55Chapter 16: ASTTWT 5: Love and Hate
And so the Tables Were Turned …, part five: Love and Hate
"Harry, are you all right in there?" Draco wondered worriedly, his ear to the bathroom door. "You've been in there forever. Can't you come out instead so we can talk about this? You're scaring me when you're this quiet. Harry?"
"Shut up!"
"Wow! He's really getting a hang on being you, Draco."
"Piper, shut up and go somewhere else, will you? This is between me and Harry. I'm letting you stay for now, but only until you've found a counter-curse for this, okay? Go make us some tea or something, it's always been good for me when I've been feeling queasy."
Piper saluted him, and said, "Aye-aye, Captain Dreadful! Yes, sir, will do, sir!"
He hit her on the arm to make her go away. Then he turned back to the bathroom door. "Harry, Piper's gone now, so it's okay for you to tell me how you feel now," he said reassuringly.
"Shut up!" Harry called from inside the locked bathroom. "I don't want to hear myself asking me how I am!"
"But it's not you asking—it's me," Draco protested in lack of understanding.
"Oh, you know what I mean! You sound like me! You look like me! Hell … you are me. I don't like it; it scares the shit out of me."
Draco was silent for a long time. "I understand, Harry. It scares the shit out of me, too, but now it's already been done. We can't change it. At least not yet. So I guess we'll have to figure out a way to cope with this—being each other, I mean. Hell, Harry, just come out of there. You're the smart one, I need you to work this out for me, I can't bloody think without you. One would think that I would have your brains now, but you obviously brought them along for your vacation in my body."
Harry laughed inside the bathroom. A smile formed on Draco's lips. He finally seemed to have managed to break the ice between them. He no longer thought his lover would mind if he unlocked the door magically, so he took out his wand, and said, "Alohomora."
He was sitting on top of the toilet seat, bent forward with his elbows supported on his knees, his face in his hands—but it was Draco's face. It was as if he was seeing himself sitting there, not Harry. He only hesitated for a second or two before crossing the threshold and walking up to his lover.
Harry looked up at him as he approach. "Boy, is this a nightmare," he said with a faint smile.
Draco knelt in front of him and put his hands on Harry's hips. He was shaking as he did so, because he felt as if he was touching himself on the hips, and that was perverted, depraved, morbid! Absurd like nothing else. Yet, it was happening.
He shut his eyes and took a deep breath, conjuring an image of his beloved Harry in his mind's eye for comfort and strength. When he felt energised by his boyfriend's love again, he opened his eyes. It didn't scare him that he was looking at his own face anymore; he was utterly calm. And then something miraculous happened. For a moment, he could actually see Harry sitting there, his face flushed with queasiness and his forehead covered with tiny beads of sweat.
The vision faded after only a few seconds, but Draco knew what he had seen: Harry's soul. It made it much easier for him, knowing that his lover was actually in there somewhere, when he was going to play the part as mediator between them. "How are you feeling?" he asked affectionately, because he knew that Harry would need every sign of love that Draco could give; being pregnant was no easy task.
Harry grimaced. "I've been better. Tell me … does the queasiness ever pass?"
Draco laughed. "Yes. Yes, it does. It's worst during the first few months, but then it gets better. You just need to learn what to eat and when, that's all."
Harry snorted. "You make it sound so easy, but I feel awful … I feel insecure, fat, ugly, sweaty, and bloated …" He sighed and buried his face in his hands anew.
Draco gently caressed the side of his face to show him that he did not find him the least bit repulsive. "Welcome to my world," he joked bitterly. "This is how I've been feeling for the past month. But it's wonderful at the same time—you'll see."
Harry moaned. "Uuugh, don't say that! You make it sound as if we're never going to switch back!"
"Well, that all depends on Piper, and bearing her past spell experiments in mind I'd say we're in for a Hell of a long switch. You have to prepare yourself physically and mentally in case you're the one giving birth this time."
