Summary: In another world Harry accepted Draco's friendship and was Sorted into Slytherin. Now he has found a way to change places with Gryffindor Harry, who learns that there is more to Malfoy than it seems...

Disclaimer: I do not own or remotely have any relation to Harry Potter or J.K. Rowling, though I do have the HP books. I do not have any permission to write this, and I do so solely for my own pleasure and am not making any profit from it.

Pairings: HP/DM, SB/RL, RW/HG and others

Timeline: Fourth book onwards and the fifth never existed in my happy imaginary world.


When Two Worlds Collide

Prologue: The Potion


"Are you sure about this? It's almost done, yes, but you could still forget the entire thing..." Silver-grey eyes were worried, and a slim hand reached up to run fingers through loose silver-blond hair. Draco's sharp, fine-boned features were creased with anxiety, though he still managed to convey a sense of superiority and calm, lounging against a wall.

His companion looked up at him from his sitting position beside a cauldron. Brilliant green eyes crinkled up in a smile behind round spectacles, and a pout made his tanned face seem a few years younger. Standing, Harry would be slightly shorter, slightly thinner than the other boy, but their builds were similar, their seemingly delicate bodies hiding trained muscles. "What, you don't trust our abilities?"

"Oh, that I trust. It's just this idea that I don't."

"Come on... I could have done it without you, you know, and go there and be back with no one the wiser."

Silver eyes narrowed. "Even if you could have done it by yourself, which I seriously doubt considering your potions skill, I will spank you if you even consider the idea again."

Harry laughed outright. "And how is that supposed to be a punishment?"

"True..."

"Come on, Draco, don't back out on me now," Harry cajoled, standing up and crossing over to the other teen. "You're a Malfoy! I bet you've done lots of more dangerous stuff than this."

A shadow passed over Draco's face, which caused Harry to immediately hold up a warning finger. "No. No self-pity, or thinking about the past. You're over that, Draco."

"You were the one to mention it!" he snapped.

"Okay, okay... my bad. But you've got to learn to be less sensitive to that topic," Harry said soothingly. He pulled Draco's stiff body into a hug, and the blond gradually relaxed in Harry's embrace, wrapping his arms around the other boy's waist. "I care about you, Draco, and if you don't learn to let go you'll never be free of it."

"I know, I know. I also know that if you don't add the powdered crows' feet in the next five seconds –"

"Ack!" Harry yelped as he let go of Draco and scrambled back to the cauldron, kneeling next to it and dumping the contents of a jar into the potion.

Laughing, Draco sat down in an elegant crossed-legged position next to Harry. "Ron and Hermione – hell, perhaps even the rest of the school – will be very upset if they find out I let you do this, especially with Voldemort still about," he mused.

"And does that worry you?"

"No, of course not. Firstly because they have nothing on me, and secondly, they're not going to find out. You're going to go there and come back straight away, and if it works we'll try it some other time – with me coming along and those two standing guard. You hear me, Harry?"

Harry flapped a hand at him. "Yes, yes, I hear you," he said impatiently, peering into the cauldron. "I've heard you a million times."

Draco huffed. "Just because I have the sense to worry – no, not that jar, the one next to it! Honestly, Harry!"

Harry put down the jar he held, picked up another, and carefully added its contents to the potion. Once done, he put the jar down and stuck his tongue out at Draco.

A pale hand shot out and grabbed his chin, and suddenly Harry found his face inches from Draco's. "Don't do that, or I might take it as an invitation to abandon this useless project and take you right here," he growled.

Harry grinned, closed the space between their mouths, and gave Draco a light kiss. They both drew back, Draco releasing Harry with a small smile, and Harry still grinning.

"Hurry up and finish the potion so you can be back before dinner," Draco ordered. "The last part's the easiest part, so be quick about it."

Harry saluted. "Yes sir!"

Laughing and joking, they completed the potion five minutes later. Harry picked up a clean, empty bottle and filled it with a ladle-full of potion, pocketing it, then poured the rest of the small cauldron into a goblet. Then he crossed over to the full-length mirror in the bathroom, Draco next to him.

"Well... this is it. Months of research, weeks of preparations..." Harry took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "I really hope this works."

Draco turned Harry to face him and leaned in, and the two of them shared a passionate kiss. Finally they broke apart for air, and Draco took Harry's face in his hands. "It should work, we've done it exactly as the book says," he told the black-haired teen seriously. "So just drink the potion and do it."

"Right. Love you, Draco."

"Harry... none of us are going to war or anything, you know."

"But still, it might go wrong, and –"

"Alright! If it makes you feel better, let's pretend one of us is going to die, and –"

"Draco!"

"I love you."

Harry laughed, and hugged Draco. "This is the biggest thing we've ever done, and I can't help feeling this sense of foreboding..."

"Then don't do it," Draco said bluntly.

Harry grinned and stepped back. "Then where's the fun in life?"

"In actually living?" Draco suggested.

