There was a boy, short, pale and petulant, scowling back at him in the mirror. He still found it difficult to believe it was his own reflection, even a year down the road. Draco wasn't meant to be twelve right now. It wasn't right for him to stand there, knowing about the future, to be aware of all the pain and tragedy that was to come. It was discomforting to realise he was slowly forgetting what he felt and looked like before being thrust into this situation. He spent so much time looking for a solution, but all he had to show for it were countless methods that couldn't bring him back to where he came from. Draco didn't want to admit it, but he was slowly settling into this body and time, despite trying to hang onto his memories.

He guiltily wished someone could step in, alter the future for him so that he'd never have to rise up to the insurmountable task himself. Examining his future mistakes over and over, trying to pinpoint clues and significant moments, now that he had the opportunity to link cause and effect… he hated how little he liked what he saw. After all those years of acting pathetic and weak, he wondered if he ever had the wit or ambition of Slytherin. The way he still shook in fear of what he saw back then seemed more like a Hufflepuff sort of behaviour. He pulled at his sleeve in frustration.

"Do I need to magically unstick you from your reflection?" Pansy disrupted his self-pitying train of thought. "Honestly, and I thought Blaise Zabini was the one obsessed with his looks."

Draco looked up at her reflection. She was sprawled out on an armchair, with inelegance her older self would dread to show to an audience. However, Draco was hardly a stranger, even now - she had seen him at many highs and lows whilst growing up together. If he decided to use any childhood stories against her, it could only result in a certain, mutually assured destruction.

"Well I'm handsome enough to be a little self-absorbed, aren't I?" He drawled with a grin, pretending to guide a stray strand of hair back into place.

"Uh, sure, whatever you say, but come down to earth already. I'm bored!"

He turned around, now getting to see the rest of his room more clearly. Books that were previously piled up on a side table were strewn on the floor around his friend - none of them seemed to capture her attention for long before she moved on. Pansy was never subdued enough to learn alone without sufficient motivation, he recalled in mild amusement. Once, after nearly half an hour of complaining about O.W.Ls revision, she spilled the secret behind her biggest incentive - she found it incredibly fun to later show off her knowledge in a study group. Well, Draco refused to spend his July encouraging her.

"Just because you're technically my guest doesn't mean I have to endlessly amuse you, Parkinson. Don't treat me like some court jester."

"If you don't want to be treated like one, then stop being a joke. And please stop frowning so much. It's the summer holidays, you should be happy!"

It was easy for her to say. Despite looking like a child, his worries and experiences from the war hadn't regressed along with his body to fit the timeline. As far as his research told him, regular time travel magic didn't change the body of the traveller. Was it really absolutely necessary for him to go through puberty again just to have a chance at preventing a second war?

"I'd be happy to grow even an inch," he lamented. "If I didn't ruin a set of school robes getting involved with Gryffindors, I wouldn't even need to get new ones."

"That's true," she stood up and strode over to stand next to him. "Oh look! I've grown taller. Soon enough I'll be towering over you."

"You're nothing but a show off. None of the boys have grown much, either, so I'm the normal one here. Not my fault you decided to turn into a giraffe."

"Are you sure you aren't just shrinking?" She slowly rose onto tiptoes, miming surprise at his diminishing height. In three strides he crossed the room, grabbed a pillow, and threw it in her face.

"Cow!"

"Ponce!"

"Bint."

"Ninny."

"Trollop."

They went back and forth, throwing pillows and crumpled balls of parchment. Pansy ducked behind his bed and emerged equipped with his slippers as new weapons. A pillow he charmed aimed a wide swing at her back and knocked her face first onto the the duvet. She threw a slipper without looking up, narrowly missing an ornate candelabra, which twisted out of the way at the last moment.

"Oh, bugger off you minikin. Go fight with someone your own size! Like a toothpick or a house elf, maybe." She huffed as she wrestled with the charmed pillow.

"What are you, five?" He laughed.

"Yes. Five whole inches taller than you!" He barely dodged the second slipper, which hit with so much force it bounced off the wall and slammed into the mirror. It wobbled a little, and tilted down, but remained standing. Pansy had the decency to look sheepish, and held up her hands in defeat. Draco dropped his spell.

"Sometimes I wonder why I put up with you." He felt a little out of breath.

"Well someone has to tell you what you're like, and the others don't want you getting mad at them."

