Gingerbread House

Draco jerked out of unconsciousness to the sound of virulent cursing. He kept his eyes closed and just listened to that light tenor go on as he waited for his head to stop spinning. When Draco finally cracked open his eyes, he had developed a profound admiration for the other person's ability to curse; it was the first time he had ever heard the word "iguana" used to help describe a person's genitals. He groaned slightly as he sat up. Sitting in an ornate wooden rocking chair across from him was Potter.

Draco shook his head, and drudged up a slight smirk. "Well, if it isn't The Boy Who Cursed. I'm surprised no one has washed your mouth out with soap, Potty."

"This is your fault, Malfoy. What the hell did you do?" Potter stood and stalked over to Draco. He kneeled in front of the other boy and glared menacingly. Draco ignored him and slowly stood up, trying to regain his equilibrium. Whatever happened seemed to have affected his balance. He nearly fell, and caught himself before he landed on Potter.

Draco looked around. It seemed that the gingerbread house had been a Portkey, he supposed. They were in an extravagant and large ballroom. The room was dark, and the dusty purple curtains that hung around 3 walls of the room hid any signs of the outside surroundings. In the far left corner, Draco noticed a grand piano. It was so heavily covered in dust that it looked gray instead of a brown wooden color. On the other side of the room was a phonograph. Potter and Draco himself were standing in the middle. The only other thing in the room was the chair Potter had been sitting in. Draco walked towards the curtain in front of him, and began following it around the wall. "What the fuck are you doing, Malfoy?" Potter exclaimed angrily. Draco turned back to the other boy. Potter's hands were clenched and his face was as red as the Weasel's hair.

"Why, Potty, considering how many situations like this you've been in, I'm surprised you haven't grasped the concept of 'looking for a way out' yet. But I suppose it's a bit too complex for you."

Potter's fist clenched tighter, and even in the dark room, Draco could see the whites of his knuckles. The expression on his face, however, was one of faint surprise. "You mean you don't know where we are?" Draco gave Potter a sardonic look before clapping three times. The sound echoed through the empty room. He then turned back to the task at hand. "I'll take the right side then," Potter continued quietly. Draco could hear him mumbling under his breath, but as Potter walked away his voice became too indistinct to make out the words.

Draco continued searching the curtains until he found a break behind the piano. He glanced over at Potter, and saw that the other boy was on the other side of the room. Draco parted the curtains and saw a narrow brown door. Oddly enough, it wasn't covered in dust. Draco reached out and grabbed the handle. The handle refused to turn. "Have you found anything, Potter?" Draco called out, turning so that Potter's view of the door was blocked.

"No, the curtain doesn't seem to end, and it won't lift off the floor," Potter said. "You?"

Draco raised his eyebrows at Potter's tone. The other boy sounded frustrated, but was making an effort to be civil. Seemed as if Potter believed Draco about not knowing where they were, if nothing else. "I found a door, but the handle seems to be stuck." Potter jogged across the room and stopped in front of Draco, who moved out of the way. Potter tried the handle, and it didn't turn for him either.

"Maybe if we try it together?" Potter suggested tentatively. Draco sneered at the other boy.

"You must be joking, Potty."

Potter sighed. "Look Malfoy, I believe you when you say you don't know where we are. But considering it's a trap for me, there are most likely several easy ways to die here. So can't you put aside your hatred until we get out of here?" Potter held out his hand, instantly reminding Draco of his own gesture to Potter when he had sought the other boy out on the Hogwarts Express their first year.

"I believe the words you said to me when I offered you an alliance with the Malfoys was something along the lines of 'I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,'" Draco said in a falsetto. Potter just looked at him for a few minutes before sighing.

"Fine. But let me put it this way, if you don't help me now, you'll be trapped in this room. With me. Alone. Until god knows who shows up to kill me. So why don't you help me try and get this damn door open, and then we can go our separate ways, all right?" Draco snorted, but Potter did have a point. Draco stuck his hands on the doorknob, and started turning. Potter placed his hands on top of Draco's and added his force to the mix. The knob slowly creaked left, and the door opened. "Thanks," Potter said wryly.

