so much every single time he assigns those two detentions."
But Fryggindor?
The mispronunciation of his house was not corrected throughout the rest of the lesson and Harry could not find the energy to ask Padma who was still put out that she had missed a full five minutes of notes as she waited to get the feeling back into her wand hand. The spell, as it turned out, blocked the blood flow to a limb resulting in a feeling of sharp pins and needles for a brief period. It was harmless, but annoying.
Herbology was just as strange.
His house had Herbology with the Hufflepuffs (which Harry knew hadn't been the case since fourth year, but did not argue the placement all the same) and Ron had immediately started the lesson with sending Harry a grin that had only been worn by the twins right before something exploded.
True to fact, all the pots on the Gryffindor (Fryggindor?) side of the table promptly threw dirt all in their faces and their whisping ladys started making a dash for the greenhouse windows around the room that had been propped open. It had been a total disaster and Harry had been bitten on his hand twice. The Hufflepuffs had been diminished to a pile of giggling school children and Madame Sprout did nothing more than issue a warning to whomever was responsible for the escapade.
Harry was under the firm belief that Ron had been the mastermind, if not the perpetrator.
Hermione believed that someone should be made an example of with a woolly mammoth hex.
Neville thought the entire thing was done in good taste, but he had also been the only one of their house not to be bitten in the chaos that had taken the entire class period to rectify. "You shouldn't have grabbed them by their leaves. They hate that Harry."
"Yeah, thanks for that Neville. Would have been more helpful an hour ago," Harry said.
What he really wanted to say to his friend was 'sod off', but he thought that might have more to do with his aching hand and Neville's smug face. Even with the ridiculous events of the day Neville still appeared to be a Herbology protege. At least Hermione seemed to be as annoyed as he was by that fact.
"Where are you going?"
Harry turned back to see Neville's amused expression. "Um... Transfiguration...?"
The man snorted and turned back towards the corridor on the left. "And be late for Potions? Do you want to see what Draco will do to you if he doesn't get in his 'Pre Potions Potter Party'?"
Harry's eyes widened further- whether in horror or surprise was anyone's guess at this point. "That's what I thought," Neville said as he grabbed him by the arm and started pulling him down the corridor.
What was it with everyone and manhandling him today? His robe was going to be completely useless by dinner with the way his friends were treating the poor thing.
"Please spare me having to deal with a hex-happy Malfoy simply because you couldn't be bothered to show up and apologize after a fight," Hermione mutterred.
Neville laughed, "He has gotten better with hexes in the last year."
Harry didn't find that any funnier than Hermione had.
"I'm sure Professor Snape will calm him down before he gets into anything too permanent," Seamus said as he and Dean came up next to them.
Harry wanted to point out once again that their old Potion's professor was dead. But the memory of Dumbledore this morning kept him quiet. Besides, maybe they had just put a portrait in the potions lab and had Portrait Snape teaching the NEWT Potions class. It couldn't be any worse than Professor Binns.
The potions classroom looked much the same the last time Harry had been in it (which had been yesterday with Slughorn trying to coach him through a Two Year Amnesiac Potion, a concentrated form of the Forgetfulness Potion from first year. Harry couldn't remember how to do either one of the two. It was a little unfair that in this ridiculous day he was having he was left to taking his worst subject two days in a row. "I wonder where Draco is," Neville said.
Harry sighed. Was it too good to ask that they go one class without mentioning the blond Slytherin? As far as Harry was concerned it was good that he had managed to get through almost half a day without having to hear 'Potter' sneered at him with that familiar aristocratic snoot. "He's probably gotten tied up with Professor Snape again. Reckon they've found some obscure and ancient potion in a book in the restricted section," Dean chuckled.
Lavender said, "Probably made out of more dust and holes than ink and parchment."
"I bet it's in some dead language that hasn't even been seen in a thousand years," a Slytherin added.
"And they're probably arguing about the best way to translate the thing," Neville said.
Harry stared at the brunette for a few seconds as the laughter calmed down. What was Neville doing in Potions anyway? And what was so funny about what they were saying? It didn't even seem remotely patronizing...