When Draco had finally managed to coax Harry out of the bathroom, the new blonde muttered something like, "Your sister better find a cure for this quick, because I'm about to kill her—or worse," which amused Draco immensely. It was amazing how switching bodies could automatically encourage them to switch personalities, too. Maybe this was not so bad, after all? Maybe this would all be a healthy experience for them both?
Piper brought them the tea when they had both sat down on their favourite couch in the parlour, Harry still bent double. Draco was tenderly caressing his back to provide all the support he could muster. He thanked Piper for the tea and asked her to sit down opposite them in the armchair. He helped Harry take a few careful swigs, then he raised his own jug to his lips.
Just when he was about to drink, something hit him. With narrowed eyes, he gazed up at Piper. "You didn't put any Priberty Potion in this, did you?" he inquired with suspicion.
Shock passed over his sister's face for a brief moment. Then she got up from her chair and took his jug. "Oh, silly me. Just a reflex, I guess. Old, nasty habit. Excuse me." She went back out to the kitchen.
When she returned, Draco shook his head. "Uh-uh, that doesn't fool me. You just poured the same tea into a different jug."
"I did not!"
"That is so transparent. Don't you think I've learnt from my previous mistakes when it comes to trusting you, dear sister?"
"Shoot!"
"There, there. You wouldn't really sink so low that you would actually impregnate Harry's body while I'm in it just 'cause I miss having my baby inside of me? That wouldn't be fair to Harry. Look at him. He didn't ask for this, yet he's bravely trying to cope with it as best he can. He wouldn't want to stay pregnant once he finally got his own body back."
Piper lowered her head in shame. "No, I guess you're right. I'll be right back."
When she was gone, Harry laughed bitterly and made Draco turn his head to look at him with one eyebrow raised. "Who would've thought you'd be the calm one?" he said and shook his head for emphasis.
Draco laughed. "Yeah, who'da thunk? Must be your genes influencing me."
"Yeah, well, your genes are sure as Hell influencing me to be a grumpy, cursing big baby!"
"You do make a good impression of me," Draco generously agreed. "And that's actually a good thing, because we'll have to play each other for some time now. We can't let people know we've changed bodies, it'd leave us vulnerable to the Death Eaters and anyone else who would like to beat our arses."
Harry sighed. "I guess you're right … For what it's worth, Draco, it actually feels good to be the beautiful one for once."
Heart swelling, Draco leaned in closer and kissed the top of Harry's head. Then, inevitably, when he felt the strange sensation of his own soft blond hair against his lips he swiftly withdrew and made a wry face. So did Harry. Laughing nervously to break the new ice between them, Draco said, "Hehe, that felt weird."
"Yeeeaaahh … weird … don't do it again, all right?"
"Don't worry, I don't intend to."
It was difficult enough to adjust to the fact that they looked and sounded different, but when it was time for them to act like one another the problems really started to pile up. For a few days, they would stay in and practice their parts before they would go out into the world as 'their new selves.' When they began to move around amongst other people, everything had to be perfect, down to the very last fleeting detail. Body language was most important, and that really was not the hard part—at least they did not think it would be that hard—because they had been watching each other for five years now; they should know the other's body language almost as well as their own.
Then there was the tone of voice, the vocabulary, the emotional expressions … Harry had to curse a lot more than usual while Draco needed to stop cursing so much, and it was not as easy as it sounded at the beginning. They also needed to learn the other's daily chores by heart, not to mention the question of fashion. They did not wear the same type of clothes, they did not like the same hair and skin products, and they certainly did not have the same hairstyles. Draco had to start shaving while Harry had to lay off his habit of shaving every morning.
All of a sudden, Draco could drink again, but Harry was strictly forbidden to consume any kind of alcohol or caffeine.
Harry also had to throw up from time to time, but Draco felt great.
It would have been better if they had simply stuck to their original plan—which, of course, was to learn more about each other's habits before trying to play their parts out in the real world—but Harry just had to go and break the rules.
And when Draco found out, they could just kiss their act goodbye ...
He had been feeling so weird the last twelve hours that he seriously considered to get rid of the bloody baby—he currently did not care if it would devastate Draco; he would get over it eventually. Being constantly sick was not exactly what he desired.
