Doppelganger

A pretty woman was smiling at him. She had long, wavy, dark brown hair, and her smile grew when she saw his eyes open.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him.

"Not so bad, I suppose. Where am I?"

The woman chuckled. "The hospital wing, silly boy!"

Draco Malfoy immediately sat up as he remembered the last thing he'd seen.

Potter.

Potter in Slytherin colors, no less. As Draco thought about it, the colors looked better on the Gryffindor that the red and gold of his own house. That disgusting shade of red clashed with Potter's very green eyes…

Draco mentally slapped himself. Where had that thought come from?

"Is something wrong, Mr. Malfoy?"

The blonde looked up. The pretty woman who was watching over him was a painting on the wall. He had learned many things since coming to Hogwarts, one of them being that paintings were useful for the information they could give. "How did I get here, Ms…"

"Potter. Edelia Potter."

Draco stared at the painting. "How perfect," he muttered, rolling his head back. The beautiful woman was a painting of a Potter.

"What was that?" Edelia asked.

"Nothing. Do you know how I got here, Edelia?"

"My great-great-great grandson brought you here. Harry Potter's his name," Edelia said, her chest puffing up with pride. "He was the cause of the terrifying You-Know-Who's downfall, you know. My poor great-great-grandson died in that same attack. Oh, it was upsetting... but Harry is a true Potter. Perhaps you've heard of him?"

"I know who he is!" Draco snapped, annoyed at the entire situation. Why the hell did Potter have to haunt him so much?

Edelia sniffed. "Well... you're very rude." She turned her head a bit and called, "Madame Pomfrey! Your patient is awake!" As Madame Pomfrey bustled across the hospital wing to the side of Draco's bed, the painting added quietly, "and biting, I'm afraid."

"Awake, Mr. Malfoy?" Madame Pomfrey asked. "Good. Eat this, and then you are free to return to your classes," she said, handing him a piece of chocolate. She turned to leave, but Draco stopped her, putting a hand on her arm.

"Will you tell me what happened?" Draco demanded.

Madame Pomfrey looked down at his hand, then back at him. "Remove your hand from me, Mr. Malfoy." Draco did so, and the nurse turned to face him. "Mr. Potter brought you here, saying that you had passed out. He put you on a bed, said he had to go to class and was late. I wrote him a pass, and ten minutes later, you woke up. Now I'm giving you orders to eat that chocolate and go to class."

Draco narrowed his eyes. The nurse had never liked him since he was quite often the cause of Potter's frequent visits to the hospital. "It should be obvious I'm not faking this time. Do you even know why I passed out? Or why I was feeling so dizzy before I passed out?"

Madame Pomfrey sighed. "Very well. Stand up, Mr. Malfoy, so I can give you a proper checkup."

Draco stood. The nurse looked into his eyes, and asked him to stand on one leg. "What were you doing before you became dizzy?" she asked.

"Nothing. I was going into the library."

"What did you eat for breakfast?"

"Sausage, eggs, and a roll."

Madame Pomfrey raised an eyebrow. "Well, Mr. Malfoy, I see absolutely no reason for you to have passed out, and seeing as how I can quite easily give a clean bill of health now, I will have to release you to your classes."

"What if it happens again?"

"Then come see me." Madame Pomfrey took a small piece of parchment out of her pocket. "What class are you supposed to be in?"

"If only ten minutes have passed since I passed out, then I still have a free period."

"Are you returning to the library?"

"Yes."

Madame Pomfrey scribbled something on the parchment. "That's a hall pass. You will go straight to the library," she said, handing it over to him. With that, she turned around and walked back into a small office across the wing.

Draco sighed, but still sat on the bed, mulling over the few minutes he had been awake. ~Potter brought me here,~ he thought. ~What possessed him to do that?~

"He wanted me to let you know he still didn't like you."

Draco looked up to see Edelia smiling at him. "What?"

"Harry said that he still didn't like you. Isn't it admirable that he'll still help an enemy in a time of need?"

Draco stood, sneering at the painting. "You're dead. In fact, you're not even Edelia. Stop swooning over people that are someone else's decendents, you old spook."

