Gingerbread House

Draco ran as fast as he could; his legs burned with the effort and he was gasping in large breaths of air. Obviously Quidditch hadn't kept him in shape as much as he had thought.

He ran without any thought of direction, without thought of the Hell Hounds; he ran thinking only of obeying that deep booming voice's command. He even found himself ignoring the fog, and he found that gray blankness far more terrifying than the thought of Hell Hounds or Potter's surprisingly good impression of the Dark Lord.

And as abruptly as the thought flashed through his mind, Draco found himself able to see again. The fog had lifted. Draco let his legs slow down and bring him to a stop. He panted, trying to catch his breath, before looking around. It seemed as if he was on a ruined and desolate plain. The sky was a murky black, as if storms threatened. The ground was dirt mixed with gray ash. There were yellow skeletons - human skeletons - littered across the ground. To his left was a pile of stones that had been reduced to near-rubble. Potter was nowhere in sight. Draco briefly began debating whether or not to place a tracking charm on the Gryffindor, when he heard a noise in the distance. It sounded vaguely like crunching, and Draco suspected that someone - or something - was breaking the bones as they drew nearer to him. He pulled his wand out, and mentally tried to prepare himself to cast the strongest spell he knew: Cruciatus.

Despite what the masses might have thought, Cruciatus was a fairly weak spell when it came to the Dark Arts. Draco had decided long ago that the reason it was one of the Unforgivables was because it was so easy to cast; it only required a small amount of sadistic intent, the ability to enjoy and revel in another's pain. And power. The spell was easy to cast for the powerful. No matter how much of a sadist the Longbottom Squib might be, he would never have the requisite power levels necessary to cast even the mildest of Dark Arts spells.

Potter, on the other hand, was brimming with power. It was almost a tangible presence when Draco was around the Gryffindor. Draco had always assumed that his morals would hold him back.

"There you are, Draco! I've been looking all over for you!"

Speak of the Devil. Draco turned towards where he heard the voice coming from. Indeed, Potter was jogging across the ash and bone covered ground, right toward Draco. He had his wand in the ready position and his other hand on the Gryffindor sword. Draco raised his own wand, and quickly cast and invisible shielding spell before Potter reached him. "Potter," he finally said as the other boy stopped in front of him. "What was that display about?"

Potter scowled. "I'm not sure... I think it was me. Or a version of me. Or what I could become. But I knocked it away and gave it a few good licks to the head. We should be safe for a while until we get out of here."

Draco laughed. "How brilliant. Perfect defense, 'I'm sorry, my lord, but it was my evil twin.'" Draco was clutching the wand so hand his hand shook.

Potter took a step back, as if he had divined Draco's level of annoyance. "Look, it really wasn't -"

"GET AWAY FROM IT, DRACO!"

Draco closed his eyes at the shout, mentally cursing everything and everyone he could think of, before turning around to study his second visitor.

Well, well, well. Looks as if Potter just might have an evil twin.

The second Potter came rushing towards them, full tilt on a collision course with the first Potter. His cheeks were flushed bright red, and there was blood on his arm. Draco could see a tear in his robe's sleeves and the school uniform, exposing lacerated flesh. He had lost his glasses but seemed perfectly well able to see. The second Potter had no sword in sight. "Draco, it wants to kill you! Get away from it!"

Draco sighed. And then glared. And then sighed again. Both Potter's were looking at him as if he had gone mad. Draco backed away. "All right, which one of you is the real Potter?"

"I AM!" came the simultaneous shout.

Draco rubbed his forehead. "Right then. You two have fun with your multiple personalities. I am going to find the door."

"Wait, I'll come with you!" both Potters said. Draco twitched. He had the nasty feeling he was developing an ulcer.

"Look, can you," Draco pointed at the Potter with the sword, which Draco had begun to think of as Potter One, "explain why there are two of you?"

Potter One sighed. "Like I said, I'm entirely sure. But I think he's me."

"That was so enlightening, Potter. Care to expound further?" Draco snarled.

Potter Two glared back, but continued where Potter One had left off. "He's what I'm capable of, if I had gone evil."

Draco looked back and forth between the two Potters and started laughing. The situation was just so absurd. His entire life had become absurd. Once again, the Potters were looking at him as if he'd gone mad. Their twin expressions only served to make him laugh more.

