A/N: Snape is going to be an asshat in this story because well he is an asshat in the books. He isn't going to have a major role but when he is mentioned, he will be represented as he was in the books.
--
Draco Malfoy has had a terrible year to say the least. His father was in prison because of Harry Potter, the Dark Lord had infultrated his home, forced Draco's hand in becoming a Death Eater, gave him an impossible suicide mission because of Harry Potter and now he was stuck in a timeline he did belong in because of bloody Harry freaking Potter. He didn't think his situation could possibly worsen. It was bad enough that he was being forced into the past but now he was in the same house as his rival. A stupid Gryffindor! The universes truely hated him. There was no other explanation.
A stunned silence filled the room following the hat sorting. Draco was feeling dizzy, the remnants of his breakfast were threating to come up.
Dumbledore clasped his hands together with a smile, "Now that's sorted. We shall leave you both to rest and once Pompey releases you, you can join your housemates."
Harry nodded his head, too shocked to speak. The hat still sat on top of Draco's head.
"A Malfoy in Gryffindor! Never thought I'd see the day.." Fleamont muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Impossible.. no, this isn't right. I demand to be resorted you stupid hat!" Draco spat, holding the brim of the hat on his head firmly.
'There are no resortings kid.'
'You just resorted us you you bastard'
'I did no such thing! This was the first sorting I did for you two in this timeline. Now take me off your head, I am sick of hearing your Gryffindor thoughts-'
"Don't call me a Gryffindor," Draco sneered, ripping the hat from his head and launching it at the wall. "I will burn you! Make your sorting existence a miserable hell for what you've done!" He spat, glaring at the hat before a wave of nausea took over.
Dumbledore snapped his fingers and the hat dissapeared, he slowly stood up and Pompey came bursting back in the room.
"Out! All of you! You have stayed here long enough interrogating these two, I will not let you continue to distress my patients!" She screamed, shoving the headmaster, Lord Potter, James, Remus and Sirius out the door before slamming it loudly and muttering insults under her breath.
"You're looking a little green, mate" Harry said, his shock dissapearing as he observed the pale and green faced teen next to him.
"This is your fault, Potter! Is this what you wanted? For me to disparage my family name before I am even bloody born?"
Harry rolled his eyes, "Ah yes, of course Malfoy. I always wanted to share a house with such an arrogant, annoying, self-serving, Dark Lord ass kissing, git."
Draco looked ready to strangle the advada eyed boy next to him but was interrupting by Pompey stuffing a sickly yellow potion down his throat, causing him to cough in disgust. It tasted like rotten eggs and grass, not a pleasant combination.
"Dreamless sleep and anti-nausea potion," Pompey said, seeing the question begin to form on Draco's lips after his coughing fit ended. Draco was enraged, about to argue with the mediwitch before he felt the unease in his stomach lessen and his mind slowly relaxing, preparing himself for sleep.
Pompey turned to Harry, the same yellow potion in her hand. Harry's eyes darted between the potion and the mediwitch.
"No chance, I'm not drinking that." Harry muttered, trying to force as much distance between himself and Pompey as possible. The mediwitch glared at Harry, unimpressed as she simply spelled the liquid into his stomach. Harry crossed his arms and glared at the witch before his eyelids started to get heavy and he soon fell into dreamless sleep.
--
A week. Thats how long Harry had been stuck in this white prison hell also known as the infirmary. Pompey continued to force healing potions down the both teen's throats, technically she had to spell them into Harry's stomach since he was too stubborn to actually consume them but that is beyond the point, and lecture them about their reckless stupidity for fighting.
Fortunately she hadn't recongized that Harry had been also recovering from the lingering affects of the crutias curse. She had been too focused on fixing their other injuries and Harry could not have been more pleased with that, Merlin knows how long she would keep him locked in here and fuss over him if she realized he had been under an unforgivable a little over a week prior.
Harry had to reluctantly admit that he was feeling good now that his body had been fully rested and healed, better than he had felt in months. Draco was also looking more like his usual arrogant prat self instead of the pale and malnorished shell of himself that he had began to turn into under the distress of being tasked with the impossible assassination mission against Dumbledore.
Padfoot, Prongs, Mooney and Fleamont were frequent vistors during their stay in the white prison and were actually making the expierence tolerable. Even Draco seemed to be midly amused. The headmaster had been banned by the mediwitch from questioning the boys further while they were healing but now that recovery was finished, he was able to begin his annoying interrogation antics.
This is why Harry, Draco, James and Fleamont found themselves in the headmasters office. Fawkes let out a beautiful song before flying and landing on Harry's shoulder.
"Hey Fawkes," Harry muttered, stroking the bird while James gaped at him and Dumbedore smiled.
"I see you two are aquainted," The headmaster said.
Draco had to use all his willpower to prevent himself from rolling his eyes and biting out a sarcastic remark such as 'obviously'.
"Now boys, I think we need to understand what happened during your timeline."
Harry continued to pet Fawkes, feeling a surge of anger flow through him. How ironic that the old man who refused to share information with him, that ultimately led to Sirius's death last year, is now asking for information. A tiny voice in Harry's head reminded him that this wasn't the same Dumbledore who kept secrets and refused to meet his eyes last year, this was a different Dumbledore. But Harry was not listening to that small and rational side of his brain.
"You have a penisive?" Draco asked, as the headmasters eyes met his and he nodded in understanding. The old man waved his hand over his desk and summoned the large bowl coated in runes.
Draco sighed, his leg subtly twitching in what could only be understood as due to nerves, "As you likely know, my family was involved with the Dark Lord,"
Harry snorted causing Draco to shoot him a glare before continuing.
"I have no desire to be a death eater, so I will also show you my memories that can be useful."
Harry's eyes widened briefly as he stared at Malfoy, the blonde boy refusing to meet his gaze.
"That would be wonderful my dear boy, you both can place your memories in here," The headmaster said, tapping his finger on the Penisive.
Malfoy held his wand to his head, the silvery whispers of a memory beginning to dislodge itself before Potter rudely interrupted.
"No."
Malfoy's hand twitched, causing the memory to pull back into his head and away from his wand as he turned to meet Harry's advada eyes with a raised eyebrow.
Fleamont's face betrayed no emotions but Harry could almost decipher a look of approval in his eyes.
"I beg your pardon?" The headmaster asked, his eyes loosing their sparkle.
Harry stared at Dumbledore's forehead, willing himself to avoid a potential legimency probe. He really should've learned Occlumency, stupid snape.
"As our timeline no longer exists, I hardly believe the information provided will be relevant-"
"Ah, but information is always worth knowing, my dear boy-"
"I disagree."
Dumbledore looked like he swallowed a lemon.
Fleamont walked over to Harry and put a hand on his shoulder, speaking in cold authority, "My grandson has been through quite the ordeal. I think they have had more than enough questioning and he needs time to get settled with his house before classes resume on Monday. Excuse us, Albus."
Dumbledore sighed, knowing he couldn't argue against Lord Potter and simply nodded his head. Before the headmaster had the chance to dismiss them, Fleamont was already guiding Harry out the door, followed by James and Draco.
Fawkes flew across the room before landing back on her perch.
"Well, that went well." The headmaster muttered, locking his fingers under his chin in concentration. Perhaps the boy's knowledge of his timeline wasn't too important, he is just a 16 year old boy after all. What could he possibly know that Dumbedore didn't? Yes, it is likely he knew nothing of importance.