Chapter 7
Harry’s immediate reaction was relief that they hadn’t landed in the bathroom, his second thought was that it was far worse as he came to recognize the astronomy tower, his third was confusion, because the sight of a lonely Draco balancing on the stargazer bridge did not make sense.
Dumbledore and Harry had arrived there before him and afterwards Draco had been led outside by Snape and the other death eaters. It took him a while to realize that it was not the night of Dumbledore’s death but this must be earlier in the year, and in the light of that, things didn’t seem so bad. By the look of it, no one was going to end up cursed or murdered in front of them, there didn’t even seem to be any disappointing blowjobs about to happen.
The night was quiet, something serene about it with the stars blinking away in the darkness above, Draco leaning out to watch them, unbothered by the cold breeze ruffling his hair.
Harry turned to the present Draco, expecting to see relief on his face but he had gone possibly even whiter, standing rigid next to him.
“Draco?” he whispered confused, forgetting to cast a muffliato, though chances were slim his voice would carry to the bridge.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking between the two Dracos, trying to make sense of it. “Is someone else coming?”
Was the Draco positioned on the bridge awaiting someone? It would be quite easy for an impostor to fly in, he assumed, he had managed to smuggle a dragon from this very place in his first year after all.
“There’s no one” Draco said, voice hollow and Harry didn’t understand why that would be a bad thing. A closer examination of the younger boy’s appearance left him with an ill-boding feeling though. He’d really forgotten just how ill Draco had appeared throughout sixth year. His skin was practically translucent, showing off a blue vein at his temple and there was a look of pure hopelessness to his face.
While Harry studied him, something changed. His skin drained of what little color was left and his features hardened. With a look of determination, the sixteen-year-old Draco took two fast steps towards the railing and begun to climb it.
“No” Harry screamed, taking in the scene and dropped the cloak, forgetting all intentions about not being seen and rushed forwards, ignoring the present Draco swearing in the background. There were twenty feet separating him from the bridge and had it not been for Draco stopping in his tracks by the sudden ruckus he was making he would not have made it. As it happened, he now lunged himself towards the railing, made a grab for Draco who was pulled backwards and roughly landed on top of him on the stone bridge. He instantly scrambled to his feet, pointing his wand straight at Harry who was lying uncomfortably on his back, chipping for air after the fall.
“What the hell are you doing Potter? Are you here to finish what you started in the bathroom the other week? Couldn’t let me do it on my own, could you?”
The hand holding the wand trembled and he had a flashback of Draco about to throw a crucio at him. His own wand was in his pocket and he held up his hands defensively.
“I’m not going to hurt you” he whispered, although with the bathroom duel fresh in mind, he could see why Draco would have a hard time believing that.
“No, you’re not the one with a wand at your throat this time, are you?”
The boy in front of him was not the colleague who helped him break curses and bickered with him on the job, but an unstable, desperate teenager with a death threat to his head who had, apparently, been sliced to pieces by his younger self but days ago. There was little Harry could say that would stop him from firing off just about every spell in his register.
“A little help would be good” he yelled towards the door.
“Looks like the Weasel and the mudblood has left you behind” Draco sneered, taking in the empty room but then a look of fury spread across his face as his wand soared out of his hand.
“Don’t use that word” the older Draco said irritated, stepping out of the shadows, holding on to two identical wands, his eyes fixated on Harry. “Potter, exactly what part of don’t show yourself did you not understand?”
The younger Draco gasped, staring between the two of them, first now taking in the difference in appearance between the Harry of his year and the present him sprawled across the floor.
He hadn’t changed tremendously since Hogwarts, not like Zacharias Smith who’d gone all mushy, or Eloise Midgen who’d brushed up well enough to end up on the cover of Witches Weekly, but he had filled out a bit, gained a few inches and now had a beard that would have been but a distant fantasy to his teenage chin.
Sixteen-year-old Draco did however appear more disturbed by the look of his older self and Harry couldn’t blame him. Watching his friends Polyjuice into him had been weird enough, and that was knowing the context of it. He was thankful Draco had had the sense to disarm himself.
”Who the hell are you? What’s going on?” the boy yelled.
“Exactly who we look like” the older Draco said patiently. “Now step inside, will you. It’s bloody freezing. We need to figure out what to do about this mess before someone else sees us.”