It took a minute before Draco had himself under control, and he studied the two Potters, thinking. What they had said did make sense, given Potter's actions earlier. Not only had he heavily relied on magic, something distinctly out of character, but that magic had been the Dark Arts. Then, once they'd moved toward the "exit," Potter had attacked him without provocation, also distinctly out of character.

But an Evil Potter?

Draco scowled; one unwanted Dark Lord was enough for him.

So the trick would be to distinguish between the two, who was the shadow, and who was the real. Then figure out how to banish the fake. And finally, get the hell out of this room before it threw more things at them. "And what exactly does this interesting case of multiple personality disorder have to do with me?" Draco asked in his snidest voice. Distraction was key, if what he was planning was to work.

Both Potters glared at him. "You need to get rid of him!" They pointed at each other. Draco rolled his eyes. The simultaneous speaking might be amusing, if one of the Potters hadn't been bent on killing him not ten minutes prior.

"Right then," Draco said slowly. "The answer to this is simple." Both Potters looked at him interrogatively. He smiled as viciously as he could, and swiftly brought up his wand, pointing it in the space between the two Potters. "Cru -" he began to shout. Potter One dodged out of the way, his hands reaching toward the Gryffindor sword. Potter Two quickly cast a shielding charm that would reflect most hexes. Instead of finishing the Cruciatus, Draco lunged at Potter Two, knocking him to the ground and separating the wand from his hand and shattering the hastily cast shield. "Petrificus Totalus!" Potter froze under the Full Body Bind.

"How'd you know, Draco?" Harry came up behind him and stared down at his doppelganger.

"The way you moved under stress."

"Huh?"

Draco laughed. "Very eloquent, Potter. You instinctively move towards a physical reaction under stress." He stood and turned to look at the Gryffindor. "This one," Draco pointed to the Potter on the ground, "instinctively cast a magical defense."

Harry snorted. "There was an easier way, you know." Draco raised an eyebrow. "I'll tell you if you tell me why you explained why you decided to tip your hand and clue me into one of my weaknesses."

"Bargaining? How Slytherin of you, Harry." Draco considered. It was a good deal, all things told, especially given that he was going to be trapped with Harry for who knew how long. And if he was going to be depending on the Gryffindor, the less weaknesses the other boy had, the better. "Because I can't find in advantage in keeping it to myself, Potter."

Harry sighed, and kneeled next to his double. "The crest, Malfoy, the crest," he said in the exact same tone of voice that Harry had used.

Draco glanced down at the double's robes and instead of the normal red and gold Gryffindor House crest...

Was a crest identical to his own.

Slytherin.

"It wanted to put me there originally." Harry's voice was flat.

"What?"

"Very eloquent, Malfoy," Harry smirked. "The Sorting Hat, it wanted me in Slytherin." Draco snorted. "So what do we with him?"

He stared at the snake on the patch for a minute before looking up at Harry and grinning nastily. "Of course, you would be able to spot the crest, Potter. With your tendency toward a physical reaction, you'd get close enough."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Malfoy. I think we have bigger things to worry about."

Draco smirked at Harry's mild annoyance. "As much as I applaud your instincts in asking someone with superior intelligence, Harry, I haven't the faintest clue what to do with him. This is your prison, remember? I'm just here by accident."

"Well, you must know. You got rid of the fog." Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked around at the wasteland, as if seeing it for the first time.

Draco blinked at that assessment. "What gives you that impression?"

Harry snorted. "Well I certainly didn't do it. I was a little too busy with that," he pointed down at the bound Potter on the ground.

Draco looked around the exterior again, thinking. He walked over to one of the mutilated skeletons. It was still covered in tiny scraps of clothing. Draco swallowed, and tried to not to think about what had caused the corpse to get into this condition. On what he thought was an arm bone were a few scraps of cloth.

Robes. Robes with a crest on them.

"Oh hell," he breathed. "Student robes. Children." He stood up quickly and bit his lip to keep from passing out. The skeleton wasn't mutilated, it was a child.

"Calm down," he heard Harry say over the roaring in his ears. "Put your head between your knees." Draco shook him off, feeling nauseous.

"Don't you get it, Potter?" Draco hissed, staring at those robes. "This," he gestured wildly, "is Hogwarts." Draco stared at the Gryffindor out of the corner of his eye and saw Harry pale to a deathly white color and swallow. "Go check that rubble over there," he heard himself continue faintly. "I'll bet 20 galleons you find the Hogwarts insignia." Harry nodded and walked off. Draco very purposely didn't watch him leave.

