Draco needed to move fast, there wasn't much time. He dusted the soot off his robes as he darted out of the McGonagall's office fire. After the war ended, all manners of small booths selling homemade Dark protectors and the like popped up along Diagon Alley. Draco knew they're all scams, but one booth drew his attention: the one selling an off-shoot of Floo powder. It functioned in roughly the same way, except this powder transported the user to another's fireplace in another time. He shouldn't have even bothered with it, if he was being honest. But he had the money, and the temptation was too great. He needed to do something, to fix this mess that he'd helped cause.
So here he was, going back to the thick of the war. He's an idiot, but it's too late to go back now.
He was right in thinking the room would be empty. The sounds of the battle that have haunted his nightmares for the past year were distant and muffled by the stone separating him from the heart of the war. His arrival location fit the two criteria he needed from it: it was empty, and it was close to the Room of Requirement.
If his time estimate was correct, he'd have just a few minutes to catch Harry before he entered the Room of Requirement. The battle was chaos, and this is the only time and place he knew for sure Harry was. With a sad glance around him at the damage done to the school, he slunk back into the shadows of the corridor to wait.
.
"Potter."
Weasley and Granger noticed Draco before Harry did, looking around and drawing their wands in an instant. Harry stood between them and a half-step behind, his wand pointed at Draco's chest. "Malfoy," Weasley snarled.
"If you want to hurt or—or kill Harry, you'll have to go through us first."
The blond raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm not armed, and I don't want to hurt you. I know you're in a hurry, but I need to talk to you." None of them moved to lower their wands. Draco kept his eyes fixed on the hate and fire that shone in Harry's. For once, it wasn't reflected in Draco's own. "Preferably just the two of us," he added pointedly at Potter's friends.
"Harry—" Ron started, but he cut him off.
"It's fine, Ron." Hermione and Ron both shot Harry a nervous glance as he lowered his wand and followed Draco to the empty classroom across the corridor. He shut the door behind them, turning on Draco, his wand still clenched tightly in his fist. "Are you going to kill me?" Potter asked, the smallest hint of a laugh in the question.
"Of course not—"
"I'm not even sure why I trusted you, Malfoy, but I'm warning you now, if you try anything funny—"
"I won't." Draco took a deep breath, wondering how much to tell Potter. How much he could tell him. "Would you believe me if I told you I'm from the future?" Harry scoffed, but didn't say anything. He didn't lower his wand. Draco didn't think this would be easy, but he'd hoped. Oh well. "Right. But I am. My timeline, my present is a that of a year in the future. I'm from after the war."
Harry met his eyes quickly, a glimmer of hope flashing across them briefly. "So you know how this ends? Do—do I…?"
"I can't say. I shouldn't. I'm sure I've made a big enough mess of the future by even being here." But the look on Draco's face was anything but reassuring to Harry. If he'd come back, if he was here trying to talk to Harry (and not kill him), that can't be good for the outcome of this battle, or for the future Draco's living in.
"You don't trust me, I'm sure. But Harry, you need to listen to me now and do as I say." He doesn't need to say in words that Harry lost the war, it's clear by his face that Draco's already let slip that much. Draco took a breath, steeling himself before continuing. "Do you know about the Hallows?"
Harry shot him an incredulous look, but nodded.
"I've done my research since the war ended. Do you have any of them yet?"
"Just the cloak and the stone, but I don't – there's something else that I need to find that's a bit more important right now." Harry was still looking at Draco intently, a look of utter confusion on his face, but he lowered his wand. Draco breathed a sigh of relief.
"The horcruxes are important, too, of course. You need both sets to defeat the Dark Lord."
"And how the hell do you know about the horcruxes anyway? He didn't—"
"Don't be stupid, Potter, of course the Dark Lord didn't tell me. No, Hermione did." When Harry raised his eyebrows, Draco amended. "The Hermione from my time. A lot of things changed after the war." A far-off look clouded his eyes, dwelling on the future he may never return to properly. Draco didn't know when he became so reckless, so heroic. He hated the taste of the word on his tongue. But a part of him knew that this risk was worth it.
He loses himself in thought, watching Harry with a curious expression on his face. With everything that'd taken place in the aftermath of the war – the destruction, the fear, the death – somehow, Draco's allegiances changed. He couldn't stomach the war any longer. He couldn't support his father's side anymore. He found himself regretting his part in the war. He found himself admiring Harry bloody Potter. Draco couldn't believe he'd missed seeing his stupid face.
The effects of the war still hurt. He needed to change what happened. He needed to do something right. Draco could still see Harry's bruised and bloodied body lying motionless on the floor of the Great Hall. He shuddered.
