Archive of Our Own ^beta

Bloody Weather

Don't knock the weather; nine-tenths of the people couldn't start a conversation if it didn't change once in a while. - Kin Hubbard.

Part One

Ginny roughly swiped the rain out of her eyes so she could see the pitch more clearly. At the start of the game the weather had been glorious but, in true British style, it had changed thirty minutes into play. The wind was blowing hard and the fat drops of water fell so heavily that the elements were nearly drowning out the roar of the crowd. Ginny, who usually played as Chaser on the team, had been put in as Seeker due to Harry injuring himself in Defence Against the Dark Arts the previous afternoon. She had trained as Seeker occasionally with Harry, but it was her slight frame and lightning fast reflexes that really made her a suitable substitute. She wasn’t a patch on Harry but she was the best chance for the team that day.

The weather, however, was making it incredibly difficult for her to try and spot the speck of winged gold. The snitch — while elusive at the best of times — was damn near impossible to locate when you could barely see a foot in front of you. Draco Malfoy, Slytherin's Seeker, didn't seem to be having much luck either. Like Ginny, he was hovering over the pitch, staying out of the melee of quaffles and bludgers in hope that the snitch would present itself soon. Once one of them had caught it the game would be over and, win or lose, it would be nice to be able to feel their toes again.

The green portion of the stands roared in appreciation as Ron nearly slipped off his broom while diving in order to knock the quaffle away from one of the golden hoops. He failed in his endeavour and Slytherin broke even with Gryffindor. Ginny watched Malfoy punch the air in celebration. The blond looked up at Ginny and smirked; it was anyone's game now.

Deciding it was probably time she tried to look as though she were making an effort in seeking the snitch, Ginny began to fly a few laps around the pitch. The wind whipped her hair up and around her face; it was just as she was attempting to tame her red curls when she spotted something glistening almost directly below her. Her muscles instantly tensed with adrenaline and she shot herself off towards her quarry. At that exact moment, Draco Malfoy pulled his broom around and began to hurtle towards the redhead and, what he assumed would be, the little golden ball he desperately needed to catch. The rain blurred Ginny's vision and the wind howled in her ears. Draco could no longer properly see ahead but continued to fly desperately towards the indistinct blob of crimson robes. Salazar be damned would he allow Ginny Weasley to win this match. The girl wasn’t even supposed to be playing Seeker.

Everyone in the audience seemed to be holding their breath as the two players careened towards each other at breakneck speed. Neither appeared willing to turn away and it was with a sickening crunch that the Gryffindor and Slytherin collided. Ginny felt herself be propelled off her broom and onto Draco. She smashed her skull against his and a sharp pain bloomed in her abdomen. Draco was instantly knocked unconcious but Ginny felt her awareness ebb away slowly as they fell. Blood had blossomed, bones had cracked, and keening shouts punctured the air. Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and Flitwick rushed to the pitch with their wands aloft. The two teenagers seemed to be falling in slow motion. It looked as though they were executing some sort of acrobatics: limbs and hair flapping in the wind, their heads lolling morbidly.

Madame Hooch whistled for a break on the match even though no one had been playing since the collision, everyone looked horror stricken. By the time Draco and Ginny reached the sodden grass, they were both ghostly pale and losing a fair amount of blood, the red spurting out onto their robes and the ground around them. Ron was soon swooping to be by Ginny's side, as were the rest of the Gryffindor team. Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott were all clamouring out of the stands to get to Draco.

"Students, please remain seated," Dumbledore's magically amplified voice rang out around the pitch. "Miss Weasley and Mr Malfoy will be taken to the Hospital Wing and the game will continue once substitutes have been found. Please do not panic.”

Professor McGonagall had cast a bubble around the two unconscious students and was levitating them slowly off the ground. Ron started to follow.

"Mr Weasley," barked McGonagall, "you must stay and continue to play. You'll be no good to your sister at the moment and you'll only get in Madame Pomfrey's way."

"But, Professor —“

"Finish the game, Weasley."

Ron knew arguing with his head of house would be fruitless, so he fell back into the rabble of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, all of who looked pale and shocked. He was sure Ginny would be fine but, as far as Hogwarts' Quidditch injuries went, Ron was certain that was one of the worst he'd ever seen. There had been so much blood.

He watched as the lifeless body of his sister was floated away and tried not to think about how corpse-like she looked.

—

The sound of the rain roused Ginny. She opened her eyes slowly. Her whole body hurt. She felt bruised and beaten and there was a particularly sharp pain to the right of her naval. Ginny's head was thumping too; the little bit of light shining into her partially open eyes hurt like a red hot poker was being thrust into her cornea. Through her hazy vision Ginny caught sight of someone sitting beside her bed. As she felt unconsciousness claim her again, her one thought was why on earth was Pansy Parkinson weeping by her bedside?

—

Part Two

"When you and Miss Weasley hit one another," said Madame Pomfrey, staring soberly at the two teenagers as they sat in their hospital beds, "you collided with such force that your wands smashed and embedded themselves within your flesh. We think pieces of both wands were in each of your wounds. We are not entirely certain if this will cause any side effects."

Ginny looked disgusted.

“So, I have Draco Malfoy’s wand in me..?”

"Trust me, Weasley, you'd know if I'd been in you," muttered Draco beneath his breath.

The redhead blushed.

Madame Pomfrey either did not hear or was dutifully ignoring the crass innuendo. She ploughed on with her explanation.

"I've cleaned all the debris out of the wounds and patched you both up. Your injuries are healing nicely, the broken bones sustained have been fixed and the headmaster says you should be able to go join your classmates later."

The matronly woman looked as though she'd rather keep them there for a week or two more but it was obvious she wasn't going to argue with Dumbledore's authority.

"What will happen about our wands, Madame Pomfrey?"