Just then the door to the potions room banged open in its normally dramatic fashion.
And in walked the greasy bat himself.
Harry stared in something akin to resigned surprise as the man strode to the front of the classroom with his usual flare of robes and turned to address the class.
"Something you wish to share with the class, Mr. Potter?"
Harry then realized he had rose rather dramatically to his feet when Snape had walked into the classroom and all of the students were looking at him in amused silence. "Oh.. ah, no... Professor..."
And with that he sat back down on his stool. He only noticed after the fact he had called Snape by his proper title.
Snape, for his part, rolled his eyes in a look of exasperation no one had ever come close to replicating. At least Snape was turning out to be normal even if he was miraculously alive. Too bad he had to open his mouth and change all that. "Mr. Malfoy is completing a supplementary assignment for me for his keystone and is at the greenhouses currently. You will have to survive one class period without your other half, I'm afraid. I'm sure Mr. Longbottom and Miss Parkinson would allow you to join their group."
Harry flushed without quite knowing it and nodded before he grabbed his bag and moved over two tables where Neville was grinning unabashedly at him and Parkinson was giving him a knowing wink. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hex his friends or hex himself. One of those options was bound to make something in this day make sense. Instead of risking detentions from now until graduation, Harry sat down next to Neville and ignored the smirks sent at him from every other student in potions. And the horridly scary matching smirk that came from Snape.
He added it to his growing list of things that really made no sense that day (and increased the likelihood that this was some sort of elaborate prank to drive him barking mad).
When he reached the end of his potions class with a satisfactory Pepper Up and without even so much as glancing at the book he added his suddenly fantastic skills at potions to the list.
It went right under reincarnated Professors but before Hermione's irritable mood.
"I'm almost scared to ask at this point, but where are you going now?" Neville asked when they exited the Potions lab and Harry turned right instead of left with him and Parkinson.
Harry glanced down the hall. The corridor to the right led to a narrow stairwell behind a suit of armor that would lead upstairs and to the garden for an easy route outside and to Magical Creatures (the class Harry normally had after Double Potions). But this wasn't a normal day and his Double Potions class had been on a Monday morning instead of a Thursday afternoon.
"Whatever you did Harry just apologize," Parkinson said as she grabbed him by (yeah, you guessed it!) his robe and began to drag him down the corridor to the left. "You know Draco can never resist it when you're all sad and contrite."
"But I didn't do anything," he gasped. The way she was pulling his robe made it tug harshly around his neck and a bit difficult to breathe.
"Then tell him to kneel at your feet and beg for mercy. Don't let him suffer you idiot. That'll only give him time to plan." Neville said very matter-of-factly.
"I'm glad one of you have learned," Parkinson said.
"Can't breathe!" Harry gasped.
She released his robe with a snort (that sounded an awful lot like a derogatory word starting with a 'p' and that referred not so exclusively to cats). Harry wisely ignored her. "Don't tell me you're skipping lunch?" asked Seamus skeptically.
"Maybe when we get a sunny winter," Dean snorted as he came up next to them.
"But I don't think I saw you eat second breakfast?" Seamus said.
"And it is already time for elevenses..."
Harry decided to ignore his friends and walked to the Great Hall (or at least it seemed to be their intended destination). It wouldn't keep random words from filtering through, but it did manage to get Harry to his table with a plate of Lancanshire Hotpot and a goblet of pumpkin juice handy. Hermione had sat next to him and had ignored all the food for her own goblet of pumpkin juice which she drank with worrying relish. Harry then noticed Ron sitting at the Hufflepuff table, his head bowed down with a group of other students. His eyes went along the tables, wondering if anyone else had decided to switch houses in this oddly unspecific prank, but realized he knew very little of the students of the other houses under sixth year. At least not enough to notice if anyone was somewhere they weren't before.
"Stop looking for him, Harry. You're going to miss the entire lunch period and I'm not sitting through your fifteen minute abridged tirade on how your body is a temple and meals are sacred etcetera etcetera."