Edelia narrowed her eyes at the blonde. "Goodbye, Mr. Malfoy. Do try to work on your attitude." Draco rolled his eyes and began walking towards the door of the hospital wing. As he headed out the door, he noticed something unusual out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see a mirror.

He saw his own reflection, but it wasn't him. His hair wasn't slicked back, and parts of it fell in his eyes. Draco reflexively put a hand to his own head, and felt the hair to be smooth and slick against his head. The reflection did the same.

As he watched, a second person entered the mirror. Harry Potter walked up beside his reflection and whispered something in the ear of his double.

The blonde Slytherin silently fled the hospital wing.

* * *

"Harry, why am I on the floor?" Draco asked, sitting up. Harry was holding him, looking at the blonde with concern in his eyes.

"You passed out, Draco. You haven't been eating right."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Don't bring that up again, Harry." He pushed himself away from Harry, standing up. "I feel perfectly fine, and I don't need you lecturing me." Draco began heading to the bathrooms.

"Draco, wait!" Harry stood as well, picking up his pace to catch up with Draco. "Why are you acting so pissed at me? You've been acting like this all day."

Draco did not stop walking. "Does 'shove off, Malfoy' sound familiar?" he hissed.

"No. Who said that to you, Draco?" Harry asked.

"You did."

Harry stared at Draco with an incredulous look. "No, I didn't."

"Why are you lying?" Draco asked, stopping in front of the bathroom door and turning back towards Harry. "You said it directly to me about an hour ago."

"I'm not lying!" Harry snapped. "I've not said something like that to you since our first year!"

Draco stared at Harry for a few solid moments. "You never said that?"

"No!"

Draco searched Harry's eyes a little bit longer, and then entered the bathroom. Harry stood outside, contemplating whether to follow Draco or not. He began walking away from the door, and then back again in indecision. Finally, he pushed the bathroom door open.

He walked up to Draco, who, of course, was staring in a mirror. Harry smirked. "You're so vain..." he whispered in a sing-song voice, in the tune of some Muggle "oldie." Usually, it made Draco laugh. Harry glanced into the mirror, startled to see Draco's reflection run out of the picture.

Draco was silent. "Something very strange is happening, Harry."

* * *

"Why aren't you two working on your homework?" Hermione demanded when she returned from the library, watching as Ron's queen knocked yet another one of Harry's pawns to pieces.

"We've already finished it, 'Mione," Harry said. "We finished it while you were in the library."

Hermione's eyebrows disappeared into her hair. "Really?"

"Yup," Ron said, sitting back in his chair and waiting for Harry to make his move. The game would be over in four moves; three if Harry moved his knight. "Would you mind looking over it for us?"

Hermione stared at the two of them. "I suppose." Both boys immediately reached to their sides and pulled out their books and parchment, as if they were prepared for that moment. They handed them over to Hermione. "I can't believe this," she muttered. "You two actually finished your homework." She wandered over to the sofa and took a seat.

Ron and Harry took their time finishing up their chess game, which Ron did finish in three moves, as he had predicted.

"Check mate, Harry."

Harry shrugged. He had been beaten by Ron enough times to not get the slightest bent out of shape over it. They meandered over to the sofa where Hermione was curled up.

"Your work looks good, but where are your essays for Snape?" she asked, reading over the last bit of Harry's essay for McGonagall.

Ron collapsed on the sofa next to Hermione. "It's not due for another three days, Hermione, and it's only a three-footer."

"And six if you like to write with inch-high letters," Hermione said, quoting Snape's speech from class. "That was directed specifically towards you, Ron, and you know it. You two haven't started it yet?"

"We'll start it tomorrow, Hermione," Ron yawned. "And I supposed you've already finished it."

"Of course!" She glanced back towards Harry's essay, reading over the last few lines. "You need a better concluding sentence, Harry," she said, looking back up. To her surprise, Harry was not beside the sofa. She turned her head, giving the Gryffindor common room a quick look-over. "Harry?" She looked back to Ron. "Where did Harry go?"

* * *

"Next lesson, bring me a paragraph on the properties of wormswort. I also want you to compare the effects of using it whole to using it diced." The first year Slytherin began packing up her things.