Ginny asked the question that had been burning within Draco's mind since he'd discovered his loss. He felt vulnerable without the thin strip of hawthorn and unicorn hair.

"I believe the headmaster has arranged that the two of you pay Mr Ollivander a visit in Diagon Alley on Sunday."

Satisfied she had provided them with all necessary information Madame Pomfrey bustled off, leaving the two to get dressed and return to their daily routine.

"Stupid Weasel," spat Malfoy. "This is exactly why you should leave things that you are not skilled enough to do alone."

"Malfoy, do me a favour and shut the hell up."

Ginny yanked the curtain around her bed, blocking the bad tempered blond from view and began to change into some of her clothes that Ron must have dropped off for her last night. Big brothers occasionally had their uses.

She couldn't believe the ferrety Slytherin had the audacity to blame her of all people for yesterday's catastrophe. Ginny was playing the game, just as he had been. Quidditch is a rough sport; everyone knew that. She waited until she heard Madame Pomfrey bidding goodbye to the Slytherin before pulling back the curtain and collecting her pain dulling solution.

At least the sun was shining. For now, anyway.

—

All day various Gryffindors had sat by Ginny on the sofa, applauding her for taking Malfoy down with her. She was pretty certain she'd never spoken to half of her well wishers before but was grateful for their support. Ron had been dithering in the background for most of the afternoon, trying, and failing, to help Ginny. Harry had also approached her, feeling awful for putting her in as Seeker when she'd had no real training.

"To be honest, Harry," she began, "I don't know if anything would have helped really...the weather was awful and we were both just heading for the snitch; it couldn't be helped. You know what I'm like: I jump into things headfirst and let the ramifications worry me afterwards.”

"A true Gryffindor," remarked Hermione, although Ginny couldn’t tell if it was praise or a reprimand.

Ron laughed. "A true Weasley."

"Come on, I feel up to facing the rest of Hogwarts," said Ginny, and began to push herself up out of her seat, her legs a little stiff. "Let's go down to dinner."

"You sure, Gin?" Harry's eyes were full of concern.

"Merlin, yes! Honestly I’m fine, in fact, I’m starving!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "now that's a true Weasley."

—

Draco Malfoy was halfway through the most decadent slice of chocolate cake when two things seemed to happen. One, the enchanted ceiling above, which had depicted golden sunshine all day, suddenly filled with torrential rain. This was nothing unusual. In fact, it was pretty standard for Britain. The second occurrence, however, was far less commonplace. Draco felt his healing wound on his torso begin to sting and suddenly he was sitting opposite the bucktoothed Mudblood and Ron Weasley, and chewing on an enormous mouthful of rice pudding which he hastily spat out all over the table. He hated rice pudding.

"Merlin, Gin! What gives?" barked the large Weasley oaf.

Gin?

At the exact same moment a large ruckus burst out from the Slytherin table.

"Ugh, get off me you cow!"

Draco watched as ‘Draco Malfoy' threw Pansy Parkinson off his arm and leapt up out of his seat as though burned.

What the blazes was going on?

He looked down and, to his surprise, he was staring at a pair of breasts, which were clothed in a lumpy, pale blue jumper that had a giant G on it.

Breasts.

Homemade jumper.

Small freckled hands.

Long red hair.

Oh, sweet Rowena, I'm the she-weasel.

And, if his calculations were correct, Ginevra Weasley was currently residing in his body.

Crap.

Draco watched as she fled the great hall. Ignoring the inquisitive looks of the Gryffindors, he stood and bolted after Ginny. He couldn't have her running around causing mischief as him. Merlin knew he was going to have to pay for screaming at Pansy like that. He'd blame it on the fall yesterday...and, in a way, it wasn't lying. That collision (and Weasley) had a lot to answer for.

It didn't take him long to locate her. Ginny was slumped in the corner of the entrance hall. It was strange to see his body in such a defeated position and sitting on the filthy floor.

"Malfoy," she ground out from behind clenched teeth. "What the hell did you do?"

"Me, Weasley?" he drawled. Or, rather, he tried to drawl. It appeared Weasley was incapable of producing such a tone of voice, thus he merely sounded a little slow in the head. "Why on earth would I want to spend time as you?"

"Oh, I don't know!" she spluttered. "I just know I certainly didn't do anything so the logical answer was that it was your fault!"

"That was your logical answer? Dear me, Weasley, it's not a surprise you weren't a Ravenclaw. Not too bright, are we?"

She glared at him. Suddenly the pain was back and both found themselves returned to their normal bodies. The rain had also stopped pounding against the window at the top of the stairs.

"It was the accident, Weasley. Your attempted murder of yours truly clearly had some lasting implications." Draco sneered up at the little redhead then realised he was still sitting on the ground and quickly stood up.

"One of the so-called bloody side effects," Ginny muttered. "We should go to Dumbledore, Malfoy."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb.

"One minor hiccup and we're off to see the crackpot?"

"One minor hiccup?" mimicked Ginny. "We switched bodies, Malfoy! That isn't minor!"

Her cheeks were now flushed a deep pink.

"Fine. Calm down, you banshee. We'll have to see him tomorrow morning before breakfast."

She seemed placated with his suggestion and nodded her agreement.

"I'll see you outside his office at seven AM, Malfoy."

Ginny began to power-walk down the corridor, her head held high. She was so righteous and...Gryffindorish. Draco shuddered internally at the thought that she could pop into his body at any time and ruin his life.

Wonderful.

OOO

Part Three

The sky looked grey and full of clouds when Ginny awoke the next morning, but it was not yet raining — thankfully. She loved the sun, even if it wasn't particularly warm, and the way Britain could be grey for days on end depressed her. She envied her older brothers Charlie and Bill, who spent their time in places that got real summers with blistering heat and balmy evenings.

