Hello lovelies,
An extralong chapter 10k+ just in time for Christmas celebrations. Thanks for your continued support. I hope you enjoy it!
I am not quite sure how much I'll be able to write over the holidays, but my next chapter will most likely come somewhere around New Year's eve and feature the reunion of Draco, Blaise and Hermione. Hopefully with less violent results than the last time around.
I don't own Harry Potter!
Summary: D
Draco meets a Harry Potter who is completely different from the prat he remembers, before our two favourite Malfoys and Severus visit the pet shop, where Draco finds his new, sickeningly adorable companion.
New Perspectives Part 2
After taking their leave Severus and Draco stepped out onto the narrow cobblestone street, once again. Navigating the hectic hustling and bustling with ease and directing their steps towards Madame Malkins' Robes for All Occasions. Neither of them spoke all that much on the way. Draco was still reeling from the surprising turn their trip to the wandmaker had taken, acutely aware of the wand holster strapped against his left forearm, the cherry wand pulsing hotly against his skin, perfectly in tune with his blood and Severus had never been one for too many words to begin with.
They had almost made it to the popular robe shop before the potions master stilled his movement apruptly and said, all the while fixating Draco with a stern expression. "You should take great care with your new wand, Draco. To wield such a unique piece is an honour few wizards can claim for themselves. Be sure to value it accordingly. Power is oftentimes a burden not a prize."
With an earnest nod Draco replied, the solemn reminder resonating with him. "Of course, uncle Sev. You can trust me on this!"
Then the eleven year old smirked, his eyes dancing with more mirth than they had held in a very long time. "You know it might take a while to do the robe fitting, I won't hold it against you if you go and do something more ...uh productive in the meantime. Mr. Potage seemed quite interested in a friendly dispute about the different variations of the Wolfsbane Potion, when we bought my potions supplies, earlier."
Severus raised his eyebrows, the hint of a sly smile tugging on his lips. "If I didn't know you any better, Draco, I'd think you were growing tired of my company. Besides, your mother surely won't appreciate it if she discovered that I left her precious son unsupervised."
No, I just don't really want you anywhere near Potter, if he actually shows up at Madame Malkins. You two together in a small room are even more of a disaster waiting to happen, than Potter and myself. And that's saying something.
Feigning an insulted reaction, Draco put his palm over his heart and replied. "How could you ever think that, uncle Sev? You are my most favourite godfather; I thought you already knew as much. It was only a well intentioned suggestion, designed to save you from a tedious session of robe fitting. Salazar knows, even mother isn't all too fond of the experience and she adores shopping like no one else, a predisposition which neither of us two can claim for ourselves. What do you think, why she sent you to accompany me, while she stayed behind settling the price for my wand with Mister Ollivander?"
Perhaps, at least... Even if I think she also wants to learn as much as possible about my new cherry wand without a curious audience listening in.
"Sometimes it's deceptively easy to forget that Narcissa is just as much of a Slytherin, as I am." The potion master sounded as if he had yet to decide if he should be annoyed or amused at that discovery. Although, there was an undeniable warmness lingering beneath his put out expression, while he regarded the two adjacent shops thoughtfully. In a fluid motion he deposited a small pouch with heavy Galleons in Draco's hands. "That should be enough, I think, at least if you don't go overboard with the adjustments, Draco. Though, I believe a few temperature adapting charms should be well within the realm of possibilities. If in doubt you can always ask Madame Malkins to put it on the next bill of Cissa's inevitable shopping spree."
"Thanks, uncle Sev. Just do me a favour, will you?" Draco grinned mischievously, while he teased his godfather. "At least, you know, try to conceal your annoyance, when Mr. Potage doesn't understand how the added moonstones influence the equilibrium of powdered silver and wolfsbane flowers and thereby enable you to achieve more potent results. Or that the additions enhances the reactivity of dittany and therefore adds to the volatile nature of the brewing process, which is why it is very rarely used beyond a select circle of potion masters. With all due respect, I'd wager, understanding the underlying principles takes more insight and skill than a hobby potioneer like Mr. Potage is likely to have."
"And how would you, not even a first year student, know about the different permutations of the wolfsbane potion? That's knowledge, which far surpasses even N.E.W.T. level requirements, Draco. We've barely finished the first year curriculum in our private sessions." His godfather brows knitted together in a mix that spoke of surprise and confusion as well as a small sliver of fatherly pride, causing Draco's heart to soar in his chest, even if the praise was only partially deserved.
Not cowed by Severus' hostile demeanour, he shrugged easily, stating with a laugh. "Merlin, uncle Sev, theoretical knowledge is not that difficult to gain when you have one of the most comprehensive libraries in Wizarding Britain at your disposal. Just tell me if my prediction was correct, when I have made it through the robe fitting, without dying from boredom." With those words Draco sidestepped the speechless potions master and stepped into the robe shop.
Merlin, I think I might go insane if I have to spend the next years of my life like this: Pretending not to have a sufficient grasp of magic, downplaying my knowledge and abilities. I can't explain everything away with the Malfoy library, either. Most purebloods have vast collections of ancient books and none of my housemates would have ever dreamed of reading up on the wolfsbane potion. Never mind its less common variations...
However, on a more positive note, surprising mother and Severus with my changed behaviour has proven to be rather entertaining so far. Uncle Sev's face just now, was the very definition of priceless.
As soon as the door had closed behind him, a very enthusiastic Madame Malkins hustled over, procuring yet another magical measuring tape and simultaneously pulling Draco along, further towards one of the small elevated pedestals she used for the robe fitting. Obviously not noticing uncomfortable the stiffness her gesture had sent spreading through the blonde's body. "Hogwarts, dear?"
Draco, who had a hard time to suppress a notable flinch at the unexpected touch, grit his teeth and gave the shopkeeper witch one of his most charming smiles. "Yes, Madame Malkins. I'll be leaving for my first year, come September." He extended his hand, waiting for her to shake it before he continued with the required formal introduction. Usually it would have been expected of him to kiss her knuckles, but he was eleven at least in body, the gesture would just end up embarrassing both of them. Impeccable manners or not. Some gallantries just were not worth observing. "Merry meet, Madame. Draco Malfoy, a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."
Or technically reacquaintance.
