Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and will not recieve anything for this except (hopefully) some feedback.
Beep! Beep!
Harry groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow over his head.
"Just five more minutes," he mumbled sleepily.
Then he sat straight up and looked quickly at the alarm beside him.
"Bleeding unholy hell! I'm late!"
And with that he sprang out of bed, fumbling about for his trousers and stepping into them. The phone rang, shrill and loud in the early morning. Harry spun, pulling his shirt on and yelped as the world tilted sharply. He winced and scrambled up from his place on the floor.
"Hello?!" he snapped.
"Good morning to you too, Potter."
The man in question sighed, "Good is one way to describe it. Why did you call?"
He listened idly as Draco spouted off something about making sure he didn't forget where they were meeting, etc. It was far more interesting to merely let Draco's voice flow over him. He walked by the mirror and attempted to force his hair to lay flat.
'It's a lost cause dearie,' said the mirror.
'Well it's worth a shot right?'
"Potter? Harry?!" Draco was shouting at him, apparently had been for a while if his ringing ear was any proof.
"I'm here... I-- Have I ever encountered a talking mirror?"
The line was silent, then, "Yes. Quite a few as a matter of fact. Look, just meet me later and I'll explain. I have to go."
"Alright, I'll--" there was a soft click and the phone went dead, "See you then."
Harry blinked up at the pub in front of him.
"The Leaky Cauldron? Draco, this place really doesn't look very safe..."
He heard Draco mutter something about the apocalypse and paled, but before he could object any further, the blonde beside him grabbed his arm and dragged him through the door. He was immediately struck by a strong sense of familiarity. The noise around him abruptly stopped and he felt the gazes of dozens of people upon him. The silence was awkward and he glanced furtively at Draco who rolled his eyes and pulled him through the crowd to a brick wall. He pulled out a stick and began to tap the wall in some type of pattern.
"Um, Draco? What are you doing exactly?" Harry whispered, the sound seeming louder than it was in the unnatural silence of the pub.
Draco ignored him and stepped back, smirking at the startled yelp Harry gave when the bricks rearranged themselves into the doorway to Diagon Alley. His smile widened as he pulled the shell shocked hero into the streets.
Three hours later Harry was still fluttering from store to store staring in awe at the objects displayed. The Quidditch store particularly fascinated him. Draco let him wander about, trailing behind and answering his questions. Potter hardly noticed the stares sent his way and when he did, the stupid sod wrote them off to the fact that he was wearing what Draco explained were "Muggle clothes." Eventually, Potter was convinced that food was indeed necessary to human survival and dragged into a nearby restaurant. Draco ordered for them and turned to the Boy-who-lived.
"So," he began hesitantly, "Any memories?"
Potter gave a small nod, "Just one. It's silly though. I was on one of those brooms," he gestured absently towards the street, "And I was flying. I was wearing these, what did you call them? Robes? Yes, robes. I was wearing these red and gold robes and chasing a gold ball. It had wings. And then you were there and you... well, you pushed me off the broom."
Draco laughed, "Yes yes, the first Quidditch match of sixth year. I was so angry at you. You see, you had just revealed my father as a Death Eater and put him in Azkaban."
"Draco... what's a Death Eater? And Azkaban. What's an Azkaban?"
Draco blinked, "That's right, you wouldn't remember. You know what, I should probably start at the beginning. You see, Potter, you're a wizard."
And for the second time that day, the hero of the wizarding world was left speechless and staring.
Author Notes: Yes I know this is a really short chapter but I'm going through hurricane after hurricane and don't really have time to write a longer one. R/R please...
Jess