I need a place to hide things.
I need a place to hide things.
I need a place to hide things.
A door appeared out of nowhere, as if the wall had melted away. Draco Malfoy sighed in relief, and hurried through without a second thought. This year hadn't been like he thought it would be. At the beginning, he had thought that it would be… easy, fun, almost, to be a Death Eater at a Hogwarts ruled by the Dark Lord.
It had not.
It was horrible; wherever he turned, all he saw was either arrogant sneers or eyes filled with pain, or just dull acceptance.
His left arm was always disturbing him; there was an itch there, just underneath his skin, but when he scratched at it, there was just a short, faint relief before the itch was back again. The only thing the scratching did was leaving his skin red and raw. Everywhere but the Dark Mark, of course, which always stayed ink black and taunting.
He was filled with regret every time he looked at it, looked at the Dark Mark, so Draco tried to hide it. Sometimes, though… when he showered, or slept, or when it was too warm to walk around in sweaters… he couldn't. And then the regret was back, and he was pulled into reality, into the harsh, too-cold reality.
So he came here, to get lost in the tall piles of what someone once called trash. It gave him a haunted feeling of security. It was his safe haven, the place he went to when he needed peace and calm and quiet. In the beginning, he came once a month. Then once a week. Then twice a week. Then every day at lunch.
Today was no exception, and he took a deep breath and released it as he began his journey between the mountains of forgotten things.
Draco stumbled upon the box purely by accident- quite literally. He had been walking along, nose stuck in a book, when his shoe got caught in the black box the size of his hand.
The Room of Requirement rarely put something in his path like that, since yes, the paths were made by the room and the items scattered across it by will, so Draco shrugged and picked it up. He proceeded to cast a dozen detection spells on the box, just to be sure, because about half the items in the Room were jinxed or hexed in some way or the other.
Upon finding no curses on the container, Draco popped the lid open-
and gaped in surprise.
On top of soft, dark blue feathers, a Time-Turner rested. It didn't look like a normal Time-Turner, however. It was larger than usual, not so much that it was in the way, or irritating, just enough to be noticeable. Where normal Turners were golden, almost yellowish in color, this one was close to dark red, and didn't shimmer or gleam like it should. That wasn't the most disturbing fact, however. The sand, instead of being bright, or pale, was black, almost like coal.
Draco shut his mouth with a snap. Wary of casting anything on the magical item, he picked it up by its chain with the tip of his wand. He didn't want to touch it directly just yet; for all he knew, the Room was tired of him coming in all the time and wanted to get rid of him. Yes, it could do that. Yes, it had done it before, with other students.
A piece of parchment fell to the floor near his feet, and Draco bent down to pick it up with a frown.
To whomever, the note said, in shaky, almost - hurried? Unsure? Childish? - handwriting.
This is not a normal Time-Turner. You might notice that it has only one ring. On a normal Time-Turner, this ring would decide how many hours you would go back. On this Turner, however, the ring decides how many years you go back. In addition, this Time-Turner does not transport your body, but your soul, your knowledge, your memories, and your magical core: it transports the essence that is you. You will be reborn in a body; yours, if you lived at the time you turn back to. Very little will be brought back with you; the Time-Turner, for one, and any items you might have a bond with. (For example; Horcruxes, Hallows, Charms, etc.)
Do remember, however, that the Turner can only be used once per person; although, two people can travel together.
Draco blinked down at the note, his mouth once again hanging open. This item could change everything. Everything! He could turn back a year, to when he'd gotten the Dark Mark-
but no, he couldn't refuse it. The Dark Lord would kill him, surely, and what would he then do to Father? Mother? Torture, death, imprisonment-
No, he couldn't go back a full year… he could, however, go back to his tenth birthday and change things from there on, perhaps run away or change things all together.
A strange idea formed in his mind, and Draco looked up from the note with wide eyes. He could take Potter with him back in time, couldn't he? Together, they could change much more- yes, Draco Malfoy had a lot of power in the Wizarding Word, but Harry Potter had much more.