Harry started and turned to Neville who was once again giving him this knowing look. He had started to get tired of it. "Wait, what?"
Neville snorted. "Stop looking for him."
"Stop looking for who?"
"Whom," Hermione snapped back from next to Harry, her nose still buried within her goblet.
Harry was starting to suspect she had managed to spike it somehow, he just didn't know when. Or with what. Firewhiskey did not mix well at all with pumpkin juice. Neville ignored her and continued their conversation. "Draco, of course. He and Professor Snape probably got caught up in a discourse again. He's not at the staff table either. They'll be here as soon as one of them notes the time."
Harry narrowed his eyes at his friend.
That was the seventh time someone had accused him of looking for- or heaven forbid, missing- Draco Malfoy. And he was very much starting to dislike where all their insinuations were leading him. "Did I wake up married to Draco Malfoy and no one bothered to tell me?"
Hermione actually choked on her juice. Neville's grin only widened. "No. I reckon he still has you waiting on getting hitched. Besides my Gram would be furious if she missed the wedding."
It was Harry's turn to choke on his pumpkin juice. Hermione took enough time from her (maybe) spiked goblet to frown at Harry. "The Saviour of the Wizarding World, ladies and gentleman."
Harry glared back, but was too busy trying not to choke on a lung to say anything. "My, how witty," she said before returning back to her goblet. "The pride of Pigmole you are."
Harry choked again. This time, Neville took pity on him and thumped him on his back a few times to help clear everything out. "P-pigmole?" Harry rasped.
Hermione waved an imaginary flag. "Woo. Pigmole School of Sorcery and Magickal Stuff. Go Pigmole."
She said this all monotone and with no more energy than a slug. Harry turned an incredulous look to Neville who was giving him another bemused expression. Harry was really starting to hate those expressions. "What, forget your own school's name did you?"
Harry stared at the man. "Magickal stuff?" he deadpanned.
Neville grinned. "Yeah. I thought it was a bit weird too. I reckon it was Fryggindor's idea. With a name like that, he had to have a sense of humor."
"A little late in your school career to be commenting on it, Potter."
It took Harry a few seconds longer than was probably necessary to recognize the girl that had just plopped down in the seat next to Neville. "Ginny?!"
Neville's bemused expression now had a matching eyebrow and Hermione had once again choked on her goblet. The redhead across from him glowered. "Just because you're dating my best friend does not mean I won't hex you. And where in Merlin's knickers did you hear that nickname?"
Harry took that moment to note the Slytherin colors on Ginny's robes (if she didn't want to be called Ginny then what the hell was he supposed to call her?!). He added it to the mental checklist of ridiculous things that made no sense and decided to change the subject. It probably would be safer. "I like your... hair..."
Ginny's long red hair had been twisted into little dreadlocks that had then been braided up into this rather intricate braid that started at the top of her crown and ran down her back. At Harry's words Ginny's (seriously what did she want to be called, Weasley?) glower turned into a glare. Okay, changing the subject was akin to ritual suicide now. Really with how his day had been going so far Harry should have expected Ginny (Weasley?) to try and melt his face with her glare alone. "I get it. You and Prince Charming think I look ridiculous. I've been read the riot act enough times by my own mum to know damn well what others think about my hair. Now kindly fuck off before I punch your teeth so far down your throat you'll be shoving a toothbrush up your arse to brush them."
Harry flinched back, but was not too horrified to miss Hermione's "Good one," that she mutterred into her (definitely spiked) goblet. "Easy there, tiger," Neville chuckled before he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled the red head into his side. "Harry's been a little off all day. I honestly believe he was trying to compliment you."
She threw an acidic glare at Harry who was trying to procure some feelings of betrayal that Neville seemed to be awfully cozy with his ex-girlfriend. He couldn't, but he did feel a little squeamish when her glare returned to him once again. "Someone should let Severus scan him before I put him in the hospital wing. Draco will curse me bald when I beat the snot out of him."
"If he keeps saying stupid shit I'll have to hex him myself. Give Draco more targets," Hermione said sardonically.
