Chapter 3

I feel a crack inside –

the sound of something breaking

I know the feeling well

I want to self-destruct

Burn my whole life to the ground

I've been here before

I know how it goes

This is the only way

I know how to be

There are no words left

and nothing is growing

-Lang Leav

Present Time: January 2000 / Draco's Time: Same as present

"Where were you?" Dawlish repeated for the fourth time.

Draco shrugged. "I told you. No matter how many times you ask, my answer isn't going to change."

"Yes, yes, you were transported to a dream world in your mind. That's a bullshit excuse and we both know it. You didn't just disappear from your precious Manor, leaving your father to battle those artifacts alone-" Draco's stomach turned as he thought of his father and he flooded more Occlumency into his mind.

"- you disappeared off the map, triggering the alarm. Which means you weren't in England. Which means…" He paused for emphasis while Draco wondered if these interrogation tactics ever worked. "… that you have an illegal Portkey somewhere," he finished dramatically.

Draco resisted the urge to snort.

"You're going to tell me where you've hidden it, where you went with it, and what you were doing there."

"I told you," Draco replied coolly, "there's no Portkey. One of the artifacts in the room must have touched me in the explosion and transported me away. It didn't feel like the tug of a Portkey. And I didn't appear in another country, but in another version of the Manor, some other dimension that's not part of this reality."

"And I told you," Dawlish countered, "that I saw you reappear right in front of me which means not only was your mind gone, but your body too. Where. Did. You. Go?" Dawlish pounded on the desk with each word, clearly attempting to intimidate Draco.

"I don't know," Draco replied calmly, but Draco wasn't feeling calm at all. Underneath his Occlumency Shields, he was a mess. When he'd returned from wherever he'd been with that other Draco, he found himself in the middle of chaos. The parlor looked like a giant had picked it up and shaken it. There was a large hole on the south side, revealing more damage in some of the adjacent rooms but before Draco could investigate further, he was detained and brought here, to the Auror offices.

He focused back on Dawlish, who was pacing the room now. "You know what I think happened, Malfoy?" he asked when he saw Draco looking at him.

Draco shrugged.

"I think you Apparated out of that room, leaving your father behind, and took advantage of the chaos to contact an international correspondent or two. Perhaps it was something you and your father planned ahead of time – he'd create a distraction so you could skip town, shore up a few illegal deals…"

Dawlish stopped in front of the table, then placed his palms on the surface, leaning toward Draco. "But the commotion your father created became too much," Dawlish continued nastily, "landing your father in St. Mungo's."

Draco's jaw clenched and he released even more Occlumency into his mind.

"I can see the Occlumency behind your eyes. What are you hiding, boy?"

My father is dying. I'm hiding tears you fucking wanker.

Draco's hands were shaking and he linked them together under the table to steady them. Just then, the door opened and Potter walked in. Great, as if this moment couldn't get any worse, now Harry Potter was going to be here when Draco finally lost it.

Potter talked to Dawlish in hushed tones, then Dawlish gave Draco a final glare before storming out of the interrogation room, slamming the door behind him. Potter sighed and took a seat in the chair in front of Draco, deflating slightly.

They watched each other for several awkward moments, then Potter said, "I guess I'll just come out and say it. Your father is about to die. The injuries he sustained at your house were too much for the Mediwizards to heal. I-" Potter faltered and dropped Draco's gaze.

"We don't have anything on you, as I'm sure you know," he continued. "There was too much going on in that parlor for us to pin down what sort of magic took you out of the country for an hour. I'm going to let you go, so you can see your father before he – er – passes. They have him suspended now, waiting for you."

Draco just nodded. As soon as he'd seen the parlor, he knew the other Draco's claim that his father would die was true. Potter's words were just a confirmation of what he'd already accepted but hearing them still hurt. He felt like a knife had been plunged into his lungs, causing a sharp pain in his chest and restricting his breathing.

Draco's breaths were coming out shallow and quick and he had to focus all his energy on slowing them down. He really didn't want to fall apart in front of Potter. Not again. Though he was fairly certain Potter wouldn't hex him this time if he started crying, so that was something.

After Draco had his breathing under control, he looked back at Potter who was watching him, worriedly. "You can go now," he repeated. "I took the case over from Dawlish and I'm letting you go."

"What are you looking for, Potter? Another medal?"

Potter ignored him and stood up, then pulled Draco's wand out of his pocket and held it out for him. Draco took the wand and rose from the table. He was in no hurry to watch his father die but knew he should be there for his mother, even though he had no idea how he was supposed to comfort her.