Instead he stared down at the Potter on the ground. Aside from the Slytherin patch on his robes, now that he looked closely, there were several differences. Potter's hair was relatively neat, for the first time since Draco had ever met him. The clothes underneath his robes weren't those horrible things Harry favored. And, of course, there was the gratuitous Dark Arts use. Draco reached down and took Potter's wand. It looked exactly the same as Harry's. He felt the magic flowing through it, and stared down at Potter. "Is he this powerful too?" Draco whispered. Potter was unable to answer.

"You were right. That rubble was what was left of the doors." Harry's voice was quiet. Draco watched Harry's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "Did we really need to know that?" He spat viciously.

Draco nodded. "I... I think so."

"And why?"

"Because of what you said earlier. And him."

"Care to share?" Harry's voice had a tint of bitterness in it, and Draco found himself wondering just how far off between the two this Potter was.

Draco sighed and tried to compose his thoughts. "This whole place is built on our fears, right? The fog, the Hellhounds. Those were," Draco's lip curled at having to admit it to Potter of all people, "my fears. This place is built on potential. This is what could be."

Harry nodded. "What could be if I had let the Hat put me in Slytherin." He looked down at his double and went whiter. Draco could see Harry's fingers twitching and knew the Gryffindor understood. "Who I could be." Draco nodded. Harry laughed, a raspy bitter laugh that Draco would never had associated with the Gryffindor unless he had seen it. "So, how do we get out of here?"

Draco shrugged. "I really don't know, Potter. It's not like this place comes with an instruction manual."

"Well, you said the fog and Hellhounds were your fear. That means that you," Harry poked him on the chest for emphasis, "are the one most likely to have banished them. What were you thinking about?"

"I wasn't, Potter. I was just running. There are things far more frightening than a little fog!" Draco found he was shouting by the end of it. Inexplicably, Harry smiled.

"Fuck me," he snickered. "I think he's got it." Draco glared at the Gryffindor.

"As... enjoyable as that offer sounds, Potter, I prefer my liaisons in places not covered with ash, rubble, and dead bodies." Harry shot Draco a disbelieving look before he burst into laughter - real laughter this time. Draco raised an eyebrow in an obvious imitation of his Head of House before mimicking Harry's tones as best as he could. "Care to share?"

Harry continued to laugh for a few minutes before calming down. "I'm sorry, Draco, I'm not laughing at you. Not really. Just picturing Ron's face if he had ever heard us say that."

Draco smirked. "That is a sentiment I can approve off. It's always satisfying to send the Weasel into fits of apoplexy."

The words had the desired effect, and Harry stopped snickering. Draco pasted his most superior sneer on his face and stared at Harry, knowing it would aggravate the other boy. "Oh, stop that," Harry snorted. "You look like you have indigestion."

"What?" Draco squawked.

Harry snickered. "Why don't we continue with our foreplay later, Draco? I seem to remember pointing out that we have bigger things to worry about." Harry gestured toward his double. Draco sighed, and nodded. "All right, then. Shall I tell you what I think?"

"Oh, please do. I value your opinion immensely, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Look, you said this place was built on fears, right?" Draco nodded cautiously. "Well, it sounds like when you were running, you were able to move past that fear. You stopped repressing it and started accepting it. Maybe that's all we have to do to move past each room."

Draco considered this. "Seems somewhat anticlimactic."

Harry shrugged. "I suppose you could see it that way. Personally, I'm happy not to have to constantly be battling."

"We could be wrong about this, you know."

"I know, Draco," Harry said very quietly. "Get his wand, will you?" Draco studied the other boy for a moment before nodding and doing as he asked. As soon as Potter's wand was in Draco's hand, he heard Harry's voice softly continue. "Finite Incantatum."

Draco whirled swiftly, trying to simultaneously turn and fall into a defensive stance. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"What I have to," Harry answered, smiling faintly. Potter laughed.

"'What I have to'? How pathetic. To think I could ever be as weak as you," the venom of the words was evident both from the tone and the spittle that appeared on Harry's face. The Gryffindor used the sleeve of his robe to wipe it off. "How I could ever be such a sniveling, colorless, drab, powerless thing like you?" Potter's gaze took in Harry's clothes. "You still live with the Dursleys, don't you? You still let them order you around, and treat you worse than a House Elf. Have they started beating you yet?" Potter shook his head. "No, you're one of Dumbledore's precious Gryffindors," there was more hate and loathing in Potter's voice than Draco himself could ever conjure, "of course, you're still protected." Potter snorted. "Don't you ever learn?" Suddenly, he turned to Draco, and the expression of hate on the face abruptly melted. Potter began stalking towards Draco.