The witch looked positively enchanted, looking down at him indulgently, her eyelashes fluttering rapidly as she cooed. "Oh my, such delightful manners. You pureblood children know how to conduct yourself, don't you? Merry meet, Draco Malfoy."
Bowing slightly, Draco said. "My mother, Lady Malfoy, has asked me to extend her well wishes as well; unfortunately she was held up at Mr. Ollivander's wand shop. Otherwise I know for a fact that she would have gladly taken the time to admire your newest collection." Of course Narcissa had said no such thing, it probably had not even crossed her mind, but since the Lady of Malfoy Manor was a regular and well-known customer of the robe shop, it was only polite to acknowledge the fact thusly.
"Oh, how wonderful. I've just finished a new set of dress robes that would accentuate her figure perfectly. The Black women all have such a regal stature." Madame Malkins gestured towards a set of midnight blue robes, small pointed silver stars littering it like stars splayed across the night sky. Constellations marked out in strands of silver, lighting up and disappearing with the changing light. Admittedly the perfect dress robes for any witch who belonged to the most ancient and noble House of Black with their longstanding tradition of dedicating the name of their firstborns and often most of their other children to the stars.
Draco nodded faintly. Madame sure knew how to drive home a bargain. "They are magnificent. If it doesn't bother you too much Madame, could you put them aside until I can authorise the transaction from my own vault? It would be bad form indeed, to purchase such a wonderful gift with my mother's money, now, would it not?"
"Oh holy Helga, you are such a precious dear!" The witch cooed, visibly warming to his charm as adorable eleven year old. "I suppose you'll want the Hogwarts robe set? Summer and winter attire, as well as the required dragon hide gloves?"
"Yes. Three plain robes in black, self repairing if that's possible, the winter set, one plain, black hat and the gloves. However, there are a few additional items, I would like to order. Provided it isn't too much of an inconvenience for you, Madame." He looked at the older witch questioningly.
Obviously intrigued by the prospect of additional orders, Madame Malkins stated, with a laugh. "Oh no dear, such a polite young man, as you are, could never ever be an inconvenience for me. Just tell me what you want and I'll have the robes ready as soon as nightfall."
Salazar, charming witches five times my age in such a fashion never stops being awfully annoying... However, a lot of my erstwhile plans depend upon cultivating a good image.
"Wonderful. In order to freshen up my wardrobe I need one black wool coat with silver elements for the winter months, and two sets of casual robes for my free time, one black, the other grey, both with Slytherin green elements and another set in dark blue also with silver elements. And a few warming charm on the wool coat certainly wouldn't come amiss. That will be all, I guess. If it is alright with you, I'll send my personal house elf over to collect the order tomorrow, Madame. Possibly, along with the dress robes for my mother."
"Most certainly. Any other charms in order to protect them from the usual wear and tear? Or fire resistance? First years tend to blow up their cauldrons in my experience."
Draco grimaced at the memory of Longbottom's and Finnegans exploding concoctions, which regularly turned their shared potion lessons into a fire hazard. Babbling, bumbling band of baboons, indeed! However, it seemed a tiny bit wasteful to pay for enhancements, knowing that he would outgrow the robes by years end. Especially since Draco could perform the necessary charms by himself, if he truly wanted to. Not that the money really mattered, but it would do him good to practice some of his charm work. Shaking his head regretfully, he said "No, I don't think that will be necessary."
Looking only slightly disappointed Madam Malkins told Draco to wait for her, whilst she went to look for the formal Hogwarts robes. She hadn't left the room for long, before a raven-haired boy stumbled through the entrance of the shop.
Potter.
A chiming bell rang out, alerting Madame Malkins to the arrival of her new customer, while Draco couldn't help but stare at the boy in front of him in utmost disbelief. It was Potter that much was evident. He had the signature glasses, the unruly mop of jet black hair and the almost unnaturally bright green eyes, so disturbingly reminiscent of the killing curse that had not succeeded in ending his life. Nevertheless, outward characteristics and resemblances aside, there was little else that correlated with Draco's many more or less unpleasant memories of his former school rival and childhood nemesis. For one the boy in front of him was weirdly small, which Draco probably should have expected, them being eleven and all, but the change still caught him quite of guard.
It doesn't help that he looks so awfully innocent, not filled with his usual disdain and suspicion for anything associated with me.
Grey muggle clothes that looked worn and tired, not to mention that they were obviously meant for someone thrice his size, hung formlessly on his rather thin body. Not emaciated or anything, but thin enough to attract his notice. The hideous pair of glasses had quite noticeably been broken a few times over, since they were provisorily held together by some sort of sticky tape. In stark contrast to his joyless attire, Potter's cheeks were flushed with bright excitement whilst his wide eyes were darting through the room, an amalgation of nervousness and intrigue.
All in all, a sweet kid I suppose. Even if his choices in clothing certainly leave quite a lot to be desired.
Quickly recovering from his initial shock Draco pointed out, while making a sweeping gesture towards the back. Making Potter uncomfortable with his scrutiny would not help if he wanted to work on a future collaboration. "Madame Malkins had some business to attend in the back of the shop. I am sure she'll be here any minute."
Gratefulness flashed over the miniature Potter's face, his green eyes briefly meeting Draco's, before he lowered them timidly. Timidly! What was wrong with this boy for Merlin's sake? "Uhmh... thanks."
Taken aback by the obvious shyness, an attribute Draco had never, not in his wildest dreams thought he would ever use to describe Potter, Draco secretly pinched his arm to make sure this wasn't just a very vivid daydream. Honestly, he was quite at a loss how to react to this entirely unfamiliar, almost introverted version of the Boy Who Lived.
Boisterous.
Brash.
Brimming with self righteous confidence and explosive rage.
That was the Boy Who Lived To Annoy Him. The exact opposite of timid for Salazar's sake.
Was he like this the last time around?
Since Draco had not been sure that they would actually run into each other, he had not finalised his plans of how exactly he wanted this meeting to play out. Should he go for reserved cordiality or try to obtain the boy's friendship? The only thing he had every intention to avoid was reverting to his snobbish self absorbed behaviour from the original timeline, but that was more of a general effort rather than a specific attempt to win Potter's good graces.
Besides, he looks like a lost puffskein. All wide eyes and wonder.