After falling out of the shower and pulling on her uniform, Ginny was ready to meet Malfoy. Her hair was still damp but had started to dry into its usual heap of curls. Her hair was one of the things that Ginny quite liked about her appearance. It was not the orange shade of her brothers but a dark, richer mix of red and copper like her grandmother's had been. She was definitely more Prewitt than Weasley.

Looking at her watch, Ginny began to race through the castle.

Draco had been leaning against the wall outside of Dumbledore's office for twenty minutes by the time the redhead had arrived. Her cheeks were pink and her uniform a little rumpled.

"Are you so poor you don’t even have an alarm clock, Weasley?"

Ginny balked at him, "perhaps I just wasn't in any kind of rush to see your face this early in the day. Going to put me right off my breakfast."

"Really? Taking a look at your mother, I'd have thought you'd want to skip the odd meal."

Ginny felt her blood boil. It was far too early and she hadn't yet had her customary cup of coffee. And she wouldn’t let Malfoy see the comment had hurt her feelings.

"Oh, Malfoy, I knew you were a petulant little moron, but I thought — seeing as you're part of pureblood society — you'd have a little more class. Mum jokes. Really?”

The statue began to move and anything Draco was about to fling at her as response died in his throat. Dumbledore's voice drifted down into the corridor.

"Ah, Hogwarts own Benedict and Beatrice. Sorry to interrupt the verbal sparring, but is there a reason for the two of you to be loitering outside my office?"

Ginny had the grace to blush. Draco looked as unabashed and unaffected as usual but, Ginny noticed, a little more guarded — if possible — than he had before. He clearly really didn't like the old man.

The redhead bent down into a mocking bow. "Age before beauty, Malfoy."

He sneered at her, "if that's the rule, you'll be out here a long time, Weasley."

Draco heard her disgruntled little huff as she stomped up the stairs after him. She was quite amusing in the right situation, he decided.

As he neared the door, Draco felt his stomach flip a little. The blond wasn't entirely certain why he'd never liked the old man. Maybe it was because it seemed as if he knew everything about you the moment those sparkling blue eyes caught your gaze and it wasn't like Occlumency, it was as though he knew not only your thoughts and ideas but your very heart and soul. And, although the Malfoys had defected and helped the Order, in the end, to defeat Voldemort he still felt like Dumbledore looked at him and found him wanting.

The old wizard smiled as the two entered the office.

"Mr Malfoy, Miss Weasley, take a seat."

The two sat before the large desk covered with books and papers. The old man was sitting opposite them, his hands resting on his stomach. He looked relaxed and perfectly unconcerned that two of his students had turned up at the crack of dawn to see him without an appointment or obvious reason for being there.

"How are you both after Saturday's fall?"

"Much better, thank you, professor," answered Ginny, when it became apparent all Draco was going to do was incline his head a little.

"I wouldn't say much better quite covers it, actually," sniped the blond.

"Oh, really, Draco? What appears to be the problem?"

Draco glared at the headmaster and then at Ginny. The redhead saw this as her signal to take over.

"Well, sir," she began, "yesterday, during dinner...Draco and I seemed to swap bodies."

Dumbledore showed no sign of shock or surprise, but merely motioned for her to continue.

"Madame Pomfrey did say there could be side effects but, well, it was a little more drastic than I think either of us were expecting. Do you happen to know why it might have occurred?" Ginny's voice began to trail off quietly towards the end of her speech.

"And it's only happened the once?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes."

But at that same moment something clicked in Ginny's mind. When she had regained consciousness briefly in the Hospital Wing on Saturday night, Pansy Parkinson hadn't been weeping beside Ginny's bed; Ginny had just been in Draco's body.

"No," the blond's eyebrows shot up at her admission. "I woke up for a few seconds in the Hospital Wing on Saturday night and saw Parkinson by my bed. I thought I was just hazy because of the potions I'd been given, but...it would make sense if I hadn't been inside my own body.”

Dumbledore nodded.

"Well, I can only guess, I'm afraid, but my guesses aren't often wrong you'll be pleased to know." The headmaster leant forward a little. "When you both crashed into one another your wands embedded themselves into each other and snapped into several fragments, as you know. At that point in time your magic and your bodies were fraught. You would have been in a sort of pandemonium. Your magic would have been trying to save you, and your wands had broken so the channel for your raw magic had, for all intents and purposes, exploded. But, what I think is significant here, is that the wands implanted themselves into both of your bodies, so you both have a little of each other's essence inside you."

If it were not fairly terrifying, Draco would have laughed at the obvious innuendo.

"So, are we stuck like this?" Ginny's voice sounded oddly distant, even to herself. She couldn't imagine having to randomly switch lives with anyone, let alone Malfoy.

"I don't think so, Miss Weasley. I think once you both get your new wands and your magic has a conduit again to flow through easily, it should settle down."

"So why can't we go and get wands today? Why do we have to wait until Sunday?"

Dumbledore smiled at Draco's arrogant tone. The young man had much to learn.

"Mr Ollivander needs to spend a lot of time with both of you, because it will take a while to find your new wands. What's more, because of the accident and the mixing of magic, your own magical signatures will have changed a little and that will dictate which wand chooses you as well. He has all of Sunday free to work with you. I'm sure you can survive six days, Mister Malfoy."

Although nothing further was said, it certainly sounded like a dismissal; however, before Ginny had exited, Dumbledore called out, "Do you know why it is you change? What the trigger is?"

Ginny shook her head and left the headmaster alone in his office to ponder the situation.

Turning to no one in particular, he sighed, "This should prove to be very interesting."