"Don't mention it," Draco replied, forcing open the door, and doing his best to get away from the person who had caused the whole problem in the first place. He let Potter stick his head out the door and walk out before following. The hallway they walked into was long, and extended both ways. Large open windows covered with white sheet-like curtains seemed to extend as far as the hallway did. There was a single candelabra on the floor in front of the door. "You know, Potty, I think whoever designed this place has watched too many bad Muggle horror films," Draco said firmly.

Potter gave him a look. "What would you know about Muggle movies, Malfoy?"

Draco smiled sweetly at the other boy until Potter's expression grew suspiciously blank. "Oh, good old fashioned slasher films from America are an integral part of the Young Death Eater Training Camp my father holds every summer vacation, Potty." Potter jerked at the offhand statement.

"I hope you're joking, Malfoy," he finally said faintly. Potter then shook himself. "Do you want the right or the left?"

Draco reached down and pulled off two candles from the candelabra. "Right." He turned, and without another word, walked away from Potter.

"Wait a minute!" Potter exclaimed. Draco snorted, and rolled his eyes. "You can't just walk away like that, Malfoy!"

Draco turned around and stared at the other boy. "That's exactly what I was planning on doing, Potty. Nice of you to have spotted it. Glad to see those glasses aren't going to waste."

"But... we should make plans..." Potter trailed off looking lost.

"Potty, I know exactly how to get out of here," Draco drawled. He turned and walked a few yards further away from the other boy. He reached into his robes, pulled out his wand pointed it at the glass windows. "Dirumpo," Draco said, and smiled grimly as the glass shattered outwards. Potter was gaping at him. "Honestly, Potty, we're wizards. You didn't expect me to walk around looking for the door out, did you?" From the red creeping up Potter's neck, Draco surmised that he had thought that.

Potter continued to gape before he burst into gales of laughter. "This is my boomstick," he managed to get out in-between snorts.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Potty, I look nothing like Bruce Campbell." Funny, imagine Potter watching Muggle horror flicks. And having a sense of humor. Draco supposed anything was possible. It's not like anyone would expect Draco himself to enjoy Muggle movies. His somewhat eccentric Great-Aunt had gotten him hooked when he visited her during the summer between fifth and sixth years. Draco was particularly fond of American Westerns such as Shane, and to his eternal shame, Draco also loved musicals. Victor/Victoria was his favorite. Draco shrugged slightly to himself, before he started picking his way carefully through the broken glass. Potter was still standing there, laughing and clutching his stomach. He figured this would be a good time to get away from the other boy. While Potter may have had a point about cooperation, Draco also knew that this trap was set for Potter specifically. Who knew what things might come looking for Potter? Draco wasn't in Slytherin for nothing, let the Gryffindors keep their precious bravery. Draco would rather be alive and away from danger, than martyred and running towards it. He took after his father in that respect: what good was power if you weren't alive to enjoy it? Being on the frontlines in any type of battle, whether it was physical, magical, corporate, or verbal made you a target. He quickly put one of the candles down on the ground, and continued to hold the other in his left hand. He kept his wand poised for anything that might come running out at them. Draco felt vaguely as if he had broken the rules of this place, and wasn't sure if he wanted to face the repercussion unarmed.

"Lumos," he heard Potter say clearly behind him, and sighed. It seemed to becoming a habit.

"Can't you leave me alone, Potty?" Draco said over his shoulder, annoyed. They seemed to have walked right into a gothic dungeon. In fact, it looked something like the dungeons in Malfoy Manor. Dank, dark, and smelling faintly of mildew.

"Not until I get some answers out of you, Malfoy. I believe you when you say you don't know where we are, but you still know more than you've volunteered. And stop calling me, Potty, Malfoy. I don't go around calling you ridiculous names like 'Mayfly,' do I?"

Draco stopped walking and turned around. Potter looked rather pale in the wand light, and the other boy firmly pushed his glasses up his nose as if to say, 'well, I'm waiting?' "Potter, the only reason you don't call me 'ridiculous names' is because you can't think of any good ones. 'Mayfly.' Honestly."

Potter crossed his arms over his chest. "You still haven't answered my question, Malfoy."