He felt uncomfortable in Draco's body, what with the long hair and everything … It kept falling into his eyes and mouth, and it tasted like hairspray. How the Hell did Draco stand it?! The fact that it looked good on the blonde was one thing; Harry did not want to have it on his own head! Well, technically it was not his head, but …
Oh, he needed to talk to someone about this.
That was when he remembered he had not seen Ron since he and Draco had gone to the Weasleys' to pick up James. Yeah, he could talk to Ron! Ron would surely provide him with some comfort …
Harry would have preferred to snuggle up to Draco and tell him just how awful he felt, because the warmth of the blonde's body could always soothe him, but then he remembered that he was the blonde now, and then the idea just sort of seemed perverted and disgusting.
Such a turn-off, it was.
So he went to Ron's even though it was rather late. Fortunately, his parents were still up, and they greeted him with some surprise when he knocked on their door. "Hi, sorry to barge in like this, but I really need to see Ron," he said. "It's urgent."
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley eyed him for several seconds before finally consenting and letting him in. Harry went up to Ron's room and walked straight in without knocking. He did not think of it as rude; that was what they had always done.
Ron was lying on his bed, flat on his belly, reading a book about his favourite Quidditch team, but when he saw Harry step through the door, he instantly got up on his feet.
"Hey, I need to talk to you," Harry said, and went straight to the chair by the small window. He sat down and buried his face in his hands. "God, I'm so confused right now … I don't know what to do … This was never meant to happen, but it happened alright, and now I'm pregnant, and I feel stupid and inadequate and worthless. Boy, he must really hate me …"
Ron was silent for a long while. Uncertain, he made to sit down beside Harry, but then he changed his mind and decided to simply stand beside him, in front of the window. "Um, okay …," he said, sounding as if he was really trying to grasp the situation and help his friend, but it did not sound very convincing. "So, you got knocked up again …?"
Harry looked up at him. "What? No. I wasn't the one who got knocked up, I just have to carry the bloody monster. Shit, I've never done anything like this before, and I … I don't know how. How do you handle a pregnancy?"
Ron looked scared for his life. "Don't look at me! I don't know anything about these sorts of things! Why are you coming to me with you problems, anyways? It's not like you don't have any friends of your own …"
"What are you talking about? You are my friend. My best friend."
"In that case I really feel sorry for you, mate."
Harry frowned. "Huh? What's that supposed to mea—"
"There you are, you bastard!"
It started early, because he soon realised that his clothes were way too big for him now. He stumbled over his own feet because the legs of his trousers were too long and gained a few bruises in embarrassing places. Therefore, he changed out of his 'early maternity clothes' into his regular clothes, but they were two sizes too small and way too tight for his taste. So tight it hurt in certain places, even …
At first, he was too proud to admit that he needed new clothes and forced himself to endure the pain in his crotch, which by the way made it quite impossible to walk normally. Eventually, though, he succumbed to his uneasiness and resorted to searching through Harry's wardrobe to find something more comfortable to wear. Ultimately, he settled for a pair of Harry's favourite jeans, which were moderately worn, and a plain white shirt that smelled strongly of Harry even though it was newly washed. Draco buried his nose in the soft cotton fabric and took a deep breath. He could get high on Harry's scent.
And the size difference between them was not just apparent in the way Draco's trousers had been too tight and too long, or in the way his shirt seemed to be a short dress; it even came down to the little details—like underwear. Oh, he felt kinky in Harry's boxers; he had never worn them before. Even putting on Harry's socks was a treasured little pleasure for Draco.
He tried to style his hair the way he was used to, but Harry's stubborn fly-away, constantly-tousled hair just would not fall in place around his face—and it would not have been long enough, anyway. While in the bathroom, he discovered that his hair products made Harry's hair greasy, so he swiftly washed it out and just let it be, like Harry did. And, unfortunately, his skin products—his precious skin products that kept his skin so smooth and moisturised!—made Harry's skin itch. So he simply had to learn to use regular soap.
