Hello again~ This is an AU, as you may have noticed. Just for the heck of it, I made Draco french - just warning you. I'm going to continue this, of course. Never abandon a good idea for an AU. Reviews are appreciated, so thank you in advance~ Enjoy the story!

The journey had been painfully fast. Utter chaos unfolded before my perplexed eyes as my limbs felt mind-numbing pain for briefest of moments. I opened my mouth to scream; to my horror, the shrill sound had only resulted a slight buzz in my ear. It was as if I was falling through an endless abyss of darkness. Colors flashed in splotches of excitement as I scrunched my eyes closed, overwhelmed by the chaos and the uncensored fear of death.

It occurred to me then.

I fell through time.

21st July, 2009. (Date I fell.)

21st July, 1597. (Date I arrived to.)

My name is Harry Potter and I fell through time. I lived in London; I'm still in London, yet in a different location. You see, instead of being in 2009, I am in 1957. When I first arrived, I was in quite a state. Wealthy aristocrats' clothes replaced mine and all belongings I had on me were gone. How did I even get myself here? Upon arrival, I had been situated at the back of (what I recognize as) the Globe theater. Fancy that. There, I had met a handsome Frenchman named Draco Malfoy who had (rather rudely, I might add) shoved me onto the inside the Globe theater stage, expecting me to introduce a play that I didn't even catch the name of! Mistrust danced in my eyes cantankerously when he whispered that it was going 'bloody' well. Thankfully, one of the members of the audience had politely informed me of the play, and unfortunately, when I asked him to elaborate on that, the audience proceeded to laugh in quite a condescending manner. I had made a fool of myself in the worst way possible, yet it amused the audience so thoroughly that they started clapping. I was guided off-stage to meet Draco, who congratulated me, handing me a suitcase and muttering something under his breath about 'foreigners'. I had asked for directions to a hotel, in which he paled in response. He probed me with his judgmental gaze, patting my back and reassuring me to just follow him. I thought he was quite 'off kilter' – if you know what I mean.

He had guided me to a mansion, declaring I stay for the period of my visit. I had thanked him immensely, promising to pay him back one day. Draco only laughed me, saying that the night must be playing tricks on me. I couldn't help but notice the carefree glint in those beautiful grey eyes, speckled with the blues of an expensive diamond. His laughter was contagious; a deep throaty chuckle occupied my thoughts, the sound bringing a sense of peace to my being. I, too, found myself starting to laugh with him. His shoulder-length platinum blond hair looked so soft – it made me burn with the urge to comb my fingers through the glamorous locks, just to see the look of contentment in his eyes.

London was going to give me a hard time.

22nd July, 1597

Today, after I had abruptly dismissed myself from breakfast with Draco, sick of his monotonous drawl, I had crossed paths with a fellow - but arrogant - brunet. He claimed to be, in a smug tone (that didn't cease to amuse me), Tom Riddle, expecting some sort of brash response. Just to wipe the arrogant smirk off his perfectly chiseled aristocratic features, I feigned ignorant of his presence and brushed him off, reluctantly exchanging pleasantries with him. Once again, a small crowd of people gathered around and laughed at me in amusement.

Is there anything else people do in London?

So far, I've been laughed at and with numerous times, earned an odd look, and hosted a play. I may as well add that I'm falling for a Frenchman. It was going – as Draco would describe – bloody well.

How does one acquire thyself in such a position?

23rd July, 1597

Today, Draco announced that we will go out to a 'party'. I did not, unfortunately, ask what said party entails, in fear of once again, being laughed at. Upon arrival at the party, I had been offered many questionable drinks. I had asked Draco what they were, earning a glance that could only be read as 'oh, my jolly god'. He then decided to pay for every drink that I'd consume at this function out of pity – if that emotion was what I saw in his beautifully hidden eyes. After one too many rounds of what Draco called 'Firewhiskey', I had stalked off, feeling extremely sick – this was the aftermath of a drinking contest with none other than Draco; it seemed impossible for him to get drunk. I made the unfortunate mistake of wandering down an abnormally dark alley, greeting a man who I had met yesterday - Tom Riddle. I had felt sick to my stomach (therefore, my lack of common sense has been forgiven) and before I could comprehend the situation, said Tom knocked me out cold and stolen my gold watch as well as my dignity. Oh great.

