2
"Here." The young Draco hissed, gesturing to his cronies, his face lit up with delight at the sight of the jet black hair and glasses through one of the glass doors. Draco remembered the feeling all too well himself. This time, however, he wasn't going to botch it up.
Draco raised his wand and whispered "Imperio."
A blank expression took over his younger counterpart's face. He looked as though he'd forgotten who he was. Crabbe and Goyle stared at him, baffled. "You two can go and wait back in our compartment," said the young Draco in an airy voice. Crabbe and Goyle would definitely have given off a bad impression at the original meeting, Draco decided. Any scrawny child that lopes around with a pair of body guards is going to look bad. Both boys looked sour at this. "It's very important." the young Draco coaxed them. Draco focused from his vantage point in the toilet. He couldn't falter. Crabbe and Goyle shrugged and mooched grouchily back down the train, disappearing from whence they came. The young Draco knocked on the compartment door and slid it open. This was it.
"Hello." Draco made him say as he could think of nothing else.
"Hi." he heard Potter reply rather coldly. There was a grunt – Weasel no doubt. "Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you is it?"
"Yes." he heard the young Harry say.
"I wanted to apologize, for being rude when I first met you. I'm afraid I gave off a rather poor first impression."
"You apologizing because you know who he is?" Ron demanded.
"No." the young Malfoy retorted a little too waspishly. He really shouldn't rise to eleven year old Weasley. There was silence from the compartment, If only Draco could see Harry's face.
"My name's Draco. Draco Malfoy." he made himself say in a placid tone. This time he heard Weasley snort.
"Yeah laugh." said young Draco. "You've probably heard a lot about the Malfoy's."
Harry's silence was beginning to unnerve Draco; he was so bull-headed he'd probably already decided to hate Draco forever.
"A lot of bad stuff." Weasley retorted.
Oh bugger off Freckle-Face, Draco thought to himself. He made his eleven year old self sigh. "Unfortunately."
Draco wondered what to do next. What could he say to make everything right? What could he say to ensure that Potter would trust him for seven years?
Nothing.
"I -" his young self hesitated as Draco did. This was ridiculous. There was nothing he could do to right the hellish nightmare of the future. How was he supposed to make Potter like him? Give him a valuable ally? It was worth a shot. He spoke desperately through his young self, imagining Harry's face, young and care-free, bright with the excitement of leaving his hideous muggle family behind. "I know what you've been through, I've heard about it, I mean and ... I just wanted to say, I-I think all that is more important than the scar on your forehead."
It was a senseless, stammering attempt that was sure to do nothing for Draco's chances. He'd probably just earned himself a reputation as a weirdo too. There was more silence, aching and unbearable, then the unexpected happened. Harry got up and stood opposite young Draco. From his hiding place, Draco could now see the dark hair, the juvenile features, those bright eyes...
Harry Potter held out his hand for the young Draco to shake. He offered his own hand! Draco's breath caught in his throat and his quivering hand held the wand that made his young self take it and shake it firmly.
"I'll be in Slytherin no doubt." his young self said. "I'm hoping I don't live up to its expectations."
Draco knew his younger self's face would be blank and near expressionless but he hoped that somehow Harry would see the meaning behind his words.
"Excuse me." said his younger self and he walked back down the train.
Potter watched him go, a curious expression on his face. As soon as he had closed the compartment door again and young Draco had reached the toilet, Draco broke the spell and pounced like a snake from the darkness. He flew out of the door, covered the eyes of his junior and hauled him backwards into the toilet, slamming the door shut behind him. Back to himself, Young Draco let out a strangled cry and struggled desperately.
"Be still." Draco hissed into his ear, keeping a hand over Young Draco's eyes and a hand over his mouth. "Listen closely you little brat."
He waited for his counterpart to settle. Furious at being mysteriously hijacked, he kicked and spat fiercely. Eventually he stood still and Draco could feel the hand covering the eyes of his younger self grow damp as he cried. What a sad act he had put on all his life. I'm Draco Malfoy, out of my way. Then cry when things don't go to plan. How bloody pathetic.
"If I could somehow show you the horror of the future, I would. Unfortunately, you're going to have to do this the hard way."