"You are welcome. Is this your first time visiting Diagon Alley?" Draco offered the boy a crooked halfsmile. Sweet Salazar, he felt out of his depth. Slipping into the role of the eleven year old pureblood heir was significantly aided by the fact that childlike behaviour was generally frowned upon amongst the pureblooded elite. Children were supposed to behave like miniature adults as early as possible.
His mother and Severus, while temporarily blindsided by his sudden maturity, a warworn soul trapped in a young body, would most likely come to accept the change as Draco growing into the role he had been groomed to fulfill for his entire life. Interacting with another child, Potter in particular, was, however, a completely different matter altogether. Not to mention that the Gryffindor way of acquiring new friends did not necessarily align with Draco's own experiences, whose one and only, not by his parents specifically selected friend, had been Blaise, which had been entirely the Italians doing.
Merlin, I was quite evidently shite at this thing when I was eleven and not an adult stuck in this way too young body.
Potter shuffled his feet self consciously, shooting Draco glances as if he wanted to gauge his reaction, while he muttered as uncomprehendingly as possible. "Uh... Yeah. I've only got my Hogwarts letter yesterday. Hagrid's been taking me around. He's the groundkeeper there."
Ah, yes... The half giant not yet turned teacher brought Potter to the Alley.
Draco certainly remembered that little fact. It had bewildered him the last time too, because as Lucius and Severus told the story, it was usually one of the professors, who acted in loco parentis for the muggleborns or in Potter's particular case students who were raised by muggles. Not to get him started on the inconsistencies of letting the boy grow up with muggles and then expect him to face the Dark Lord before he had even finished his Hogwarts education.
Draco could not help feeling kind of gobsmacked when Lucius had revealed that particular piece of information to him, raving about the indignity of letting the heir to a renowned wizarding family grow up amongst the 'dangerous and barbaric filth'. Regardless of the Potter family's firmly light-affiliated stance, they had been members of the Sacred, there were certain rights to uphold when it came to such a well-bred lineage: Traditions to follow and customs to observe.
However, now wasn't the right time to dwell on Dumbledore's elaborate web of delusions, so Draco just nodded noncommittally, before shooting Potter an encouraging look. "So you will be a first year just like me. I am Draco, by the way, Draco Malfoy." He extended his hand, but before Potter had the chance to take it, they were interrupted by Madame Malkins who trotted back into the room. A small self ironic smirk spread on Draco's face, when his thoughts flashed back to Potter's rejection on the Hogwarts express.
Go figure. I put in an effort and he still doesn't get to the part where he shakes my hand. Looks, like it's one of those things that are not meant to happen…
"Oh we have another one. Hogwarts, my dear, the standard robes for you?" Madame asked Potter, who simply nodded mutely in response, allowing the witch to pull him toward a second pedestal right beside Draco, her enchanted measuring tape already hovering in the air: Ready to determine the boy's measurements at a moments notice.
"Come, over here."
So far so good, had there not been something about the whole interaction that attracted Draco's attention. Perhaps it was just his own, increased hypersensitivity to unexpected touches, but there was definitely something about the skittish way Potter shrank back into himself, when Madame reached for his shoulder, which Draco could not help but find awfully reminiscent of his own behaviour.
Which begs the question, why on bloody earth darling Potter would react like that?
Of course there was the rather farfetched possibility that Potter was like Draco and had somehow defeated the limits of space and time when he had died in their shared timeline. Not very likely, though, since Luna's ritual, mysterious as it was, had seemed like a pretty impressive piece of magic. Nothing one could easily trigger by accident, least of all by committing suicide. Besides, there was no trace of recognition in the boy's eyes. If this had been the original Potter, he would have probably cursed Draco on sight, not acted like a blushing maiden on her wedding day.
No. There has to be another explanation.
Using Potter's temporary preoccupation with Madame Malkins fussing, Draco gave the boy a critical once over. He was in no way, shape or form an expert on muggle clothes but Potters were downright ratty, washed out with holes and fraying cuffs, threads coming loose and buttons appeared to be missing. Nothing any self respecting muggle family would allow their eleven year old child to wear, at least if Granger's usual prim and proper garderobe was offering any indication.
Merlin, I sound like a bloody creep...
Were the boy's relatives poor? But surely the muggle pair would get some form of reimbursement for raising the Chosen One. Potter was the only heir to the Potter fortune, which ranked somewhere in the upper half of the Sacred 28, so money really could not be part of the issue. If James Potter had not left a will, which was in and of itself highly doubtful and against any traditional approach to the matter, Potter's grandfather would surely have left a mighty sum for any progeny born to his only son. Even great aunt Doreah had set some coin aside on Draco's behalf and she had been Potter's direct relative not Draco's.
No, it just can't be the money. There must be something else. Something not quite right with this muggle family of his.
Oh Circe, how could I miss that the last time?
All those years Draco had pictured Potter's home life as the polar opposite of his own. Filled with love and laughter, warmth and comfort. He was the fucking Saviour of the wizarding world, for Salazar's sake. Granted his parents had died, but they had sacrificed their lives in order to protect him. If that was not an admittedly very selfless, decidedly Gryffindor way to show their love for Potter then Draco did not know what was.
Lucius would never dream of doing anything of the sort! In fact I'm quite certain he'd gladly sell away my life if he was offered even the slightest chance of saving his own skin.
And not to forget, Dumbledore banked on Potter and some stupid prophecy in order to save the wizarding world, which failed spectacularly as any sensible person could have told the idiot in advance, but I digress... The toddler that had vanquished the Dark Lord. Not that Draco put much stock in something that had happened when the boy had been in his nappies, but there had been uh... were, more than enough people who would have been ready to worship the very ground the Golden Boy had walked on. Every single wizarding household in Britain would have been honoured to raise Potter alongside their own children.
To even contemplate the fact that Potter, angry, volatile and yet universally beloved Potter, might have had a less than stellar home-life felt like getting hit with a particularly nasty stinging jinx. The possibility had simply never occurred to Draco and to consider it now, after knowing the bloke for ten years, after envying and at the same time loathing Potter's entire love-filled existence, made him question years worth of animosity and prejudices. He would definitely have to revisit this theory later, if only for his own peace of mind.
Doesn't Dumbledore keep an eye on Potter? Seems neglectful, even by the headmaster's rather uh... questionable standards.
Draco was still trying to wrap his head around the insight he had just gained, when his musing were interrupted by Potter's soft voice. "Harry." The Boy Who Lived shifted awkwardly on the spot, while Madame Malkins was once again disappearing in the back of the shop. "Harry Potter. My name, I mean."
