One, two, pause.
Taking a long drag, Draco Malfoy closed his eyes for a second, feeling the warm sensation of the cigarette smoke in his lungs before breathing it out, a few coming out of his nostrils. It didn’t take long before the stick grew short, its ashes falling gracefully in the glass ashtray in front of him. Heaving a sigh, Draco put the fire off, crushing its tip before pulling out another one from his coat’s pocket, lighting it with a snap of his fingers.
“What a great day to be alive,” he whispered to himself before smirking, thinking of how stupid it was to trick himself with hollow words.
It had been two decades since the Battle of Hogwarts ended, yet here he was, reliving the memory just like it was yesterday. Even though the Malfoy Manor was filled with nothing but silence, Draco can still hear the screams of his previous schoolmate, Hermione Granger, in the drawing room on the left wing, as she was tortured by his aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange. Although the mansion was in tip-top shape, Draco can still see the broken windows, the debris of statues that were shot with a curse, and the broken furniture that has been there since god knows when.
Three, four, pause.
Placing the newly lit cigarette between his lips, Draco took and stared at the necklace he placed on the coffee table, its golden surface reflecting in his gray eyes as the moonlight filled the dark, cold room. He forgot how many times he had played with it, turning it over and over as if to keep his slender fingers entertained. Even though he knew how dangerous this hobby of his is, he just didn’t care.
Five, six, pause.
Draco wasn’t stupid. He knew what he was doing. He was well aware that one wrong move and everything he has might change. The manor may as well be left to crumble, their familial wealth taken by Gringotts, and his precious family, Astoria and Scorpius, may also fade to oblivion.
Yet he continued to play with the time-turner, flipping it for the seventh—no, for the eighth time that night.
“Father, what should I do?” He called out to no one in particular.
“Ever since you’ve left, no one was there to control me anymore; it seems I can’t make proper decisions by myself.” Even with the stick between his lips, he was still able to speak his thoughts clearly, a frown etching on his forehead as he imagined Lucius in front of him with his cold stare, clearly disappointed with how he was acting right now.
Instead of the usual fear he had always felt when receiving his father’s indifferent gaze, he felt annoyed. enough to make him scoff.
Nine, ten, pause.
“You know what? I’ve had enough of this.” Throwing the cigarette somewhere in the room, Draco Malfoy rose from his seat, the chair he previously sat in, making contact with the marble floor. A loud bang soon echoed inside the room. Even with the impact, Draco did not flinch. Instead, he paced back and forth, eyes drifting on the golden chain of the time-turner.
He had no clue how many times he had turned the damn thing, but he was sure that it was enough to take him far back in time, enough to change things even with a huge consequence. Draco had heard from Theodore Nott, a former acquaintance of his, that the time turner that the Malfoys have acquired was a different model than the one in the Ministry of Magic. He was able to stay in the past as much as he wanted and go back to the future whenever he wanted.
The only rule was to never show his future self to his past self.
Nott had explained that interacting with his past self may cause a huge ripple effect on his life and his future self might not only change, but it may kill him. If that happens, he would never have met Astoria, his gorgeous wife; he would never have had Scorpius, his beloved son; but more importantly, he would never experience the daily torture of remembering the war and all the mistakes he made as he participated in it. With this in mind, Draco stared at the necklace for a long time before coming to a decision.
Even at such a young age, Draco had always chosen his family over himself.
“Will I be selfish if I decide and choose myself just this once, Father? ” Hearing no answer, Draco nodded to himself, a determined look slowly making its way to his face.
It was the first time in twenty years that he flipped the time-turner for the eleventh time, its gold chains beautifully placed around his neck before he heard a crack and everything was gone.
Well, he thought so.
Opening his eyes, it was as if he used a portkey that malfunctioned halfway, throwing him out of the portal and into a place he wasn’t supposed to be in. Draco felt confused rather than dizzy as he slowly realized where he was. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he stared at the welcome sign of Olivanders. In the middle of the store was the twelve-year-old Draco Malfoy, wearing an ear-splitting grin as he received his wand.
Taking a step forward, Draco froze. Was he really going to do this?
Before he could even think rationally, the figure of his father beside his past self came to his view, his cold eyes burning his young self's skin. How could he never notice that his father was disappointed that it was unicorn hair instead of dragon heartstrings in his wand?
At that moment, he knew his father never cared for him. Draco mistook Lucius' cold shoulders as training. He was clueless that he wasn't being treated as a son but a mere puppet, allowing him to grow into something they could use as an offering and tool for the Dark Lord.
Even with a heavy heart, Draco finally dragged his feet forward, pushing the door open enough to make the people in the store look at him. It was then that his father took a step back but gained his composure fast. Staring at the man that looked like his aged son, Lucius Malfoy had a bit of a clue what was going on.
"Have I died?" was all Lucius asked, making Draco's lips twitch. As expected, his father thought of himself before his son.
"You're in Azkaban," Draco replied flatly, stealing gazes on his young self that had the mixture of awe, disbelief, and fear in his eyes.
"I've never thought of giving you the time-turner, but because I'm not there in the manor, it's safe to assume that you're the one in charge now, right?"
Draco watched as Little Draco frowned. He was more than confused. How can his father be gone when he was right next to him? Clearly, the younger version of him thought that he was spouting nonsense.
"Your son is right in front of you, bloody hell, two of them even. Yet you chose to ask where you lie in the future, the ancient artifacts, and the manor. Really, Father?" Draco scoffed, mirroring the expression Lucius was giving him.
"I do not ask about disappointments."
"Looking at you right now, this kid beside me will be a failure. Even his wand was disappointing."
Draco wanted to punch his father so bad. All the pent-up anger he had as he grew up was like bubbles rising to the surface wanting to go out. But even with the nasty remarks, Draco ignored it all, focusing his attention on his other self.
"Draco." He called out, a bit weirded out by calling his own name.
"Remember this. You will become everything you regretted if you chose the path your father will take you. You will be me and every mistake I made. If you don't want this to happen, put an end to it."
He knew his words would not reach his young self's mind yet, but he hoped that as he grew up, he'd be able to remember what he had said. But before he could even say his farewell to little Draco, his palm suddenly felt numb, making him freeze.
Slowly, he felt lighter than usual, as if the wind was blowing him even though he was inside the store.
With a curious gaze, Draco looked at his past self in the eyes, his expression braver than he had ever been his entire life. At that moment, Draco Malfoy finally realized what was happening.
And finally, after more than two decades of grief and anger, he finally cracked a smile, not even bothered to say goodbye.