Potter held the door open for Draco and when he was a few paces into the hall (which was, thankfully, empty), he called his name.

Draco sighed and turned around. "You don't have to comfort me or say you're sorry for my loss. We both know it would be a lie."

"I wasn't going to say that. I was just going to say you could use the Apparition Point at the end of the hall, so you can get there faster."

"Oh," Draco replied lamely. Then, before he could consider what he was saying, or why, he blurted, "I didn't leave him willingly to battle all those artifacts alone. I would never do that." Draco took another deep breath and stared back at Potter defiantly. He didn't know what had come over him, but a part of him needed someone else to understand.

Potter nodded. "I believe you."

"You do?"

Potter just shrugged.

"I don't care, for the record."

Potter rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Malfoy. And I am sorry. Not for Lucius. He's the reason my godfather is dead and I've never forgiven him for that, but I'm sorry for you. No one should have to lose a parent."

Fucking Potter. Why did he have to be so fucking sincere? For a moment, Draco was back in that pub where he'd apologized to Potter over a year ago, while Potter watched him that sympathetic gaze of his that always made Draco feel sick.

Stop stalling. Mother needs you. Draco sighed, gave Potter a final nod, then continued walking down the hall.

A few hours later, Draco and his mother returned from St. Mungo's. The Aurors were gone, as were all the Dark Artifacts, and the house elves had already begun cleaning up the damage left behind. When Draco and his mother arrived in the parlor, Draco dismissed the elves.

Once the room was empty, his mother walked right to the spot where his father had been working several hours ago. Draco wondered how she'd known where to go, then spotted the blood on the floor. His stomach turned, but he wasn't worried about retching. He'd already emptied the contents of his stomach at St. Mungo's, right after the Mediwizards pronounced his father officially dead.

"Mother," Draco began, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat and started again. "Mother, I didn't leave on purpose. I promise."

Narcissa nodded silently. So far, she hadn't shed so much as a tear, but Draco knew her well enough to know she was crumbling behind her façade. He could see it in the way her shoulders slumped slightly and by the dullness of her eyes, which looked more grey than blue right now.

"He would be glad," she said, her voice devoid of all emotion. She walked to where Draco was standing and placed a hand on his shoulder. The mask of indifference she'd been wearing all day slipped a little and Draco saw a glimmer of the devastation she was feeling in her eyes. His chest tightened painfully and his eyes welled with tears.

"He would be glad you were transported away. He wouldn't have wanted you there. Your father wanted nothing more than for you to be safe, Draco."

Draco nodded, unsure what to say. He wanted to comfort her but was at a complete loss for how to do so. "I'm so sorry, Mother," was all he managed to come up with. It didn't seem anywhere close to enough.

"I know, Draco. It wasn't your fault." She let out a long sigh and Draco watched her rearrange her face and make it stoic again. "How was the Auror Office?"

"It was fine," Draco said quickly, eager for an opportunity to reassure her. He grabbed both of her hands and gave them a comforting squeeze. "Don't worry about the Aurors, I'll take care of them. I'll take care of everything, Mother."

She gave him a sad smile, then patted his cheek before excusing herself for the night. Once she was gone, Draco finally released the tears he'd been holding in all day. He began pacing the room while warm tears streamed down his face.

Pieces of glass and debris crunched under his shoes as he walked the length of the room. Every object in the room, from the furniture, to the portraits, to the books on the shelf, had been torn to pieces. Nothing was left whole. It was a nice metaphor for his life.

It hadn't been a spectacular life or anything, he'd still been recovering from the war and if he was honest, he did feel a bit lonely, like the other Draco had said, but he had his family, he was free, and he had countless prospects. All in all, it was a good life. But now, with Father gone, everything was destroyed. Nothing looked like it did before and Draco wasn't sure he'd be able to put the pieces back together again.

Draco paced the room a few more times, then sighed and turned toward the hall. When he reached the doorway (which no longer had a door in the frame), he turned back and glared at the piles of rubble. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and muttered, "Accio Time Turner Pieces." Three small pieces of glass zoomed into his hand from one of the far piles. Draco closed his hand around them and winced slightly when the pieces cut into his skin.

The other Draco had told him to find these pieces and keep them safe, claiming that if he didn't, he'd become lost in time. Draco had no idea if all that had been real but decided to heed the other wizard's advice on the off chance it was, since the last thing Draco needed right now was another complication.

