A/N: So this is something that has been kicking around my brain for literally more than a decade, but I never got along to writing anything about it. I probably still won't do anything with this, but I wanted to get it out somehow.
The basic gist is that Harry somehow travels back in time and ends up going to Hogwarts with Lucius. They end up romantically involved and, somehow, end up with Draco. I never quite figured out what to do with Narcissa, whether she would be completely absent, present but as a front or unhappy arranged marriage, or as some kind of magical surrogate. I've chosen the last option here, but only because it was less complicated to write.
At some point Harry has to leave, either because the time travel magic has returned him to when he traveled from or because of some other reason, and Draco never really meets him. Lucius knows the whole story and so Draco has grown up hearing Lucius (his Papa) telling him stories of Harry Potter (his father). The implications of Harry being the father in "My father will hear of this!" could go so many ways, but only occurs once in this round of snippets.
Timeline Note: A quick Google search has told me that Draco's birthday is 5 June, 1980. Dates and times are based on that, apologies if it's somehow incorrect.
10 June, 1980
For a full five seconds Lucius Malfoy was unsure of why he awoke. A quick glance to his left showed that side of the bed to be empty. His eyes closed and, for a moment, he wondered how long it would take for him to grow used to sleeping alone again. Then a loud cry shattered the silence of the early morning and his eyes snapped open.
Getting out of bed, he wrapped his robe around him, and padded down the hall to the baby's room. As he walked, he saw Narcissa opening her door as well. He opened his mouth to tell her to go back to bed as there was, after all, no need for them to both lose sleep, but the glare on her face forced him to close his mouth.
Luxie, the nanny elf in charge of Draco, looked distraught that both Lucius and Narcissa had entered the room. Glancing at each other, Narcissa knelt down to calm the elf; there was no need for two wailing beings at this hour. Lucius went straight to Draco, picking him up and swaying with him to quiet him down. When the baby finally seemed willing to contemplate sleep again, Lucius looked up to find Narcissa sitting in the rocking chair watching with a small smile that did not quite reach her eyes.
Lucius tilted his head to one side, waiting for her to speak.
"What are you going to tell him about his father?" she asked in a not-quite whisper.
Lucius checked Draco, still swaying, "The truth."
Narcissa sat upright, "Do you think he'll understand?"
Not speaking for a moment, Lucius laid the baby down and tilted his head towards the door. In the hallway, with the door firmly closed and the one-way silencing spell erected once more, they could have this conversation better.
"I would not do his father the disservice of not being present, at least through stories, and Draco deserves to know that his father did not abandon him by choice."
Lucius leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, waiting out Narcissa's silent stare. Finally she nodded and turned to go back to bedroom. Pausing in her doorway, one hand still on the doorknob, she turned and looked back at Lucius.
"I suppose," she said quietly, "we had best make sure he can keep a secret then," and closed her door behind her before Lucius could respond.
In the empty hallway Lucius dropped his arms and closed his eyes, before shaking his head and returning to his own room. Secrets, indeed.
13 December, 1986
"Papa," a small but determined voice said, "Papa!" Lucius woke, but kept his eye closed.
"Papa, you always sleep too late," the voice complained and, finally, Lucius opened his eyes.
"I do not always sleep too late," he corrected his son. Draco narrowed his eyes and bit his lower lip. Lucius stifled a smile, gently pulled Draco's bottom lip free, and attempted to look seriously at his son.
"What has you waking me up so early anyway?" he asked, sliding out of bed and moving towards his wardrobe and dressing room. Draco's eyes widened and, for a brief moment, Lucius was afraid he had miscalculated. Before he could panic too badly, Draco noticed his father had picked out his black boots and heavy winter cloak.
"Papa!" his son said in a familiar tone of voice.
"Draco," Lucius returned, giving his son a look before closing the door over, "We can't go until after breakfast."
There was a brief pause and then a questioning reply of "Before breakfast?"
Smiling to himself, Lucius gave the expected reply, "One piece of fruit first."
There was silence from the other side of the door before Draco's faint voice yelled "I'll go ask for two oranges!"
Shaking his head Lucius followed his son down the stairs, solemnly accepted his orange, and headed out the door with his son.
