A/N: My beta is a slavedriver. This started as nothing more than a drabble. Just some small thing to release the stress, but when my Beta got her hands on it, she demanded, literally demanded, I put this out here. If I'm honest, I wasn't sure. My ideas, drabbles if you will, are mostly momentarily. I know a beginning… I know the ending, but everything in between: a blur. For now I have the first part set out, but chapters will be sporadic; probably one a month.

This idea started with a discussion. I read many ideas about one of the characters going back in time with a time turner, and then this popped into my head. I hope you'll enjoy. Please let me know what you all think. If this idea has any merit, or not…

Harry Potter does not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling

oOo

Chapter one, the hands of the clock turn back

'People think that being alone makes lonely, but being surrounded by the wrong people is the loneliest thing in the world.'

Draco Malfoy sat on the sofa in front of the burning fire of the fireplace. They were in the middle of the first term and had been buried in homework. Therefore Draco was flipping through his notes, while scribbling onto a piece of parchment. Father would be most displeased if he failed any of his classes, but he would also be displeased if he didn't end up as the top of his class. Grumbling under his breath he massaged the back of his neck. His friends were, Merlin knew where, off having fun. He wished he could be out there, having fun. But that wouldn't do. Merlin knew what would happen if he wouldn't finish this assignment. The problem was, he couldn't find the right paragraph.
Growling in frustration, he threw the quill down and pushed his work into his bag. He could finish his transfigurations essay later that day. Some fresh air would probably do him good.

Draco left the common room, ascended the stairs and left the dungeons. He speedily exited the castle and crossed the grass field. Looking around, he saw no one he directly knew. A small smile played on the blond's lips, before he disappeared behind the bark of a thick tree. Sighing wistfully, he drifted one hand lazily over the thick calluses of bark, before pushing off onto a stump and climbing onto the first branch. A breeze nipped at his bare neck, and he involuntarily shivered. The sky was blueish decorated with fluffy clouds, drifting in and out of the sun's glare. A crisp wind permeated the stuffy autumn day and Draco let his head fall back against the rough bark of the tree.

Whenever he felt stressed, worked out or simple alone he would come here. It was, by far, his favourite place. Blinking his eyes, he glanced at the clouds drifting by. If night had fallen, he would be able to see the stars. Draco knew practically every constellation one could see with the naked eye. Knowing the stars was a Black tradition. After all; they could guide you home.

There was a rustle somewhere nearby and Draco felt his shoulders stiffen. Almost losing his balance, he gripped at the bark of the tree to stabilise himself. Pressing strongly against the tree he mentally started to prepare an escape route. After all, bravery, or more accurately foolish behaviour without consorting one's brain, wasn't his strongest suit. The rough bark pressed into his cheek. A hooded figure stepped out from the nearby bushes. Keeping silent was probably the best thing to do. After all he did not know who this was—

"I know you're there!"

Draco swallowed nervously, before staring coldly at the figure, obviously a man, as he stepped out of the tree line and into the clearing. The dirt ground crackled under his weight and he seemed out of breath, as he leaned his arm against a low hanging branch.

"Who are you?" Draco demanded, his fingers tightening around his wand. The castle wasn't that far away. In the small distance he could see the outline of the huge building. If he screamed people were bound to hear. Surely someone was close enough to hear.

"You don't have to worry," the man said, before pushing the hood back. As the material fell away from his face, platinum blond hair was revealed. The sort of blond hair only the Malfoy family ever had. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're perfectly save."

"Who are you?" Draco grounded out shifting on his place onto the branch.

The man smirked. The smirk was somehow familiar. It looked an awful lot like the ones his father sported whenever he was pleased with himself.

"I forgot how distrustful I was on this age." the man said, stepping closer. Gingerly placing a hand on the rough bark of the tree, he smiled. "I'd also forgotten how much I enjoyed this tree."

"What are you—?" Draco started. He was talking to some grazed Wizard.

"I'm you, Draco."

"How do you— What are you? Are you insane?" Draco spluttered, looking over his shoulder again. He only had to jump out of this tree — praying to Salazar he wouldn't break his ankle (that would certainly not help his case) — and run towards the castle as fast as humanly possible.

"I am you. I went back in time to warn you." the man said, pulling out an envelope from his breast-pocket.

'Jump, Draco! Get yourself out of here!'

"You're favourite house-elf is Dobby. You find him grazed and weird, but he always comes to you when you're hurt." the man said, running a hand through his hair. "You're favourite constellation isn't Draco, which our father seems to think, but it's Lyra."

Draco gaped. "How do you know that?" he muttered, before his eyes narrowed. "And don't tell me you're me, just because you made some lucky guesses!"

"You like 'Lyra' because mother wanted to name you after that constellation had you been born a girl." the man said, cocking his head. "We always thought being a girl might have been easier."

Draco felt his cheeks redden. The urge to lash out towards this man was strong, but biting his tongue he kept silent. Grinding his teeth together, he shifted towards the edge ready to jump. The man sighed and continued to study the younger boy. "You secretly feed the peacocks even thought father doesn't want you to." the man softly said. "He found out once. I think at the age of eight and you hid yourself into an old alcove. It became your favourite spot."

Draco swallowed. No one knew about the alcove on the attic. Well, his grandparents probably did, but they never knew Draco liked to hide there.

"What date are we now?" 'older-Draco' asked.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "October the 31st. It's Hallowe'en eve." he simplified.

"A troll will be lured into the school. One of Voldemort's followers will try to gain what is hidden in this school." older-Draco explained. "Granger will seek it out. Or, more accurately, she will be upset into a bathroom."

"So?" Draco snapped. "Granger and I are not friends. I know better than to befriend such scum."