He'd lock these in the safe, take a long bath, and go to sleep. If he was lucky, when he woke up, he'd be in another reality again. He wouldn't even mind having to spend time with that other version of himself. Draco would rather be anywhere else than where he was right now.

Unfortunately, when Draco woke up the next day, he was in the same depressing reality he'd fallen asleep in. And for the rest of the week, he continued to wake up and find himself in the same hell.

He busied himself with sorting out the logistics of taking over for his father as head of the estate. He had meetings at Gringotts to transfer all the family vaults to his name, meetings with money managers to revise their investment strategies, and meetings with the heads of all the boards Lucius served on to find temporary stand-ins while Draco decided if carrying on as his father had done was something he wanted to do.

He was deferring that decision to later. For now, he was trying to take care of all the short-term business concerns, determined to make this as easy as possible for his mother. She'd said there was nothing Lucius wanted more than Draco safe, which may have been true, but Draco was sure the thing his father wanted secondly, was for his wife to be happy. Which is where Draco came in. Now that Lucius was gone, it was his job to take care of her.

She was handling his father's death similarly to how Draco was, by keeping herself busy. She was determined to fix up the rooms that had been damaged in the accident as quickly as possible, meeting almost constantly with designers and the construction firm she'd hired the day after Lucius's death. By the end of the week, the walls and floors of all the damaged rooms were mended and all that was left to be done was decorating the interiors.

"I'm not going to decorate the parlor. I'm leaving it empty," Narcissa said as she and Draco walked out to the edge of the estate, where Father was being buried. Her thoughts had obviously been very close to his. Draco just nodded back, thinking about the other parlor he'd appeared in and how it had been completely empty.

"And once the house elves finish moving your things from London, the Manor will recognize you as a resident again and we can complete the spell to transfer ownership to you."

Draco's heart clenched and tears stung his eyes, so all he managed to get out was a low hum. Narcissa stopped on the path and turned to face Draco, resting her hands on his arms.

"I know it's hard and that after the spell is cast, it will feel final, but we need to protect the Manor. As it stands now, all the protections are frozen and anyone can come and go as they please. We-"

"Yes, Mother," Draco cut in. "I understand. We'll complete the spell after…" He couldn't bring himself to say the words, so just cocked his head toward the spot where he knew his father's casket was waiting for them. He sighed, then pulled his father's ring out of his shirt. It was hanging on a chain, an idea he'd had from the other Draco since he couldn't imagine wearing it on his finger and having to look at it all day long. "I'm ready."

She gave him a sad smile, then patted his cheek. "Just a few more things to take care of, Draco, then you can take a break. You've been working so hard."

Again, their thoughts were aligned. Draco was just thinking how in a matter of hours, he'd be in his room with no more items requiring his attention. He could down a bottle of Fire Whiskey, get into bed, and never get out. Two more tasks (the funeral and the spell), then he could let himself go.

They continued walking in silence, stopping several moments later in front of the casket, which was resting next to a large hole in the ground the house elves had prepared earlier. "Are you sure he'd have been okay with this?" Draco asked, his eyes fixed on the casket. "Just us?"

She grabbed his hand, but Draco kept his gaze forward. He saw from his periphery that she was also focused on the casket in front of them.

"Your father would have understood that we didn't need to plan a big funeral right now. That we didn't need a whole day of entertaining and empty words. We didn't need people here who didn't really love him, or even like him, who just wanted to be seen at an exclusive event. Reporters who would comment on what we wore afterwards, instead of what a great man he was."

Draco looked over at her, surprised to find her speaking so nastily about a society she was such an active part of. She looked over at him and finished with a small smirk, "He would have been fine with just us."

Draco leaned against her and she wrapped an arm around him. Thank Merlin she was here. He didn't know what he'd do without her. Draco looked up at the sky as he blinked back tears. It was unseasonably clear today, which was disappointing. It should be grey and rainy, to mirror how he was feeling. Of course the weather hadn't cooperated. Nothing was going as it should anymore.

Draco sighed and stepped away from his mother. "Do you want to say something before I – you know?"

She nodded and looked back at the casket. She waited several moments before speaking. "I loved you Lucius, the whole time. Through my mistakes in the beginning, your mistakes near the end, and our shared mistakes in between. I loved you through the good times too, starting a life together, raising Draco, and-"

Her voice broke and she dropped her head. Draco handed her a handkerchief and she dabbed her eyes a few times before continuing. "And now that you're gone, I'm going to try to be strong, because I know you would have wanted that. But a big part of me is with you, wherever you are. Please keep it safe and you can give it back to me when we see each other again."