Surely, the Boy-Who-Lived didn't want the Dark Lord to murder him and his friends! By going back in time and changing things-
but Draco didn't want to cease to exist, and Potter wouldn't want to go back with him-
well, it was either him or nothing, Draco decided with a scoff. If Potter didn't want him, too, then fine. He would cease to exist, and Draco could do this on his own.
"You wait here," Draco hissed at his bodyguards/friends.
Crabbe and Goyle frowned, but nodded and sat down on the ground. Another Point me Harry Potter told him in which direction to go, and with a determined nod, Draco began to march towards his rival.
"Harry Potter," he drawled when he finally caught sight of him. Potter, along with Weasel and Granger, spun around with their wands drawn, ready to fight for their lives. Draco raised his arms in surrender, and took a step back. "I've just come to talk."
"What would you ever want to talk about, Malfoy?" Weasel sneered, even as Potter frowned and put a hand on his arm, trying to quiet him down.
"Talk, Malfoy," Potter said quietly, never once putting away his wand or looking in another direction. Weasel continued to sneer, but scowled and took a step back.
Draco walked forward with careful, yet quick steps, and threw up a privacy ward when he was close enough to Potter to do so. "Don't you want to change things?" Draco asked, in hushed tones, and ignored the way Potter's face lit up in surprise.
Potter frowned at the unusual bluntness, but didn't pull away. "What do you mean?"
"If I told you that we could turn back time to our first year, with all of this disappearing, would you do it?" Draco said instead.
"Disappear?" Potter raised an eyebrow, even though something like hope sparked in his eyes. Draco wasn't surprised; even though the young man wanted attention, he must be sick in his head to wish to fight the Dark Lord.
It was hard to explain what he meant, but Draco decided to try. He needed Potter on his team to make this work out. "Call it going to another dimension, if you wish."
"How?" Potter demanded to know, taking a step forward, much to Weasel's horror.
With a solemn expression, Draco pulled out the Time-Turner from his pocket. "This. But it can only take two people, and can only be used once by these people." Potter frowned in confusion, and Draco rolled his eyes. "I refuse to stay here, and I will only go with you; don't you think we'd be able to change things? The Boy-Who-Lived and the Slytherin Prince? I don't want to live like this, Potter! I won't live like this. I'll go back anyways, and try to change things, but with your help it would be easier. Don't you want to give it another chance?"
There was a short mument where Potter closed his eyes and seemed to think. A million expressions flitted over his face, and then, after almost a full minute, he opened his eyes again. They were lit up in a different way than they'd been before, in a strange way. There was hope in them. There was regret in them, too, and a sort of shallow yet deep pain, but… the Gryffindor seemed determined, in spite of this. "When to?" he asked quietly, after meeting Draco's gaze before abruptly looking away.
"Seven years back, to May 2nd, 1990," Draco answered, ignoring the wave of relief that washed over him. It probably showed in his eyes, since he hadn't expected Potter to agree so easily, but he wouldn't let it show in his expressions. Slytherins don't do that sort of thing, although Potter probably caught on. Maybe.
"The year before Hogwarts," Potter muttered absentmindedly, as he took a step closer to let Draco loop the chain around his neck. "If nothing else, I'll see you then."
"Yes," Draco agreed, grabbing the hourglass filled with black sand. He could feel Granger –and possibly Weasel- attacking his privacy wards, but hopefully they held for long enough. He only had to spin the ring, after all, and then they would be gone. Merlin, they were going to change things, once and for all-
"I don't trust you, Malfoy," Potter said quietly, and Draco looked up from the Turner to meet his gaze. It was hard as steel, and oh, so cold- yet, soft and fragile. As if he was trying to tell him something. Draco thought he caught on, but at the same time, it felt like Potter was speaking a completely different language. The Slytherin Prince swallowed thickly under the heavy gaze of the Boy-Who-Lived.