As he threw him a dirty look, Harry started to realize he had fucked up pretty good. He was only too eager to get up from the cold, hard bridge though and jumped to his feet, edging past the older Draco through the door. Sixteen-year-old Draco on the other hand remained rigid.
“Oh come on, as if two adult wizards couldn’t make you” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “You haven’t even got a wand.”
Perhaps the younger Draco realized he was powerless because he did step inside, followed by his older self closing the door behind them. With the cold breeze shut out, everything seemed very still and the three of them eyed each other.
“Who are you?” the younger Draco demanded again.
Next to him, the present Draco appeared to be thinking hard, his lips pressed tightly together, as if determined not to give anything away.
Not getting any answers seemed to unnerve the boy. “Are you under a glamour?” His hands trembled. “Did you find another way in? You said…you wouldn’t come yet, I..I’m not ready, I’m doing my best with the cabinet, it…” he stuttered, looking close to panic.
Harry couldn’t bare it. “We’re not death eaters, we’re from the future” he said, holding up the time turner, watching the boy’s eyes go wide.
“Potter, shut the fuck up.”
Harry glared at the older Draco. “It’ll only be weirder if we don’t tell him. He’s already seen us, he’s going to talk unless we explain. If we let him in on it…”
“Let me in on what?” younger Draco asked, suddenly eager. Harry had forgotten he was such a nosy bastard.
“There’s no him, Potter, he’s me.”
“Yeah, whatever” Harry said, taking in the absurdity of having a conversation with two Dracos. “We’ll let you in on it then, it could still be OK.”
“It most certainly won’t be because I, for one thing, do not remember this. You’ve already created a big rip in time. Every word out of your mouth will only make it worse.”
Harry thought hard about it. “What do you remember from that night?”
Draco shrugged. “Standing on the bridge, turning back inside, going to bed. Certainly not this.”
“Are you really from the future?” younger Draco cut in. He seemed to have let go of his most immediate fear and was watching his older self with interest and something close to admiration. Harry couldn’t blame him, if he’d been told he’d be changing into something like that, he’d be gaping too.
Even if there was no mistake the two people next to him were the same, their postures equally straight, long limbs, robes of finest quality, the Draco he knew these days was also much different. He had grown into his pointy features quite well, like Harry he had filled out a bit around the shoulders and he was softer around the edges. He seemed less haunted, calmer. It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed before, but here, next to the younger version of him, the change was more than obvious.
“Yes” Draco said curtly. “Although there might not be a future for either of us, with Potter messing about.”
Harry stared out the window, at the bridge spanning over the darkness underneath, the hard castle ground about a hundred yards below.
“You really would have done it, wouldn’t you?” he asked the younger Draco, thinking hard.
“Course I would” he replied, as if throwing himself off the astronomy tower was something to brag about.
“Except you obviously didn’t” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “You’re being overly dramatic.”
Younger Draco narrowed his eyes. “Prove it” he said. “That you’re really me. Tell me something only I would know, like…” he thought fast. “What’s in my bedside drawer at the moment?”
Draco gave him an annoyed look. “Are you referring to a tube of lube and that book you bought in Knockturn Alley in fifth year? Whatever made you think that was a good question to ask?” He jerked his head towards Harry.
“Didn’t think you really were me” the younger Draco mumbled, his cheeks turning red.
If Harry hadn’t been so lost in his thoughts, he might have found the two Dracos blushing in front of him an amusing sight.
“Draco, I think this is it” he said excitedly. “This is what the timeturner was looking for.”
Draco made a face. “That makes no sense, Potter.”
“It does actually. It’s been about you all along, we already knew that. You’re a Black, and the legend said any Black is to come to one’s need, right?. The time turner didn’t activate until you came into the room, like it was waiting for you. It’s obviously been looking for you, for the right moment. It wasn’t some curse about Voldemort.”
Both Dracos flinched at the name but Harry ignored them. “It brought us here to alter time, to save you. Which we obviously did because you’re still alive.”
Draco didn’t say anything, Harry was assuming he was looking for the flaws in his theory, and admittedly there were quite a few. Draco had pointed it out just a minute ago; he didn’t remember this.
