“I hear those voices in your head,
Whispering you’d be better dead,
I’m here to say that isn’t true,
Honey, honey, I love you.”
- ‘Those Voices in Your Head’, Chimera

Harry sat in the Hospital Wing and sulked – or tired to, it was a little hard to sulk when your rival was sitting in your mind taunting you.

‘Come on, Potter! If I wanted to laze about all day I could have stayed in my own body!’

Shut up Malfoy, Harry thought furiously, this is bad enough without you mouthing off at me all the time.

‘Oh, and I suppose the great Harry Potter is too good to carry Draco Malfoy around in his head?’

…

‘Shut up, Potter.’

Sighing, Harry swung out of bed and was preparing to get changed when it hit him.

Draco Malfoy was going to see him naked.

‘Get over it Potter, it’s not like you have anything I haven’t seen before.’ Harry felt his eyes roll and briefly wondered if it was him or Malfoy who had rolled them.

“Madame Pomfrey?” he called, putting the clothes he’d picked up back down and wandering over to her office. “Can we go now?”

Malfoy, obviously feeling the need to make his two-cents-worth known promptly took over. “Yes Madame Pomfrey, it’s terribly boring here in Potter’s head. Oh…” Draco smiled viciously as he stretched and got used to having a body again.

Madame Pomfrey, obviously not paying attention to the war for dominance that was going on outside her office waved a hand absently to indicate their dismissal.

“This is going to be fun,” Draco said as he strolled over to the discarded pile of clothing by their bed, “I can’t wait to hear what the Weasel has to say about this!”

‘What happened to the one thing we agreed on Malfoy?’ asked Harry irritably. Being in the back of your own head wasn’t fun.

Well I suppose we agree on nothing now, Pulling off all of the clothing – save the flannel boxers, much to Harry’s relief – that covered Harry’s body, Draco began to get dressed.

“Honestly Potter,” he said out loud, while inwardly informing Harry that he couldn’t wait to make the whole school think he talked to himself, “I can’t believe the rags you insist on wearing. I simply can’t be seen in them.”

‘Guess what Malfoy, you’re not going to be seen in them, I am.’

Sighing dramatically Draco swept Harry’s robes over his shoulder and sauntered out of the Hospital Wing, eager to find Potter’s Gryffindor buddies and have some fun.

XoX

“You alright mate?” Ron asked the boy he thought was Harry for the sixth time, “You’re acting a bit weird.”

“It’s… It’s not your scar is it Harry?”

Draco rolled his eyes. Potter, your friends are boringly naïve.

‘You’re the one who insisted on bugging them for fun. Couldn’t we go do something else?’

“Gosh gee wilickers Hermione, what ever gave you the idea that my scar was hurting?” Draco asked, raising Harry’s voice until it was sickeningly sweet and so high-pitched it cause those around him to wince. Widening Harry’s big, green eyes for extra effect he added, “I’m just too, too worried about the Quidditch match next week and that big, strong, handsome Draco Malfoy!”

‘God Malfoy, what are you trying to do to me?’

You know you agree Potter.

“H-Harry… Maybe we should take you to the hospital wing to lie down for a bit,” Ron said, eyes wide.

“Yes Harry,” Hermione said in a prim tone, “let’s take you to see Madame Pomfrey. I’m sure there must be some sort of mind control spell at work here.”

“Err…” Draco/Harry replied, not looking forward to the explanation Madame Pomfrey would surely give them, “I think I’ll skip. Honestly guys, I’m fine.”

‘Better Malfoy, that on actually sounded like it could be me.’

“Are you sure Harry?”

“Positive.” And so saying Draco – in Harry’s body – scampered off around the corner and ran to the dungeons.

XoX

‘Where the hell are we, Malfoy?’

“Quite Potter, I’m trying to ascertain our position.”

‘You don’t know either then.’

“What did I just say? No backseat walking!”

XoX

(An hour later…)

‘We’re lost.’

“No we’re not.”

‘We saw a portrait a few hallways back, why didn’t you stop and ask for directions?’

“God Potter, you’re such a woman.”

‘Knowing when you need to stop for directions makes you a woman? I thought that was called being intelligent.’