"Perhaps, Potter, that's because you haven't asked any questions, you numbwit." Draco shot back, really starting to get irritated. Dimly, the rational part of his brain made itself known, muttering things about "not the time to fight, time to run," but that part was overruled swiftly by the primal need to beat the shit out of Potter.

Potter looked faintly embarrassed, but Draco could tell that most of the red in his cheeks were caused by anger. "How long have you known about the plan?"

"Oh, and which ephemeral plan are we talking about here, Potter?" Draco replied, more calmly this time. He refused to lose his temper with Potter; keeping his cool would only serve to piss the other boy off more. He also pointedly continued to enunciate Potter's last name, wondering how long that would take to get under the other boy's skin.

"Eh-e-eh-what?" Potter stuttered.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Are you sure those Muggles you live with taught you English? Ephemeral, Potter. Short-lived."

Potter growled low in his throat, and dropped his arms. Draco could see his hands clenching into fists. "Do you always have to be such a fucking asshole, Malfoy?"

Obviously Potter was angrier than Draco had thought; he didn't often resort to outright cursing. Usually left that portion of their little encounters up to the Weasel, whose mouth was dirtier than a veela's reputation. "Yes, I quite enjoy it, actually," he replied smoothly.

That was all it took. Potter took a swing at Draco, who flinched back instinctively, missing having Potter's fist in his face by inches. Potter, over balanced for the second time that day, couldn't recover in time. Draco pointed his wand at the other boy, and calmly pronounced his fate. "Stupefy!" Potter froze, and fell over and hit the ground.

"What are you doing?" A soprano voice asked from behind Draco. He jumped at the unexpected noise, and swiftly turned. Behind him was standing a little boy. The child looked to be around eight years old, and was wearing a dark gray pants suit, like something out of the Malfoy family gallery. His hair was an unremarkable brown, and he had blue eyes that gleamed in the candlelight. He had knee socks on with brown sandals. He had a small straw hat in his right hand, and a candle in his left. "Why are you attacking that man?" The boy continued. Draco only heard curiosity in his voice.

Draco sighed. He hated children. Even as a child, he had hated them. "Because that man was attacking me," he replied simply.

"Oh," the child cocked his head at Draco. "How did you get here?"

Draco sighed again. He walked over to Potter and stuck the point of his wand into Potter's forehead. "Ennervate." Let the idiots deal with the idiots.

Potter sat up instantly reaching in his robes for his wand. He noticed their visitor and stopped. "Who are you?" The kid stepped back guardedly. He looked as if he was ready to run away. Potter stood up slowly, and approached the kid. "Don't worry, we won't hurt you. My name's Harry Potter. What's yours?"

The kid stepped back again, and shook his head. Draco rolled his eyes. "He's right. He won't hurt you."

The kid turned to look at Draco. "But you said he attacked you!"

Draco sighed for the third time in as many minutes. "Yes, he attacked me. But that was personal, and in all the years I've known him, I've never seen Potter attack anyone else." The kid nodded.

"I'm Hansel," he said, smiling. Draco and Potter exchanged a look. Potter walked up to him, and kneeled down so that they could look face to face.

"Do you know where we are, Hansel?" Potter asked gently. The boy nodded. "Can you tell us?"

"It's my Grandmother's house, Harry," Hansel replied. He turned to Draco. "What's your name?"

"Draco Malfoy," he said shortly. Potter glared at Draco, who simply rolled his eyes in return. "Can you lead us to your grandmother?"

Hansel shook his head. "She's not here right now. Only my sister and I are. She's in the dining room, waiting for me. We're just about to eat. Do you want to come?" Potter and Draco exchanged another look, but both nodded. Hansel smiled widely. "Follow me!" His voice was excited, and he practically ran from the room. Potter and Draco followed at a more sedate pace.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Potter?" Draco asked quietly. Potter looked at him strangely.

"You can't possibly want to leave two children alone in a place like this? Even you can't be that evil, Malfoy."

"For God's sake, Potter," Draco hissed. "Have you forgotten that they sent you here probably to torture and kill you?"

Potter shook his head, looking faintly amused. "And all this time, Malfoy, I didn't know you cared. You've hidden it so well."