He also needed to learn how to shave—and fast, because that beard grew like nothing else! He hated the sensation of beard bristles against his skin, whether it was his own or someone else's. Fortunately for him, Harry shared that opinion and always shaved first thing in the morning. Or, well, maybe not always first thing in the morning … their mornings often started with tender lovemaking … and it could be sexy with some stubble sometimes …
Draco smiled at the memory of last night. They had made love all night, and they had not exactly been very quiet, either … it had been wonderful and invigorating. Now he was very glad that they had indulged in a lovemaking marathon instead of sleeping, because their current situation made it look as if it would take a while before they could make love again.
Draco was absolutely repulsed by the idea of being in the arms of himself, let alone being fucked by himself, regardless of the fact that it was Harry inside his body now. It was still his body!
Then came the trouble with food. Draco was preparing his regular meals and snacks according to his pregnancy chart with absolutely no thought about the fact that he was not pregnant anymore, but fortunately Piper noticed this in time. "Hey!" she said when he was just about to knock back his daily drink of prenatal vitamins and made him jump in fright. "Don't drink that! That's Harry's!"
He stared at her, blinking. "What? Oh, you're right. Sorry, Harry."
Another thing that changed for Draco—because Harry had been lazy and forgetful for some time, not to mention haunted by indecision concerning his future—was that he was now expected to go to Auror school in Harry's place. He had no idea how he would pull that off without raising suspicion and making Harry look like a stupid fool. Good thing for him, this body change happened on a Saturday so he would at least have a couple of days to figure this out before he had to confront his 'classmates' and 'teachers.'
Draco's day was full of adjustments and confusion, but when night fell, he was pretty much starting to get the hang of it. Turned out it was not at all that hard to be Harry. Harry probably had a much harder time trying to be Draco … Speaking of which …
"Draco! Draco!" Piper came running through the hallway towards him when he exited the master bath on the third floor, and her expression witnessed of something catastrophic.
Draco hurried up to her. "What? What? What's happened?" He glanced towards the nursery. "Is it James?"
Piper feverishly shook her head. "No, it's not James. It's Harry."
Draco jerked. "What's happened to Harry?" he asked anxiously.
Piper had to slow down and take a few breaths of air before she could answer; she was panting from running up all the stairs. "He's … he's gone to the Weasleys," she told him when she had finally found her breath and slowed her heartbeats. "I tried to stop him since he's even worse at this act than you are—at least you're slowly coming along—but he wouldn't listen to me, he just Disapparated right in front of me before I could even tell him he's you. Draco, he's not even aware of being different yet. You have to go get him before he blows your cover!"
Draco was off even before Piper had finished her last sentence, and the next second he was knocking firmly on the Weasleys' door. Mrs. Weasley opened the door and instantly cracked into a warm smile. "Ah, Harry dear! Come in, come in! You boys are sure up late nowadays, Draco arrived just a moment ago, he's up in Ron's room." She began to ask him "How are you, dear?" but he gave her no time to finish.
He went straight into their comfy, cosy home, headed for the stairs. On his way up, he said, "That's not Draco—I'm Draco. The person upstairs is Harry," because he did not care much about 'blowing the cover'. What he cared about was that Harry once again had left without telling him where to and for how long he would be gone.
Draco was so fed up with worrying about finding him in the enemy's grasp again, because he would not be able to survive the death curse every time, and he was so fed up with always being left in the dark, especially about things that were obviously important to Harry.
He stormed into Ron's room, interrupting Harry in the middle of a sentence. "There you are, you bastard! Did you plan on leaving me alone all night worrying about your safety? You bloody oblivious, self-righteous, smug piece of shit! You never tell me where you go! Do you expect me to accept that and stick around waiting for you forever? Because this is bloody Hell getting on my nerves now!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, pointing his right index finger accusatorily at Harry.
Harry just sat there staring up at him, speechless.
The moment he walked into the room, Ron took a few steps toward him. "Harry, finally!" he said with relief. "Your boyfriend's acting real weird, he seems to think I'm his best friend or something … Maybe you should take him to the hospital or something?"