Laughing, Harry cuffed him on the arm. "Okay then, here I go." He gulped down the potion in the goblet, gave Draco a quick hug, and then placed both palms on the mirror, gaze locking with Draco's through the mirror's reflection.

And almost bit his tongue as the world dissolved.


"What the hell did you do, Malfoy!" Harry Potter glared at his arch-nemesis, standing there unconcernedly, twirling his wand in long fingers.

Draco Malfoy smirked. "Weasley attacked me first, Potter," he drawled, watching amusedly as the Mudblood tried to calm the whimpering, twitching red-haired buffoon curled up on the cold stone floor and Potter standing over them both, facing him down.

"What did you do to Ron?"

"Nothing Pomfrey won't be able to fix," shrugged Draco. "Though it will give him hell before she heals him."

Harry glanced at Ron, who looked – and sounded – like he was going to die any moment, and then back at Malfoy. His glare intensified ten-fold. "You'll pay for that," he ground out, whipping out his wand. "Stupefy!"

He didn't expect the Slytherin to fall for that, and as expected, Malfoy ducked, and the red beam ricocheted off the wall and hit a shocked Hermione, who slumped next to Ron. The two didn't notice, however; by then already throwing numerous other spells at each other, moving further along the corridor, away from Harry's two friends as they weaved and ducked.

Suddenly Harry staggered, wand dropping from numb fingers. As his back hit the wall behind him, a pair of green eyes identical to his swam before his hazy vision, and behind it he could just see a beam of blue light lance towards him, and Malfoy's own silver eyes going wide with – was that... worry?

And then he could see no more, as the world shattered into tiny, tiny pieces.


The first thing Harry could see as he struggled to clear his head was a spear of blue light heading right at him, with other multi-coloured lights bouncing off walls all around him, and he thought hazily, None of us are going to war, eh, Draco?

Then something slammed into him, knocking him out of harm's way, and his ears registered the sound of glass breaking as he dazedly watched the blue light hit the wall and vanish, while the other lights either did the same or died out. "Ow..." he murmured, still out of it.

The thing that had hit him got off him, and a cold voice sneered, "You are an idiot, Potter."

He knew that voice, and he could, if he strained, detect the concealed worry under layers of disdain. His head cleared enough for him to push himself to a sitting position, to blink at one pissed off Draco Malfoy standing in front of him, arms folded across his chest.

"Um..." Did this mean they failed, and Draco was angry with him for worrying him? "I just…"

He watched, confused, as silver-grey eyes suddenly widened in shock. The Slytherin pointed a shaking finger at him. "You... how... your robe!" he sputtered.

Harry glanced down at himself, the last traces of wooziness clearing. "Um, what about it?" he asked cluelessly, looking himself over as he stood.

"Your Slytherin badge, that's what!" Draco snapped, frustrated.

Harry looked at his badge. It was the same as always, snake and all. "What about it?" he repeated a little distractedly as he registered something cold and wet against his skin. He delved into his pocket, fingers searching – and promptly cut himself. Wincing, he pulled his hand out again and looked glumly at the cut. The glass containing the potion had broken, most likely when he had been pushed aside by Draco.

"It's broken... but I guess we don't need it, huh, Draco? Since it didn't work..."

"What the hell are you babbling about, Potter? Since when were we on a first name basis?"

Harry blinked, and looked around, really looked. He was in a hallway, not the bathroom he had been in a few moments before, and he was wearing cast-off Dudley clothes that Draco had burned in a fit of fashion-induced rage long ago. A huge grin spread across Harry's face. "We did it!" he crowed, grabbing Draco in a hug – only to stagger back in shock when he was shoved back viciously.

"Don't touch me," Draco ground out through gritted teeth. "Have you lost it?"

Harry was confused. "Draco...?" he ventured, watching the other boy brush himself off. Things couldn't be that different here, could it...?

"And don't call me 'Draco', Potter!"

Apparently, it could. "Look, Dra – Malfoy. What badge am I supposed to have instead of Slytherin?"

Draco stared at him. Had the Golden Boy finally cracked? "You're in Gryffindor," he spat, eyeing his rival – who right now looked lost, confused, and also... happy? The happiness disappeared, however, when he heard the word 'Gryffindor'.

"And what am I to you?" The words were soft, almost afraid.

"The fucking perfect Boy-Who-Lives-to-make-my-life-a-misery!"Draco retorted, anger dissipating as he saw the hurt become more pronounced.

"Oh..."

Draco examined the boy who stood in front of him. Potter's robes (Slytherin robes!) were open, revealing a fitting woolen turtleneck – which, oddly, looked pretty much identical to one that he himself owned – matched with a pair of figure-hugging black jeans over... dragonhide boots? He blinked. Hadn't Potter been wearing his robes shut a while ago with those disgustingly ratty shoes poking out from underneath? His hair was neater, too. It didn't make sense, Potter couldn't learn self-grooming if his defeating the dark lord had depended on it.