Draco growled at the other boy. His sense of sarcasm was definitely improving. If only he'd learn there was a time and a place for everything. "No, Potter, actually I'm more concerned about myself right now. But if you want to go off and save the little children, fine. I think I'm going to run swiftly in the other direction!"

Potter stopped, and crossed his arms over his chest again. There was a belligerent look on his face, and Draco could hear his foot taping on the stone floor of the dungeon. Draco refused to look away from his green eyes. "Oh for... I don't know why I'm trying to stop you, Malfoy. From what I recall over the last 6 years, you're not all that good in a crisis, anyway." With that Potter dropped his defensive stance and walked off after Hansel. Draco watched them depart for a moment before turning away.

"Prat," he muttered as he looking away. He cast a quick spell on the wax candle so that that it wouldn't burn down, and started moving in the opposite direction slowly, taking time to inspect the chambers. The more he looked around, the more convinced he was that this place was a replica of the Malfoy Manor dungeons, right down to the iron maiden in the corner of the room. And if it was an exact replica, then he could get out. Provided, of course that Draco remembered the way out. He hadn't been down in the dungeons since his third year in school. And that hadn't been his choice. His father had punished him for dressing up like a Dementor to scare Potter. Every so often, Draco still had nightmares about that trip to the basement of the Manor. "So, if I go left, I should end up at the potions laboratory..." He said quietly, as if just saying it, would make it so.

Draco turned left, and walked around the iron maiden. The candlelight showed some suspiciously red spots on it, and he vaguely wondered when the last time someone had used this dungeon was. As he had hoped, hidden within the stones was a small button. Pushing the button, the trick door opened to another room. However, it was not the potions laboratory. In fact, it was a rather small bedroom with bars on the window. There were broken toys laying on the floor, and shelves lined with rather dusty books. "Well hell," Draco cursed softly. He examined the toys on the floor. Most of them he didn't recognize, so he figured this either had to be a Mudblood's or Muggle's room. He walked over to the window and looked out. All Draco saw was a deep blackness, as if nothing existed beyond the domain of the house. "It's not a Portkey then," he sighed. Draco wasn't quite sure what kind of trap they were in, but he had a sinking suspicion that he and Potter were actually in the gingerbread house. " If it's a trap that contains Potter rather than simply killing him, that would certainly explain why Father wanted me to keep the gingerbread house safe. If it's a trap that contains Potter rather than simply killing him," Draco sighed, wondering what his Father was planning now. And exactly what the house was going to do to them both.

He looked around the room he was standing in again, holding the light out so that Draco could get a better look at the corners. He noticed a chest that he hadn't seen earlier, and walked over to it. It was locked both manually and with several locking spells. "Not a Muggle's room then, must be a Mudblood." Draco cocked his head at the chest and wondered if it was worth it. "Probably has some nasty monster locked inside. Or at least a boggart." Draco knelt down and placed the candle next to the chest on the floor and pointed his wand at it. "Alohomora," he muttered, and the lid to the chest sprung open a few centimeters. Draco took a deep breath, stepped back from the chest, and prodded the lid open with his foot. Nothing untoward came rushing out, so he knelt back down and examined the chest. Inside was some Hogwarts books, robes, a wand, and two things that took Draco by surprise: an Invisibility Cloak, and a Firebolt. "Bloody hell," Draco breathed as realization struck, "this is Potter's room. The damn house is taking all these rooms from our heads! That's why the dungeons looked like Malfoy Manor and Potter's room is here."

"Are you Draco?" A sweet soprano similar to Hansel's asked from behind him. Draco jumped slightly, and turned around. A little girl, who looked Hansel's age was standing there. She had the same brown hair and blue eyes that Hansel did. She also wore very thin, round eyeglasses, with a metal frame that gleamed in the candlelight. "My brother told me to look for you, he was afraid you got lost." The girl stepped closer, and Draco saw that she was wearing a black summer dress, it was loose fitting, and was hemmed with ivory. Draco nodded cautiously. "I'm Grethel. If you follow me, we can eat dinner."