"But at this point I'm too tired to care if you're going to kill me or not."
Draco spun the Time-Turner.
The first thing Draco wondered about when he woke up on May 3rd 1990, was how old he was. Seventeen, from before- but should he count the ten years he were now? If he did, he would be 27, same with Potter…
Yes, they should count it in, if not for anything useful then for bragging rights.
Was he really back? Back, in 1990, before everything had started to go wrong? Before the Dark Lord and the Dark Mark, before horrors and pain and guilt and regret?
Slowly, Draco sat up in his bed. He started a bit when he slipped out of it, expecting the floor to meet him much earlier than it actually had. Oh, but he was short! He'd lost at least twenty inches, and-
God, what about his hair? Reaching up to touch it, Draco found that it was at least not slick when he slept. Good, that was an embarrassing part of his past that he'd rather forget.
Draco hurried to change into normal robes, grinning a bit madly when the Dark Mark was absent from his slender arm.
This time, they were going to do it right.
Draco allowed things to proceed without much change; he was acting less like an arrogant brat, he realized, and had slunk back in shame over his own behavior before.
It appeared that there was a lot to be changed, opposed to what he had thought before.
He had no idea where Potter lived, after all, and had no ways to contact him. Well, as Potter himself had said: if nothing else, they'd see each other at Hogwarts.
Early-June, a snow white owl that Draco recognized as Potter's owl –huh, so he had been able to get it this time around, too- flew in through his window, and dropped an envelope on his desk.
Humming to himself, Draco put down the book he'd been reading, and walked over to his chair. The letter was written on parchment, thankfully, and it began like this:
I have escaped the Dursley's, thank Merlin for that, and am now residing at the Leaky Cauldron. I remember everything. Do you want to meet to discuss your plans, or do we wait until Hogwarts?
Ps. I don't give a damn about Dumbledore, but I still spelled the letter so that only you can read it. Anyone else would only be able to see a blank parchment.
Draco raised an eyebrow. Dursley's? Plans?
Yes, I am aware of the secrecy spell. Merlin, you act like I'm some mudblood or something. Who are the Dursley's, and why are they important?
Plans? What made you think I have plans?
Signed, Draco Malfoy
Ps. Keep spelling the letter. I've done the same.
Draco rolled his eyes, but tied the parchment roll to the owl's leg and sent it away. Not two days later, and he had a reply.
Don't call them that. My mum was muggle-born. I won't work with you unless you respect that. The Dursley's… oh, where do I begin? My Aunt is my Mum's sister, and when she died, I was shipped off to live with my muggle family. Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley. Bastards, the lot of them. After being treated like a house-elf one time too much, I snapped and left.
After doing some damage, of course.
You're a Slytherin. I expected you to have some plans. That was very Gryffindor of you, Malfoy. Have you gone soft?
Ps. Will do.
Draco gave a small wince when he read that Potter's mother was muggle-born. Well, that certainly explained things. He wouldn't work with him unless he respected that? Fine, he wouldn't say mudblood in Potter's presence, would that be enough? Probably not, he mused, but shook his head lightly.
Then his mind caught up with what he had read. Muggles? The Boy-Who-Lived, savior of the Wizarding World, had lived with muggles? In addition, abusive ones?
He'd been treated like a house-elf. One time too much? He'd been treated like that often, then. His next letter to Potter simply said
What did you do to them?
The answer came the next day.
Just some light torture. I don't think Dudley will go unharmed, though. Snort. I've heard boggarts can do that to you. Did you know, there was one in Dudley's first bedroom, in the closet he keeps all his books? I had certainly not expected that.
Draco shook his head. "Dobby!" he called, and the elf popped in next to him. "Fetch me some parchment and a quill."
"Yes, Young Master Draco, Dobby will do."
The elf popped out of the room to do exactly as Draco had asked him to. Three seconds later, and the items were laying on top of his desk.