After a long moment of silence, Draco gave a curt nod. “Right” he said, turning to his younger self. “I’m going to obliviate you.”
“Hell no!” the younger Draco yelled out, backing towards the bridge, staring at the raised wand. “I’ll jump if you try anything.” He kicked the door open.
“Draco, come on” Harry mumbled.
“What, you have any better idea?”
Harry didn’t. He had to admit obliviating the teenager made sense, it would correspond with Draco’s memories and leave the timeline intact. It just seemed an awfully cruel thing to do against someone’s will.
He took in the boy trembling in front of them, all alone with no adult to trust. And how skilled was present Draco at obliviation, what if he hurt himself and ended up like Lockhart? Wasn’t that more likely to occur the more the object resisted the spell?
“Not like this” Harry said softly. “He…I mean you, have a right to know why. If you’re going to do it in the end, it won’t matter what we tell you.”
“I suppose” Draco muttered, lowering his wand. “Well, since Potter here thinks it’s a good idea, I guess you’re free to ask whatever you like.”
Harry rolled his eyes, but it obviously worked. Curiosity seemed to get the better of the young Draco who closed the door, eyeing the two of them up and down.
“Are you a couple?” he asked with a frown.
“What?” Draco let out enraged. “Why would you ask that?”
Younger Draco shrugged, nodding towards Harry. “He calls you Draco.”
“I do” Harry agreed with a smile, enjoying the sight of the older Draco fuming.
“Yes, but I call him Potter.”
“Mm, you could call me Harry if you wanted to” Harry said, because he knew it’d annoy him.
“I don’t.”
Young Draco made another frown, looking somewhat disappointed with his older self. “Then why are you with him? He almost killed me two weeks ago.”
Draco looked uncomfortable, briefly meeting Harry’s eyes and turning away. “Yeah, well, that was a long time ago from where I am standing.”
“I’m sorry” Harry mumbled.
“Are you? Could have had me fooled” young Draco snorted. “It’s not like you apologized.”
“Because I was a twat and a coward” Harry agreed. “I was sorry however.” He had been, but not sorry enough, he thought. He’d had a lot on his plate that year with Dumbledore training him to kill Voldemort. He swallowed, realizing Draco had been in about the same situation, Voldemort forcing him to do the equivalent. Then he guiltily thought back at the time and how he’d thought that the worst of slicing Draco open had been getting detention, having him miss the quidditch finals.
Maybe that’s what teenage Draco knew too because he gave him a loathing look and turned to his older self. “Do I still have the scars?”
Draco shrugged. “Yeah, but they aren’t as bad as now.”
“What?” Harry asked outraged. “You never told me that? I thought Madam Pomfrey healed you?”
“Potter, whyever would I have told you?” older Draco asked, rolling his eyes.
“Why are you surprised, Potter, you practically mutilated me” younger Draco scoffed at the same time.
It was what he had put out there at the time, having the Slytherins throw dirty looks his way but Harry had simply figured it was Buckbeak all over with Draco acting up for his own gain.
“Are they really bad?” he asked the older Draco.
Draco shrugged. “It’s nothing. Don’t bother.”
“Show me” younger Draco demanded.
At first it looked like Draco was going to refuse but then he sighed and begun to unbutton his robe. Harry stared as the fabric came undone and pale skin was revealed. So did the younger Draco, but unlike Harry he didn’t seem as troubled by the sight and gave his chest an approving look. Harry could see his point. Draco had a nice torso, the muscles on his abdomen were well defined and his white skin shone like pearldust in the dim light. Harry was however focused on the thin, pink lines that ran all down his front. They were well faded by now, the younger Draco, who would have a fresher set splattered across his chest, seemed relieved by the sight but to Harry they felt like a slap across the face. He slowly edged closer and Draco let him.
“I didn’t know” he whispered.
No one spoke, leaving him to take in the work of his misjudged spell and before he could stop himself, he was trailing one of the scars with his finger.
“Potter” Draco mumbled, his voice somewhat thick.
“Does it hurt?” Harry asked, voice even thicker.
“Of course not, it’s just a scar.” He did however shiver slightly under the touch.
“Cursed scars hurt sometimes” Harry mumbled, thinking about how Voldemort had marked him and how it had stung whenever he was around. Had he done the same to Draco?