"You're Grethel... And your brother is Hansel?" Draco asked in disbelief. "Well, at least one thing about this crazy place makes sense," he muttered under his breath.

"Yes! I like you, you're smart," Grethel smiled brightly, and reached up to grab Draco's wand hand. He drew back quickly and Grethel's smile dimmed. "Don't you like me?" Draco could see her lower lip shaking, and he realized that she was about to cry. Draco sighed.

He handed the candle out to Grethel. "No, that's not it. I just can't put down my wand." Grethel took the candle in her right hand and brightened; now she was able to slip her unoccupied hand into Draco's. A thought struck him. "How do you see in here without light?"

Grethel waved off his question with her right hand, and pulled him away. "Hurry up, Draco! Or the food'll be cold! Or Hansel and Harry will have eaten it all!" The little girl was stronger than she looked, and Draco found himself trotting alongside her to keep up. He tuned out her voice and kept a good eye on where they were going. The passed the Malfoy Manor dungeons and re-entered the long hallway that Draco had blown a hole in. "Grandmother's going to be so mad about that hole!" Grethel said loudly. "I'm sure we'll get punished!" She giggled.

Draco looked over at her suspiciously, and trained his wand on her. She was solid, so she couldn't be a ghost. A fairy, maybe? Draco inwardly cursed his lack of attention in Care of Magical Creatures and Defense Against the Dark Arts. He'd always thought Hagrid was a fool, and why would Draco Malfoy ever need to defend against the Dark Arts? He used them daily. He usually spent those classes tormenting Potter, or staring into the distance thinking of ways to torment Potter while looking like he was paying attention. And considering his grades, it wasn't like he really needed to pay attention. Draco was the second in their year in every class except Potions; that he easily beat out the Granger Mudblood. After the words his father had with him after his low grades during Draco's first year, he had made extra efforts to get good marks. Draco studied the girl again. Since he looked like he couldn't avoid meeting up with Potter again, Draco found himself half hoping that Potter might have a clue as to what they were.

Draco snorted. "Not likely."

Grethel stopped and looked at him crossly. "But Draco, we do have Turkish Delight! Grandmother has it made it for us especially!" She stamped her foot on the ground. "I'll show you when we get to the dining room!" Grethel began to pull him back along the hallway more quickly. Draco decided it was safer just not to answer, and went back to studying their surroundings.

They had passed the large hole he had made, and the hallway seemed to widening out. On the left hand side were a long string of wooden doors. On the right side were wooden benches and wooden rocking chairs. "What's behind those doors?" Draco asked Grethel.

She shrugged. "Grandmother doesn't let us go in there, she keeps them all locked up." Despite her nonchalant tone of voice, Grethel sped up, and Draco found himself nearly running to keep up with her. The corridor quickly widened further, and Draco found himself rushing past the entranceway to Malfoy Manor. Now that he thought about it, that ballroom Potter and Draco had woke up in was one he remembered seeing in the West Wing of Malfoy Manor. The hallway, however, had to be Potter's. It was nothing that Draco could remember, and Draco prided himself on his memory.

Grethel stopped, and Draco nearly plowed into her. "We're here!" she said, pointing at the door in front. Draco sighed and opened it. Rather than the dining room he was expecting, Draco found himself confronted by a rather small... kitchen. Potter and Hansel were sitting at a table seated for five, and eating.

"Nice to see you waited for us," he mumbled. Potter looked up and scowled. Grethel slipped into the chair next to Hansel. Draco went to sit down at the chair furthest from Harry, when Hansel jumped up.

"That's Grandmother's chair! You can't sit there!" Draco stared at the child.

"I refuse to sit next to Potter. He doesn't even have any civilized manners," Draco hissed. The strange events of the last two days were quickly sapping his control.

"I'm not the one being rude, Malfoy," Potter broke in angrily. Draco could see a small piece of meat stuck in his teeth, and Draco felt his lip curl in response.

Grethel looked at him over her glasses and smiled sweetly. "Please Draco?"

"No." As if a child's smile were ever get him to do something he didn't want to. Of course, this same child had already dragged him here. If child really was the right word for them.