Draco's chest clenched painfully as his mind echoed with the words the other version of himself had told him last week. "Romantic love…that's never made sense. But you know it's real. Look at our parents, they love each other like that, but maybe you're not capable of it."

Draco poured Occlumency into his mind to clear the thoughts away. He needed to keep it together. Just two more things to take care of, then he could let go. His mother was crying silently now and he waited a few moments for her to be finished before speaking. "That was beautiful, Mother. I don't have anything that eloquent to say."

"That's okay, just say what's in your heart."

Draco nodded and turned toward the casket. "I wish you were still here, Father." At just those words, tears begin streaming down his face. So much for keeping it together. "I wasn't ready for you to leave," he continued through his tears, his voice strained, "and I'm worried I'm not going to be able to do it alone."

Narcissa hugged him and Draco dipped his head against her shoulder as he cried. "You're not alone, Draco," she said as she rubbed his back. Draco was glad she'd agreed to forgo the big funeral. If they were surrounded by people right now, he wouldn't be able to collapse into her like this, like a small child.

She whispered reassurances in his ear, but her words didn't quell the hollow feeling in his chest. After several more moments, when Draco had regained control, he straightened, pulled his wand out of his robes, and lowered the casket into the ground. Once it was in place, he and his mother turned back to the house. The house elves would come to fill in the grave later.

When they reached the path Narcissa nudged Draco's arm. "You have a visitor." Draco glowered at the figure in dark robes, leaning under a tree thirty feet up the path. His mother nodded at the man, then Draco. "I'll meet you inside so we can take care of that spell."

"I'll be right there," he replied darkly, still looking at the wizard. Draco took a deep breath, then stomped up the path to meet Theo. "I told you not to come," he barked once he reached the tree.

Theo just shrugged. "I obviously didn't listen."

"What is this? You want to bond because we both have dead fathers now? I'm not interested. We're nothing alike. I actually respected my father. You have no idea what-" Draco cut off. He was suddenly reminded of what the other Draco had told him. "You'll convince yourself no one understands, that you're special."

"I get it, you're special," Theo replied, as if reading his thoughts. "Even in grief, you're better than all of us. I'm just here, I guess."

"Why?" Draco sneered.

Theo shrugged again. "Someone should be here for you. Your best mates died in the war, Blaise would make inappropriate jokes, Astoria and Daphne would be too clingy, but me, I don't know, I didn't think I was that bad of an option. I can just stand here quietly and look sullen. Plus, I liked your father."

Draco was oddly touched by Theo's words, but he fought hard to keep it from showing on his face. "Fine. You did your piece, now go."

Theo looked hurt for a moment, but he hid it quickly. "Okay. I'll go."

As Draco watched him walk away, the other Draco's words echoed in his mind again. "Loneliness is a choice, Draco, one you've been making for years. But at any time, you can change your mind."

Present Time: November 2000 / Draco's Time: February 2000

A few weeks later, Draco was lying flat on his bed, studying the cracks on the ceiling, when he was overcome with a feeling of intense vertigo. The room felt like it was spinning and he had to close his eyes to keep from retching. Several seconds later, he disappeared, then reappeared in a chair behind a desk.

Draco jumped out of the chair and paced the room, stumbling slightly. He stopped and held his hand up to his head. He couldn't figure out if he was dizzy from suddenly being transported or from the half bottle of Fire Whiskey and various Potions he'd drunk last night.

Draco took another tentative step and the room continued to spin around him. He gripped a nearby shelf to keep from falling over. Damn. He knew it had been a bad idea to mix Potions with alcohol. It always made him feel blissfully numb, but it faded after a few hours, leaving him feeling sick and emptier than he had before. He hadn't thought it would be a problem, since he had no plans to leave the house today, but the universe obviously had other ideas.

At that thought, Draco slowly scanned the room, being careful not to move his head too quickly. It turned out he hadn't left the house. He recognized this as one of the smaller sitting rooms in the Manor which seemed to have been converted into a study. There were papers spread across the desk but he knew if he went to investigate those, it would just hurt his head.

Instead, he crossed the room to the window and opened it. The air was cold and it seemed to be about the same time of day it had been back in his bedroom – mid-morning. Where was he? Was he in the future? If so, where was the other Draco?