Harry, in turn, looked the new Draco over. He had his hair gelled back – a style which Harry had convinced his Draco to drop sometime in second year, as he loved to run his fingers through the fine strands. This Draco was slightly more filled out, too, and perhaps slightly taller. And his boots, peeking out from under his closed robe, were not the black leather ones his Draco had been wearing, but brown.

Finally they met each other's eyes, and Harry's heart sank. Yes, this Draco before him didn't belong to him, had never belonged to him – there was too much anger, too much coldness in those frosty eyes. This Draco had never melted, and it hurt Harry to see icy walls where there had once been molten silver.

Something occurred to him. When had this happened? If he was supposed to be in Gryffindor, then... it had to be...

"On the train, first year – did we meet?" he asked.

Draco was curious. This was a totally different Potter – instead of that tired anger in those green eyes, there was love when Potter looked at him; love and care and concern. There had to be a reason for this, and if he acted civilized for a while he just might get some answers. So he answered the inane questions, concealing his impatience, and ignoring the dull ache in his heart.

"Yes, we did – I offered friendship to you, and you caustically rejected me for that pauper Weasley."

Something flashed in Harry's eyes, and now shutters hid his emotions. "Before that, in Diagon Alley – Madame Malkin's?"

Draco sighed. "Yes, we met then, too. I talked to you, but you didn't tell me who you were, except that you were a pureblood, and then you left."

So it had changed ever since Madame Malkin's, so many years ago. "And – what have we been doing all these years?" Harry half-hoped the answer would be 'shagging'.

"Trying to kill, incapacitate, or otherwise just maim each other," was the curt reply.

"Oh. I see..."

The Slytherin watched, curiosity growing, as Potter bit his lip, obviously bothered. Finally he asked, "Are you going to tell me why you seem to have lost your mind, Potter?"

The boy looked up, startled, as if he had forgotten Draco was there. "Yes, um... I rather think I have to. You'd better sit down for this..."


"Ow..."

"Harry? Harry, don't scare me, please look at me, oh, they're going to kill me..."

Harry opened his eyes and blinked a few times, clearing the fog from his mind. Draco Malfoy's face swam into view above him and he groaned, closing his eyes again.

"Harry Potter! This isn't funny!"

Harry wondered at the panic in Malfoy's voice, and opened his eyes again, looking around out of the corners of his eye. He was lying in Malfoy's arms, in the middle of a spacious, elegant bathroom. What the hell?

"What happened?" he muttered, half to himself.

Malfoy, however, replied. "You touched the mirror and it flared. The light blinded me, but when I could see again you were crumpled on the floor. Do you feel sick? Do you need to see Madame Pomfrey or anything?"

Harry struggled to sit up, utterly confused by Malfoy's actions. "Why are you so concerned, Malfoy?" he snarled, pushing Malfoy away as he slowly got to his feet.

"What?" Malfoy scrambled up, hurt and bewilderment on his face. "Have you lost your memory or something, Harry?"

"And stop calling me 'Harry'! You have no right to!"

"Harry, I told you, this isn't funny –"

"I should be the one saying that," Harry interrupted, turning to glare at Malfoy. He blinked, however, when he noticed Malfoy was gaping at his robes.

"What?" he asked guardedly.

"Your badge – it's Gryffindor's!"

He glanced down and back up again. "Yeah, so?" he snapped.

Draco shut his mouth, realizing what must have happened. He'd thought Harry felt much skinnier than before. So it had worked... but what had happened over there, to twist Harry into someone that hated him, from the looks of it?

"Okay, fine. You want me to call you 'Potter'? Then I shall. Just answer a few of my questions first, and then I'll answer as many of yours as you care to ask. Within limits, of course."

Harry glared at him, and then sighed, seeming to deflate at his calm, no-nonsense tone. He had the feeling he was out of his league here. "Okay, ask," he said resignedly.

"What's the relationship between you and me?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"Just answer."

Harry's brows furrowed with annoyance, but he replied, "You and I are enemies."

Draco groaned inwardly. He had suspected that. "Okay, um... what happened to make us enemies?"

Harry's eyebrows now shot up. "You don't remem – okay, okay. Um, in Madame Malkin's, we met and I thought you were a snotty brat, then on the train, first year, I was with Ron when you came in and started insulting him. You offered me friendship saying that you can help me to make the right kind of friends, and I rejected you, and ever since then you've been out to make my life hell."

"Well, that sounds about right, to make you end up in Gryffindor," Draco muttered. He looked up at Harry and shrugged. "Okay, you can ask me questions now. But quickly, because Harry's going to come back any time now."

"Harry who? What the hell is going on!"

"And that about sums it up," Draco sighed. "Okay then. You might want to sit down for this..."


Hope you enjoyed!

I really have no idea where this is going…

Ashen Skies
"Harry half-hoped the answer would be 'shagging'."