—

Part Four

Ginny pulled her hair up into a bun on the top of her head. She breathed in the flowery scent of the oils she had poured into the bath, which was currently filling with steaming hot water. Whenever she found herself overtly stressed or under pressure a bath had always been the solution for the redhead. She supposed it stemmed from her mother running her one whenever she was ill or upset as a child. Ginny liked to float in the water and forget everything for a while.

Sliding out of her clothes, Ginny placed the tip of her toe into the bubbly water to test the temperature. Perfect. She sunk into the bath, letting out a sigh. Since the meeting with Dumbledore that morning, she and Draco had swapped a couple of times, but it had been only briefly and before either had realised what had really occurred. The swapping was tiring, though; it seemed to sap all their magical energy. Luckily, neither Ginny nor Draco were required to perform magic in classes that week as all teachers knew of their situation and the lack of wands.

Ginny felt the muscles in her back and legs unclench. She hadn't realised how tightly coiled she'd been. It was stressful never knowing if you were going to stay in your own body for a decent amount of time!

—

Draco looked over the top of his cards at his opponents. Blaise looked cool, calm and collected, as usual; the beautiful boy had so much money and played so badly he never bothered to fluster himself if the hand he'd been dealt was good or bad. Theodore had his cards face down on the table and was currently polishing his overpriced glasses; he clearly had a halfway decent set to play and was attempting to look blasé, which may have worked if the boys hadn't all played poker together every couple of weeks since fifth year. They knew each others' tells as well as their own.

Finally, there was Astoria Greengrass, who was a year younger than all the rest and the only female player. She had plagued them incessantly until they'd let her play. She was pretty good, losing and winning with the dignity of Slytherin and had earned the respect of the three boys.

A loud clap of thunder rumbled through the night sky and suddenly the heavens appeared to open. Torrents of rain began hammering against the castle. Draco felt his wound flare to life, the pain searing along the right side of his abdomen, and a familiar sense of disorientation came over him. He was no longer sitting opposite Blaise in the Room of Requirement, but instead faced a large painting of a mermaid. And he was wet.

Oh, sweet Merlin, the Weasley had been bathing.

He snapped his eyes shut for moment, telling himself he did not want to forever burn the image of the redhead in his mind; it'd be enough to give him nightmares. But then he remembered her slender waist, ample bosom and toned derriere. He'd spent a couple of hours doing nothing but watch her on Saturday during the match as she was definitely easier to spot than the elusive snitch.

He cracked one eye open and saw her little feet were propped on the side of the bath. They were pale and freckled like the rest of her, and adorned with a silver toe ring.

How...unexpected.

She didn't appear the type to wear jewellery — she couldn't afford it for one thing — but here she was hiding the one piece she did wear away from everyone. Draco had both eyes open now as he examined the girl's legs. He was pretty certain that if you joined up all Ginny's freckles with a quill the girl would be entirely covered in ink. She was partially hidden in the scented bubbles, but Draco could feel the strength of her body — the Gryffindors trained for Quidditch five times a week — and the smoothness of her skin. As his gaze drifted towards the top of her legs, he felt himself blush slightly; it was a strange sensation. Weasley obviously flushed deeper than he ever had. His cheeks were tingling with the heat.

He'd expected to see a little V of red curls but Ginny surprised him once more by being shaved almost completely smooth. Draco's breath hitched in his throat. It was odd to feel so aroused by what was, effectively, one's own body. And where he would have expected to feel the beginnings of an erection, he could feel heat pooling low in his stomach. Tearing his eyes away he continued to survey Ginny's body. Her stomach was taut and her waist tapered nicely. Her breasts were smaller than he had anticipated. Draco supposed there was much to be said for the enhancing abilities of women's undergarments; sometimes you thought you were getting double Ds and instead end up with a couple of Bs. But they were pert and her nipples a dark, rosebud, pink.

Draco couldn't help it, curiosity got the better of him and he stood up out of the water, bubbles sliding off Weasley’s body as he did so. Skin pink from the heat of the bath and his arousal. He seemed to remember there being a full length mirror somewhere in this bathroom...

OOO

Ginny shut her eyes tightly and willed herself back into her own body. When she opened them again she was still facing Zabini, Nott and Greengrass junior. Apparently she was supposed to be playing poker but the redhead had never known the rules of this game. Her brothers had been very adamant that poker was strictly for the older boys. She and Ron had been allowed to join in Quidditch, gobstones and chess, but poker was for Bill, Charlie, Fred and George.

Just as Ginny was lamenting that her peaceful evening had been ruined, she remembered just exactly where she had been before this swap.

"Bollocks," she bit out in Malfoy's polished accent.

All three sets of eyes at the table watched as ‘Draco' repeatedly smacked his forehead hard and muttered the occasional expletive.

He would see her naked, be able to touch her while naked. Naked. She'd never be able to live this down. Thank Merlin; she'd shaved the day before. She could just imagine the comments if she'd had hairy underarms, or legs. Merlin preserve us all from the judgement of teenage boy.s

It wasn't that Ginny was especially modest — growing up in a household full of people had left little room for privacy or being overly panicked if someone walked in on you changing. However, her brothers had always shut their eyes instantly and stumbled from the room shrieking about how they'd forever be blind. Draco Malfoy, she imagined, would not be quite so easily deterred from examining her body. Though Ginny had to admit, however, that it was indeed a curious sensation being in the body of another, particularly when said body belonged to someone of the opposite sex. And she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to quell her curiosity were she to have found herself in Draco Malfoy’s body whilst he bathed.

Swapping bodies was altogether a very disconcerting experience: You could feel the difference in hormones, gait, reactions, tone of voice and senses. Draco, for example, had exceedingly good eyesight, but his sense of smell was not as keen as Ginny's. This was strange for Ginny, as scent had always been a big component of her recollections, with certain smells bringing back memories of people, places and events.