"But you don't care?"

"I just know you love me and my attitude." Pansy said with a wicked grin. She wasn't wrong, Draco did appreciate her friendship, especially now that he experienced betrayal from other friends after their sixth year. She always supported him, despite complaints.

"I won't confirm or deny that… but you should be careful about whose boundaries you push, or you'll regret it someday. It's all fun and games being mean until everyone starts avoiding you." He meant it in jest and not as a threat, but Pansy looked surprised and stuck in thought for a moment. Then her eyes hardened as she spoke.

"Everyone else is too worried to bother you right now, in case you'll ruin their parents' position with your dad."

That gave him pause.

"What's special about now?" He hadn't noticed anything unusual happening until then.

"There's something going on at the Ministry, and we all know your dad's got a lot of connections to stall whatever it is."

"I haven't heard him say anything, but we haven't spoken much."

"Please don't tell me you're just studying over summer." She rolled her eyes.

"Not as much as I'd like, it's been busy."

He didn't see a problem in studying in his free time. He used to do it in the past, although not nearly as diligently, and usually had to have a strong incentive to learn about anything he found boring. Now, he had a few good sources of motivation to keep him going. They both sat down in the armchairs, flushed from the excitement and exertion of their pillow fight. Pansy remained unusually quiet, her brow furrowed in concentration. Draco took the moment of silence to look out of the window. Curiously enough, he saw their albino peacocks - his father's pride and joy - more leap than fly up onto the tall hedge lining the walkway between the iron gates and the front door of the Manor. With their long tails and stretched out wings, they reminded him of dragons.

He briefly wondered how little Norbert was fairing in Romania. The baby dragon must have grown quite large by now.

"That's right, your trip to France! What did you do? Tell me everything!" Pansy exclaimed, suddenly.

"Everything?" He considered into just how long of a story he could stretch the few days abroad.

"To the tiniest detail, so I can pretend I was there, too. You really should've written all about it to me by now."

In all honesty, his family trip to France wasn't nearly as exciting as Pansy hoped for. Draco glossed over the journey by Portkey, set to depart entirely too early in his opinion, and in just as many words painted a picture of their accommodations. Living in the Malfoy Manor made most places pale in comparison.

"It really was no fun this year, you would've been bored out of your mind. I know I was! Father was very busy the whole time, and I couldn't use magic at all," he complained.

"You must've done something…"

"Well, Mother and I did tour the school there, but that was it. We missed the Veela ballet, only visited Place Cachée briefly… I didn't even have much of a chance to spend any of the Bezants I had left from our last trip. Merlin, they wouldn't let me go to a bookshop alone!" He sneered. The last one stung the most, since Draco hoped to find some books on time travel that weren't easily found in England. "I snuck out once, of course, but it's near impossible to get to from the Muggle side. I even had to ask some Muggles for directions to get back. They were extremely rude! One of them asked if I was spinning a 'vidéoclip', whatever that means, because of my robes-"

"That's more your fault for not wearing muggle clothes like you should, isn't it?" Pansy teased.

"Why would I want to look like them ?" He complained.

She looked at the door, checking for Draco's parents in the doorway. Finding it clear, she whispered excitedly.

"One of my cousins showed me a Muggle clothing magazine. Did you know their pictures don't move? How bizarre, and so inconvenient! How can you see the model from every direction if they don't spin around?"

"I know." He said, but his input wasn't necessary, she continued on regardless.

"Anyway, I think some of their clothes look interesting. All the materials are nothing like what our robes are made of. Not to mention it all looks so wonderfully impractical without charms to make it light and comfortable." Draco never noticed her this excited about something Muggle, he wondered whether it was a strange, random change to the timeline, or if she simply didn't think he would react kindly to the secret before. "The Muggles I've seen in London never dress as fun as they do in the magazines, though."

"I think the whole point of wearing muggle clothes is to blend in. Why would you stoop so low to wear them if you still stand out?" He didn't see anything particularly appealing about the Muggle clothes he'd seen so far.

"Says the one who threw a tantrum when his mother said his favourite bright yellow robes were too small for him. You wore those everywhere, and I'm pretty certain they were dress robes. Or when you refused to come out of your room when I accidentally turned your hair brown," she flashed a toothy grin, showing off the slight gap between her front teeth. "Don't pretend you don't like standing out, too."

His cheeks grew warm.