Meet me at Flourish and Blots, 10 AM this Tuesday. We have a lot to discuss.
Signed, Draco Malfoy
"Malfoy," a voice said, interrupting Draco from an interesting book he'd been reading. He almost spun around, wand drawn, when he remembered that this was- this wasn't war. This was peace.
Draco turned around with a smirk. "Potter," he drawled. The smirk slipped when he took in the boy, however. He was thin, too thin, and shorter than average. He wasn't supposed to be small, but he was, and it caused his body to look awkward and the proportions to seem a bit… off. His cheeks, although they'd began to fill out now, were hallowed out, and his eyes… those sparkling, green eyes were haunted by horrors Draco couldn't comprehend. For the first time, Draco truly realized how Harry Potter had been treated, first by the muggles, then by the wizarding word- then by him.
Draco may have been too blinded by his own arrogance the last time around, but when he said that he'd make things right- he meant everything.
An almost blinding rage welled up in Draco, and he returned his focus on Potter's face, meeting his gaze with a sneer. "You're coming with me to live at Malfoy Manor after summer, Potter," he spat. Potter blinked in confusion.
"O-kay? Will your father allow that?"
Draco sniffed, quite arrogant and mocking. "Oh, I can manage quite an impressive temper tantrum. We'll be fine."
Potter snorted, and rolled his eyes. He then proceeded to grab Draco's wrist, and began to pull him towards the door. "Come on. We can't talk here."
"Wait, I want this book!" Draco complained.
Potter raised an eyebrow and shot the book a look. "'How To: Animagi'?"
"No?" Draco said, flipping the book to read himself. Had he taken the wrong one? "This clearly says: 'Jinx, Hex, Curse: Common and Uncommon'."
The two shared a look, and, as one, hurried over to the clerk. "Excuse me," Potter said. "But which book is this?"
The clerk, a witch in her fifties, gave a small chuckle when she caught sight of the book. "A best seller and personal favorite of mine," she said, turning towards them. "I take it you see different things?" The two wizards nodded. "The book is spelled so that it will show what the reader needs the most; not in this particular moment, but something that might very well save or change their life."
Draco's eyes widened. "How much?" he breathed, and the witch raised a knowing eyebrow.
"Curses, huh?" Potter said, once they'd found themselves a nice, hidden table at the Leaky Cauldron.
Draco shrugged. "I didn't decide," he pointed out, and Potter nodded. There was silence for a moment while Draco fumbled for words. "What did you do to them?"
Potter looked up, with a startled expression. A flush creeped up his neck and he returned to playing with his food. "I, ah… spelled their blood to stay inside of their bodies," he started, in a quiet whisper. "Then- sectumsempra. And crucio."
More silence, as Draco fought with his shock and won. "That's- pretty hardcore stuff, Harry," he said, and leaned back in his seat.
Potter's eyes widened. "Did you just-"
"Sorry," Draco hurried to say, swallowing. That had just slipped out of him. Where had it come from? "I won't do it again."
Potter ignored him, choosing instead to lean forward and rest his elbows on the table with a scowl. "Listen, Draco," he said, startling Draco badly. "I didn't come back to do everything again. I don't want to take part of this war."
Pot- oh, fine. Harry had once more startled Draco badly, and it showed.
"I didn't come back to die. I wanted to come back to live."
"And you're okay with leaving the wizarding world unprotected?" Draco whispered.
Harry snorted. "Hardly," he said. "There are lots of Aurors here. I don't want to be the Boy-Who-Lived. I just want to be Harry. Harry, youngest seeker in Gryffindor history… well, not that I believe I'll be sorted into there again."
This was too much. Draco wasn't sure what to do. "Well, what are you planning, then? Leaving the country?" Harry shrugged. He shrugged, as if this didn't really matter. Draco groaned. "Can't we just kill the bastard?"
Harry adopted a thoughtful frown. "We'd have to hunt down his Horcruxes first," he said slowly.