The man smiled coldly, his face a mixture of amusement and past horrors, Draco didn't understand. "You will scatter that believe when you're older. And then it will be too late."

"Please I'm not buying into you being me." Draco snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Ask me something." the blond man dared. "Anything only you know. If I know it, you should give me some credibility, come down and listen to what I have to say. If I don't, I'll leave you to run back to the castle. I won't take up any of your time!"

Draco's brows furrowed. Till now he had known about Dobby, him feeding the peacocks and his secret alcove on the attic. He had to admit it was unlikely the man below him had guessed those parts of his life right, but Draco refused to believe some lousy figure.

"Fine," the blond snapped, giving one more wistful glance towards the castle. "I have a— " he started, his cheeks slightly tinting pink, as he stuttered over the sentence. "—A stuffed animal. What's his name?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes.

"A dragon." the man admitted, his own cheeks were turning pink. "You threw it into the fireplace. It was winter; a fire had been burning, to warm the dining room. You had some kind of notion that dragons enjoyed fire and threw it in, so it would feel more at home…"

Draco felt his cheeks heat up considerably. "That's not what I asked." he muttered, but Draco had to admit he started to believe this man at least knew things. Perhaps he was a clairvoyant. Didn't explain the bullocks about being him—

"Hellios," the man said. "After the brightest star visible into our sky: the sun."

Draco nodded, frowning. He had gotten the stuffed animal when he turned five. It was at that time his mother started to school him in astronomy. Narcissa had been especially adamant with the constellations in the sky and Draco had taken an immediate liking to the sun, being the brightest star and all. But no one really knew that. His friends were not exactly the most studious lot, and they couldn't care less about stars and constellations. Thereby, he never thought, nor planned, to tell them about a stuffed animal he sometimes still missed. No one really knew about the dragon… Well, his parents did. His mother did at least. His father didn't care. Or at least, he wasn't home enough to care or to notice.

"I think we made a deal, didn't we?" the man said, staring up expectantly. Draco sighed, before throwing his legs over the branch and pushing off. He landed gracefully, grabbed his bag and was half ready to bolt off, when the man pulled out his wand and threw it at him.

Draco caught it easily. His reflexes honed by years of flying exercises his father indulged in and he stared at the dark piece of wood into his hand. He recognised it. Of course he recognised it. Fumbling for his own he compared them. They were perfectly similar. Both 10 inch hwathorn wands, probably both with unicorn hair core. The second wand looked older, had been through more, but it seemed the same.

"How?"

"I've told you." the other man said, patiently staring at the younger boy.

Squinting his eyes Draco swept his gaze over the man's face. His face was pale and his features were slightly pointy while his grey eyes flashed as the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. The pale complexion and the platinum blond hair quite a give-away for being a Malfoy. And Draco felt the need to fidget.

"No, how?"

The man smirked, fishing a golden chain from under his button-up shirt. A small sparkling hourglass hanging from the golden chain glistered in the light of the sun. "Do you know what this is?"

Draco barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Of course I know what it is. It's a time-turner."

"Exactly," the man said, sitting down onto a log. "I came here to warn you."

"What about?" Draco asked, leaning against the bark his tree. The two wands still clutched between his fingers.

"The future," he answered and he started a tale Draco didn't wish to believe. After being repelled 10 years ago by the magic Lily Potter had placed around her son Harry Potter, the Dark lord — of whom older-Draco insisted he should call Voldemort and not anything else — was detached from his corporal body. Afterwards he hid, no one knew where, but he came back.

Draco wanted to ask why that wasn't good, when older-Draco interrupted him.

"He'll try to murder mother. Will torture you for fun and will push father off of his pedestal." the man explained.

"Torture?"

"Yes, the bad kind." older-Draco admitted, fanning the envelope to his face. "You'll never get over it and you'll always regret it. You'll always wonder how things would have been if you hadn't believed your father."

"I—"

"I don't have long, boy." the blond man said softly. "When I do this the timeline I know will shatter. I'm sure the first fractures are already there. No matter how microscopic they are, I'll cease to exist."

Draco swallowed thickly. The tall man stood up to his full height and took a step towards the young boy. Slowly, carefully — seemingly afraid, Draco would bolt — he held the envelope out to the younger boy. Slightly taken aback Draco accepted the parchment, before looking up at the other's face again. The man was staring at him with such an intensity, Draco felt a prickly sense of awareness wash over him. It was penetrating in a way that should be discomfiting, but also so familiar, Draco felt a slight lump form in his throat, when he opened his mouth: "Tell me everything."

And telling, the man did. There would be a war. A vicious one; more vicious than the first had been. The Ministry would be taken over and the Malfoy family would be torn apart bit by bit, until there was nothing left. How much he would come to regret bullying Hermione Granger and what kind of friendship might have been possible if Draco hadn't been so difficult. Hadn't been led by his pride. And then there was Albus Dumbledore who would sit in his Ivory Tower playing chess with children. Playing chess with lives. And so much losses. The slip of paper, the slip of paper contained information. Contained events which were dangerous and should be prevented. And Draco, Draco could do that now.

Draco looked towards the blond man in front of him. He had been wrong. This man— this man didn't resemble his father as much as Draco had initially thought. Lucius had always looked down upon him with a gold glint into his eyes, while this man — Draco in his adult body — didn't have that same glint.

Draco gasped when the man started to fade. Fade like a castle of sand, being torn apart by the wind. Clunks of— human? — flew through the air.

"Draco," the man said, his voice creaking as if it was breaking. It probably was "Befriend Hermione Granger, if it comes to it, you can be saved…"

To be continued…