Harry felt a few years drop away from his life. Why were all the women crazy? And if Neville did not stop with that bloody look!
His rising agitation must have been quite visible because Neville stood up and nodded at him. "Come on, Harry. You said you'd help me with Defense if I shared my notes for Herbology. Let's go to the library."
Harry had no need to be told twice and he jumped up with his bag. He had no idea how he ignored Ginny (Weasley's?) jeers as he and Neville walked out of the Great Hall. There was just something about his ex-girlfriend being in Slytherin and (possibly) dating Neville that just made no sense. At least it had company with the growing list in his mind. Harry was impressed that he managed to even keep track of the list with the day he was having.
He still thought this was some elaborate prank orchestrated by his friends. When they finally admitted to it, he was probably going to hex at least half of them.
Starting with Ron; he had gotten into character a little too well.
Despite them being in a different unit than he had remembered from their last defense class (intent and will changing a spell midcast instead of illegal curses and their countercurses) Harry was easily able to start Neville on his way to a good start. The same could not be said for his understanding of Herbology. Similar to the escapade with Padma in Charms, the notes that Neville had handed him were an abstract painting of dots, dashes, and curls. He had no idea how to even begin to decipher what was supposed to be written on the parchment and even less hope of ever beginning to understand it. In fact, it looked like something Teddy had sent him for his birthday last summer.
Harry didn't know what had him look up at that exact moment. But when he did he caught the first sight he had of Draco Malfoy since he had awoken that day. Truthfully, he looked like himself, but in the same breath he didn't. It was the same face, the same eyes. But his sharp features were framed by his pale blond hair that was left straight and loose. It was long enough to brush his shoulders, frame his pale skin, and further brought his silver and pale blue eyes into sharp contrast with the black robes he wore. He looked... peaceful and strong. Collected and aristocratic. He caught sight of Harry at that moment and his features were softened from their serious state to show an incredibly pleasing form of happiness. Draco Malfoy looked incredibly... attractive...
What happened next not even the entire weirdness of the day's events could have prepared Harry for. Draco Malfoy, in all of his glory, swaggered right up to Harry, grabbed him by his tie, and pulled him into a open mouth snog session that left Harry breathless and more than a little turned on. Which was also ridiculous, but hey add it to the list. When Draco was effectively done trying to shove his tongue down Harry's throat, he released his grip on the tie with what could almost be considered a fond smile and let Harry fall back into his chair. "Severus has me working on this potion so I can finish my Adept Keystone so I have to go. Just stopped by to say goodnight before I went back to work. See you tomorrow love."
And with that Draco Malfoy breezed right back out of the library.
Harry stared after the blond Slytherin with a look he had thought was akin to indescribable horror and mental scarring. Neville would correct him the next morning that it looked more like unadulterated lust and pining. It also occurred to Harry that this couldn't possibly be a prank. Nothing could have gotten Draco Malfoy to participate in anything that would result in them snogging. "Hey Neville," Harry spoke when his last two remaining brain cells decided they wanted to communicate to one another.
"Yeah, mate?"
"Can you take me to Madame Pomphrey? I think I've been confunded."
Then Harry Potter, Defeater of the Dark Lord, Saviour of the Wizarding World, Boy Who Lived Twice, and War Hero, promptly fainted out of his chair.
A/N: And there you have it. The first chapter in a (hopefully) seven chapter escapade of unusual proportions. If you're not sure where all this is going then good. And if you might be a little on the same wavelength of confusion as Harry then great! My goal for this entire fanfic was to make as little sense as possible before I have to inevitably reveal the big "What the heck is going on in this AU" before it's conclusion. At this exact moment, the explanation that would have everything make sense and give Harry a reason to breathe easy is a secret. In fact, it is so secret that not even I know what it is. (Pretty cool, right?)
But anyway this fic is separated into seven parts ideally. But it's been forever and a day since I've actively worked on it and I'm hoping that posting it will give me the kick in the derriere I need to finish the last two chapters.
Bonne Lecture.