He patted his body, then swore when he realized he didn't have his wand on him. At a loss for anything else to do, he called a house elf. "Finley," he whispered as he lowered himself into the chair behind the desk again.

A small, male elf appeared in the room. His eyes widened as soon as he saw Draco, but he was a professional and hid his surprise quickly. "You called, Master Draco?"

"I, yes." A part of him hadn't thought that would work. "Um, I need, uh…" Draco hesitated. He didn't know what he needed, besides someone to tell him what the fuck was going on, and he doubted Finley would be able to do that.

"Potions?" the elf provided.

"Yeah, good idea. Potions. Um, Rejuvenation Potion, a General Nutrient one would be good, that Hangover concoction Tippy makes, and…"

"Brain Elixir, Sir?" Finley added.

"Yes." Draco had never tried taking Brain Elixir when he had a hangover, but that was a clever idea. It should work to clear the fog in his brain and allow him to use Occlumency to push the bad thoughts away until he could find his way to another bottle of Fire Whiskey. Finley was about to leave, but Draco held a hand up to keep him in place.

"Before you go, tell me, who's in the house now?"

"Just you and your Mother, sir. Mistress Narcissa is working in the garden."

"Okay, and when you say I'm here, you mean, just me?" Draco knew it was a strange question, but something flashed in Finley's eyes before he answered it.

"You is here, sir. You are the real Master Draco. We is able to feel our masters, sir."

"What makes you say I'm real? Why wouldn't I be?"

The elf backed away and started nervously pulling on his ears.

"Answer the question," Draco ordered.

"You look different from an hour ago when I brought your tea," he answered quickly, "lots different. But we can feel our masters, so you may seem different but you're my master. It is not my business, sir. I am knowing this."

Draco sighed. Everything made less sense than when he'd started talking to the elf. If he was in the future, like the other Draco said, then where was the other Draco? According to Finley, he wasn't in this world, whatever that meant, but it sounded like he'd been here an hour ago.

Finley was backing out of the room again. "Before you go, tell me today's date, Finley."

"November 2, 2000, Sir."

Draco frowned. Finley was still frozen in place, so Draco waved him away. Once the elf was gone, Draco swore. Was he actually in the future? Or was he imagining this? There was no way to know. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes as he waited for Finley to bring back his Potions.

Draco was trying to think of a way to prove whether these were elaborate hallucinations or not when Finley reappeared. The elf lined the Potions out on the desk and disappeared as quickly as possible. He was clearly afraid of Draco, and Draco knew how Finley felt, he was afraid too.

He downed the Potions in quick succession and immediately felt better. His mind was clear and he felt a rush of energy. He knew it would pass soon, as the effects of Potions always did, but was glad to have the ability to walk around the room without stumbling, for now. He made his way to the door, then paused with his hand on the doorknob.

He may be in a room that looked like it was in the Manor, and he may even have been able to call a house elf, but that didn't mean this was real. Magic could operate in very mysterious ways. And he was without his wand, so had to stay on guard. Maybe he should just stay in here until he reappeared back in his reality. If he reappeared back in his reality.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. Draco jumped back in alarm. Shit. It must be his mother, since Finley said she was the only other person in the house. He looked around frantically, looking for somewhere to hide. He didn't want her to see him like this. He was wearing the same clothes he'd worn yesterday and his hair was a mess. He combed his fingers through it now, in vain.

Before he could find somewhere to hide, the door clicked open. Draco straightened his spine and lifted his chin. He might look like he'd slept in a rubbish bin, but he could keep his posture proper.

His mother entered the room in her gardening clothes. She had a few streaks of dirt on her jaw and neck and a lock of hair had escaped her chignon. Draco was relieved to see her looking a little unkempt, but knew it was nothing compared to how he looked. But if she was surprised by his ragged appearance, she was doing an excellent job of hiding it.

"Draco," she said kindly. Her eyes scanned his body and when they met his again, they were sad and lined with tears. Draco had to swallow back his own tears at the sight of her obvious disappointment in him.

"Welcome to November," she said eventually.

"You know?"

She nodded.

Draco dropped his head, unable to maintain her gaze anymore. He had a million questions but had no idea where to start. His first one should be to check her identity, but she was real, no one could fake the love he'd seen in her eyes. He didn't know much about what was going on, but he could spot the only person in the whole world who loved him.