"Thank you, Draco. You're really helping me out a lot."

Draco smiled at the first year. "It's not a problem, Karine. Just as long as your grades start picking up in Potions."

Karine smiled back. "They already have been." She turned back to her things, putting her books and parchment in a pile. "I really do appreciate this, Draco..." she said. She picked up her things, turning back towards where the blonde had been standing.

"Draco?"

He was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

"Draco, we know something strange is happening, but we have absolutely no information. All we know is…" Harry paused.

"We know nothing, actually," Draco stated. "I met a person who looked exactly you, but wasn't you. And we both keep seeing strange things in mirrors."

"I keep seeing my reflection wearing a Gryffindor uniform. It's a little disconcerting."

Draco sighed, closing another book. "I don't even know what to look for."

"What should we do?"

He sighed once again. "I suppose we should just wait."

Harry sat back in his chair, balancing it on the back two legs. "I don't like waiting. Why does all the strange stuff happen to us, Draco?"

Draco looked sideways at Harry as he picked up another book and began to flip through it. "I think all the strange stuff happens to you, Harry, and I just get caught up in it, too. You're a magnet for weird."

Harry let his chair fall back to all fours with a small clatter. "Let's just go to bed, Draco. We're not going to figure anything out tonight."

The blonde looked at Harry, smirking. "What are you trying to insinuate, Harry?"

Harry stood up, grabbing, Draco's arm. "Nothing at all."

"Trying to bed me, Harry Potter?" Draco stood as well, beginning to clear up the books.

"Maybe," Harry said, reaching out and turning the blonde towards him. "What do you think?" He leaned forward and captured the blonde's lips in a kiss.

* * *

Harry didn't know how he got where he was at that moment, but he didn't particularly care. He was kissing someone, and fire was running through his veins.

Draco didn't know how he got where he was at the moment, either. His lips were wrapped around someone else's, their tongues curling together in an exotic dance. There were sparks everywhere in his body.

This was the perfect moment. The kiss was perfect. Whoever this was, they were perfect.

Harry's fingers were running through the other person's hair. It was soft and silky, though a little bit stiff in some places, as if it had hair gel in it.

Draco moaned, and reached out, trying to draw the other person's lips closer to his own. Their lips mashed together even harder, causing a shudder to erupt from both of them.

The kiss slowed down, and both boys finally stopped, ending with them just holding each other.

Slowly, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter opened their eyes, each finding himself staring at his sworn rival.

Part III:What? What?

"What I don't understand is how Harry slipped out of the common room without us noticing. I didn't hear the painting open or close," Hermione was saying, as Ron and Hermione both stepped out of the fat lady's portrait hole. "And he left his invisibility clock behind. It's as if he just disappeared."

Ron shrugged. "Maybe he just wanted to be alone. He's been doing that a lot this year." A grim silence fell between them as they began walking down the hall. Harry's grief over Sirius's death had eased since the end of their fifth year, but he still took time to himself to think and reflect.

"That's fine, but he should at least tell us before he leaves!" Hermione ranted.

"Where do you think he went?"

"I don't know." Hermione stopped walking when they came to an intersection in the hallway. "This is pointless. This castle is too huge to be looking for Harry. We should have brought the Marauder's Map. We should go back and get it."

Ron stopped walking as well, but not because he wanted to give up so quickly. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"I hear voices. One of them sounds like Harry."

Hermione strained her ears, as well. "This way!" she turned the corner they were standing by, picking up her pace as she went.

"That other voice sounds familiar, too - OW!" Ron cursed as he ran into Hermione, who had abruptly stopped walking again. "Warn me before you do that, 'Mione!"

Hermione didn't say anything, but merely pointed ahead of her to the library. The door was open, and they could see two figures enveloped in a tight embrace.

"Who's that?" Ron whispered. He squinted, as if trying to see the two people better. He could see a boy with extremely messy brown hair, but could not see the other person. "Is that... Harry?"

"Yes... but I can't tell who he's with."

"He's... Harry's snogging someone!" Ron exclaimed as he saw Harry's hand reach up to run his fingers through the other person's hair. "Way to go, Harry!"