Draco fell out of his chair. "Horcruxes?" he whispered, in a high pitch, from the floor. "The Dark Lord had Horcruxes? Plural form?"
Harry leaned to the side to look at him as he stood up and sat down on his chair. "He had six," he said quietly. "A diary, that one I believe your father has, Hufflepuff's Cup, that's in Bellatrix' vault, Ravenclaw's diadem, hidden at Hogwarts, a ring, I know where it is, Slytherin's locket, at Sirius' childhood home, and Nagini, which I have no idea where is."
"Six," Draco repeated. "Do you know how to destroy them?"
Harry nodded. "Basilisk venom," he said. "And fiendfyre. I've read up on them."
"And- you can hunt them down?"
Harry groaned, but nodded. "Yes. Now that I know where they are, it shouldn't be too much of a problem. Give me until school starts, and I should have gotten most of them, if not all. Voldemort lives at the back of Quirrel's head, just so you know about that."
Draco fell out of his chair again.
I need a house-elf to do everything that I have to do, about you-know-what. The most practical would be to have one from the Malfoy's, since the diary is at your place. Could you give one to me?
Ps. Give me Dobby. Please. And don't give him a sock. I will be irritated for weeks if you do.
With a wince, Draco walked over to his wardrobe and pulled out a pair of robes that were just a tad too small for him. "Dobby!" he called, and the house-elf popped in. "Dobby, I'm going to free you."
The creature's eyes widened and filled with tears. "Oh, Young Master Draco are too kind, thank you, Young Master Draco, thank you," he whispered. Draco did a double take. Thank you?
"But I have a request. A friend of mine wants you to work for him. Harry Potter, have you heard of him?"
Dobby's eyes widened even further. "Harry Potter?" he squeaked. "Dobby is to be working for the great Harry Potter?"
Without a word, Draco shrunk the robes to fit the tiny creature, and handed them to him. "I need you to go straight to him and perform the bonding, okay?"
Dobby nodded so hard Draco thought his head was about to fall off. "Dobby will, sir. Oh, yes, Dobby will!"
The next time Draco saw the strange house-elf, was two weeks later, in the middle of July. Dobby had popped in and delivered the message that "Master Harry Potter has told Dobby to tell Draco sir that most of the problems has been handled and that Draco sir won't be hearing from Master Harry Potter before school."
Draco stared. "Well," he said slowly. "You can tell Harry that I say thank you for keeping me updated," he told the elf, who then popped away. With a sigh, Draco turned towards the letter he'd been writing to Harry, asking about just that. "Bastard," he muttered, and threw away the piece of parchment.
The next few weeks passed without anything significant happening, and Draco heaved a breath of relief when he stepped onto Platform 9 ¾ with his Father. After sharing a quick goodbye and listening to his Father rant about going to Slytherin, Draco was off to get onto the train.
Not three minutes passed before the form of Harry Potter bounced over to his side. "Potter," Draco greeted politely, raising an eyebrow at the grin Harry was sporting.
"Oh, none of that, now, Draco!" Harry protested, eyes twinkling mischievously. "If you've first off gone and called me Harry, you might as well continue."
Draco sighed, but nodded warily. "Fine," he muttered. A moment later, Vincent and Greg fell into step behind him in their usual positions. Rolling his eyes, Draco turned to Greg and said "Include Harry, would you?" With a grunt, Greg moved further to the left, which caused him to end up behind Harry instead of Draco.
"Oooh, a personal bodyguard!" Harry grinned. "How fun."
"Indeed," Draco drawled. "Come on. Let's find a carriage."
A/N: So this is the written equivalent of a brain fart. If anyone's interested in this I might continue it! I've got plans for the ending, so I know how it's gonna stop. I've got nothing in the middle though, so you might get three chapters and an ending, or twenty chapters and an ending. It all depends on how inspired I am, and what kinda feed back I get. And in case you're not wearing slash goggles- this is slash. As in, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter doing Private Things in Private.