"Do I – um – have any meetings today? Or other business to tend to? I'm not sure the day of the week…"

Narcissa shook her head. "It's Thursday, but you don't need to worry about anything. You cleared your schedule for the next two days."

"I'm going to be here for two days?"

"That's what you told me this morning." Draco nodded absently. He guessed his other self had remembered being here for two days, then warned his mother. But where was the other Draco? The last time he had been here to meet him, though now that Draco thought about it, he'd mentioned one of the times his mother would meet him instead. Fuck, this was messed up.

"So, time travel," Draco started, trying to keep his tone casual, "I – uh – it seems like a lot."

"We have a handle on it," she said quickly.

Draco let out a small sigh of relief. The last thing he needed was one more thing to worry about. He wondered if the desperation showed on his face because next, his mother did something she'd never done before (as every Pureblood was raised to ignore the unsavory parts of life), and she acknowledged the giant hippogriff in the room.

She raised a hand to Draco's face and brushed his hair out of his eyes before lying her palm flat on his cheek. "I should have told this earlier, but I guess now's my chance to go back in time and correct that mistake." She paused and Draco braced himself for whatever she was about to say.

"I know you're hurting, Draco. And I know you don't think you can handle the pain, so you're turning to Potions, and Liquor, and Dark Magic, but you don't need those. You can get through this dark time alone. You're stronger than you think and it will get better."

"It will?" he asked in a small, childish voice. "It's better now?"

"Yes, and it will continue to get better."

Draco had no idea what to say to that, so he changed the subject. "Where's the other Draco?"

She smirked and stepped back, dropping her hand from his face. "When, is the better question."

Present Time: February 2000 / Draco's Time: Same as present

When Draco returned to his time two days later, he reappeared in the library, sitting at a table across from his mother. He jumped and nearly fell out of his chair.

"Hello, Draco," she said calmly, "welcome back."

"I – uh – he told you?"

"Yes. Your future self told me about the time travel and explained that it's important for us to research the phenomena and figure out how to stop it. Unfortunately, he couldn't explain all he'd learned so far since he feared it would break the time loop."

Draco wondered if he'd also told her that the theory about breaking the time loop was something his future wife from 2006 had come up with. Draco dropped his head into his hands. This was too much. He glanced down at the book he'd been reading, which looked like an old journal. The words were blurry and when he tried to focus on them, his head pounded hard in protest. Draco closed his eyes and took several, steadying breaths.

He needed to get out of here. He needed to get to his room and take a large gulp of Fire Whiskey but was having trouble thinking up a good excuse to leave his mother alone. His brain wasn't firing as quickly as usual. After his mother's insistence that Draco could handle the pain of his father's death completely sober, he'd refrained from drinking the whole time he was in the future, not wanting to disappoint her.

The problem was, he couldn't sleep without the aid of alcohol or Potions so had laid awake for several hours before ultimately giving in and going to the Practice Room. He fired off as many Dark Spells as he could manage without a wand – which weren't many – but it did the trick of exhausting him enough so he was finally able to drift off to sleep for a few hours.

He'd been counting down the minutes until he returned to his time, so he could take a Calming Draught and several shots of whiskey, though hadn't expected to reappear right in front of his mother. But this version of Narcissa hadn't lectured him. She was probably thinking all the same things, but she wouldn't work up the nerve to voice her concerns for another six months.

Draco knew he should try to be stronger for her, but that didn't override his burning desire to feel numb again. "I can't do this right now, Mother," he said lamely. "It was the middle of the night in the other time so I'm exhausted and should probably take a nap."

Narcissa placed a hand on top of his. She gave him a knowing look but didn't call him out on his obvious lie (since if he really had disappeared while sleeping, he'd be wearing pajamas). "Okay. I'll continue to research. Join me when you feel ready."

A week passed, and Draco never joined his mother for the time travel research, but she continued to work without him. Every time he thought of her alone in the library, researching his time travel condition per his instructions, he felt sick. But he couldn't do it.

He made excuses, like how he was busy taking care of the estate (which he wasn't) and how he still needed time to get past the initial stages of grief (which was true, but was also true for his mother, and she was managing it somehow).

The real reason he was avoiding the library was because he was a despicable human being and a coward. Draco simply didn't want to spend that much time alone with his mother, worried she'd catch on to how poorly he was doing. If he kept his distance, maybe he could keep the illusion that he had his shit together going for a little longer. He didn't want his mother to worry about him, since she had her own grief to handle.