Draco—who had temporarily forgotten about the switch—did not understand that Ron was talking to him; he thought Ron was talking about him to Harry, and he took his words very personally. He directed his anger at the redhead. "I am not acting weird, and I don't fucking need to go to the hospital! I've spent my fair share of time in the hospital already—enough is enough! And I do not consider you to be my best friend! My best friend is dead!"
Ron stumbled backwards in shock. "What? But Harry, I wasn't talking about you, I … I meant Draco." He pointed at the blonde behind him. "Draco. He came here and started talking about feeling inadequate because he didn't know how to handle the pregnancy or something. He's really worried you hate him because he doesn't know what to do, and mate, may I say that I think you're overreacting?"
Draco stared at him in confusion. "What? I haven't …" Then it hit him. Draco. Harry. Harry-Draco.
Oh.
"Sorry, Ron, I'm afraid there's been a mistake here," he said to explain himself. "I'm not angry with you, I'm only angry with the bastard who's hiding out in your room."
"Harry, you've never used this kind of language before, not even when you get real angry. Sure, you could say 'bloody' and stuff, but you've never insulted anyone like that before. What's got into you?"
"Oh, a certain Malfoy's got into me," Harry muttered from his chair.
Ron frowned in bewilderment.
"Shut up!" Draco said to Harry. "I don't want to hear another word from you unless it's a proper apology and a bloody good explanation to why you fled from me. And don't start blaming my face again, will you! It's so transparent."
Ron blinked. "Blame your face? What kind of logic is that, Harry?"
Draco moaned, irritated. "Please don't call me that."
"Call you what? Harry?"
"Yes—'Harry!' Please stop calling me 'Harry' because I'm – not – Harry!"
"Draco!" Harry warned from his 'corner.'
Draco sighed and rubbed his temples. "Oh, give it up, you've already done it. He already knows something's wrong, so why not tell him the truth and be over with it already? He's your best friend—you tell him. I feel sorry for the confused bugger."
Harry nodded. "Ron, he's not Harry—I am."
The redhead stared at him with his mouth hanging wide open. Stared at the blond hair, the grey eyes, the unmistakable aristocratic features of a true Malfoy, the bumpy belly … and whimpered. He fell down on his knees and did not move, too much in shock to react in any other way.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Harry, you just made your friend go into a mental coma—are you happy with yourself?" he mocked.
Harry got up from the chair and went over to him. "Put a sock in it, Malfoy! You have no idea why I came here today, so please just spare me your scorn, okay? I don't need it. I feel stupid and worthless and disgusting enough as it is."
It was as if he had hit Draco right in the face with something blunt and hard. "Wha-what did you call me?" he whispered weakly.
Harry seemed to realise his mistake when he heard Draco's response, but that was not good enough. It was bloody well not good enough. Draco felt more hurt than he had ever felt in his entire life, and the wound that Harry's words had stabbed into his heart would never heal entirely. Never. Because he knew what that meant. Oh, he knew all right.
He turned with the intention of walking away without a single word. Tears were burning in his eyes, and it was the first time since they became a couple that he did not want Harry to see them.
"Draco, wait!" Harry begged behind him. "I can explain! Please don't go!"
He stopped just inside the doorway, but he did not turn around to look at Harry. "I hope you realise what you just did. I don't think I need to tell you why I'm hurt." A bitter chuckle escaped. "So, that's how you see me, huh? I'm just a stupid, worthless, disgusting pregnant man, am I? Glad you finally told me, Harry, I really am. Or would you rather me calling you Potter from now on? Are we back to surnames and name-calling now? Is that it? I really thought you'd be more mature about this, but I guess I was being too optimistic. I'm sorry I ever trusted you to embrace this opportunity."
And with those words, Draco left him without any concerns whatsoever in what condition he left him. He did not care anymore; Harry could do whatever he wanted. He could even break up with him; it would not matter if he saw Draco as nothing but an eyesore.