Young Draco spluttered against his palm, but Draco's hand muffled the sound. "I'm going to take my hand away Malfoy, but if you scream, I will kill you. Do you understand me?"
Draco knew he was trembling just as much as his eleven year old self and he couldn't kill anyone if he tried. He'd discovered this already. Despite this he fought to keep his voice steady and threatening. Young Draco thought for a moment then nodded.
"Now don't do anything stupid, or you'll be dead before anyone reaches you."
Slowly, Draco let his hand fall away. Young Draco was silent. He kept a firm grip on his torso to stop him from turning around. Taking steadying breaths, Draco began. "Right...Okay, Harry Potter. What are your thoughts on him?"
Draco knew the answer already of course, but it was important he heard them from his past self. For a moment it seemed Young Draco wasn't going to answer. Then, in a quivering voice he spoke. "A big-headed dung face."
"Grow up." Draco spat. "And stop lying."
Young Draco bristled. "How can I be wrong? It's what I think!" His young self hissed back. "Who are you to tell me what to do? You don't know me!"
"Yes I do." Draco spat, leaning close to the back of young Draco's head. "I know exactly what you think of him. You can pretend all you like."
Young Draco fell silent again.
"He fascinates you."
Draco was surprised by the force of the kick his younger self aimed at his shin. He winced, but continued undeterred. "Ever since that day in Madame Malkin's you've remembered his eyes, his sticky up hair and no-" he added quickly as he felt young Draco stir defensively. "Not because you're jealous or because you think he's stupid-looking. Everything you've been told about him haunts you. You sit there at the breakfast table, thinking of him. You can't believe he was treated the way he was by those Muggles, you can't imagine losing your parents and growing up without magic, you're in awe of his modesty and humbleness and you wish you had friends like his; real friends of all kinds, of all blood types. You wish it didn't matter to you either..."
Young Draco let out a sob and Draco tutted. "Man up Draco." he said more softly.
There was no reply as young Draco wept silently, his shoulders heaving. "You don't need to answer Me." he whispered, almost to himself. "I know I'm right."
The train rattled and swayed as it moved through the country, nearing Hogwarts: a place where everyone was safe from all kinds of harm except the kind they inflicted on themselves and all demons but their own.
"Please listen to that voice in your head." Draco begged. "The one that appears now and again and tells you what you've been taught to believe all your life is wrong."
Young Draco sniffed.
"Harry Potter is a friend worth having Draco Malfoy. You could make a difference. For once."
He handed young Draco some toilet paper, still gripping his shoulder firmly to keep him from turning to face him.
"Who are you?" Young Draco demanded, rubbing his eyes furiously.
"I'm your own worst enemy." Draco whispered back, and with that, he opened the sliding door and pushed Draco out. "Don't be a coward." he said, shutting the door just as Young Draco whipped around to catch a glimpse of his abductor. "Be brave!" Draco shouted.
Unfortunately, the train had barely left Platform 9 and ¾, and although Draco had given himself enough time, he had no other option but to lurk in the toilet for the rest of the journey.
This rather killed his adrenaline rush.
Hours later, when it was silent and Draco had almost lost his mind, he strained to listen through the door. The excited chatter had faded away. Draco slid open the compartment door, he didn't want to be on the train as it began its trip back to London. Taking out his wand, he slipped into the carriage of the train, and crept hurriedly towards the door. He didn't have much time to get back to the broom cupboard he had first left.
As he was about to open the door, he caught sight of his darkened reflection in the window. His appearance was stark against the warm welcoming interior of the Hogwarts express. His hair fell into his eyes, his face was filthy and scratched, and the cut on his lip had bled down his chin and onto his stained shirt and several rips had made their way through Draco's clothes.
Opening the door quickly, Draco stumbled from the train just as it began to chug away from the station back to London. Then he streaked towards Hogwarts.
This proved a tremendous struggle as Draco hadn't exerted himself in a few years. At some point he had swapped his broom for a life lurking in corridors and reading books in the alcoves of his manor, out of sight. He reached the gates, panting and breathless as the last stragglers of older students rode in carts up to the castle. Draco stopped, horrified and saw that the carts that had once being drawn by some invisible force were now being led by skeletal beasts.