—

Draco had spent twenty minutes examining the redhead's body. She had a heart-shaped mole on her inner thigh and the injuries she had sustained in the match were healing well. The one on the side of her stomach was beginning to scar and was exactly the same shape as his: a diagonal line, about three inches long, just below her ribs. Ginny also had a few other faint scars littered on her body -- from her childhood, Draco guessed. He half wished there'd been a tattoo somewhere, or at least something he could tease her about, but everything about the redhead seemed normal. Rather lovely, in fact. He mentally slapped himself. Thoughts like that were dangerous and needed to stop now. Sometimes he hated his teenage hormones. Malfoys were supposed to be calm and collected.

Seeing as the change had not yet occurred, Draco dried off and pulled on the clean clothes that had been folded neatly beside Ginny's bag. He had a vague idea of where the Gryffindor portrait was, though he hoped he was back in his own body before he had to spend the night in the lion's den.

—

Ginny had tried her hardest to play the game, but was losing Draco's money at a spectacular rate. Blaise scrutinised the blond sitting in front of him; he knew something had changed he just wasn't entirely sure why or what. Draco never lost, and he never grimaced when picking up a card. You could never tell what Draco was holding in his hand.

"I give up," sighed Ginny.

Astoria turned to her and sneered, "You give up?"

Shit, that wasn't very Malfoyish.

"I, er, I mean I'm bored now. The potions Pomfrey gave me make me, erm, really sleepy too..." Ginny trailed off quietly, her garbled explanation being met with raised eyebrows all round. It was very hard to lie to Slytherins, apparently.

Theodore Nott was the first to break the silence.

"We'll finish this hand off, Draco, then head back. Okay?"

Ginny nodded. She had lost seventy of Draco's galleons; he was going to kill her. Slowly.

—

Draco had finally found his way to the Gryffindor tower by catching up with a couple of second years. Assuming that Weasley would know them, he attempted to strike up a conversation with the twelve year olds, but they looked at him like he had sprouted a couple of extra heads. He had always thought all the Gryffindors knew each other fairly well, but then he supposed as good and righteous as they may be, they weren't Hufflepuffs. There really was no reason for them all to be overly nice to one another.

"Alright, stop gawping and just give her the bloody password," barked Draco, once they'd reached the portrait of a fat lady in a pink gown.

The Gryffindor common room was exactly as he'd always pictured it: a red and gold explosion. It was loud and crass. The sofas were littered with cushions and the fire was roaring even though only a handful of students were in there. There were two staircases leading up to the dorm rooms. Draco presumed one was for males and the other females; he just had to wait until someone either went up or came down. He hoped that the girls' staircase would allow him to walk up it. He was in a female body but had a male soul, and he guessed the same enchantment that was placed on the girls' dorms in Slytherin would have been applied here too.

He took a seat by the fire and watched a few younger students playing exploding snap. His mind reverted back to his card game. He hoped Ginny hadn't lost too badly. The money wasn't an issue; his pride, however, would never recover.

At last, a plump boy ran up one of the staircases and Draco dashed up the opposite one. Thankfully, there was no keening wail and the stairs beneath him didn't morph into a slide; he didn't want to have to try and explain himself to nosy Gryffindors. He knew Ginny was a sixth year and assumed that each floor belonged to a different class, with first years starting at the bottom. When he entered the sixth room, he was greeted by several girls; a couple were in bed already dozing, one was applying creams to her face and the fourth was reading by the window.

Draco nodded to them all and proceeded to the bed that had a picture of several redheads on the table beside it. Ginny's pyjamas were already folded up on her bed, so he quickly changed and slid beneath the dark red duvet. Yanking the plush crimson curtains around him, Draco sighed deeply and listened as the relentless rain pounded against the windows. He was just drifting off to sleep when he heard one of the girls shriek from the bathroom.

"Oh, do any of you guys have a spare tampon?"

This week was going to be a nightmare.

—

Part Five

Ginny was thankful to wake up and see crimson hangings around her bed. Last night had been a nightmare: Zabini had been loudly gloating over Draco's loss (even though it wasn't directed at her, it nettled Ginny; it wasn't her fault she couldn't play the silly card game), Nott had taken over the bathroom for an hour when Ginny had desperately needed to pee. After he finally exited, the room was so full of steam and condensation that Ginny had slipped on the tiles and banged her head (she had been trying to shimmy out of Draco’s ridiculously tight slacks). She’d finally fallen asleep listening to Crabbe and Goyle snoring and farting in equal amounts.

Monday evening really set the tone for the rest of the week.

Draco and Ginny swapped at the most inopportune and random of times. On several occasions it had been during a class and both had missed portions of what their respective teachers were saying, thus resulting in them not knowing the answers to the questions fired at them. After two days and a multitude of point losses later, the two decided to make a pact with each other to take notes if the swap occurred during classes again.

On Tuesday, Ginny had been getting a severe telling off from Professor McGonagall for talking excessively out of turn but just as the stern teacher was getting into the stride of her lecture, Ginny felt a familiar pain in her naval and instantly, she was sitting in the library with Zabini making notes on Slumber Solutions for Snape. Meanwhile, it had taken all of Draco's resolve to not snap and yell at the old Scottish bat to stop giving him an earache for something he didn't even do. He hoped to Merlin that Ginny wasn't always in trouble; Draco wasn't prepared to serve detentions for the little bint.

On Wednesday, the weather was particularly changeable: rain for a few moments and then glorious sunshine. During one of the downpours, Draco had found himself knee-deep in sludge with Professor Sprout calling out about the beauty of the rare seedlings they were planting. Ginny, however, felt that time she had got the worst deal. Draco had been in a broom closet with Astoria Greengrass. Her hands were all over him and Ginny felt quite violated. She also felt strangely disappointed to find that Draco was dating Astoria (and Pansy?) but Ginny brushed the niggling feeling away and worked on not vomiting as Astoria pushed her tongue into her mouth.