He had hoped that being in his body would encourage Harry to learn more about Draco, about his habits, and most of all about his life, even the parts of it that Harry never saw under normal circumstances, just like Draco had embraced this perfect opportunity to learn more about Harry, no matter how silly or wrong it felt, no matter how nervous he was that he would ultimately do something stupid that would tarnish Harry's reputation forever.
Now it just seemed so ludicrous that Draco could ever have thought such a thing, because it had obviously been as far from the truth as one could get. Harry did not care for Draco's everyday life; all he cared about was his own stupid life, and Draco being in it could just as well be a coincidence.
Choosing him long before he even caught sight of Cho? Yeah, right. Choosing him over everyone else? Scarcely.
He ignored the quizzical look that Mrs. Weasley gave him when he passed her, his face wet with tears, and went straight for the door. He closed his eyes and held his breath when he heard the panicked footsteps on the stairs behind him and forced himself to shut everything out when Harry called after him.
"Draco! Draco, please!"
He shut the door behind him and weakly leaned against it for a moment before he drew a trembling breath of fresh night air and Apparated to the Manor. Home, he collapsed just inside the bedroom door, his back to the cold, hard wall, and snivelled loudly, his wretched, despaired sobbing reaching even the lower floors. He had so much pain inside of him, he did not know what to do with it, he just wanted it to go away, go away, go away …
In an attempt to free himself from the excruciating pain, he hit his head against the wall repeatedly until the headache it caused matched his emotional pain. He did not care. It was Harry's head—he could just as well get a little brain damage as punishment for this.
"Fuck him," he said, his voice trembling. "Fuck him."
Piper appeared in the doorway, and when she saw him, her heart broke. She hurried over to him and protectively put her arms around him, and he did not mind. He needed to be held, and at that moment he was actually glad to see his sister. Even though she was the most stupid witch he had ever met, she could also be really sweet, and she always seemed to know just when to play the part of the understanding, loving, and compassionate big sister, and he loved her for it.
"What's wrong?" she asked worriedly. "Did something happen at Ron's?"
Draco nodded feverishly, but he could not find the words to tell her …
She just held him while he cried, and when the sobbing finally subsided, he could at last hiccough out the first words. "He … he said I was disgusting … and he called me Malfoy … as if I didn't mean anything to him … I hate him!"
Piper held him closer. "Shhh," she soothed, "it's all right, it's all right. I'm sure he didn't mean it."
Draco laughed bitterly. "No, he just told me straight out that he'd never felt as stupid, worthless, and disgusting as he did in my body, and he implied that it was my fault. What else could he have meant? 'Put a sock in it, Malfoy.' That's what he said to me, Piper. 'Put a sock in it, Malfoy.' He doesn't love me anymore. This whole body switch has made him fall out of love with me."
He got up from the floor and went over to the wardrobe. Began to throw things out on the bed.
Piper watched him with growing concern. "What are you doing?"
"I'm leaving."
"What?!"
"I can't stand staying here another minute, not when he could return home any second. I have to get away from him a while. I need to think about some things. And I can't stand his excuses and self-righteous reasons right now—it's too painful."
Piper was shocked. "But, Draco … this is Harry we're talking about. Harry. Your Harry."
Draco stopped for a while when she said 'Your Harry.' A fresh stab of pain hit his heart. "Is he really mine?"
"Of course he is, Draco! He loves you, for fuck's sake! Doesn't that count for anything?"
"You'd have to ask him that." He inspected the clothes he had thrown out on the bed and realised they were all his, which meant they were all the wrong sizes. Suddenly struck by divine anger, he grabbed half of the garments and threw them down on the floor, where he stamped on them repeatedly to work some of the frustration out of his body.
All strength drained out of his body, and he sank down to the floor again. He buried his face in his hands. "I can't wear any of this," he snivelled childishly.
Piper squatted in front of him. "So don't pack up, then. Don't leave, Draco. He needs you—you know that."