"Stay away from me."

Potter laughed. "Oh, Draco, I expected better of you."

"Given that you tried to kill me, Potter, I find it unlikely that you would ever know anything about me."

Potter moved closer, but didn't make any threatening moves. In fact, Draco thought, his body posture seemed more... seductive than anything. That alone threw Draco off so that he didn't hex the other boy. "Well," Potter was now close enough to invade Draco's personal space, "until you tried to get me to join Voldemort, we were close."

"But -" Draco flailed for another reason, something else to help deny what Potter's body language was saying, "you talked of the Weasel and the Mudblood as if you knew them!"

Potter laughed. "Oh, Draco," he wrapped his arms around Draco's waist, bringing him flush, chest to chest, "that was your idea." Potter's lips were close, close enough to kiss, and Draco simply didn't know what to do. "And a good idea it was," Potter whispered, Draco inhaled his breath. "It got me close enough to kill them easily."

And with that, Harry Potter, the Slytherin, kissed his rival of seven years, Draco Malfoy.

Draco stood in total mind-numbing shock at the action, before regaining his senses and pushing Potter off. He had half a mind to hex the other boy for doing it too. Potter's expression as he stumbled back stopped him. Rage, anger, passion, hate, bitterness; all that and more swirled in the lines of Potter's face. It was a more open and honest expression than he had ever seen on the Gryffindor. Potter turned to Harry viciously. "You! It must be you!"

"Potter..." Draco started, before trailing off. He didn't know which he was talking to, or even what to say.

"Stay out of it, Malfoy," Harry rapped back, not breaking eye contact with his double.

"Fine," Draco muttered, feeling a bit childish. "Kill yourself." He more than recognized the irony of the statement.

"So," Harry continued quietly. "You're me, then. With less restraint."

"I have more self-control than you could ever dream about," Potter sneered back. The expression, disturbingly, reminded Draco of Snape.

"Harry, are you sure this is a good idea?" Draco held Potter's wand in both hands tightly and just contemplated breaking it.

"No." Draco snorted. "But don't break it yet. I think -" Harry sighed, finally looking at Draco. There were dark circles under the Gryffindor's eyes. "I think I have to do it."

"You won't." Potter cut in shortly. "You don't have the spine. There's enough of me in you to be worried about the consequences to your own magic if you do." The sneer melted into a smirk.

Draco watched the pair of Potters just stand there, one smirking, one glaring, and abruptly realized that he wanted to help. That standing here, just watching, might very well be one of his own fears. He didn't like being cast into the passive role, and that's what this room had done to him. Potter - or Harry even - had been carrying him.

That thought made Draco angry.

"It doesn't matter if he can't do it," Draco strode up behind Potter, and shoved the point of his own wand into his back. "Because I will. After casting a few painful hexes first."

Potter laughed. "Now that's the Draco Malfoy I know and love."

"You are a figment of Potter's deluded psyche. You don't know me. You don't even know a figment of me. Don't presume to know anything." Draco delivered the words in a quiet, calm tone directly contrasting with his deadly intent.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this," Harry said. There was a small bit of a smile hovering on his face. "But Malfoy's right." He met Draco's eyes over the fake Potter's shoulders, and there really was a smile in them, open and honest, the way he remembered those green eyes always being.

Draco vaguely wondered how he hadn't noticed the difference in the fake.

"You are," Harry continued, "what I could be. What Tom Riddle was, I think. But you aren't all that I am, and I don't have to become you. As long as I acknowledge that you're there." Harry held out his hand. For a moment Draco thought he was offering it to the fake, before he realized that Harry was looking at him. Slowly, so as to not allow the fake to take it back, Draco handed the wand over to Harry. He took the wand, grasping it firmly, and nodded his thanks to Draco. "Goodbye."

Harry broke the wand.

The fake screamed in rage and disappeared. In it's place, stood a small, old, unobtrusive door.

The door out of the room.

"Well," Draco said into the echoing silence. "Wasn't that easy?" Harry looked at him as if he was crazy. Draco laughed.