"I was four! Why are you like this-"

"What, fantastic, talented, smart?"

"Out of three you got nil, so you're about as accurate as usual."

She scrunched her face in frustration. "Your lips are moving, but I'm not hearing anything. I'll take accurate as a compliment, though."

"If you're that desperate for one, then go ahead."

Pansy shook her head.

"How did you spend a whole week in France and not tan even a little." She pulled back his sleeve and compared the complexions of their forearms. "I swear you're more pale than you were at the end-of-year feast."

"I'm always lighter than you are, and as I said, we didn't get out much."

"Your dad was really that busy?"

"Yes, but it might've been for the better. You wouldn't believe how awkward it was after I told them about last term."

"So they weren't too enthusiastic about your Gryffindor-related antics?"

"Pansy, please. You think I willingly said anything about that? After I swore you all to secrecy? No, that I'm taking to the grave."

"Oh.. was it the exams? I can't believe it."

"I think I pushed it too far last time, when I said Granger is my biggest academic rival. They haven't forgotten it yet." He fiddled with his sleeve, trying to flatten out the creases.

"It's been since what, Christmas? And you beat her in some subjects, too."

"But not all, and she bested me in some in turn. It's hard for them to make peace with their sole heir merely being equal to a Muggleborn…" he scowled.

He had been a little frustrated that despite his effort to give the exams his all, he had barely matched Granger's grades. She really was setting out to be the brightest witch of a generation. He did find his ambition to also be named the brightest wizard had reignited upon travelling back to a simpler time, but he knew there were other things to worry about before exams season came along again.

"Their opinion doesn't matter as long as you're alright with how you did. Are you?"

"Yes, I am. It's given me some things to consider."

"What do you mean?"

Test scores were hardly the only reason to make him doubt, but either way Draco was stumbling into increasingly more inexplicable statements when it came to blood purity. He was slowly beginning to come to terms with finding the answers his parents and whole pure-blood society gave to be lacking. Perhaps there really weren't any significant differences between Muggleborns and other witches and wizards. Unfortunately, he still wasn't sure how to express these thoughts without ending up ostracised as a blood traitor. He knew he would have to figure out how to bring it up to his parents eventually, if he continued on against the Dark Lord.

"That I should've gone to Beauxbatons instead. No Gryffindors, no Dumbledore, no crazy, life-threatening mysteries to solve. Imagine how much better my grades would be then." He joked instead of breaching the topic.

She laughed. They both knew he would sooner end up in the cold and severe Durmstrang, since the French were much too lax on pure-blood traditions for his parents' comfort.

"The whole school looks much more dignified, there are so many more students, and they have some world-renowned alumni." He rattled off what he remembered from tour. "You know, we have distant relations living in a chateau in Normandy. I could've been admitted, too, I bet…"

"You're certainly pretty enough to go there." She mocked.

Hoping to avoid more teasing, and with the well of experiences in France to draw from running dry, Draco changed the topic back to England.

"So, what have I missed, what's everyone worried about?"

"The Ministry is acting up, apparently. They've got some new plan cooked up by some low-grade Ministry guy, looking for magical objects, especially Dark magic."

"Who's been targeted so far?"

"The Rosiers and the Burzynskis. Perun and Morana said it was humiliating - their family haven't even been around for the war! The Ministry must have thought they brought some things over when they immigrated, or something. I know your dad's been putting pressure on the Ministry to stop them, but everyone's on edge." It was obvious she was angry on her friend's behalf for having her house raided. He didn't ask whether they found anything there. If they did, he didn't want to know. She took a deep, calming breath and continued.

"I don't really see the issue in having some Dark items here and there, as long as we don't use them. You can do just as much damage with a pair of self-knitting needles. Apparently some Muggle almost died because of a cursed kettle, and that's why they're all up in arms about it."

There was a degree of truth to her statement. Not only were any magical artefacts equally in breach of the Statute of Secrecy as far as the Ministry was concerned, even everyday enchantments could pose a real threat to Muggles, who couldn't control the items. Yet Dark and cursed objects were often far more lethal, and more likely to be weaponised. He knew it from experience. Lost in thought about these raids, he suddenly remembered that summer's visit to Borgin and Burke's with his father, who was trying to sell something to them. He couldn't believe he forgot about the shop which weighed down on him for a whole year. If he didn't see the cursed vanishing cabinet in it again it would still be a day too soon.