Potter looked somewhat tense, as if he expected Draco to bounce on him at any given momet or something equally obnoxious, green eyes staring stubbornly at some invisible point right above Draco's shoulder. His right hand immediately snapping upwards and spreading his unruly locks neatly over the small patch of sundeprived skin, where Draco knew the famous lightning scar to be.
Merlin, Potter doesn't like attention... Like not at all!
Another preconceived notion about Potter shattered. At this rate Draco was almost inclined to believe that he had been transported to another universe, not thrown back in time. The multitude of unexpected changes made him feel like his head might explode, but at least for now, Draco kept his calm and extended his hand a second time.
Three times are a charm or so they say. Perhaps it's going to work this time around... for once.
"Merry meet, Harry Potter. It's an honour to meet you."
His nonchalant approach seemed to pay off, when a small smile tugged at Potter's lips. Lighting up his face, as the boy accepted the offered hand and squeezed it gingerly. "Likewise, Draco." After a short pause he added, significantly more relaxed than before. "You know, you are actually the first one, who didn't get all gooey eyed when you heard my full name."
Can't imagine why.
Smirking a bit, Draco shot Potter a sympathetic look. "Ah yes, I imagine they would, wouldn't they? I assume there were quite a lot of people badgering you with the whole 'the boy who lived' shite? Not that you don't seem nice enough, and please correct me if I'm wrong but it doesn't really look like your cup of tea... The whole attention thing I mean. "
Potter actually laughed at that, his eyes dancing with freely displayed happiness, before he ducked his head, reverting back to his initial shyness. "Well... Yeah... Guess, you could say that. Especially since I don't really understand the whole fuss. I was Harry. Just Harry, you know, nothing special, until Hagrid showed up on my doorstep and told me that I'm a wizard. And now, before I've had the slightest chance to process all of that, everybody knows my name and people stare at me in the streets. It's just a bit much to wrap my head around."
It took Draco a few seconds to puzzle out what exactly bothered him so much about Potter's offhanded statement, but as soon as he had gotten to the crux of the matter a slight scowl formed on his face.
Merlin and Morgana, who needs enemies when he has Potter's supposed friends.
"Wait a second, P... uh... Harry!" And the world keeps spinning... "Hagrid was the first one who told you that you're a wizard? Like in you literally had no idea at all until he showed up at your doorstep today?"
Taking note of Potter's obvious discomfort, who winced at Draco's incredulous tone, he quickly back pedalled, inwardly chastising himself for his tactlessness. Alienating Potter now wouldn't help matters any, no matter how strongly incensed Draco was on his behalf.
And I was babbling about Quidditch the last time around… No wonder Potter preferred to stay quiet.
"You know what? Never mind! Not exactly my place to ask such things." Following a sudden intuition, he asked the other boy, desperate to dispell the uneasiness, which had settled between them. "Would you want to see some magic? I've just gotten my wand at Ollivander's, so I suppose I could fix your glasses for you... Of course only if you want me to?"
Granted Draco's hopeful suggestion was not entirely selfless: The enticing prospect of finally getting to test the cherry wand, even on something as simple as a Reparo, was most certainly an added bonus, but Potter was visibly thankful for the change in subject and intrigued by the prospect of seeing some magic in action. Revelling in the warm flow of energy, Draco aimed his new wand at Potter's glasses and said "Occulo Reparo."
"Wow... Thank you." Potter's stunned expression, when the dreadful tape finally came loose, the deep scratches on metal and lenses disappearing until they revealed a perfectly repaired pair of glasses, elicited a small self satisfied chuckle from Draco. "There you go. Now you're all set for school."
"Thanks!" In this moment a tutting and cooing Madame Malkins returned and Draco hurried to let his wand glide back into its holster. "So, Hogwarts uh... Harry... Do you have any idea what house you are going to be in? Most first years are pretty excited for their sorting."
"House?" Potter was looking at him with an entirely too blank expression.
Sweet Salazar.
Has nobody even tried to explain the boy anything? Is the Order stupid enough to think that leaving him in the dark preserves his innocence or any of that shite? If that's the case it's a fucking miracle that Potter managed to survive as long as he did the last time around.
Fighting to keep his growing agitation at bay, Draco elaborated, a waving gesture used to signify the passing of time. "Hogwarts was founded by four friends almost ten centuries ago. Each of them valued different traits in their students. Helga Hufflepuff chose witches and wizards who excelled by relying on hard work and loyalty, Rowena Ravenclaw taught the witty and knowledgeable, Godric Gryffindor those inclined to be brave and bold and Salazar Slytherin the cunning and self preserving. They left a long-lasting legacy which is honoured to this day by sorting all the first year students in the four Houses: Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Slytherin. They compete against each other for the House and the Quidditch cup. Loyalty between the House members is meant to be as binding as the bonds that tie us to our respective families, a higher purpose if you will, but no one honours the old ways that much anymore. Now the members of a House are mostly united in their rivalry against the other three."
Softening his voice a bit Draco added. "I believe your parents were both Gryffindors, so I reckon it's a fair guess that you might end up there. Sometimes our familial magic is predisposed to fit one house more than the others. My parents were both in Slytherin and father is quite intent on my continuing of the family tradition, but it is without question the house with the worst reputation."
Partially well deserved, but good grief, sometimes the bias just borders on being ridiculous. No matter, Potter'll be in Gryffindor, anyway.
"My parents were in Gryffindor?" Potter's faint voice took on an almost strangled quality, pain bleeding into his voice, making Draco's heart clench with empathy. Granted his childhood might have been far more enjoyable without Lucius constantly breathing down his neck, but he loved his mother dearly. To imagine a world where he had never had the chance to get to know her sent icy chills straight down his spine. With a slightly sheepish grimace Potter remarked. "That's good to know. I guess being sorted there might be nice, but brave and bold, doesn't really sound like me."
Not able to suppress an amused chuckle, because seriously the idea of Potter not being a bleeding heart Gryffindor was certainly taking things way too far, Draco said. "We'll just have to wait and see, I suppose. Besides, there are way more important things than house affiliation." Thoughtfully, he added, taking the opportunity to find out Potter's address. "You know there's still like a month or so to go until Hogwarts starts, would you want to exchange some letters with me? I've to admit I'm quite curious about the muggle world."