Currently, Draco was in one of the smaller sitting rooms, playing chess against himself. He was proud of himself for getting dressed today. He looked put together enough to appear in public, if he had a desire to, which he didn't. Draco was turning the board around, about to make a move for the black side, when Finley Apparated into the room. "Your guests are here, Master Draco."

Draco was sure he'd misheard the elf. The way he'd worded that, like Draco had previously invited people over, was absurd. "I – what?"

Finley looked nervous but hid it quickly. "Mr. Zabini, Mr. Nott, and Miss Greengrass are here for you. In the drawing room, Sir."

"No. Send them away." Draco turned in his chair back toward the chessboard. When he didn't immediately hear the pop of Finley's Disapparition, he turned back to find the elf pulling on his ears. This was what the house elves did when they were dealing with conflicting orders.

"Sir, please, if I may," Finley began when he saw Draco looking at him. He was shaking and pulling on his ears more aggressively now.

"Fine. Get on with it."

"You invited them, Master Draco."

"No, I didn't."

"Please, forgive me, sir, but you did. Last week you asked me to-"

"Last week?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fuck!" Draco swore. Finley took several steps back, clearly afraid Draco was about to take his frustrations out on him. But Draco hadn't hurt an elf in ages, not since the darkest times of the war, and he felt a pang of guilt every time he was reminded of it, like now.

Draco pushed the memories from his mind and focused on the person he was truly angry with, future Draco. That fucking prick had invited his friends over. Why? He must know how Draco was feeling now and how he was in no position to host other people, especially not them.

"There's a light coming from down there," Daphne's voice said from the hall. Draco's heart dropped. He hadn't seen anyone besides his mother in weeks. The last time had been that brief interaction with Theo after his father's funeral. Daphne and Astoria had owled him multiple times since, but he kept burning the letters before reading them.

He considered Apparating, but figured if he tried to run now, Daphne would take it as a personal affront and make him pay for it later. He may as well face them and get this whole thing over with. Draco cleared the chess game, dismissed Finley, and braced himself for the inevitable onslaught.

Draco was leaning against the table with his arms casually crossed over his chest when Daphne appeared in the doorway wearing a stern expression. She slowly walked into the room, running her eyes up and down Draco's appearance as she did so. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she was not pleased with what she saw.

Theo and Blaise entered behind her. Blaise's dark eyes darted around the room, like he was taking inventory, while Theo looked bored, as always. The four of them stared at each other for a few moments, then Daphne broke the silence. "You look awful, Draco."

At least I took a shower today, he replied in his head as he shrugged back at her.

"Where are the drinks?" Blaise asked, looking around the room. "Should we get an elf in here?"

"No," Draco cut in. "There was a misunderstanding. We're not hanging out tonight."

"But we're already here," Theo argued.

"Yes, I see that," Draco said through clenched teeth. He was already annoyed. There was no way he'd survive an entire night with them. "I'm not up for it tonight. So, go back to the drawing room and Floo home. You can go drink at one of your places. And if you want to take a few bottles of liquor, feel free to call Finley on your way out."

He turned to face the window with finality but didn't hear any of them move to leave behind him. Fucking hell. His father had done this sort of thing all the time, made people flee with just a stern look, but Draco had never managed to command the same sort of attention as Lucius. Tears stung his eyes as he was reminded of his inadequacy and he quickly blinked them back. He couldn't cry right now, that would be a disaster.

He heard Daphne's heels click against the wood floor, then felt a soft hand on his arm. "We're not here to drink, we're here for you, Draco."

Draco turned to look at her over his shoulder and rolled his eyes, cocking his head toward Blaise and Theo. "Really? Is that why you two are here?"

"I'm here because she told me to be," Blaise said with a shrug.

"And I'm here because I knew it would piss you off," Theo added.

Draco gave Daphne a sardonic look. "Don't listen to them. They're kidding. We care about you, Draco. Really. And we've been worried about you. All of us," she finished, glaring challengingly at the other wizards.

"Seriously," Blaise chimed in, "are we not drinking?"

"By the looks of it, Draco doesn't need another drink," Daphne replied sharply, her eyes fixed on Draco. He was about to step back from her searching gaze when she grabbed his chin with her hand. "You really do look awful."

"You said that," he growled, trying to keep his temper in check.

She ignored him and continued to study his face. "Are you doing Muggle drugs?"

"No," Blaise answered behind her. "He doesn't have anyone who'd be able to get him those, besides me."