Paying closer attention to his parents ever since Pansy left that day, he quickly noticed some tension, which he previously dismissed as disappointment with him. While caught up both with trying to revert his condition and thinking far ahead, he accidentally forgot to pay attention to the present. Now that he was more aware, and remembered about those raids, he'd have to be blind to not see that something was up. Draco had to find out more, in case there were other things he forgot, or was too busy playing around to hear about in the first place. Maybe there were clues to find about stopping the Dark Lord, especially if these magical objects and raids were involved somehow.

It was difficult finding his parents together during the daytime, besides mealtimes. His father was often out, doing what Draco now knew was more serious than paying simple, friendly visits to his acquaintances in the Ministry. His mother, in turn, rarely left him alone. They studied together, and looked after plants in the greenhouse when she had the time. Everything carried on as normal, until almost a week had passed.

It was a gloomy morning, and when his father mentioned he would be staying home that day at breakfast, Draco quickly claimed he planned to make use of the heavy summer rain to get some reading done in the library. He made sure to leave the door ajar, and cast a sound amplifying charm that older Slytherins always used during common room parties. He would know it if his parents did anything to disturb the silence in nearby rooms. A couple hours later he heard the sound of his father's footsteps stutter across the hallway, and diminish as he walked to the drawing room. Distant sounds of a conversation between his parents reached him, and he bolted up, hoping something would come of his wait.

Draco tiptoed to the drawing room door to eavesdrop, earning himself a conspiratorial wink from Septimus Malfoy's portrait.

"- telling you those blood traitors don't know their place. They've been sticking their noses where they don't belong far too long." Lucius' voice felt thunderous despite being only as loud as usual.

Narcissa must have nodded in agreement, because he resumed the tirade.

"That Weasley's grasping onto whatever perks came with his kid becoming a lackey of the Boy Who Lived. He's getting too cocky for my liking, trying to change how the Ministry has always operated."

He somewhat regretted telling his parents about the Philosopher's Stone and the Gryffindors' involvement in the whole affair, but it was very likely they would've heard the gossip through another students' parents. Not only that, since Draco rarely hid anything from them, they would become suspicious of him, and he couldn't afford to be distracted or mistrusted. So he carefully omitted his involvement and asked his friends to keep it quiet, too. They understood, thankfully, even though most of them were probably convinced he was only ashamed of his connection to blood traitors and Muggleborns. Whatever their reasons, Draco appreciated their confidence.

"How could some petty criminals and wizards playing pranks on Muggles have anything to do with us? Are you afraid they'll come knocking, Lucius?"

"Some miscreants pilfered from the Rookwood family home. Their protective wards must have been exceptionally poor, to give out in only eleven years." He scoffed. "Now that some Muggles got their claws on their heirlooms, and suffered the consequences, the Ministry thinks it wise to ensure no other family can leave such items behind. There's talk of a strict Muggle Protection Act."

"Have they begun visiting our acquaintances?" She asked, worried.

"Some, but the Aurors and office monkeys know better than to go after the honourable houses and their associates. For now."

"I heard there's been some tension with experimental charms, too. Could you believe that they expect you to obtain permits to cast magic in your own home? Preposterous."

"The Ministry has every one of these fools dancing to their tune, with nothing more than mere bureaucracy. There's no honour or respect for advancement of the magical Arts anymore. They'd sooner see us all turn into Squibs."

Draco knew they had many objects that would be considered dangerous to Muggles in the Manor, he heard stories of them from a young age, to discourage him from ever reaching for them while playing around. His family was always very proud of their animosity towards anything non-magical, despite quite a portion of their wealth coming from business with Muggles before the Statute of Secrecy was put in place.

They fell quiet. He turned around and took a few steps back, afraid of getting caught, when he heard his mother's faint murmur.

"We best keep this from Draco. I don't want him scared of these leeches all summer."

"Do you really believe he's noticed anything with his nose stuck in the books?" He wasn't exactly wrong, Draco wouldn't have noticed anything yet if it weren't for Pansy. "Rightfully so, I might add, since he can't even beat a filthy mudblood-"

"Lucius." She cut in with a warning tone, bringing his father back on track. He cleared his throat.

"Alright… I agree, but what do you suggest?"

"… While I'd rather have some peace at home, we should invite his friends over more often. They'll undoubtedly keep him occupied."