He wracked his brains for some scrap of knowledge about these creatures, but his memory failed him. Draco watched as one spread its gossamer, bat like wings. A girl cried out in surprise and Draco flew into the bushes, but she too had only been surprised by the creatures.
"What are they?" she squealed. Her friend tutted in a patronizing manner. "Remember that man you saw die in your work experience this summer?" he said. "Well these are Thestrals, only visible to those who've seen death."
"Can you see them?" the girl squealed.
"No, though I imagine their interesting specimens."
"They're hideous."
It made sense to Draco now. Obviously he'd seen his fair share of death over the past two years. He watched as the cart containing the girl and her smarmy friend trundled up to the castle. He was running out of time. It was at least another mile upwards and Draco's time would be up before he'd even gotten to the door. All hope began to drain out of him as he contemplated his fate.
At that moment, something cold and scaly pressed itself into Draco's hand. With a gasp, Draco turned around to stare into the eyes of a Thestral, who had been sniffing Draco's hand, looking for food no doubt. Having had bad experiences with most magical creatures, Draco jumped backwards. "Don't eat me!" he whimpered piteously. He was instantly reminded of Young Draco and the advice he had given him: Don't be a coward. Yes, well. It was slightly hypocritical to go around spouting that sort of thing when he was spooked by a Thestral.
The Thestral ignored him and continued looking at him in a morose sort of way. It shook its great wings and sniffed Draco's arm. It was practically tame. The half-giant Hagrid probably petted them daily and exercised them around a bloody home-made paddock. It was then the idea struck Draco.
Never in a million years would he have mounted a wild creature he knew barely anything about and asked it to fly to a specific place. But this wasn't a million years. It was the past and more than one life hung in the balance, so with a hopeful heart, Draco did just that.
"To the castle!" he cried, feeling eight again. Except he was eighteen and sat astride a great skeletal horse with folded wings.
To his great surprise, the Thestral took off at a run, stretching its folded wings and leaving the grassy floor. It flew low toward the castle, letting out a shriek that filled the night air.
Draco yelled in excitement and felt his stomach swoop. He was flying! Not on a broom, not by magic, but a living creature had lifted him into the air and was soaring towards Hogwarts at his command. Beat this Potter! Hippogriffs are one thing, but an invisible horse of death? Draco clung to the creature for dear life and felt the chill September wind ripple though the tears in his robes. The cold air stung his eyes and they watered the tears running tracks down his dirty cheeks.
From up here, the castle looked beautiful. Hundreds of windows lit by torchlight flickered in the darkness and Draco could see into the Great Hall as students filed in for the Sorting and the feast. Above him, velvet clouds swirled through the dusk and the stars winked at him in their inky bed. Draco dared to reach out his hand to touch them. With a great swoop, the Thestral began to land, plummeting towards the ground with speed and grace. Draco clung to its neck and braced himself.
They landed fairly lightly near the doors, though Draco's legs trembled as he dismounted.
"Err... Thank you." he mumbled, touching the creatures cool nose awkwardly. Barely acknowledging how he had just spoken to a creature, Draco ran through the doors and into the entrance hall. The clock began to strike an hour and Draco knew he had to get back to the broom cupboard before the chimes ended. He'd left at dawn and calculated his time up to now.
A strange sensation began to creep into his limbs, slowing them down slightly. He could see his cupboard, up the first flight of stairs and barely recognizable in a castle not torn apart by war. The world began to melt around him and for the first time, Draco thought of the consequences of changing the past. His father had assured him it was fine however: "This time turner was adjusted for altering time. It's risky, but if you do everything I say, you could correct all that has failed." Despite this, Draco didn't trust the dark magic that had been entwined into the time turner. Though what a time to think this, he cursed himself. It was a bit late now.
The world was barely recognizable as Draco's hand yanked open the cupboard door. He felt as though he was dreaming as he slammed it shut behind him, locking himself in the darkness. The world faded completely and with a lurch, Draco's feet landed on ground seven years into the future, the exact time and place he had left.