Ginny felt as though she could scrub for weeks and never quite be clean after she heard some of the things the brunette had whispered into ‘Draco's' ear that afternoon.

On Thursday, Draco discovered all about Colin Creevey's exploits with one Ernie Macmillan. He hadn't even known either of the boys preferred the company of men and had to school his features into polite interest rather than the distaste he felt. Draco had no problem with people who chose to go to bed with those of the same sex (Salazar knows, he'd heard about enough about some of Blaise's boys) but he definitely did not want the mental image of a skinny Gryffindor and a pompous Hufflepuff rutting together. It was quite enough to put one off one's scone.

On Friday morning it became apparent Ginny and Draco had been spending a little too much time in each other's heads, as just as Ginny had snuck into the kitchens and asked Dobby for a crispy bacon sandwich, the portrait swung open and Draco strutted through.

"Oh, Weasley, why are you here?" he wrinkled his nose up at the redhead.

Ginny was sitting upon the tabletop, her feet resting on the seat of a wooden chair. She surveyed the blond in front of her. He looked as tired as she felt.

"I'm having breakfast, Malfoy. I just couldn't handle the noise of that place this morning."

Draco nodded. "Yeah, it gets...tiring, doesn't it?"

"Now that's an understatement, Malfoy."

Just then Dobby appeared with Ginny's sandwich.

"Here you go, Miss Wheezy. Oh! Master Draco, what can Dobby get for you this morning?"

"Chocolate pancakes, Dobby, with syrup, please."

The elf dashed off.

Draco took the seat next to the one Ginny was resting her feet on. It was then he noticed her look of utter distaste.

"Are you having an aneurism, Weasley?"

Ginny ignored the slight. "Malfoy, you can't have chocolate pancakes and syrup for breakfast. You'll be sick."

"Well thanks for the concern, Mum, but you can hardly lecture people on their behaviour when you clearly don't know how to properly use the combination of a table and chair."

The redhead stuck her tongue out but did slide off the table and sit in her seat. She began to nibble at her sandwich.

"See, not so hard, is it, Weasley? We'll have you walking and talking in unison in no time."

"Oh go shag Astoria, Malfoy, and leave me alone."

Draco nearly choked. "I'm sorry...Astoria? As in, Greengrass?"

"Yes, Malfoy. How many bloody people do you know called Astoria?"

He scowled. "Gracious, Weasley, Greengrass and I aren't that close."

Ginny blushed. "Well, you certainly seemed pretty close on Wednesday in that broom closet!"

Draco couldn't help it; a laugh rumbled from deep inside him. "Oh, Weasley, you're wonderful! That wasn't anything. I was bored and Astoria is...amusing."

"I see."

Ginny wasn't entirely sure why the explanation behind Draco's exploits in the broom closet relieved her as much as it did. She had no right to feel anything about Draco. She was going to blame it on the swapping. It was hard not to get intimate with someone when you knew exactly how they worked.

"You weren't...jealous, were you, Weasley?" teased Draco. There was no malice behind his words though, he was even a little bit interested to know if she had felt envious of Greengrass.

"Don't be ridiculous, you pasty ferret. I guess I'd just like to know if you were planning on dragging her off somewhere secluded in Hogsmeade tomorrow; I'd hate to suddenly change and find myself elbow-deep in Astoria."

"I don't know what you know about sex, Weasley, but elbows generally have very little to do with it."

Dobby had returned with Draco's decadently sweet breakfast.

"Enjoy!" squeaked the elf, as he cleared away Ginny's empty plate before disappearing into the bowels of the kitchen once more.

"Although," muttered the blond through a mouthful of sticky pancake, "you have inadvertently alerted me to something. Who are you going to Hogsmeade with?"

"I'm spending the day with Hermione, Harry, Ron, Luna and Colin."

"Sweet Merlin, kill me now. If you think I'm taking the risk of swapping with you and spending maybe hours at a time with that band of miscreants, you have another thing coming."

Ginny cocked an eyebrow.

"Really? And who's undoubtedly sparkling wit and engorged assets are keeping you entertained tomorrow?"

"You really do have claws, don't you, little one?" At her lack of response, Draco sighed. "I see your point, though. Maybe we should skip Hogsmeade this month, for the sake of our own sanity."

Ginny had really wanted to go but was reluctant to suddenly find herself on Draco's date. As Draco. Being on Draco’s date with Draco, however… She put a stop to those thoughts immediately.

"Fine. That sounds like a good plan, Malfoy. Do you need to go lie down now you've used up all that brain power?"

Draco wiggled his eyebrows up and down suggestively. "Trying to get me into bed, Weasley? I wouldn't mind examining that little heart-shaped mole a little more..."

Ginny's cheeks blushed bright crimson. "In your dreams, Malfoy."

The door swung shut and Draco was left alone to his breakfast.

"Oh," he spoke to no one in particular. "You have no idea, Weasley."

Part Six

"Are you sure you aren't coming, Gin?" asked Ron for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning.

Ginny blew an errant strand of hair out of her eyes.

"I'm staying here today, Ron. Honestly, I have so much to do and I'll have to be at Ollivander's all day tomorrow so no time for homework then. You guys go and have fun."

"But you love Hogsmeade!"

Ron seemed to be in a mood to push all of his sister's buttons that morning.

"Look, I just don't want to go this week, okay?”

Ginny's very short amount patience had finally run out. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright with annoyance. Seemingly oblivious to the flaring of her temper, Ron rolled his eyes.

"Merlin, Gin, keep your hair on! You're more changeable than this bleeding weather, you know."