"The fuck I do," Draco objected with hostility. "I'm not sure about any of that anymore, that's why I need to get away for a while. Don't you see? Seeing his face every time I look in a mirror will be enough to remind me of this, I don't need his bloody clothes or his bloody personal belongings or his bloody nagging to make it worse! I hate him; I don't want to see him."
Piper looked as if she had been struck. "You don't really hate him. Surely you don't hate him."
"I hate him," Draco repeated firmly.
"But you don't hate him at all! You love him!"
He gave her a cold, murderous look. "I hate him because I love him so much, and I hate myself because I keep letting things like this slip. This isn't the first time, Piper. A lot has happened that you know nothing of, things we never talk about, not to anyone. With other people, we're always this perfect couple that never have any problems or differences, but the truth is we do—we just don't show it to the entire world, because that is none of their business. We have problems like every other couple, and Harry's begun to hold things back lately.
"Whenever there is something on his mind, something that worries him, I'm no good anymore. I'm only good when he's feeling lonely or horny. I'm sick of it. He needs to learn to appreciate me again or I won't come back to him. You tell him that for me, please. He needs to figure out what he wants, otherwise our relationship is totally unnecessary and superfluous. He needs to learn to trust me again, and he needs to learn to confide in me again because I don't want to be kept in the dark anymore—I want to know what's going on in his life, in his mind.
"I want to know everything about him, and I want to be everything to him. Is that really so much to ask for? I think all those things should be obvious in a relationship. And I'm giving him everything of myself, I have even given him my soul—literally! Now, can't he do the same for me?"
Piper was silent.
"I don't want to hate him, but I can't just ignore my feelings—it's not healthy."
"But what about Harry's feelings?"
"Fuck Harry."
"What about your children, then? What about James? What about—oh, what is it you call him?—Joseph? What about me?"
"I'm sorry, Piper. This is something that I have to do. If I don't do this, I'll blow everything. I'll just keep repressing everything and I'll eventually screw things up so bad we can never repair them. I love my children, both of them, but I can't take them with me. I won't be much of a father to them. And I can't take them away from Harry, he'll need them more than I will in the time to come. Tell them I love them, will you? I can't take any more goodbyes right now."
He was silent for a while, then he added: "Take care of him for me, will you?"
And then he left the Manor.
Harry knew he had done the stupidest thing in his entire life right then and there, but he was not given any chance to make it right again. Maybe he deserved that. He had been awfully cold just now. How could he have said that? It had been the right words in the wrong context, and he had hurt his lover bad. Real bad this time.
Mrs. Weasley apparently did not understand what was going on at all. She looked after Draco with concern in her warm, friendly eyes, and then she looked at Harry. This time her gaze was stern and somewhat hostile; it was almost intimidating. "What did you do to Harry this time?" she asked accusatorily.
At first, Harry did not know what to say, and when he did, he could not because a hard lump had formed in his throat and tears were clouding his vision. He collapsed onto the floor. Shaking with pain and loss and regret, he called to his lover in a low, weak voice: "Draco … Draco … Draco …"
Ron appeared before him. He was kneeling on the floor beside him with a concerned expression on his flushed face. Hesitant, he said, "Ha-Harry?"
Harry stopped chanting Draco's name. "Yes. Yes, it's me. I'm Harry."
Mrs. Weasley heard that and came up to them. She, too, knelt beside him. "Harry? But how is that possible?"
Ron glanced at the closed front door. "And that was … Draco?"
Harry nodded. "Yes. Piper did some sort of spell, but it backfired and Draco and I switched bodies somehow. We've been like this since this morning." He told them about everything that had happened that morning, and about his and Draco's many strenuous adjustments.
"But what was that all about?!" Ron asked, referring to what had occurred in his room only fifteen minutes ago.
Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I was a bit too outspoken, I think," he said darkly. "What I meant to tell him was that I didn't need any mockery because I already felt as bad about myself as one can possibly feel, because I couldn't live up to his expectations. Or something like that. I mean … Draco's always been great with the pregnancy and everything, he's never made much of a fuss about it, and now suddenly I'm the one pregnant—and I didn't know how to react to that. I'm not disgusted because I look like Draco, or because I pretty much am Draco now, but because I'm doing such a bad job at being him. And … I'm ashamed …"
"Ashamed?" Mrs. Weasley echoed.