Draco eventually found me, earning myself another mocking laugh, but with (what I hoped was) a bit of sympathy. Note to self: Do not ever do that again. Three days. Already mobbed. And did mention that I'm falling for a Frenchman? Bloody – bloody well – it was going.

24th July, 1597

The day greeted me with a throbbing, ear-splitting hangover –thank you very much, Draco. Serves me right to go out drinking with none other than the likes of him. The only thing I accomplished today was to be served by maids and butlers and the lecture of 'fun outweighs health'.

It doesn't feel good at all.

Sleep overtook me for the next three days.

27th July 1597

I was surprised to see a sleep deprived, disheveled Draco at my side. I have finally been dismissed from being bed-ridden. A dull ache in my muscles replaced the throbbing headache from the past days. Draco's voice almost cried in relief when he saw me stir and crack one reluctant eye open.

"Harry!" he shouted, pulling me in an embrace. I couldn't help but succumb to his warm, strong arms, feeling safer than any other time in my life. How I wished to stay like this forever. My breath hitched as I felt my heart stutter excitedly in my chest at the mere possibility of being able to do that.

"Draco, I-I can't breathe," I croaked out, my voice raw from the lack of use; it didn't stop me from burying my head in the crook of his neck. He softened his hold on me almost lovingly and retracted from the embrace earning him a soft whimper from my side. Words failed to describe the emptiness I felt in my arms. He smiled; a soft curve of his lips. Something warm danced in his beautiful, blue-speckled eyes, the unusually messy, yet elegant strands of blond hair tickling his face. I couldn't help but reach out to one lock of the shoulder-length hair, the urge burning deep inside me. It's even softer than it looks – almost like the fur of a kitten. A contented sigh slipped passed my lips as I indulged in the comfort of the sentimental action of affection. "Draco?"

"I was so worried," he admitted curtly, looking down.

I couldn't help but agree with him, worried about myself. I shouldn't have slept that long from just a blow to the head. I felt a pang in my heart from the thought of making Draco worry about me, of all things. That's so selfish of me. I could see the bags under his eyes, describing a tale of sleepless nights and worry beyond words. I sighed at his self-destructive behavior disapprovingly.

"It's okay, I'm fine," a blatant lie slipped past my weary lips, my eyes diverting away from his. A bright red hue worked its way onto my cheeks; the heat in the room started to rise.

After consoling Draco for a few torturous, yet pleasant hours, I began to feel a stirring in my stomach and my bones started to feel weary and brittle. I winced, shifting on the bed. Draco noticed immediately and forced me to sleep for the rest of the day. I wanted to spend time with him, but he was such a drama queen.

That bloody Frenchman.

28th July, 1597

After a night of restless, nightmare-filled visions, I could not help but wake up at the dawn of midnight. Draco was there, scrambling from the chair to my bedside in a heartbeat. "Draco, go to sleep," I yawned, a whine slipping from my lips.
"Not with you awake," he argued stubbornly. I could see him fighting the urge to slip his eyes shut and nod off to sleep; I grasped his hand, pulling him down, onto the bed.
"Go to sleep," I said in a firm tone, leaving no room for argument. To my surprise, minutes after, he crawled in beside me and his eyelids locked shut. Soon after, I followed him, drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

The black chaos surrounded me, whirling with the dark and dreary shades of time itself. "You need to go!" a voice rasped out, screaming in desperation. "Disrupted the flow – dangerous – death – go!" The voice coughed and I was only able to catch few words as my ears filled with that familiar, ominous buzz. A shudder of trepidation crawled down my back as I felt myself falling again, and screamed despairingly, flailing my limbs to break the fall. I could not hear my pleas and cries anymore.

"I can't leave Draco!"

29th July, 1597

"Harry, wake up!" a familiar shouted as I felt the melancholy action of slender fingers wrapping themselves around my delicate frame and shake me vigorously – almost despairingly. "Oh, for the love of - Harry!"
I whimpered as I most reluctantly cracked an eye open, a relieved sigh leaving my lips when I realized that Draco was there, for me. "What's wrong?" I asked, perplexed at my wake-up call. A hand of Dracos' hesitantly cupped my cheek, wiping a tear that I didn't know was there.
"You were screaming," he whispered in a small voice, barely audible, followed by the action of shuffling away. He stood up and stretched his stiff limbs, earning himself a crack as a response. He opened the curtains, letting the warm sunlight stream in. "It's a beautiful day; we should go out."