And with his parting words, he dashed through the portrait hole to meet the others who'd already left to pick Luna up from Ravenclaw Tower. It was probably just as well that he'd disappeared as Ginny's face had frozen at his words, her brain whizzing into overdrive.

Changeable. The weather.

She looked out of the window. The sky was full of clouds but it was not yet raining.

...The rain.

Ginny could remember so clearly the torrential conditions she'd been playing in last Saturday — could rain have also been mixed into her and Draco's wounds? What if that was the trigger? The weather had been so temperamental all week — as was typical of Britain — and she could definitely recall a few times when it had begun raining and she had swapped into Draco's body.

Typical. On what was hopefully the last day of body swapping Ginny had discovered what caused the switching of bodies to occur. Not that it really mattered, they couldn’t control the elements. Picking up her bag she made her way out of the fairly deserted common room. She was going to find Draco and tell him what she'd discovered. Ginny doubted he'd be overly interested in her theory but it would feel nice to be able to tell someone about her brainwave.

—

The redhead had checked the grounds, the great hall and the library, but there was no sign of Draco Malfoy in any of those usual haunts. It was perfectly plausible that he was still in the Slytherin dungeons and, although Ginny had learnt the password over this past week, she didn't like the idea of strolling into that snake pit alone and uninvited. Her red hair and freckles marked her as bait for any of them to snap at.

Not wanting to return to her dorm or the common room that was full of excitable first and second years who loved having run of Gryffindor tower whilst the older students were away for the day, Ginny allowed her feet — and growling stomach — to lead her to the kitchens. She wanted a large slice of chocolate cake and hoped the house elves had some down there. After she'd tickled the little pear to gain entry, she was greeted with the sight of Draco Malfoy gorging on an enormous turkey sandwich.

"Malfoy!"

"Oh, Weasley." He sounded mildly surprised to see her. "You really do have to stop stalking me, you know."

"Believe me, Malfoy, I've walked enough miles in your shoes this week, I don't need to stalk you as well."

The blond snorted into his lunch. His hair hung looser than usual and, Ginny had to admit, he looked good in his dark blue jeans and black cashmere sweater. Bastard. A part of her hated Draco for being able to look so pristine all of the time. It was one of the things she'd noticed that week whilst spending time in his body. Meanwhile, she was lucky if she could go three hours without smearing ink on her nose, or her unruly hair falling out of its confines.

"Enjoying the view, Ginevra?"

She glared at his use of her first name. "Just marvelling at the amount of bread you're managing to shove in that mouth of yours, Draco. It's a little like feeding time at the zoo..."

"I've seen the way your brother consumes his meals. Nothing could shock you after a lifetime of that."

Ginny laughed; he had a point and she was still nettled at Ron enough to laugh at his expense with the snarky Slytherin. A passing house elf took Ginny's order of chocolate cake, and she settled herself in one chairs by the hearth. The light from the flames made her hair look as if it were glowing. Draco watched her for a moment. Ginny was more delicate looking than her personality made her seem — petite and pretty with fine bone structure. When she wasn’t animated she looked almost melancholy, vulnerable.

"So, Weasley, not that I particularly care but what are your plans this afternoon now Hogsmeade is off the agenda?"

Draco had left his place at the table and was now sitting on the seat opposite the redhead. He was not typically a solitary person. Being an only child had seen him spend enough time in his own company; he now liked to be surrounded by people. His friends had gone to Hogsmeade and he'd been bored. That was why he'd thought of coming to the kitchens in the first place, the constant buzz of the house elves chatting to themselves and the sounds of food being prepared was enough to make him not feel too restless and isolated.

"I don't really have any plans," she answered. "I did have something to tell you, though."

"Mm? And what would that be?” He quirked a brow as though surprised there would be anything she could possibly need to talk to him about.

"I think it might be the rain that makes us swap bodies."

Ginny's chocolate cake arrived and she immediately set upon eating the delicious icing, allowing her comment to sink in..

"That would make sense, I suppose," he reasoned. "Not that it makes too much difference, anymore, Weasley, hopefully Dumbledore is right and getting our new wands puts an end to it. But still...interesting."

The redhead made a noncommittal sound and continued to eat her cake, not catching the blond's gaze. It was odd to be in Draco's company and for them not to be tearing one another a part. It must have been the mixing of their magic and their shared experience that week, but neither felt any great animosity to the other anymore. Their family's feud and estranged Houses' seemed almost secondary to their bizarre occurrence, it was as though both had managed to see — quite literally — life from each other's perspective, and while they may not want that life for themselves a profound understanding had been built between them.

Ginny sighed. "I really wanted to go to Hogsmeade. I love it there."

"There's always next time, Weasley." Draco stretched and glanced at the clock on the wall, two-thirty. "Fancy spending the next few hours getting thoroughly rat-arsed with me?"

The redhead cocked her head and looked at him as though he'd sprouted an extra limb.

"Look," Draco growled, "it's not like I'm proposing marriage here, little Gryffindor. Just a lot of Firewhisky. Drinking alone is frowned upon, even by Slytherins."

Ginny let out a little laugh. She'd only been a bit tipsy once before, but the way Draco was looking at her — taunting her — he seemed to be saying, go on, I dare you. prove you're a Gryffindor. Or maybe that was just her rationalising the fact she really wanted to accept the blond's offer. It had been a heck of a week after all.

"Okay, Malfoy. Let's get pissed."

—

Half a bottle of the potent amber liquid and an hour later, both teenagers were feeling the effects of the alcohol. Ginny's cheeks were pink and her eyes felt a little fuzzy and unfocused. Draco was fairing little better; his words tended to slur together and he was quicker to smile at Ginny's quips. She suspected he wasn’t as well-practiced at drinking as he’d led her to believe.

Both were currently bent double laughing.

"Malfoy, it's really, really not funny. I'll never be able to look at Astoria again!"