"Draco, do sit down," as Grethel pronounced the words, Draco immediately found himself obeying. It was almost like being under the Imperius curse. Draco scoffed at that notion; his Father had made damn sure Draco could throw off both the Imperius and the Cruciatus Curses with very little damage done to him. Besides, neither child had a wand pointed at Draco, nor there were no spellwords spoken. It was possible that it could be wandless magic, however, that was quite rare, and no creature that Draco knew off could cast such magic without the aid of a spellword or a wand. The latter of which were highly illegal for most creatures to own, and the kind of power it took to cast spells with just a word was generally not evident in other species. Except for House-Elves. Draco scowled at the reminder of Dobby, and then settled for just glaring at the little girl. Potter snorted, and Draco transferred his glare to him as well.

Draco looked down at the food. Potter and the children were serving themselves, so Draco followed suit. The meal was a hearty one: potatoes, turkey, ham, fish, and stuffing. Every place setting seemed to have a different kind of drink: Draco had coffee, the two "children" had pumpkin juice, and Harry seemed to be drinking plain water. The glass at the head of the table was empty. Draco helped himself to a small portion of each type of food presented and then proceeded to push the food around his plate. He was leery of actually eating the food. Draco had been brought up with the history of Persephone, and knew quite well the dangers of eating conjured food.

He snorted slightly at the thought. Muggles thought those histories were legends or myths. Educated, pureblood wizards knew better. It was during that time, the bronze age, which most European pureblood lines could trance their origins to. The blood intermingling between Gods and humans created the wizards. The Malfoys themselves were descended from Aphrodite through Anchises and Aeneas. Draco looked over at Potter, who was eating hungrily, and oddly wondered from whence his line came. While the Evans side of his family had been a Mudblood, the Potter line of wizards was powerful and long. A true pureblood family. His father had a deep and abiding respect for the Potter line, even as he disdained both James and Harry Potter for their political connections. "What are you looking at, Malfoy?" Potter asked. Draco shook his head and looked back down at his plate. He could feel Potter's eyes on him still.

Draco turned to Grethel and Hansel. "Will your... grandmother be joining us?"

In unison, the siblings shook their heads. "No, Grandmother won't join us until later tonight," Hansel answered.

"And what can we expect from her?" Draco continued to probe.

Hansel and Grethel looked at each other, and put their forks down next to their plates. "We shouldn't talk about Grandmother like that. She'll address you personally," Grethel continued coolly. Draco sighed. He should just give up, there was no way he was going to get any information from either of them.

"Fine then. We'll meet her when she shows up," Potter said confidently, taking a voracious bite out of a roll. Draco glared over at him, before leaning over so he could whisper to Potter.

"Potter, we've got to get away from them and talk!" Draco was faintly surprised at himself for ostensibly offering to help Potter. It was one thing to help Potter escape from a room they were both trapped in, but it was another completely to volunteer information to him. The idiot could take care of himself. He'd faced Voldemort and lived twice already during his time at Hogwarts, three if you counted when he was a baby. Draco wasn't sure himself why he was offering information to Potter. He decided to think about the impulse later, and write it off to self-interest. The sooner he got away from Potter, the better off he'd be.

Potter looked over at Draco in confusion, but seemed to sense Draco's urgency, and answered in kind. "But why?"

"Later!" Draco hissed. He turned back to Hansel and Grethel. "Would you please tell us where to find a bathroom?"

Hansel and Grethel shared another look. "But you haven't eaten anything Draco!" Hansel exclaimed, pointing down at his plate.

"Oh, I'm fine, just not very hungry. Actually, it's Potter here needs to use it," Draco pointed his thumb at Potter, who flushed slightly, and shot Draco a dirty look. "But he's terribly bad with directions. Potter's always getting lost back at school, and I feel as if I should go with him to stop him from getting lost."

"You're such a wonderful friend," Potter muttered.

Draco looked over and beamed at him. "Of course I am. The best you've ever had, Potter." Draco didn't bother to hide the sarcasm. Potter snorted.

"Oh, I'd be happy to take Harry if he has a problem with getting lost," Hansel offered.

Draco stiffened slightly, but raised a hand to wave him off. "Oh no, you're still eating. We wouldn't bother you with such a menial task. Just tell us how to get there, and we'll find it and be right back."

