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Chapter 4 : The Switch
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He slowly opened his eyes, but quickly shut them again. He knew they were probably just playing tricks on him. He rubbed his eyes and opened them again, confused he was able to see without his glasses. He took a big gulp, slowly rising from his bed; however, this wasn’t the same bed he was in when he went to sleep. He ran his hands over the green and silver cotton sheets that surrounded him.
He turned to look at the remainder of the room. There were three other beds in the room, each containing a sleeping body under the same green and silver sheets. The walls were covered with pictures of famous purebloods, and to Harry’s disbelief, a picture of Voldemort. He shuddered, not able to comprehend why he wasn’t in his own room in the Head’s common room.
He stepped out of bed, still feeling a little faint. What was even stranger was that he felt he had grown a few inches from just last night. He was starting to get scared, unsure of what was happening to him. He then began thinking it was all a dream. I just need to wake up and splash water on my face, he thought.
He left the bedroom and walked down the stairs, toward the bathroom in the common room. Everything looked so real to him, but he knew it all had to be a dream of some kind. There was no plausible way he was inside the Slytherin’s common room.
“Drakey, you’re up early,” a girl shrilled.
Harry moaned. He really didn’t want to see Draco. Even if it were a dream, he still didn’t want to have to face him.
Harry watched the bubbly girl run closer. Everything seemed so real to him, and if he didn’t know any better, he would have believed that Pansy Parkinson really was running in his direction. Malfoy must be behind me, he thought, as he turned around. He knew he would have to face him sooner or later, but to his surprise, no one was standing behind him.
Once Pansy reached Harry, she stopped and smiled. “How come you didn’t come to my room last night?” she asked, as she grazed her hand over Harry’s cheek.
He jumped back, confused why Pansy was touching him and thinking he was Draco. He shook his head and ran toward the bathroom. Enough is enough. I need to wake up, now, he said to himself.
He slammed the bathroom door behind him and ran over to the sink, not looking up at the mirror. He turned on the faucet and soaked himself with water. Rubbing his eyes harder and spraying himself one last time with water, he knew he had finally woken up. He knew he was back in the Head’s bathroom, where he would start his day.
He breathed a sigh of relief, reached his arm around and grabbed a towel from the rack behind him. While drying his face, he took a glance at himself in the mirror. As soon as he saw his reflection, he stumbled back. There, staring back at him, was Draco Malfoy.
“What the hell?” Harry said, seeing Draco’s mouth move at the same time he spoke. What was even more surprising was that it wasn’t his voice coming out of his mouth, but Draco’s.
Harry lifted his arm and watched Draco copy. He moved to the left and Draco followed. Harry lifted his hand to his face and slapped himself hard, seeing Draco do the same.
“This can’t be happening,” Harry swallowed. “How am I in Malfoy’s body?”
Draco tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable in his bed. It was rather soft and lumpy, which he did not understand, since his bed was usually stiff. He also noticed that the sheets covering him felt very smooth, almost like silk, which were different from the cotton sheets he normally slept on.
After minutes of trying to find a comfort spot on the bed, he finally gave up and opened his eyes. He quickly sat up, staring around the room. Everything was hazy and he couldn't see right. He closed his eyes and rubbed them, before opening them and still not seeing correctly. He looked around him, noticing familiar looking glasses on the bedside table. He furrowed his eyebrows, but grabbed for them anyway and put them on. Everything went into focus.
He saw familiar pictures of famous Quidditch players that were covering the walls. He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear his thoughts, before opening them again. Some of the Quidditch players waved at him, greeting him on the new morning. He looked down and stared in confusion at the maroon and gold sheets he was sitting on. What the hell is going on, he said to himself. Where am I?
He quickly got out of bed and opened the bedroom door. He looked out and saw a huge common room in front of him, with a big fireplace and bookcases on both sides. He started getting nervous and thought back to the previous night. He tried to remember what had happened after he left detention. I know I went back to my room. I even talked to Blaise before I went to bed, he recalled.
He heard a door creak open and watched a figure walk out of the room across from him. He slowly backed against the wall, scared that the person would scream seeing him standing there.
The figure was wearing a long, silver, satin nightgown. Draco’s eyes immediately became transfixed upon the figure, watching the nightgown flow as she walked, but also hug around her tantalizing curves. He watched her rub her eyes and yawn, releasing a tiny sound, which he smiled at. As she walked closer, he suddenly noticed the brown, bushy hair, which was even bushier this morning because she had yet to brush it. He closed his eyes and cursed himself for having stared at Hermione’s body, again.
“Morning,” Hermione yawned, as she passed him, making her way down to the kitchen.
Draco gulped, feeling rather perplexed. He didn’t understand why Hermione didn’t shriek when she saw him, or even start cursing at him. He remained quiet and watched her walk away, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
He ran toward another door, hoping it was the bathroom, and slammed the door shut, when he realized he was in the right room. He quickly walked over to the sink, not looking into the mirror just yet, and splashed water on his face. He had this weird habit every morning where he could not look at himself in the mirror, until after he washed his face. He knew it was rather superstitious, but it became such a part of his routine that he has never been able to change it.
After washing up, he turned toward the towel rack behind him, grabbed a towel and started drying his face. Once he felt clean and refreshed for the start of the new day, he put on his trademark smirk and looked in the mirror. After seeing his reflection, he quickly fell back and slammed into the wall behind him.
As soon as he shook off the pain he just endured, he started to chuckle, believing his eyes were playing tricks on him. He smirked at the thought and stood up, but as he stared at his reflection again, his smirk slowly faded. He knew his eyes weren’t deceiving him. He knew that the reflection staring back at him was Harry Potter.
“This can’t be real,” Draco said.
His eyes widened when he heard himself talk. That wasn’t his voice, but Harry’s. He didn’t know why or how, but he knew this wasn’t a dream. He knew he had somehow switched bodies with Harry.
“Which means if I’m him, then Potter must be,” he began.
“Harry, hurry up or you’ll be late,” Hermione said, knocking on the bathroom door.
“Keep your shirt on,” Draco snapped.
On the other side of the door, Hermione stood there flabbergasted that Harry had just snapped at her. She started to think back to her fifth year, when he had snapped at her and Ron almost every other day. She could not understand why he was starting that up again. She knew she had done nothing wrong. She walked away, not wanting to pick a fight with him. He must have just woken up on the wrong side of the bed, she thought.
A/N: Hey all. I know this was a little shorter than usual, but sometimes one just needs a short chapter to accomplish something, and I hope it did. :) Thanks for reading!!
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