"Yeah, because I can't even touch Draco without feelng repulsed. I hate it. I want to touch him, I love to touch him, but he looks like me, and it's just … it's weird, 's all."
They spoke for another ten minutes or so. All Harry wanted was to return home and talk things through with Draco, but they kept him there until they had fully grasped the situation. When they finally released him, he was mentally exhausted and physically agitated. He wondered what Draco would do to him when he got home. Knowing the blonde, the punishment would be excruciating.
He also wondered what he would say to Piper. Should he tell her the truth or simply tell a little white lie until he knew how serious the situation was? He decided to ignore her altogether and try to sneak past her before she noticed that he was home. Unfortunately, that woman had ears like a Doberman and instantly came running when she heard him.
She studied him with stern, cold-hearted eyes; they were the grey of heavy storm clouds and tomb stones. She was leaning against the archway into the parlour. "What did you do to him?"
Her words were as merciless as any that had come out of her father's mouth while he was still alive.
Harry did not know what to say. Instead, he asked her where Draco was.
"What – did – you – do – to – him?" Piper repeated relentlessly.
"I didn't actually do anything, I just … said the wrong things," Harry said, squirming. He felt like nine again, when he had accidentally (magically) dyed one of his classmates' hair blue when he was bullying him.
"Oh, you must have done something," Piper insisted with despise and resentment. "I've never seen him so upset before. Never. Wouldn't stop crying for half an hour. He even let me comfort him, so what does that tell you? Told me he hated you. Hated you, Harry. What did you do to my brother?"
Harry could not take it anymore; her words burnt into his heart and demolished it. He ran up to their bedroom in a panic, deeply worried about Draco. If he had in fact been crying incessantly for more than half an hour … and if he had allowed Piper to hold him … then it was even worse than he had expected. If only he could have kept his big mouth shut …
"Draco!" He stumbled over the threshold and fell face first to the floor. He cursed and got back up on his feet. The first thing he noticed was the utter mess that Draco had left behind in there. All of his clothes were thrown all over the floor and the bed and the desk …
Harry did not want to accept what this must mean.
"Happy now?"
Harry swirled around.
Piper was standing in the doorway, watching him with dislike.
He went up to her. "Piper, where is he? Please, you have to tell me where he is; I need to make this right …"
She lowered her gaze. "He left."
Harry jerked. "What?"
"He left about ten minutes ago. Said he needed to be alone for a while to think things over. He left you a message: You need to learn to trust and to appreciate him again or he won't come back to you. He's feeling neglected, Harry. You're not telling him things anymore, and he wants to know what's going on with you—he wants to be a part of you. He has given you everything that he could possibly give to another person, and you're not giving as much back. He's fed up with it, and I understand that feeling. Do you understand that feeling, Harry? Do you have enough willpower to fight for him? He's doing this to save your relationship, you know. He doesn't want to lose you. Now, do you want to lose him?"
Harry sat down on the bed. It was too much to digest at once.
Piper had a strange glint in her grey eyes. "Do you want to get him back, Harry?"
"Yes! Yes, of course I want him back! What did you think? Hell …"
"Then you have to fight for him."
He tried to ransack his mind for a solution to his problem, but there was nothing.
Nothing.
He was completely empty, like a big great hollow, and it was filling up with pain.
"I've lost him, haven't I?" he said darkly.
"Not necessarily. You still have a chance to prove your love to him."
That did not sound very promising. How the Hell did you prove such a complicated thing as love to someone as stubborn as Draco Malfoy?
Well, you can start by not calling him 'Malfoy,' Harry thought bitterly to himself.
"What should I do to make him come back to me? What can I do? I'd do anything. Anything at all."
Yes, he would do anything to get Draco back. He would even give up himself. He would walk through fire for him, sleep on ice, starve. But would it ever be enough? Would it ever be enough?