"You need to disarm me," Draco said quietly, pulling himself from his thoughts. Harry furrowed his eyebrows but raised his wand. "No, not this me. The past me, your me." Harry didn't move, his eyes fixed on Draco's. They gleamed like a Floo-fire and Draco was transfixed. "You—he, rather, I was the owner of the Elder Wand at the time."
"Dumbledore," Harry breathed, following.
"Precisely. If you disarm me, Potter, the Elder Wand will be yours. You'll have all the Hallows, you'll be the Master of Death. And you should be able to win this war today."
"What will you do? If I take your wand…"
"I'll be fine, I'm sure. But," and even Harry could see how much it pained Draco to say the following words. "You're more important than I am right now. Our entire society will not collapse if I die. But you—"
Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. This left it sticking up in all directions, he looked ridiculous. Draco cracked a smile.
"Your world must be terrible, if you're going through all this trouble to save me. You hate me."
"I don't," Draco said quickly, trying to shove down his shame at his younger self. "I did, at the time. But this is bigger than us and our petty feud, Potter. Now go, you need to win this war."
Harry nodded, tightening his grip on his wand as he turned back to the door. He walked the length of the classroom, hand resting on the doorknob as he looked back at Draco. Harry hesitated a moment, before murmuring, "Thank you," and going back out to the corridor.
.
Draco lies low until the battle culminates in the Great Hall. He cast a disillusionment charm on himself and hangs back. He needed to see what happens, but if he's seen, everything could be ruined. So he holed himself up in the corner and watches the carnage before him with nausea building in his stomach. He's already interfered too much, any wrong move could tear apart this world. He can't risk it, and it's killing him.
But then Harry appeared out of nowhere. "Bloody Invisibility Cloak," Draco muttered under his breath. Harry walked up to Voldemort, headstrong and unflinching. He didn't cower even when the Dark Lord raised his wand—a gaunt, antique white that more resembles bone than wood. The man was ruthless—even Draco, unseen and uninvolved, felt his heart turn to ice within his chest.
Draco briefly wondered if they're going to duel at all. They stand en garde, waiting for something, he's not sure what. But then he blinked and opened his eyes to a blinding flash of light. The red and green beams met midway, and the entire room held its breath. The moment lasted an eternity and a second all at once. Voldemort fell.
.
He hurried from the Great Hall. There's a deeply rooted pulling from within himself. Draco knew he's made a terrible mistake somewhere, but Harry won the war. He won and he's alive and it's over. Draco doesn't matter anymore, he's done his part.
Draco's feeling weak, distant. He leaned back against the stone wall outside of the Great Hall. The disillusionment charm was wearing off, and he has the distinct feeling that he was, too. Wearing off. Weakening. Fading.
But then Harry rounded the corner, crashing into him. He didn't step back. He didn't apologize or keep moving. He took Draco's face in his hands, pressing his lips to Draco's like his life depended on it.
The world stopped moving around them. Draco's mind was full of static, it's heavy and claustrophobic. But Harry was solid. He was real and he's kissing Draco and he's still bloody alive.
Draco let himself let go for a fraction of a second. He allowed himself to fall into the touch, and then he's gone, nothing but shadow.
.
.
A/N: Written for: Quidditch League Finals Round 1 – Back to the Future (Optional Prompts 6: (song) Shadows of the Night – Pat Benatar, 11: (quote) "Life is a series of embarrassing moments which leave you feeling alone in your confusion and shame" – Miranda Hart, 13: (color) Antique White);
Hunger Games Round 5: (word) Ruthless, (emotion) Fear, (dialogue) "Are you going to kill me?";
Assignment 10: Muggle Music Task 9: Write about an opinion that changes with age;
Advent Calendar Day 2: (trope) Enemies to Lovers;
Writing Club - Character Appreciation 20: (object) Elder Wand; Disney Challenge S3: (trope) Enemies to Lovers; Cookie's Cooking Corner 4: Write about two things that shouldn't go together, working; Book Club – The Man Jack: (character) Lord Voldemort, (plot point) Murder, (emotion) Confused; Showtime 31: (word) year; Amber's Attic 4: Use a popular fanfic trope or cliché and write it with a twist, Bonus; Count Your Buttons W5: Present; Lyric Alley 12: But it still hurts;
Em's Emporium 2: (word) chaos; Bex's Basement 7: Write a Time Travel fic;
Fortnightly – Winter Bucket List 19: (plot point) Trying to change something;
Seasonal – Oct 27: Write about someone trying to make a difference to something, and struggling; Elemental: (word) cloud;
Writing Month and Dragons: wc 1663