I own nothing! Happy Holidays Everybody!
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Harry Potter had been certain of two things during the final battle. One; he would kill Voldemort. Two; he was going to die in doing so. He had come to terms with both facts, though it had been a long and painful road to that acceptance. But somehow Draco Malfoy fighting and dying alongside him had never part of that equation. After the events of his sixth year and those leading up to the battle, Harry had forgiven Malfoy for his part in Dumbledore's death and had even pitied him on occasion. The character of Malfoy, however, had been cemented in his mind as that of a weak and somewhat cowardly creature. Hence his surprise when Malfoy, bleeding, broken and half mad had fought beside him against Voldemort. And as Harry had let the darkness creep across his vision, ignoring the acidic last words of the Dark Lord, he felt a curious kind of gratitude and almost fondness for Malfoy. The last thought to cross Harry's mind was that he regretted not being able to know this brave stranger who had so willing laid down his life for the Light.
***
Draco Malfoy had been certain of two things in the final battle. One; he was going to die. Two; he was going to take that scaly skinned fucker his father called lord straight to hell with him. Due to the fact that he was sure he was losing what little sanity he had left after his delightful stay in his own dungeons, Draco did not feel as concerned with his coming death as he otherwise might have been. In fact he had been too amused at Potter's face when he had intercepted a very nasty spell meant to turn your lungs to ash that he didn't even twitch when Voldemort's cutting spell hit home. As amusing as Potter's reaction was the Dark Lord's was priceless, and then Draco was too busy trying to kill the bastard to pay attention to anything but dodging the Killing Curse and other nasty spells. When the Killing Curse left his lips and Voldemort spat out his last words, Draco wondered if this first and final act of bravery would be enough for redemption. Somehow he thought not.
***
Having believed they were slipping into death's embrace when darkness covered their eyes, the two young men were quite surprised to wake up. To even wake up defied each one's expectation of oblivion and hell respectively. To wake up surrounded by trees even more so. But what instilled panic in at least one was the fact that they were not as they had been last they saw each other.
***
Harry had not expected oblivion to be green. He had not expected to hear birds singing or the sound of running water or to be able to feel a sweet smelling breeze caressing his skin. He had not expected to see warm shafts of sunlight peeking through the branches of giant and ancient looking trees. And he absolutely, unequivocally did not expect the afterlife to include a miniature Draco Malfoy. A miniature, comatose and naked Draco Malfoy.
Suddenly remembering that the last time he had seen Malfoy, Malfoy had been bleeding severely Harry rushed over to the small form quickly. Kneeling beside him, Harry noticed three things simultaneously. One; Malfoy was fine and where he had been wounded now only silver scars remained. Two; as he examined Malfoy the breeze turned chilly for a moment and Harry realized he was as naked as Malfoy. And three; his hands were unnaturally small. To small to be his.
Looking around the glade, Harry found that the source of running water was a creek a few feet away. Crawling over, he peered into the rippling, reflective water. The face that stared back at him was familiar only by the green eyes and black hair. It was too small though just like his hands, the face of a child. Just like Malfoy, he was no longer as he had been but a miniature of his former body. Feeling his panic mounting, Harry did something that he would vehemently deny doing in later years.
He screamed like a little girl.
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Cheers! This takes place roughly seven hundred years before Frodo Baggins is given the Ring by Gandalf.