Hermione elbowed him to keep him quiet. "Let's go, Ron."

"What?! Why? I want to see who Harry's snogging!" Ron stared at Hermione as if she had a toad growing out of her head.

"It's none of our business, Ron. Harry will tell us when he's ready." She put her hand firmly on Ron's arm and began pulling him away from the scene.

"But... but..."

"But that won't stop us from questioning him relentlessly when he gets back." Ron glanced at Hermione, then flashed her a grin.

* * *

Both boys merely stared at each other for a few seconds before reacting.

Their reaction was exactly the same. Sounds of disgust tore from their throats, and they jumped apart, wiping their mouths.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?" Draco demanded, actually going as far as to spit, as if remove all traces of Harry from him.

"Me? What do you think you're doing? You were the one who was kissing ME, Malfoy!"

"Like I'd want to kiss your ugly face, Potter!" Draco sneered at Harry, dragging his hand across his mouth one more time. "What spell did you screw up to make this happen?"

"It's not my fault!" Harry shouted.

A sudden scratching made them both look towards the door. Mrs. Norris appeared, her eyes glowing brightly. Harry swore he could see a grin spread across the cat's face.

Neither boy knew if it was past curfew or not, but Filch would surely find a reason to get them in trouble if they hadn't. When Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were in the same place at the same time, it usually meant trouble. Both of them took off running in opposite directions, leaving Mrs. Norris unsure of which way to go.

* * *

Draco's eyes shot open, abuptly pushing a startled Harry away from him.

"Draco?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"I just... felt something," Draco said, his eyes narrowing so much they were almost closed. "Something cold."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'something cold?'"

Draco turned around, eyes sweeping over the library. "I mean that something cold just went through me."

"Like a cold breeze or something?"

"No!" Draco said, turning back towards Harry. "Breezes can't go THROUGH people. Didn't you feel it?" Harry shook his head, and Draco looked around the library once more before gathering up his books. "Let's just go, Harry." He began walking towards the door without waiting for Harry.

Harry blinked, then rushed to pick up his own books and to catch up with Draco. "What's wrong?"

Clenching his teeth, Draco glanced at his lover. "I don't know, Harry."

* * *

Harry walked back into the fat lady's portrait-hole, rubbing his temples. He started to head upstairs to bed, when he heard a very soft, but very demanding "Ahem."

He looked over towards the sofa, where Ron and Hermione were sitting with expressions he couldn't read. A wave of guilt rushed over Harry. He wasn't sure how he'd left in the first place, but he had been gone quite a long time, he imagined.

"Harry, come sit." Hermione patted the sofa cushion next to hers. Beside her, Ron was smirking, and Harry suddenly felt quite uneasy about the situation. He took his time walking over to the two of them, and he did not sit next to them when he reached them, instead settling in one of the chairs next to the sofa.

"Why do I have the feeling I'm about to get questioned?"

"Because you are!" Ron exclaimed, jumping out of his seat. "Who are you snogging, Harry?"

Harry's eyes widened to saucers, his mouth falling open. "What?!" he said, his voice oddly squeaky.

"Don't play dumb with us, Harry," Hermione said. "We saw you kissing somebody. We didn't want to interrupt you, and I think you should repay us for that by telling us who it was."

"Repay you?" Harry squeaked again, sinking into his chair.

"You were gone a long time, Harry. How far did you two go?" Ron demanded, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he sat back down.

"I..."

"You can trust us, Harry. We're you're best friends." Hermione's expression was serious, but a small smile played at her lips.

By now, Harry was extremely pale. He swallowed a few times, and then looked Hermione in the eyes. "I don't think I can tell you."

"What?" Ron shouted, leaping off the sofa once more. "Of course you can tell us!"

Harry was shaking his head, standing up from his chair. "I can't. I'm sorry, Ron." He began walking towards the stairs to the boys' dormitory. Ron moved to follow him, but Hermione grabbed onto his arm and shook her head.

"Harry?" she called after him. He stopped, but did not turn around. "Will you tell us eventually?"

"Maybe."

* * *

Harry attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Aww... is poor Harry tired?"