They crossed the snow-covered field towards the small forest which covered the eastern part of the grounds, Draco dancing a little ahead before coming back to hold hands with his papa before darting off again.
"Papa," he began during one of his hand-holding sessions, "Why do we get a tree when no one else does?"
"We're not the only ones to have a tree for the holiday," Lucius explained calmly, "You'll find there are trees in Hogwarts as well."
"But Papa," Draco continued with a little frown, "Teddy and Pansy said they don't pick a tree!"
Lucius hid a smile at his son's outrage, "Picking a tree is different than getting a tree, Draco. Their parents might pick the tree and their house elves might collect the tree for them." His son's frown deepened and he pulled his hand away before darting forward again.
A few rabbit chases later, Draco came back, "Why do we go get our tree but they don't?"
"Well," Lucius began with a sigh, "it has to do with your father." Draco looked up eagerly, his frown disappearing.
"When your father and I first celebrated the holiday together, he told me he had never picked his own tree before. With the forest on the grounds, he thought there might be some suitable trees if we only looked for them."
Lucius chuckled, and looked down at Draco, "I'm sure I've told you how much your father loved this holiday. Much like you did this morning, he woke me early and had us out the manor before we could even eat breakfast."
"You ate oranges instead," Draco offered, smiling up at his papa.
"That's right," Lucius shook his head, "which was a good thing too since your father made us miss breakfast. He was so set on finding the perfect tree that we almost missed lunch!"
Draco made a considering sound, swinging his and Lucius' joined hands, "We're going to find the perfect tree, right Papa? One father would love? Even if it takes us until lunch?"
Lucius swept his son up into a hug, kissing the side of his head, "Of course, Draco, of course."
1 September 1991
Draco entered the compartment and closed the door. He didn't have too long before Crabbe and Goyle were back with the sweets he'd sent them for, and he had to think.
Blinking his eyes rapidly, he wondered where he had gone wrong. His mother had said Draco should show his father that he would be a good friend, so why had he picked Weasley over his own son?
"Not that he knows I'm his son," Draco thought bitterly, "and I'm not allowed to tell." He pulled his knees up to his chest wishing, not for the first time, for his father to come and make everything as Draco knew it should be.
As a child Draco couldn't wait to meet his father, even though his papa had cautioned him about this day. Draco had always scoffed at the warnings, so sure that his father would be exactly as he was in all of his papa's stories. Storied he had asked for time and time again, stories he had told himself to help him fall asleep, stories his dreams had expanded on; Draco had created a whole future he was sure would exist as soon as his father came back.
"Except," Draco thought with a small shudder, "Papa might be right."
The boy in the compartment might be Harry Potter, but he definitely wasn't the man from his papa's stories. Harry Potter was not his father.
"For now," Draco thought, standing to let Crabbe and Goyle into the compartment, "I am not his son."
September 1994
Draco laid on the bed, glad for the peace and quiet of the hospital wing. He had never felt so terrified and humiliated as he had when faced with Professor Moody's wand. Being bounced around had hurt physically, but the laughing of the Gryffindor's had hurt as well.
"Not the Gryffindors," his brain corrected automatically, "just-"
He cut off his own thoughts. Three years ago he had separated his father and Harry Potter, and nothing Potter had done since had been anything like his imagined father.
"It helps that Papa is 'Father' in public," Draco thought.
Except that when Draco had mentioned his father in front of Moody it wasn't his papa he had meant. Draco glared at the wall.
"It doesn't matter," he hugged the pillow a little tighter, "Potter stood there and did nothing. My father never would have-" he shuddered, unable to complete the thought.
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, was the thought that maybe his father had never loved him after all.
"He would have known," his subconscious continued without his permission, "He would have already experienced all of this and would have known. How could he know and not tell Papa?" he wondered as he finally drifted off to sleep, "How could he know and not care enough to stop it?"
A/N: When I first thought of this, I'm not entirely sure which books had come out yet and which books hadn't. I do know it was before the sixth book had come out. It has occurred to me that I'm very mean to Draco here, and that Harry, if/when he gets back from time traveling, will have a lot of ground to make up.
At some point, I might post more of this, or maybe an alternate, happier version. Considering that this has sat in my brain for so many years, however, I make no promises.