Chapter 4
The young Draco stirred, blinking away sleep, only to be met with the disconcerting sight of an identical version of himself hovering in the dark of his bedroom. Confused suspicion etched across his face as he met the gaze of the older Draco. The gravity of the situation settled between them, and silence hung heavy in the air.
"Who the hell are you?" Young Draco demanded, fear etched across his face. The room seemed to close in on them, charged with tension and unspoken implications.
"Draco," he whispered, his voice a low murmur, attempting to rouse the younger version without causing undue alarm. But the boy remained oblivious, lost in the realm of dreams.
Draco couldn't escape the gravity of the situation. His younger self was not just a bystander; he was an active participant in this unfolding drama. The delicate balance Draco sought hung by a thread, threatened by the impending awakening of the boy who was once him.
As the younger Draco stirred, eyelashes fluttering, the sense of urgency heightened within Draco. The weight of responsibility bore down on him—responsibility not only for his own fate but for the fate of the Malfoy lineage, intricately woven into the fabric of time.
The room, once a haven of temporal manipulation, became a battleground where the echoes of past and present collided. Draco, burdened by the consequences of his actions, had to tread carefully to ensure that the delicate balance of his carefully orchestrated plan didn't unravel before his eyes.
Draco held his breath as the younger Draco, eyelashes fluttering, began to stir. Panic flickered in the boy's eyes as he awoke to a reality that defied every understanding of the world he knew. The realisation hit him like a tidal wave—two versions of himself, each representing a different chapter in the twisted narrative of the Malfoy legacy.
"Calm down," Draco urged, his voice a soothing murmur. "I know this is confusing, but we need to talk."
But Young Draco, overwhelmed by the surreal nightmare unfolding before him, recoiled. The room crackled with tension, the air heavy with the weight of unspoken revelations. It was a defining moment—a juncture where the past and the future stood at odds, each vying for dominance over the Malfoy legacy.
"Who are you….why-Why do you look like me! You can't be here... This isn't real," Young Draco muttered, his voice a shaky whisper.
As the boy's panic escalated, Draco cursed inwardly. He hadn't anticipated the sheer trauma that this revelation would inflict upon his younger self. The delicate balance he sought to maintain crumbled as the younger Draco's cries pierced the air.
“MOTHER!!!!” Young Draco screamed
“FATH-”
Draco quickly silenced him, his younger self's wand at hand, restraining his flailing arms with the bed sheets, and sat on top of his legs to prevent any kicking, hovering slightly away from him so as not to crowd the poor boy.
In the midst of the chaos, Draco frantically considered his options. The last thing he needed was for his younger self to attract attention, to disrupt the fragile equilibrium he attempted to establish. The fate of the Malfoy legacy hung in the balance, and he couldn't afford to let it unravel before his eyes.
Internal monologues of frustration and determination reverberated within Draco's mind. He had to find a way to assuage the fear, to pacify the terrified boy before him. The room, once a sanctuary of temporal manipulation, became a battleground where the echoes of past and present clashed in a symphony of chaos.
"Listen, Draco," Draco pleaded, attempting to inject reassurance into his tone. "I know this is overwhelming, but I’m not going to kill– HURT! I'm not going to hurt you, you’re perfectly safe, so so safe…”
“I’m fam–We’re family! Don’t we look alike?! And family never hurts each other, we’re alway– we always come to love and protect one another and, and ....”
Even to himself, he sounded like a deranged maniac, and it was clear that Young Draco didn’t believe a single word of his drivel, despite it all ringing true.
Maybe I’ve spent too much time with Aunt Bella.
Her crazy is clearly contagious… Damn…she’s really starting to rub off on me.
HA! Starting?! No clearly already has-had, will?
Time travel is confusing…
Draco couldn’t help but let out a quiet chuckle at this thought, but this only made young Draco flinch at the unexpected sound.
Young Draco's eyes darted between the two versions of himself, uncertainty etched across his face.
Draco knew for sure that the key to salvaging the situation lay in NOT convincing the younger boy that this bizarre encounter held a purpose beyond the realms of understanding, but to erase his memories of this encounter for his own protection.
“Don’t worry; it's all going to be safe now… it’ll—
The older Draco moved forward, the air thick with the remnants of magic and the weight of unspoken truths. The fate of the Malfoy legacy rested upon this fragile moment, a moment that could either solidify a new future or plunge them further into the abyss.
As the room pulsated with tension, Draco locked eyes with his younger self, silently promising to navigate the storm of temporal disruption and emerge on the other side with the Malfoy legacy intact. The journey through time had taken an unforeseen turn, and now, Draco stood at the crossroads, a guardian of the past and a reluctant architect of the future.
Young Draco's eyes were large, terrified, and teary, and is in clear need of comfort and reassurance, and thus Draco reached over to stroke the boys soft hair to calm him.
But quick like a striking serpent young Draco unexpectedly bucks his head forward, roughly smashing into Draco's nose, causing a striking pain through his already time travelling magically muddled head, and savagely gnawed at his face like a rabid dog mauling over the last shred of meat on a bone.
That Little Shit!! im going to Fucking Kill thi-
Draco in a sharp panic tears into the boys head, grabbing a good chunk of his soft hair, to try to pull him off him with his dagger like hands, trying unsuccessfully to get Young Draco's bloodthirsty teeth off his cheek.
The boy then shrieks! Shrieks loudly like the Merpeople out of water as he angrily tries to fights Draco off him, buckling his body like a possessed creature, continuing to get as close to Draco as possible to take another bite off of him, and somehow bucks Draco off him enough to successfully knee him in the head. In his angered panic, Draco backhands the young boy sharply with one hand whilst tries to wrestle the boy down, his head too muddled to think up a spell to better restrain him.
Young Draco then wails! Wails like a banshee that forsaw its own death, fighting hard then ever, his sharp nails clawing at the bedsheets, his wrists still restrained, the only good thing, at least until he got his ahold of his wand....
But I'm holding his wand...
So how does he...
The wand young draco somehow got ahold of is identical to the wand in Draco's current possesion, but unlike the one Draco is currently holding, the wand young Draco holds is slightly older, less polished, and more intune with both Draco's magic....
Fuck! My wand travelled back with me!
It was an unexpected development, as the magic ritual Draco casted was meant to bring his soul, magic, and memories, and only those back with him to the past, as any material or physical parts wouldn't be possible to bring back with him. But then again, that was because he was meant to come back and takeover his younger selfs body, effectively rewriting himself and integrating to the best possible way... but clearly this has not happened, so why wouldn't his wand not follow him to the past.
And it just had to have arrived next to the sleeping young Draco's head, in easy access to the Young boys restrained wrists.
Wand in hand, the young boy's panicked accidental magic now has a medium to direct itself into, throws Draco off the bed, smacking his head to the wall, just as his vision starts to go black before he passes out, he see's the door the their bedroom slam open as his parents come rushing, wands in hand, and eyes wide open in shock at seeing two boys that looked identical to their sole child; one crying in bed mouth bloody, wrist red, and face lightly bruised, and the other beaten, bloody, and bitten and passed out.