"And you think that I can ever look at Creevey again after hearing about his sexploits?"

"S-s-sexploits?!" spluttered the redhead through her laughter. "You know, Malfoy, you're funnier when drunker — drunk."

He seemed not to hear her, however, but he leaned a little closer. Ginny could feel his cool breath against her cheek.

"You know, Weasley, you should call me Draco. I mean, we've been in each other, for Merlin's sake.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow, choosing not to comment on the lewd way he’d wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Well, you still call me Weasley."

She poured another shot into their glasses.

"Fine. From now on I shall call you Ginevra."

"Ginny."

"Ginny is a foul, common name. Ginevra is so much prettier."

"Ginevra it is, then. Only you get to call me that, I hope you know." She nodded playfully at him. "You should feel special."

"I always do. I'm Draco Malfoy."

She rolled her eyes.

Draco picked up his tumbler and raised it. Ginny mimicked him.

"To Ginevra."

"To Draco."

The glasses chinked together and both drank all of the whisky in one gulp. It no longer burned its way down Ginny's throat, but seemed to glide happily into her stomach, making her blood sing and race along her veins. Being drunk felt strange and wonderful and free; it made her feel reckless.

Picking up the bottle, Draco took a gulp. He focused on the redhead before him and images of her in the bath and in front of a steamy mirror swam into his mind. How had he never noticed her before? She was pure fire: sex and temptation wrapped up in red silk and freckles. She wasn't well bred or rich, and her choices of friends left much to be desired but she was wonderful to look at. He knew his thoughts were flowing into territories he should not meddle with but he was only a teenager and his hormones took control at the thought of seeing Ginevra Weasley naked again. Especially when he wasn’t residing inside in her naked body but could appreciate her and touch her and…

Ginny had relocated to the floor several shots ago and he crawled across the remaining space between them so he was sitting right next to her, his leg resting against hers. Ginny was pouring herself more whisky. The house elves had been giving them a wide birth, seemingly disgusted at the two drunken teenagers by the fire.

"You know what, Ginevra?"

"What, Ma-Draco?"

She snickered. Ma-Draco. My Draco.

"I can’t stop thinking about your heart shaped mole."

She turned to face him, her nose centimetres away from his.

"Is that so?" Ginny's voice had become somewhat huskier.

“Mmhmm."

Her eyes suddenly focused on his lips.

"I think," the redhead whispered, "I'm going to kiss you now, Draco Malfoy."

And she closed the gap between them.

Ginny's mouth was soft and pliable. She tasted of chocolate and the smoky whisky. Draco slid both his hands into her hair, holding her in place as he deepened the kiss. Both knew this shouldn't be happening. They barely knew one another, in fact, they had hated each other only a few days ago; he was a Slytherin and she a Gryffindor. More importantly, she was a Weasley and he was a Malfoy. But the clash of inebriation and hormones was stronger than ancient blood feuds, and Draco found himself wondering why the hell all that stuff mattered anyway. The war was over. She was hot.

Outside the castle the rain began to fall.

Both simultaneously felt the pain in their abdomens flare to life but didn't break contact; the injuries felt like nothing more than slight twinges now they were drunk. It was a strange experience kissing as Ginny; Draco was used to being the stronger one in a couple, the more dominant.

Suddenly it all became a little too difficult, and both were tangled in a heap of limbs. It also seemed to occur to their intoxicated minds how bizarre -- and hilarious -- it was to be kissing yourself.
Ginny's laugh became loud and raucous and Draco was struggling to breathe through his guffaws.

Once their giggles subsided, and each had returned to their own bodies once more, Draco looked to the redhead. He couldn’t remember ever laughing like that with anyone else. This week had been a mind fuck.

"Want to come to my chambers, Ginevra?"

Ginny seemed to suddenly sober, the ramifications of her actions throwing her into sharp reality.

"No," she gasped. "This was a mistake, Malfoy. I — I have to go."

Staggering to her feet, Ginny shakily exited the kitchen, leaving Draco looking confused as to what had happened. He’d thought she was just as into it as he.The blond picked up the whisky and took a large mouthful. It had all been going so well until they'd changed.

"Bloody weather."

Epilogue

The following day, Ginny discovered Draco had already been and gone from Ollivander's by the time she arrived there. Part of her was grateful for his absence; part of her wished he'd been there.
She wasn't sure whether it had been the alcohol, their close proximity that past week or something much more basic and primal, but he’d lit something within her.

Ginny had not seen him for more than a few seconds at a time since their encounter in the kitchens; it was frustrating and she supposed she should just forget anything had happened at all. After all, she was the one who had run away, he probably thought she wasn’t interested. But she had just been so drunk and the body-switching had been a horrible reminder of him kissing Astoria, being pawed at Pansy, of Theo teasing Draco for his many girls. She didn’t want to be one of many.

Once both of them had been given a new wand, their magic seemed to calm down again, as Dumbledore had said it would, although both still felt a faint tug in their naval when it began to rain. It would fade with time, they had been assured, as would the memories of whisky flavoured kisses.

It was another Saturday and — just when Ginny had convinced herself that she was being a ridiculous sixteen-year-old girl who had gotten carried away — an owl dropped a letter in her lap. She unfolded it and read the neat, familiar cursive on the parchment.

Ginevra,

You may want to snap a picture of this on Creevey’s infernal camera as I’ve charmed it to incinerate five minutes after you open it — Malfoy’s don’t, as a rule, apologise and I want no evidence around to contradict that. But I am sorry for coming on a little strong the other week. I blame it entirely on the whisky, your mole and this infernal weather.

I haven’t missed finding myself walking the halls in your shoes but I have missed spending time with you. Come to Hogsmeade with me next weekend? Butterbeer only, I promise.

Draco.