I had only enough energy to nod in agreement.

We soon arranged ourselves to be presentable enough to eat out at a small, eloquent café.

"Draco," I started, breaking the pregnant silence that had befallen between us ever since we sat down. "Do you know where I come from?" My heart – I swear – stopped for a moment, as if warning me to stop while I'm ahead.
"No," came the simple answer as I listened to the Frenchman slip into his – all too familiar – French drawl; there was no curiosity in those beautiful blue-speckled eyes of his. It was as if he knew that the topic should be dropped just from the sheer amount of uncertainty in my voice.
"Never mind," I brushed off, deciding to oblige Draco's request. It struck me that it was selfish of me to tell where I am from and besides – he wasn't going to believe me, was he?
The nightmare I had replayed itself in my mind, almost taunting me with its mystery. I could feel the pinpricks of trepidation caress my skin and seep into the cracks of my mind – almost like the way weeds forcefully grow out of the cracks in the pavement.
What did it mean? What should I do?

I need more time. I need to figure this out.

1st August, 1597

I've been busy with the last couple of days entertaining Draco as well as mulling over the nightmare – or should I call it a vision? The voice had said I needed to go back – but where? Back to the future, most probably. What didn't make much sense to me were the words I had caught. Disrupted the flow? What flow? Time. Dangerous – death. Did that mean I'll die if I don't 'go back'?

This is too confusing to think about.

"Harry, darling," Draco's melodic voice occupied my attention in the most delicious of ways; I groaned at the use of my pet name, a blush tinting my cheeks scarlet. "As much as I love that cute expression on your face when you are deep in thought, please stop. It's doesn't suit you."
I only smiled nonchalantly in response. I wish I could stay with him longer than what I had left. I love you; I wished to say but…..it didn't seem to be able to go past my lips.

2nd August, 1597

I have collapsed.

I don't know what perplexed me more – the bells ringing in my head or the Frenchman at my side, his head in his hands, sobbing out my name and a litany of profanities and insults at anything he deemed fit. I couldn't bring myself to rouse awake; I was paralyzed.

Being stuck between the brink of death and the mighty jaws of life wasn't exactly comfortable. What was I to do?

All I can promise in whatever outcome that fate had planned for me, that I will never – I swear on my life – forget Draco. He was almost like the reason that I had the will to stay anymore. This wasn't about mild curiosity to stay in the past anymore; it was more like a need to be with my other half – Draco. A silent, acknowledged tear rolled down my flushed face as I fought against the dark abyss, my hand reaching out in utter despair. A strong, trusting hand entwined its fingers with mine – an intent to comfort was all that I knew about it. My eyes snapped open from their invisible prison to meet blue-speckled ones as I reached my unoccupied hand to his cheek, caressing the smooth, pale skin under my delicate fingers in the most loving fashion I could muster.

"I-I'm sorry," I gasped out, a cascading waterfall of tears starting their descent down my red-rimmed cheeks.
"Harry, it's ok – I know you have to go," he comforted, wiping the tears away with the palms of those exotically perfect hands. All I could think in my mind was 'how?' but that soon was replaced by the thought 'I wanted so much more…' and I was back into my depressed reality of this being the life I was fated to lead.
"I-I need you to know….." I fumbled with my words, a last attempt of warding off the darkness threatening to consume me and rip me away from this last comfort. Draco only looked at me with those wide, expecting eyes, biting his lip to be patient and savior this last moment. "I love you."
"I love you too," he whispered into my ear, hot breath tickling my neck before embracing me one last time. I let myself breathe in his sandalwood scent – I'll never have anyone other than Draco.

I finally welcomed the same black chaos, disorienting me in the process. The dark shades could not look any more similar than it originally did – but – it reminded me of the colour of mourning – the sort people wore to funerals. The fall differed extremely from what I experienced when I first came; I think the appropriate name would be climb now. It felt more like a rapid ascent – like being flung towards the sky by a great force. Beads of sweat trickled down my body as my heart clenched at the thought of Draco right now, seeing me gone. He was such a mystery to me….but I loved him nonetheless.

I wanted something better than this…..than a post-partake confession.

I hoped you liked it~ I'm going to update soon, so don't worry. It's pretty short - I know and I am deeply sorry. Have some cookies~