“It’s not like that” Draco said, brushing his hand away, beginning to button up his shirt. “Anyway, I suppose it’s what I got for badgering you about that bolt of yours throughout the years” he added, his voice somewhat lighter. “At least it’s not plastered across my face.”
Harry frowned at the joke. “I’m really sorry” he mumbled.
“Yeah, well…” Draco shrugged. “Alright” he said awkwardly, clearing his throat.
Harry turned around and noticed the younger Draco stare at them with a mesmerized expression. He flushed a little at having been caught at it and crossed his arms over his chest and turned to his older self.
“So, what happens?” he demanded. “I’m obviously still alive and so is he, how does that work out?” He nodded towards Harry.
Draco made a face. “It’s a long story.”
“Let’s sit” Harry suggested, because it was. There was no furniture so he sank down on the floor. The two Draco’s stared at him, obviously not accustomed to sitting on a dirty carpet but then the present Draco cast a scourgify at it and slid down. The younger Draco reluctantly followed his example and Harry rolled his eyes at them both. They came to sit in a circle, eyeing each other carefully.
“I take it he’s gone, the Dark Lord?” Young Draco turned to Harry and he offered an affirmative nod.
The boy’s face hardened and he went very still. Harry searched the eyes of older Draco. Would he really have been upset to hear Voldemort was gone? He knew the Draco of today was more than happy about that but he wasn’t sure exactly where along the line that had changed.
Draco didn’t return his gaze though but was eyeing his younger self with a tormented expression. “You can ask” he said softly.
It took a while before young Draco did, his voice hollow as he spoke. “That means they are gone, right?”
Harry had no clue who they were, but Draco seemed to understand.
“No, they are still here. You all make it through. Father goes to Azkaban for a few years but he’s out now. He’ll be in house arrest for years to come, but yeah, he made it.”
Young Draco let out a relieved, somewhat hysterical laugh. “That doesn’t make sense.” He shook his head.
“It’s the truth” Harry told him.
The boy stared out the window into the night. “I don’t believe it. It sounds like some impossible fairytale story where everyone lives happily ever after.”
Older Draco let out a dry laugh. “Believe me, that really isn’t the case.”
Young Draco turned to Harry. “Do you kill him?”
This time he had no trouble comprehending who Draco was talking about. “Yes.”
“When?”
“A little over a year from now.”
Young Draco nodded, this time seeming to approve. “And Dumbledore, what happens to him?”
“Er…” Harry looked to Draco for help but his eyes were flickering, unwilling to look at Harry or his younger self.
“He dies, this year, before term ends” Harry finished.
The young Draco looked like he’d been slapped in the face. “I kill him” he mumbled.
“It’s not like that” Harry said quietly. “Not really.”
“Not really?” he repeated mockingly. “How do I not really kill him then?”
Again, Harry looked to Draco and this time he did come to his aid. “You don’t kill him but you have a hand in it” he said, which wasn’t very helpful as the young Draco looked like he was about to be sick.
“Eum” Harry said.
“What, you’re the one who offered a free range on the questions front” older Draco shrugged.
“Tell me how then” young Draco demanded.
So Draco did, the whole story, from leading the deatheaters into Hogwarts through the cabinet, to cornering Dumbledore in this very place and Snape uttering the killing curse. By the time he had finished, young Draco was staring daggers at both of them.
“If that’s true, then why the hell did you stop me just now?” He looked back at the bridge. “I was fixing it and then you came and mucked it up.” He glared at Harry. “As always.”
Surprisingly, Draco came to his defense. “You weren’t fixing it. That wouldn’t have solved a thing. If you’d gone and killed yourself, what do you think would have happened to mother and father?”
The younger boy shrugged. “He might have spared them, if I’d paid.”
Draco snorted. “You idiot. The Dark Lord does not show mercy, you should know that by now.”
Their grey eyes met, something passing between them.
“Anyway, we’re not meddling with the past, I’m alive, you’d better keep it that way or it’ll alter the future” he said matter of factly.
Harry frowned, thinking there were plenty more reasons Draco shouldn’t die. He for one had grown to quite like the bastard. He could do without two Dracos calling him a sap though and kept that one quiet.
