"How could this have happened?" Harry said, stunned. He sat down hard on a desktop.
"How? I'll tell you how. You just had to be the famous scarhead didn't you? Can't let anyone have the last laugh." Said Draco angrily, pacing.
"Regardless of how it happened we have to fix it Malfoy. This is just..."
"Bloody inconvenient? Insane? A nightmare?"
"You could say that."
"And how do you propose we get out of it Potter?"
"Dumbledore. We go to Dumbledore."
"No."
"Why not?"
"No one can know. My father cannot know."
"But Dumbledore wouldn't..."
"Why? Because he's your savior?"
Harry, seeing no reason why Draco, imparticular, should trust Dumbledore, sighed. "Fine. We figure it out ourselves."
"Think you can be Draco Malfoy for a few days?"
"Think you can be Harry Potter for a few days?"
"Absolutely. Piece of cake."
"Likewise." Without giving Harry a chance to elaborate, Draco left the room, his dark bangs waving about uncomfortably as he walked.
"Wait." Harry went up to Draco. "You need to know where the common room is. The password."
"Don't worry," said Draco. "I'm now a member of the dream team." Draco smirked.
"Well then at least tell me the new slytherin password."
"It's green nasp." Said Draco warily. Harry nodded shortly, and plodded off to the infirmary, fighting nausea.
"Funny thing that," said Madam Pomfrey, giving Draco a teaspoon of something bright pink and opaque. "You're the second boy today to come in here suffering from a stomach upset. I'd better ask the good professor to make me more of this."
"Who was the other boy?" asked Draco offhand, pleasantly surprised by the banana like taste in his mouth.
"Oh, a slytherin," Madam Pomfrey bustled over to her cabinet. "David, Dravan, Draco something or other."
"You don't know Draco Malfoy?" Draco asked, both surprised and offended.
"Dear, there are over 400 students who attend this school. How could I possibly know them all?"
Draco had to admit that she had a point, but made a mental note to visit the infirmary more often when he got his body back.
Draco had skipped his classes for the day. Partly because he didn't quite feel up to playing the saint yet, and partly because Harry had not given Draco information regarding his class schedule. And then suddenly Draco was hit by a wave of nausea, and had a perfectly legitimate excuse for being absent.
He practically skipped to the Gryffindor common room, not because he was particularly looking forward to going there, but because he was looking forward to finding out things about Harry to exploit.
He came out sorely disappointed. Harry was just too good to have any visible dirt. There weren't even the usual tricks, like interesting boxers to hang somewhere, or some piece of nicked girls' clothing to reveal to the world. The only interesting things in Harry's chest were his invisibility cloak (too obvious to steal), his odd pair of snitch and broomstick socks, a photo album of Harry's parents (which Draco enjoyed looking at), and a random piece of parchment that wrote nasty things to Draco when he tapped it with his wand. Harry didn't even have a journal.
And so Draco flopped down on Harry's bed for awhile and amused himself looking through Harry's photo album.
He flipped slowly through the pages of Harry's smiling mother and father. Their wedding and their friends. And after awhile he felt himself warming up to these people he had never met. The book was full of people smiling so warmly that Draco felt enveloped by their happiness. Their genuine smiles, so different from the Malfoy self satisfied smirk, was enough to tilt the corners of Draco's mouth. And as he closed the last page he began to feel overwhelming sympathy for Harry. Poor bloke lost such wonderful parents. Not that Draco would ever excuse him for being a toy soldier style hero. But perhaps he needed to be. It must be difficult trying to prove yourself to parents you've never met.