As if on cue, the half giant appeared in the shopwindow, holding up a beautiful snow owl with his large hands, which caused Potter to let out a small gasp. "Well, I guess that answers my question, if you'll get an owl of your own." Draco drawled out amusedly, noticing Potter's happiness at the unexpected gift.
Hope and excitement shone from the other boy's eyes when his gaze snapped back to Draco and he asked somewhat disbelievingly, his breath accelerating noticeably. "You'd really want to write me, Draco?" And she's still spinning… Pleasantly surprised to get addressed by his first name, Draco reassured Potter, filing away the hint of disbelief he had detected in the boy's voice for later contemplation. "Of course Po... for Merlin's sake... Harry, I mean."
Salazar help me, I'm really making friends with Potter.
The mere idea of being on friendly terms with Potter after years of shared animosity was mind boggling. Blaise would have a field day with this when Draco told him in one of his letters, but then he could probably shut Zabini up with a pointed reference to his affair with the oldest Weasley brother. Or maybe not, given the tragic way their story had ended. Nonetheless, Luna had been utterly devastated by Potter's death in the original timeline, the least he could do for her, was making sure that this, by the way, far more tolerable kid, was well taken care of.
Draco was almost thankful when Madame Malkins interrupted the slight awkwardness of the moment to pat him and Potter on the back, a gesture which only added to their shared discomfort, and told them. "Alright dearies, you are both ready to go."
After they had both thanked the shopkeeper witch and had paid her the requested amount of Galleons, Potter and Draco left the shop together. On the outside they parted ways with the promise to write to each other, Draco heading over to Potage's to join up with Severus and Potter trotting after Hagrid to Fortescue's in order to get some ice cream. However, Draco was still well within earshot when he heard Hagrid saying to Potter. "Harry, yer know I would'n tell yer n'thing wrong. Yer should be very careful with da Malfoy boy. Da Malfoy's 're very bad business. Dark wizards da 'hole lot of 'em."
Well, nothing new there. Just less accurate this time around. Or maybe more... depending on your view point, I suppose. After all being a Death Eater's son is by far not as incriminating as actually being a former Death Eater and the Dark Lord's second in command.
Nevertheless the words stung quite a bit, Draco had to admit as much, even if it was only to himself. Blaming children for the sins of their fathers, especially if said father was an abusive arsehole like Lucius Malfoy, was a bit hypocritical, considering that the light always claimed to be so awfully inclusive and nonjudgmental. Maybe he would have understood the gamekeeper's scepticism, if he had treated the Potter boy with anything but kindness; however, as it was he had done nothing except making an honest effort to be nice to the kid.
Not as if anyone on their side seems to have picked up on Potter's sorry state...
Quite honestly in the original timeline Draco hadn't been all that bothered by the heavy stigma which surrounded all of Slytherin house and the Malfoy family in particular. As ridiculous as it was that the whole school cast eleven year old children as the villains just because a rusty old hat had decided that they had the sheer audacity to want to achieve something in their life and then denied any responsibility when said children acted out... The general anti Slytherin sentiment had definitely helped to maintain the arrogant and contemptuous facade Lucius had expected of his son and heir.
However, viewed in retrospect it became quite clear, that ostracising a whole house had been bound to create even more division and had deepened the already existing divide between the Slytherin students and the three other houses. Considering that Slytherin's mostly kept to themselves, associating with the childhood friends they had already made way before their arrival at Hogwarts and a rotating circle of political opportune acquaintances, meeting their prejudices against muggleborns with another set of prejudices had resulted in an environment the Dark Lord had been able capitalise upon. It wasn't for nothing that one of their most important rules dictated that Slytherins protected their own against the rest of the world. No matter how vicious they treated each other within the sanctity of their private rooms.
We have to find a better way this time around! I am not prepared to see my whole house get embroiled into the machinations of that mad man for a second time. At least they should be aware that they have a real choice, not being torn between the values of their families and a side that simply shuns them on principle.
Draco had been so caught up in his contemplations that he was taken by surprise when he and Severus finally in front of the Magical Menagerie. Owls staring at them with round amber eyes, their soft hooting sounds fighting against the constant sea of noises flowing around them. Ever since his mother had made the suggestion to purchase a cat, Draco had been torn on the subject matter, sort of waging a mental battle with himself.
On the one hand, the offer of fulfilling one of his dearest childhood wishes was more than tempting. If he had to relive his youth in the body of an eleven year old, all the while trying to safe the wizarding world, then why not indulge in something innocent for once: Something uncomplicated. Untainted, just like caring for a pet. On the other hand, Draco was quite convinced, that Lucius was going to be livid, as soon as he found out that they had acquired something so utterly plebeian and all around unsuitable for the heir and youngest representative of the Malfoy family.
Breeding horses, like the prized selection of Abraxans, Phaetons, Granians and Aethonans that currently inhabited the stables of Malfoy Manor, was a respectable pastime amongst the magical aristocracy: Projecting wealth and adherence to age old family tradition. Some of them even had family trees, long enough that they could rival any British pureblood. However, keeping a kitten in the Slytherin dungeons would not quite suit the image Lucius wanted Draco to cultivate. A fact that he might even have considered a bonus under other circumstances, however, there was no way to guarantee that Lucius would not vent his frustration on Narcissa, Dobby or even the poor, unwittingly offending cat. Risking his mother's wellbeing was the very last thing Draco intended to do.
"Uncle Sev?" Severus dark eyes shot down towards him, giving Draco the reassurance he needed, signaling that he had his godfather's undivided attention. Hurrying to get out his request before his mother had the opportunity to rejoin them, Draco pressed on, voice lowered in the futile pursuit of privacy. "Would you do me a favour, if I asked you to? Preferably, without questioning my judgement on the matter?"
One of Severus' eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly, the only sign that Draco's godfather had, in fact, heard his question. "I'd say that depends entirely on the favour, you are asking for, Draco. However, as long as it is within the realms of reason, I can't see a good reason why I wouldn't."
Well, here goes nothing...