“You have an important role in the war, you need to play it out” he offered instead.
“Yeah, on the losing side” young Draco snorted.
Harry exchanged a glance with the older Draco. Since they’d come to work together, they’d never really talked about their past, least the war. This was going to be awkward.
“It’s not all black and white” Harry said. “What he just said, it’s true but it’s not all of it.” And then he spoke about how he had learned that Dumbledore was already dying, how he’d arranged his death with Snape the way it happened, how Snape had been a double agent. He turned to the younger Draco as he spoke but kept glancing at his older self for his reaction. He was eyeing Harry back with an expression hard to read. Younger Draco was openly curious though and made big eyes as Harry talked about the elder wand and the events at the manor.
“I save you?” he asked incredulously. “You owe me a life debt then.” he added a little cocky, at which the older Draco groaned.
“Idiot.”
“What? He does, doesn’t he?” younger Draco pushed on.
Draco stared at his younger self with a pained expression, his cheeks reddening. He was avoiding looking at Harry altogether and he had a fair idea of what that was about. If there was one thing that hadn’t changed over the years, it was Draco’s pride. Having the memory of Harry saving him from the fiendfire rubbed in his face would not do him well.
“We save each other” Harry said plainly. “But you’ve helped me out in a few tricky situations at work for the past months, so I might owe you a bit.”
Young Draco looked them up and down. “Are you aurors? You’re in different uniforms.” He watched his self with a frown. “Why are your robes all messed up? You look like a slob.”
Harry suppressed a smile, watching Draco fuming, apparently there were more things that hadn’t changed. “We ran into some obstacles along the way” he said. “I’m an auror, you’re a curse breaker.”
Young Draco gave an arrogant nod. “That’s not too bad I assume.”
“You’re really good at what you do too” Harry agreed. “I’m only in my first year on the job but you are already a consultant.
“Potter please, stop being thick about it” Draco muttered.
Harry grinned. Could it be that Draco Malfoy had turned modest somewhere along the road?
The younger Draco seemed well at ease with Harry complimenting him though. “It makes sense, I always was good with curses. And you’re pretty average at most things.”
Draco groaned again and Harry burst into a hearty laugh. Young Draco gave him an arrogant smirk and even present Draco seemed somewhat amused. The air felt warmer around them, a bridge forming between the past and the present. They lingered in it for a while.
“Anything else?” older Draco asked, twirling the hawthorn wands between his fingers.
Younger Draco’s features sharpened at the reminder of the obliviation to come and he seemed to grasp for a subject that would prolong the moment. “I still don’t see it. I’m on the losing side of a war, wouldn’t that put me in Azkaban? But now I’m all mates with him.” He gestured towards Harry.
“Colleagues” Draco corrected him, which stung a bit to Harry.
“It’s been a balance” Draco went on. “By the time I wanted out, it was too late, I was already in over my head. I’d done enough bad stuff to seal my alliance to the dark side but I hadn’t done it with enough success or passion to put us back into the inner circle.”
Young Draco stared at his hands, twirling the ring bearing his family crest. “I failed father.”
“I think it was rather the other way around” Harry muttered under his breath.
Both Dracos ignored him.
“I doubt father thought I’d succeed” older Draco said with a frown. “Although he didn’t take it well when he learned I’d had Dumbledore at wandpoint and missed the opportunity. It was not fun being a Malfoy during the war. But in the end, I think he was just happy we were alive.”
Harry held his breath, eyeing the other two. It felt like he had stumbled into a very intimate encounter and he did his best to blend into the wall.
“Oddly, messing up was what saved us in the end” Draco went on. “I’d still had a hand in Dumbledore’s fall so I was considered loyal enough to be spared, if weak. At the same time I’d failed enough to be kept out of Azkaban. Potter’s testimony helped a lot of course.” He was talking to his younger self but spared a quick glance Harry’s way at his last words.
“It wasn’t easy, coming back from that. People don’t forget easily, not that they should. Leaving the country for a few years helped, but we’ll always be Malfoys.”
“None of it should have happened” Harry said softly, watching the teenage boy young and frail in front of him. “It wasn’t right. We were just kids, it shouldn’t have been our war to fight.”
“Maybe” present Draco said and they sat in silence again.