Flying Brief Lesson - Kicking off/Getting a Good Start: So here we are, out on the Quidditch Pitch with a bunch of brooms lying on the ground. I'm sure many of you are already aware of the basics of flying and might also be very well accomplished flyers but this is the first lesson and we are starting from the beginning. You can't start flying unless you and your broom get along. If you aren't confident, are nervous or don't want to be here then your broom will know and it will cause problems for you when you actually fly.

Task: All relationships have to start somewhere; they don't just appear out of thin air! We need to make sure that we cover the beginning of the relationship before moving on to other aspects. We need to consider the beginning aspect and make sure that things work. Like with a broom on the first flying lessons, there are potential problems and this should be mentioned or considered. Your pairing might seem perfect but trust me, they're not.

Prompts Used: (dialogue) "I'm sorry, for everything that I've done."

(quote from HPFC Huge TV Show Quotes Bucket) "I'm finding it really hard to look at your face because I really, really want to bash it in." - Vivien, American Horror Story

How We Begin (Again)

August 28, 1999

There are not many things I regret in my life, but the price my family continues to pay due to my service to the Dark Lord tops my list. It is this regret that fueled my research as I awaited my execution.

Usually, when a wizard is sentenced to death, the usual methods are the Veil or Dementors. However, these methods either trap or destroy the soul and I need my soul wholly intact. Therefore, when I was sentenced to death, I used a lesser known law that allows a condemned wizard or witch to choose their manner of death. To the surprise of many, I choose the Muggle execution method of the guillotine.

It is a warm, cloudy day, this day of my execution. The crowd that will bear witness to my final moments gathers in Diagon Alley, some of them murmuring in nervous anticipation. There are some among the crowd that looks at me and my family in pity. Others look upon the spectacle in excitement, nodding their head in agreement as one of the interchangeable Weasley children state -

"Finally, the dirty Death Eater gets exactly what he deserves."

I look upon the red-headed blood-traitors with disdain, my body language scornful although my wrist is bound behind my back with a sprig of Devil's Snare. It may seem to the wizarding world that this moment is the Noble House of Malfoy darkest hour. I perceive this moment differently for if my plan works, which seems to be the end will be a new beginning.

"Any last words," Kingsley Shacklebolt questions me.

I look at my lover, my partner, my best friend directly in her eyes so there is no mistake by any of the witnesses for whom my last words are for.

"I'm sorry, for everything that I've done," I say and my heart is simultaneously broken and uplifted as she returns my gaze and mouths to me –

'You're always forgiven.'

As I make La Monte- a-Regret (The Regretful Climb), I start chanting a little known ritual under my breath. I hear the gasps among the crowd as the calm weather suddenly becomes blustery and the white fluffy clouds becomes grey and ominous. I look upon my family one more time and then I close my eyes as I am secured in the stocks, never ceasing my chanting.

"So mote it be," I conclude emphatically. I hear the blade being released and then my world goes black.

August 28, 1971

I awaken and take in a several breathes of air in an attempt to calm my heart racing.

Awaken? Racing heart? Breathes of air?

I open my eyes and even before I look around to see where I am at, I pull up the sleeve and look at my left forearm. When I see that it's bare, I can't prevent the tears from falling from my eyes. I want to believe that my audacious plan has worked, but needed some sort of outside confirmation. So I called the one elf that should not be able to answer my call.

"Dobby, Dobby," I hiss. I am not expecting an answer so understandably I am startled when the elf appears.

"Young Master Lucius calls," the elf asks. I look at the elf I treated so harshly in my past and see not only is the elf is alive, but he looks . . . younger.

"Bring me a mirror," I bark abruptly. Dobby noticeably cringes but he does as I command.

"Thank . . . you," I say warily and the elf beams.

"Young Master Lucius thankeds Dobby! Dobby believeds that Young Master woulds be like Master Malfoy but –"

I hold up my hand to forestall any further comments from the elf. I want to punish it, but I don't want to fall into old habits. Besides, Dobby didn't outright insult my father. Instead, I pick up the mirror and slowly bring it up to my face. When I see my reflection, I drop it in surprise.

"Dobby, what day is it?"

"It's August 28, sir."

"Year, what year," I question anxiously.

"It's 1971."

I start to tremble, in excitement or relief, I do not know. However, I compose myself and dismiss Dobby. As the dawn's light creeps into the room, I realize that the ritual has sent me back exactly twenty-eight years and there are three days before I board the Hogwarts Express for the start of my Fifth Year.

September 1, 1971, Hogwarts Express

I haven't been on Platform 9 ¾ since I escorted Draco when he was eleven years old, yet the sight and sounds has remained and will remain the same. I absently listen to my father as he gives me last minute instructions and I hear the echo of similar advice I once gave my (now future) son.

"Yes, Father," I reply vaguely, my eyes drawn further down the platform where I see Andromeda and Narcissa Black standing. My father sees that my attention is elsewhere and something resembling a smile crosses his face.

"I see that the lovely Narcissa Black has your attention. Very well then, I shall bore you no more. Do well Lucius, and make your lineage proud."

"Yes, Father," I answer and I make my way to the train to find a compartment. After finding a place, I place my trunk overhead and sit down, my mind whirling.

I remember my Fifth Year (the first time around) clearly. I was a Prefect for Slytherin, I had decided that Narcissa would be my bride one day and I had begun to consolidate my social power among my peers. As I am reminiscing, a young, girlish voice breaks through my musing and I hear the name of the one who had become one of my dearest friends despite his youth and blood status.

"Come on, Sev! Let's find a place to sit," the voice exclaims and I as I step out of my compartment, I see the eleven years-old version Lily Evans going down the corridor, her signature vibrant red hair swinging behind her.

"I'm sure there's plenty of room, Lils," drawls the eleven years-old version of Severus Snape.

A lump forms in my throat as I take note of the compartment the two friends has chosen. Narcissa and Draco bearing the majority of the consequences of my actions is my biggest regret. Not truly appreciating Severus Tobias Snape until it was too late is a close second. On top of his responsibilities of serving two demented masters, Severus did his very best to shield Draco from the worst that servitude to Voldemort had to offer.

My own selfish reasons lead me to researching and ultimately performing the ritual that has sent me backwards in time however, seeing Severus alive adds another purpose. It is this and other thoughts which preoccupies my mind as I walk towards my compartment after Prefects' meeting. With me so distracted it is embarrassingly easy for Narcissa to accost me without me noticing.

"I'm finding it really hard to look at your face because I really, really want to bash it in," the love of my life (lives) declares as she pulls me in an empty train compartment.

A mixture of irritation, frustration, love, and adoration crosses the expressive face of one Narcissa Black. To say that I am confused is an understatement. I don't expect to remember every conversation I have ever had with Narcissa, but I am pretty sure that this particular moment, being threatened with physical violence has not happened before.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't give me that look, Lucius Malfoy! I don't know how you did it, and I can't prove it, but I know you're the reason I am reliving the one of them most wretched moments in my life! You brought us back in time! I will never forgive you for this!"

"You said, 'you're always forgiven,' Cissa."

"That was the moment right before you supposedly died! I wasn't going to make you feel even more guilty," she exclaims before bursting into quiet sobs. I hold her close until her cries subsides, murmuring reassurances the whole time.

"I promise what happened will never again," I whisper.

I hope I will be able to keep this promise.