"I dare to presume, and please correct me if I am mistaken, that you know, probably just as well as I do, that father won't be all too thrilled about this last purchase on our list. I imagine even less so, since neither mother nor I have actually bothered to consult him on the matter, not that he'd have agreed to it if we had." A humourless chuckle broke free, followed by a harsh bite to the tongue as soon as Draco realised how cynical his voice had sounded. "Anyway, there's not much either of us can do about that part, but when father mentions it to you, which I'm quite sure he will, could you tell him that I used my illness in order to manipulate mother into allowing me to buy the cat? It would be the best option for everyone involved."
Draco could almost see the cogs turning in Severus head, however before the potions master could form a reasonable reply; they were interrupted by Narcissa's arrival, her slender hand giving Draco's shoulder a small squeeze before she exhaled a relieved sigh. "Draco, Severus. There you are. I've been looking for you." Reaching into her bag, she procured a pair of brand new seeker gloves. "Lucius asked me to buy those for you, Draco. Next year you might even try out for the house team, don't you think? You are a great seeker already, as far as I can tell, but you know how little interest I take in the sport."
I might do just that... If Lucius wouldn't believe that I can't do it on my own and insists on buying those stupid brooms again...
"Sure, Maman." He nodded noncommittally, hoping that his mother would not notice the thin edge of bitterness lacing his voice. At least it did not show in her demeanour as she put the gloves back, before gesturing towards the entrance of the Magical Menagerie. "Shall we, then?"
When the three of them stepped into the shop together, once again activating a ringing bell as soon as they had stepped through the narrow entrance, Draco could feel Severus eyes following his very move. Observing. Assessing. Calculating. However, he pretended, not to notice his godfather's intent gaze, instead letting his own eyes roam over the somewhat shabby interior of the shop, sizing up the various cages lining the walls. Predominately owl cages, but there were the odd snakes, newts, frogs and toads in the reptile section, a few crups and there on the far off wall, a line up of cats in various sizes.
Well, at least I hopefully don't have to worry about Maman anymore...
Draco knew Severus good enough to be reasonably sure that the potions master would comply with his request, preferably without asking all too many questions. It really did not need an experienced Legilimens to figure out that things with Lucius were not exactly what they should be. However, in this particular case Draco speculated on his godfather's erstwhile ignorance of the disproportionally violent manner in which the high and mighty Lord of Malfoy Manor would choose to demonstrate his displeasure once he was confronted with his son's 'disgraceful insolence' or whatever the sadistic bastard might come up with as a justification. Otherwise the potions master possibly might not have concurred with his godson's attempt to shoulder all the blame.
Not entirely comfortable at the prospect of taking advantage of his godfather's trust, as little as the other wizard would be affected by the consequences, Draco swallowed hard and returned his attention to the cats. Eyes roaming over the unruly assortment, which ranged from purebred kneazles with their scrunched in faces to common house-cats and all the halves, quarters and eighths in between. From tiny kittens to proud tomcats with their chests puffed out, all prancing, tippling, in some cases even jumping to the forefront of their respective areas, stretching and meowing as if sensing Draco's interest in them.
Eventually he stopped in front of the separate kitten area, marvelling at the collective fluffiness vying for his attention. Black, red, brown, white, spotted and stripped balls of fur, all climbing over each other and pawing at their wooden confines. From the corner of his eyes Draco caught a short flicker of stormy grey at the back of the magically expanded area, drawing his gaze away from the excited bustling at his feet to an unusually large kitten, who had obviously opted not to join in the merriment of its companions. However, where its size might have classified her as a fully grown house cat its features were all kitten, not yet sharpened by age and experience. Nevertheless the deliberate graze of its movements were already indicative of an aspiring predator, as Draco noted when the high frame quickly disappeared behind one of the wooden toys the shopkeeper had laid out for them, hiding out of his sight with ease.
Intrigued Draco narrowed his eyes on the spot where the cat was hiding, trying to catch another glimpse of it, not minding the muted voices of meaningless niceties his mother was undoubtedly exchanging with the overexcited shopkeeper.
His undivided attention was soon rewarded with a flash of sharp brown eyes, regarding him with far more intelligence than one would normally expect to see in an animal. As sharp minded as kneazles were commonly rumoured to be. Not one to leave a challenge unanswered Draco met the greyhaired fluffball's gaze with a slight curving of his eyebrows, almost releasing a most unbecoming squeak when he felt the sudden nudging at his mental defences.
What on earth...?
However, instead of following the pattern of a conventional mind-attack the foreign presence did not even bother to try prying its way through Draco's protections, remaining steadily at the surface and projecting a series of tumultuous mental imagery. The first scene was overshadowed by loneliness and fear. Darkness. Darkness and desperation. Then the darkness gave way to a blinding light, before coldness flooded Draco's senses. There was water. So much freezing water... Tiny paws struggling tirelessly against the merciless current. Desperate wails fighting against the thundering of the water hitting unyielding stones...
Unexpectedly the entire scene changed completely, now showing a pale boy with a pointed face, fondness etched into his relaxed features as he looked at a large cat, almost reaching up to Draco's waist, playfully pawing at his leg. Warmth and contentment radiated from the picture followed closely by another which depicted the very same cat presenting a slain Hodag to the platinum haired boy from earlier. Himself, as Draco realised belatedly, not exactly accustomed to his newly rejuvenated appearance.
"You certainly are something else, aren't you little one?"
Although 'little one' is most definitely a loosely applied term in this case.
Untrained in the art of sharing information via Legilimency in the same way the little cat had just done, Draco did his best to send her an impression of his approval of her obviously nicely thought-out approach. Vulnerable and yet delightfully resourceful... The former Slytherin Prince in him could certainly admire such a perfectly executed manipulation. First a slight tug on the heartstrings for the sentimental fools immediately bolstered with an offer of kindness and companionship. Lastly a scene that was intended to showcase the cats' abilities as a provider and hunter, so no... There was no significant aspect the little bugger had overlooked.
And Salazar damn it, if the plan isn't working exactly as intended. I certainly didn't expect to be so terribly impressed with any of the cats.
Almost as if in response to his thought the kitten stretched itself and strutted majestically to the forefront of its designated area, slumping down into a sitting position regarding Draco with an air of curious haughtiness. Every fibre projecting self-assured confidence, entirely contradictory to the aura of bashfulness Draco had sensed earlier... Covered in silvery white fluff, the little kitten looked already like a quintessential Malfoy, at least if it had not been for the expressive brown eyes, regarding him with way more trust than he could imagine to have earned in such a short time.
Merlin help me, but I think I' want to keep you little one!