Grethel nodded. "Go out that door," she pointed to the door that they had entered from earlier. "Go down the hallway. It should be two doors on your left." Draco stood, and grabbed Potter's arm, pulling him up and towards the door.

"Thanks," Potter said quickly as Draco pulled him into the hallway. Draco, now with a secure hold on Potter starting sprinting down the hallway, forcing Potter to follow him. "Damnit, Malfoy, STOP!" Potter shouted about halfway through the hallway towards the large hole Draco had made earlier. "What the hell are you doing?" He dug his feet in, and forced the pair of them to stop. Draco, not expecting the move, found himself falling backwards into Potter's arms. As soon as he regained his balance, Draco tore himself out of Potter's arms and slammed him against the wall.

"Those, Potter, are not children." With each word, Draco shook Potter's shoulders, forcing him painfully back into the wall.

"W-what?" Potter's utter confusion broke Draco out of his rage, and he sighed lightly, stepping away from the other boy.

"I meant what I said, Potter. Those are not children. Didn't you notice anything about this place?"

"Well, that kitchen did sort of seem like... The Dursleys?"

Draco nodded. "5 points to Gryffindor. The house wasn't a Portkey."

"The house? Malfoy, start from the beginning, then things might begin to make sense!"

Draco sighed loudly again, and ran his hand through his hair. "Look, yesterday at breakfast I received an owl from my Father. He told me he was going to be sending a gingerbread house to me. I was to make sure you had it in your hands at 9am this morning. Father would then arrive in a week to pick up the house. I didn't know what the house did at the time, and I'm still not quite sure what this place is."

Potter cocked his head to the left slightly, studying Draco. "So that's why you started the fight in Care of Magical Creatures, and tried to get away from me as quickly as possible?" Draco nodded and opened his mouth to reply, but Potter cut him off. "But that still doesn't explain why you think those two aren't children." Potter crossed his arms over his chest, obviously demanding an answer.

In any other circumstance, that pose alone would have sent Draco pulse racing and his blood boiling. He just took a quick breath and quietly reminded himself that this is not the time. Draco could beat the shit out of Potter for his presumption at some other point in time. Right now, it was best to cooperate until they could figure out the extensiveness of the trap they were caught in. "Look, the house wasn't a Portkey, as I originally guessed. A Portkey takes you to a specific place. But this house seems to be made up of several places. All out of our heads. That ballroom and the dungeons were from Malfoy Manor. You said the kitchen looked like the one in your Muggle home. Grethel found me in a small bedroom which had a trunk full of your things in it. The only place I can't find some connection with is this hallway!"

"And that makes those two not children... how? Couldn't they be caught in the spell the same way we are?" Potter scowled over at Draco, becoming belligerent.

Draco threw up his arms in the air, trying to battle his frustration. "Potter! By all that's holy! Listen to me! Those two know this place well enough to give directions! They aren't trapped here! They're part of this place! And you saw what they did back there! God only knows what their grandmother really is, and I don't intend to stay here and find out!" Draco began quickly walking away from Potter, before turning back. "If you want to stay, be my guest. I'd happily dance on your grave, Potty." Draco then continued to walk away. It was better off that way. While Draco still wasn't sure why he had tried to tell Potter in the first place, he'd done his duty. Now Draco was going to do the only intelligent thing, and get the hell away from Potter. The boy was a trouble magnet. Maybe once he was out of Potter's presence, Draco would be able to really think and find a way out of this place.

He heard steps hurrying behind him, and then Draco found himself going flying towards the floor. He quickly rolled, and jumped back to his feet. Potter had knocked him over. "What do you think you're doing, Potter?" Draco hissed, reaching for his wand.

Potter backed off, hands open in front of him. "Look Malfoy, we can't fight right now-"

"A BIT LATE FOR THAT!" Draco shouted, trying to decide if he wanted to hex Potter into oblivion, or just go straight to the Killing Curse.