Harry tried to glare at Draco, but was interrupted by a jaw-splitting yawn. The blonde laughed as he turned back to the mirror and continued combing through his wet hair.

"Jerk," Harry muttered. "Move over. I need to brush my teeth."

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no?'" Harry demanded. "You've been combing your hair for ten minutes!"

"And I intend to comb for twenty. Wait your turn."

Harry growled and grumbled at Draco, but waited. Although he wouldn't admit it, he rather liked watching Draco groom himself.

"Why are you so grumpy this morning?" Draco asked, looking at Harry's scowling face in the reflection of the mirror.

Harry sighed. "Didn't sleep well," he said softly. "Too distracted by the... weird thing."

Draco nodded. "It is a bit disturbing. I hardly slept at all, either."

"I have a very bad feeling about this, Draco."

The blond immediately put his comb down and turned to Harry, concern evident in his features. "Harry, the last time you said that..."

"Was right before Voldemort took me. I know."

"You nearly died."

"And Voldemort did die," Harry said, reaching out for Draco's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "But... I just have this feeling..."

"What? What do you feel?"

"Even though I know he's very, very dead, I think Voldemort has something to do with this."

"What?" Draco exclaimed, his eyes widening. "How is that possible? Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"But… he's dead. Even Dumbledore said he was dead," Draco said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"He is dead, Draco," Harry said. "But that doesn't mean he can't have anything to do with what's going on."

Draco searched Harry's face for a moment, then turned back to the mirror. When he saw the reflection, he froze. "Harry..."

"What?" Harry was staring at the ground, deep in thought.

"Look." Draco pointed at the mirror.

There was no Draco in the reflection - only Harry, and it was a Harry who was wearing a Gryffindor uniform instead of a Slytherin. The Gryffindor Harry stared at the two of them with his mouth open in... shock?

Harry's lips twisted into a snarl, and he leapt past Draco at the mirror, hitting his hands on the wall on each side. "Who ARE you?" he demanded.

The image faded, leaving only Harry's angry face and Draco's slightly confused one.

* * *

Dropping his toothbrush, Harry jumped back from the mirror when he saw his other self come charging at him from the other side. Reeling back with a sharp gasp, his back hit the wall and he shot out of the bathroom. He ran into his dorm, his face pale. His roommates were getting dressed and looked up as he entered.

"Harry? You all right?" Seamus asked. "You look like I did the first time I saw a banshee."

Harry stared at his roommates, then left, ignoring Ron's call that came after him. It was impossible to find a place to be alone in Gryffindor tower. He leaned against the wall in the staircase down to the common room.

That... Slytherin version of himself had said that Voldemort was gone for good. Were these visions a sight of another world, or what could have been?

Harry slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. His 'other' self had already fulfilled the prophecy. Voldemort was dead in their world.

And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal...

Tom Riddle, the boy who became Voldemort had been a half-blood, just like Harry. Riddle also had a horrible childhood, just like Harry. But Riddle had been in Slytherin, and Harry was in Gryffindor...

Slytherin will lead you to greatness...

Harry moaned and put his head in his hands. ~Did I screw up the prophecy six years ago when I got sorted?~ he thought. ~The Sorting Hat was adamant about putting me in Slytherin, but I argued. Dumbledore said my arguing, my choice, was a good thing…~

Of course, Dumbledore had proved last year that he made mistakes, just like everybody else. Perhaps Dumbledore was wrong. Harry should have been in Slytherin, been Tom Riddle's equal. Even if Harry had been in Slytherin, he was sure he wouldn't have lost sight of the fact that Voldemort was evil. If he had been in Slytherin, perhaps Voldemort would already be dead...

* * *

A skeletal hand reached out to touch the mirror.

"All the pieces are in place."

The hand traced down the engravings on the frame.

"Soon, Harry Potter will either stand by my side, or he will destroy himself."

The being attached to the hand stepped closer to the mirror, yet no reflection was cast.

"Wormtail, send Bellatrix to me. I wish to reward her for finding this most valuable item."

A skinny, balding, cowering man bent down at the being's feet.

"Yes, my Lord Master Voldemort."