Unsure how exactly he should handle thepurchase Draco bend down, awkwardly scooping the kitten into his arms. A gentle gesture, which was met with loud protestations of the cat's scorned companions, but thankfully no actual acts of resistance from the kitten herself. After he had manoeuvred the poor thing into a slightly more comfortable position, Draco let his fingers glide through the tawny fur. The calming ministrations paid off when the cat lost the last remaining traces of stiffness and began to profess its contentment with a velvety purr.
"What an interesting choice, Mr. Malfoy."
Oh, for fuck's sake!
It went to show how much had changed in the future that Draco already felt his patience waning when it came down to dealing with demonstrably friendly shopkeepers. Once he had relished in the attention: Witches and wizards stumbling over their own feet in order to accommodate them, just on account of the Malfoy name being synonymous with immeasurable wealth. There had been an indescribable rush of power associated to it, a sense of control which had been sorely lacking in most other aspect of his life. Now, the repetitive professions of respect and the praise that came along with it were nothing, if not awfully tiresome. Especially given that the vast majority probably cursed them inwardly as 'treacherous snakes' and in the even less favourable cases as 'Death Eater scum'.
Never mind that Maman and I hate Lucius with every fibre of our being. Human nature is full of such delightful hypocrisy...
Despite his unwillingness, Draco affected a relaxed expression, jawline tightening into a grimace. Just friendly enough that the annoyingly exuberant shopkeeper witch, clad in an old-fashioned set of dress robes which almost rivalled the utter monstrosity that had been Weaselbee's Yule ball attire, might just interpret as the cold caricature of a smile. "Is that so, Mrs?" Inclining his head just the faintest bit, he added with an inward roll of his eyes at the faux cordiality. "Draco Malfoy, Merry meet. Please forgive my lack of a formal introduction Mrs., but as you've undoubtedly noticed there's another Lady who is currently requiring the entirety of my attention."
Just like in the robe shop beforehand, Draco's Slytherin charm seemed to work wonders, dispelling some of the falseness coating the witch's voice, despite the wariness he could still see lurking in the very depths of her eyes. With a bit of genuine warmth, she stated, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Merry meet, to you too, Mr. Malfoy. Felina Rossbore. This shop belongs to me."
Sending a fond smile down to the kitten curled up in his arms, Mrs. Rossbore explained with a sharpness he would not have thought her capable of. "She's a very special one, you know? Shy, but you can already tell that she's going to be a right handful when she's a bit older! Wampus blood breeds them wilder than most, quick on their feet and with the spirit of the Great Warrior. Certainly not a silly children's pet, Mr. Malfoy and not a toy to be used and then discarded when another fancy strikes your interest. Despite her youth she's seen way too much of human cruelty already, I owe it to her to find her a good home."
Well, that came out of nowhere!
Torn between amusement at the obvious error in his initial assessment of Felina Rossbore and the instant indignation the witch's doubt had caused to well inside of him, Draco drawled, ignoring the little voice in his head that told him that the shopkeeper was just doing her job. And a good one at that… Insisting to be sure that her charges grew up in a caring environment. "How unusually direct of you, Mrs. Rossbore! If we are both at liberty to speak so freely, then would you care to tell me why exactly you deem it appropriate to call my good character into question?"
Visibly steeling her resolve, Felina Rossbore answered sharply. "I've already told you my reasons. Malfoy or not, the perceived slight against your 'good character' doesn't matter to me in the slightest! What matters, is that this little kitten is the only survivor of her litter, after some heartless bastard tried to drown them during a raid of the local blackmarket and that she deserves nothing but the best. So I'll definitely not sell her, unless you can guarantee to me that she'll be well cared for!"
At least that explains the memory from earlier. No wonder that she's so protective of the kitten.
Impressed by the shopkeeper's fiery conviction, most likely a former Gryffindor, Draco chuckled lightly, once again managing to catch the witch off guard. "So what do you propose, Mrs. Rossbore? How shall I win your approval? A wizards bond? An unbreakable vow? Would my word suffice? Or do you require an oath on magic itself?"
By now, Draco could almost feel the watchful gazes of his mother and Severus following the more or less heated exchange with notable interest, even though both of them refrained from stepping in prematurely. A quiet demonstration of trust in his negotiating abilities, which gave the blonde wizard a healthy boost of quiet satisfaction.
"I don't..."
"You see, with all due respect, Mrs. Rossbore, and I'm certainly not unappreciative of your passion on the subject, I have to respectfully disagree with you on quite the crucial point. Your opinion of my character is by no means inconsequential to this discussion." He paused for effect, before he continued with a sardonic smirk. "Right now, I could easily use a thousand words to reassure you of my earnestness... Could promise to move heaven and earth on behalf of this little cat and yet there's little to no guarantee that you'll consider me sincere. If you can't bring yourself to believe in my integrity, then all my pretty words would be wasted, wouldn't they?"
Who'd have thought that I'd have to make use of my experiences in politics, while trying to buy a cat? You're already a bunch of trouble, little one…
Felina's eyes looked like they might bulge out of her skull at any moment, presumably at hearing an eleven year old tear through her arguments without the slightest hint of hesitancy. Calm and collected, as if they had been talking about the weather and not Draco's capability of caring for the adorable fluff ball, who had decided to ignore the altercation and take a nap in his arms. Sensing the shopkeeper's inner turmoil, the young wizard said evenly, his earlier reproachfulness evaporating. "Look, Mrs. Rossbore I can understand your concern to a certain extent, so I'm willing to give you my word that I'll provide her with the home that she deserves and nothing less... She seems to like me well enough, don't you think?"
Almost on cue the kitten resumed her purring, proving Draco's point and eliciting a small sigh from Mrs. Rossbore as she said quietly. "Astonishingly so..." Righting her robes, the older witch lowered her head in order to meet Draco's expectant eyes. "I think I owe you an apology, Mr. Malfoy... I've grown quite attached to the little menace, as it would seem. It wasn't within my rights to treat you with such overt suspicion, especially since she seems to be quite attached to you already."
Well I very much prefer the overt kind to the backstabbing one, so…
"No harm done, as far as I am concerned." Waving anz further apology off, Draco moved to the shelves where various pet utensils were laid out for the customers' perusal. "In fact I believe your resolve to protect the animals in your care to be rather admirable. Mrs. Rossbore. Although I won't lie and pretend that your insistency on my lack of responsibility wasn't a tad annoying. Nevertheless, I'd appreciate your expertise, while selecting the necessary everyday items for her. You said she's part Wampus? Do you have a reasonable estimation how much her heritage will show in the end?"