Potter held out his own wand. "Expelliarmus!" Draco watched his wand go flying into Potter's hand. "Look, I don't want to fight with you again, Malfoy!" Draco strode up to Potter, with his fists clenched, ready to throw a punch. Potter backed up. "Malfoy! Stop it and listen to me!" Draco just smiled, and let loose an uppercut to Potter's chin as hard as he could. Potter stumbled back, and raised his arms to defend any other hits, but didn't make any other moves to retaliate. "Damnit, you prat! Stop fighting me, and work with me! Shut up for a minute, I have a few things to say!” Draco just stared at the other boy, glaring. He bowed sarcastically. Potter snorted and shook his head. “You forgot something, Malfoy. Those kids, while able to give directions, may have just been trapped in here so long that they’ve found their way around.” Potter shrugged uncomfortably.

Draco laughed. “Nice to see you’ve starting thinking, you idiot! And that doesn’t make any bloody sense at all, Potty. How would the children be able to give directions around our heads? How did that little girl know where to find me in this house easily? How the hell was she literally able to drag me back with her?”

“And how do we know they do?” Potter retorted quickly. “We haven’t seen the bathroom, it could be something out their heads.”

“Fine then, Potter,” Draco spit, giving up completely on the idiot Gryffindor. “Go to the bathroom, then back to the kitchen. As I mentioned earlier, I’d be perfectly happy dancing on your grave. And that’s where you’re headed!”

Potter laughed harshly. The sound was deep, a bass rather than Potter’s usual tenor, scratchy, and full of anger. It was quite unlike anything Draco have ever heard before. He just stared at Potter, attempting to keep his mouth from dropping open as the other boy simply must be going mad. That had to be the result of the gingerbread house, it made the person trapped inside mad. Not that Potter ever needed any help. Draco slowly raised his hand, reaching for his wand that was still in Potter’s lightly tanned hand. Abruptly, Potter’s laugher cut off. “Tell me your plan, Malfoy.” Potter’s voice wasn’t a request, it was a command.

Potter's declaration made Draco stop advancing on him. "What makes you think I have a plan, Potter?" He asked, surprised.

"Well, you seem to have thought enough to figure out what this place is. It goes to reason that you probably have some plan to get out of here." Potter seemed genuinely curious as he handed Draco's wand back.

Draco felt his rage leave him with Potter's action. "Actually, Potter, the only plan I had was to get the hell away from them," Draco cocked his finger towards the kitchen they had left. "And try and stay as far away from them as possible."

Potter grinned. "If they turn out to be dangerous, then it sounds like a pretty good plan to me. Do you want some help thinking us to a safe place?”

Draco stared at him, puzzled. "What?"

Potter's grin widened. "You said this place came out of our heads, right? Well, first stop would be back to my room so I can pickup the Invisibility Cloak and my Firebolt. I'm sure those'll come in handy. Then you can think us to someplace safe."

Draco's mouth just dropped open. Potter was right, and he hadn't thought of it first. Draco clamped his mouth shut with an audible click. "Assuming that you're correct in your guess about this place, why should I should help you, Potter?" He blinked as another thought occurred to him. “Why the hell would you want me to help you? We’re not usually very good with the trust issue, are we?”

Potter sighed. "Look, we can go back to sniping and beating each other's brains out after we get out of this mess. And you can trust me,” Potter said with a sarcastic smile, “that as soon as we get out of here, you and I will be having a long talk about delivering objects to unsuspecting people. But we’re both stuck here, and as much as I loathe the idea, Malfoy, I somehow get the feeling that we’ll need each other here. So for now, let's just have a truce, okay Draco?" Potter stuck out his hand again, and stood there gingerly waiting for Draco's response.

Draco raised an eyebrow at Potter's use of his Christian name and studied the other boy for a few minutes. While Potter normally would be more of a liability than an asset, in this situation, Draco figured he might need the backup. The less time they spent fighting each other, the more time they could spend finding an appropriate bolt hole until he could concoct a real plan to get them out of there. And all Draco had to do was look into Potter's green eyes to see that he meant what he said. He vaguely wondered how long the truce would last before they started hexing each other again. Potter was right, however, it was worth a shot.

Draco ran his hand through his hair. "Oh hell," he muttered, grabbing Potter's hand and shaking it firmly. "Follow me."