Accepting the offered olive branch with grace, Felina Rossbore eyed the purring cat critically. "Only a quarter at most, but it's rather hard to tell when they are this young... She'll be larger than most other breeds, kneazles included. Collars probably won't be to her liking and she already prefers fresh strips of meat to any kind of specifically prepared cat food. Other than that I can't think of any peculiarities that would set her apart from any other cat... "
So you haven't used your abilities on Felina...
The petty thought prompted a small grin to make an appearance on Draco's face, as he followed the middle-aged witch through the shop, his mother and Severus joining them with the occasional helpful interjections, while they selected a set of dark, wooden bowls completed with permanent stasis charms and one with a regularly refilling water supply. A self-cleaning toilet, covered in glamours so it would resemble a quiet hide out in a forested area, shielded from prying eyes by the surrounding thicket.
The cozy pet bed they had ended up with was actually intended for large dog breeds, but according to Mrs. Rossbore there was a fair chance that the kitten would outgrow the others that had been on offer. On Narcissa's insistence they had even added two magical toys, a wooden sparrow to encourage the cat to practice her hunting skills and a charmed glove to offer petting sessions whenever Draco would find himself to be preoccupied.
By the time they had finally stepped out of the shop, the kitten had woken up and settled herself on Draco's shoulder, the fur softly tickling his ear as they quickly moved towards the nearest apparition point.
"Oh, Draco... She's truly magnificent! Have you already settled on a name for her, mon cheri? I've always been quite impartial to Atalanta, you know? There where some times when I thought... And given her history the name seems even more fitting, the poor thing. The original Atalanta as you may recall, was a fierce huntress, abandoned by her family and left to die on a mountaintop and thereby forced to grow up in the wilderness."
Still mulling the idea over, Draco felt how the kitten pressed her head against his, projecting feelings of contentment and approval, followed by an image of his mother mid-sentence.
'Atalanta'
The kitten's pronunciation was slightly off, which Draco supposed to be an inevitable result of translating the name back and forth, but her meaning could not have been clearer at this point. Smiling ominously the blonde wizard reached for his mother's hand, giving it a quick squeeze, while exchanging a short glance with Severus who had moved closer to the proud witch. His calm presence offering as much comfort as the potions master was able to give her in such a public setting.
"Atalanta it is, then."
And with those words the world began to spin around them, the apparition pulling them back to Malfoy Manor.
17th of August 1991
Zabini Residence
Kent
England
Draco Malfoy,
Oh, mate, whatever would I've done without the joys of your unfiltered cynicism delivered with my morning post. I'll keep it brief. By no means such a veritable epithet as you've produced, even if the ground we've to cover in such a limited form of communication is obviously quite substantial.
As for your first question, as well as the following twenty or so, I'd say it's not the right time to immerse ourselves in the innumerable 'What Ifs' of our current predicament. Nothing good will ever come of it.
Regarding your suggestion that I could abstain from playing any role in the upcoming war effort, there's little space I want to waste on contradicting such a ludicrous idea. Just so you know, there's no way you are going to get rid of me now, mate. We are in this together. Although, Merlin, you can be terribly daft sometimes... 'No strong bonds connecting you to either side' my arse! Even if I didn't consider you to be family, leaving you to sort out this fucking shit storm all on your own, would be a bloody terrible way to pay back the life debt I still owe you.
Yeah I noticed as much... Charlie used to say that someone clearheaded should have seen from the start that a war couldn't be won by relying on a single prophecy and vague promises, but they had been raised their whole life in an environment where Dumbledore's authority was not to be questioned. Then he died and all the little cracks they'd tried to ignore, began to show in the facade. Charlie could be terribly bitter from time to time. I'm not sure who he blamed more... The headmaster for gambling away any chance they might have had to win against the Dark Lord, or his parents for buying into the old man's rhetoric.
I'll stop calling you a swot if you just stopped that old and tired Hufflepuff nonsense already. It's been ten years... Don't you think that would be the right time to get over it?
Ugh. Occlumency lessons, why am I so not looking forward to those?
Kudos, to doing all that research... Swot... Do you think the four weeks I've spent almost dying from a fever might have counted as Time's sacrifice? I mean it wasn't exactly a pleasant experience, was it?
Can't say I disagree on the part wit the changes, though if I'm perfectly honest I wouldn't have thought about the continuity problems in the first place...
Being dead in the future we try to prevent from happening actually doesn't bother me as much as it probably should... I mean life wasn't exactly sunshine and roses, so there's not exactly much I could miss!
The fact that we're eleven, though, creeps me out quite a bit. Even more so when I think about seeing Theo again... And not the hateful caricature he's turned into, the man who betrayed me and then handed me over to the Dark Lord, but the person he used to be. The wizard I fell in love with.
Can you even separate the one from the other?
Not to mention that Theo is fucking ELEVEN, mate. I'd feel like a bloody pervert, even if it was just talking to him, not anything with some sort of romantic or even sexual connotation. Talk about disturbing!
Transfiguration's still a pain in the ass, the E on my NEWT notwithstanding, but yes, I agree that it doesn't appear as if our magical capacity has suffered from the time reversal.
As for our behaviour at Hogwarts, now that's definitely a point which warrants careful consideration... At first glance keeping our abilities quiet seems like the sensible thing to do. Just like you said, we really don't need to attract more attention than absolutely necessary.
However, the war is fast approaching and given the fact that we can't exactly trust the Order to handle things responsibly, the importance of positioning at least one of us in a position of power might outweigh the risks. You were well respected as the Prince of Slytherin but you need to accumulate considerably more influence if we are to have any hope at fracturing the support the Dark Lord commands as the last living heir of our house.
Not to mention we've better things to do than pretend to be challenged by something as mundane as a levitation spell! I might not have been in the same league as you and Granger but there are some limits to my abilities to feign total ignorance.
Speaking of Granger... I am currently working on something regarding our newfound alley. I don't much fancy having to sneak around whenever we want to meet up with her.
I'm sure she'll come around, mate.
Let me know how you want to play the meeting at King's Cross,
Blaise