"Then why do his eyes look like this?" she asked. "They're so pale they look nearly translucent. Fire Whiskey and Potions wouldn't do this."

Draco was about to tell them off for talking about him like he wasn't there when Theo said, "It's from using a lot of Dark Magic."

Daphne dropped Draco's face and swatted his chest. "Draco!"

"Ow!"

"You promised! We all promised after the war we would never use-"

"I remember," Draco snapped. He had to work hard not to cowered under her fierce gaze. He felt sick and empty again and he needed something, anything to chase the feeling away.

"Astoria said you were better," Daphne was saying, more to herself than anyone else. "She said you looked good and sounded good and I hoped after we-"

"Astoria? Where is she?" Draco asked.

"She's really nice and all, but drinks with your ex, a week after breaking up, seems like a bit much, even for her," Theo mumbled.

"What?" His friends looked back at him confused, then Draco began to piece it together. The other Draco had broken up with Astoria. Why?

Well, actually, that wasn't hard to guess. Draco had been meaning to break it off with her for a few weeks now, since he was a rubbish boyfriend and she deserved someone loads better than a wizard who was too much of a coward to even read her letters. He'd merely been struggling to work up the courage to do it (which was ironic). So really, this other Draco had done him a favor. But he was still angry with him.

This was all too much. As Draco tried to puzzle through the other Draco's motivations, and how much he'd done because he'd remembered doing it,versus doing what he actually wanted to do, he began to feel overwhelmed. He noticed his hands shaking and clenched his fists together to hide it from his friends.

He needed a drink. Not a social drink among friends, but a half bottle of Fire Whiskey with a side of Dreamless Sleep Potion. The perfect concoction to help him drift off into blissful oblivion for the rest of the night. "You all need to go," Draco announced, struggling to keep his voice even.

"No," Daphne said quickly.

Draco snorted and stormed past her. "Fine, then I'll leave." When he reached the hall, he turned on his toe and reappeared in the stables, outside. He began pacing the abandoned structure, trying to think of a place he could go and hide until they left the Manor. He'd given up his flat in London to move back in here, with his mother, and now fucking Blaise lived there, so that wasn't an option. He couldn't go to the Muggle World because he had no idea how it worked.

He thought briefly of Hogwarts, or even Hogsmeade, but Draco had no friends there and he wasn't allowed to leave England without telling the Aurors, anyway. So, at a loss for anywhere else to go, he sat on the ground and pulled his knees up to his chest, hoping his friends wouldn't find him in here.

"Finley."

The elf appeared in the dark room, then cast a few lights around him before turning to address Draco. "You called, Master?"

"Tell me when they're gone. And do anything you can to keep them from finding me in here."

"Yes, sir. Is that all you need?"

Draco nodded.

Finley gave him a sad, almost pitying look before blinking out of sight. The tears Draco had been holding back in the sitting room finally began to fall. Look at him, sitting in the dirt in a cold, empty stable, getting pity from a house elf. Unable to sleep without the aid of alcohol and Potions, casting Dark Magic not because he was feeling especially evil, but because the numbness it created provided a sick sort of comfort. Could he fall any further?

A few days later, Draco was in the sitting room with Potter for one of his check-in meetings with the Aurors. It was the first one of these Draco had had to endure without his father by his side, but he was trying hard not to think about that.

Currently, Potter was speaking and Draco wasn't listening. He was looking out the window and taking in the clear sky, wondering if flying would give him too much of a headache. He hadn't flown in ages, worried his ever-present hangovers would make it less enjoyable.

"Malfoy! Are you listening?"

"No," he replied absently, keeping his eyes fixed on the clouds outside.

"I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here," Potter snapped. "I'm just filling in for Dawlish while-"

"I know, Potter," Draco drawled. "You've told me seven times."

Potter rolled his eyes. "Fine. How about you pay attention, then? The faster we're through these questions the faster I can leave."

Draco glowered at Potter. "Go ahead," he said tersely. "What were you saying that was so important?"

Potter rolled his eyes again and looked down at the parchment in his lap. "Your address has changed, correct? You no longer live in London?"

"Obviously," Draco replied, motioning to the room around him.

Potter sighed and scratched his quill along the parchment. "Okay. And how about trips? Do you have any planned for the next three months?"

Draco stared at him blankly. What did Potter think? That he was going to go on holiday? So soon after the death of his father? How insensitive did Potter think he was?

"I'll take that as a no," Potter murmured under his breath. Then there was more scratching. He read through the list, biting on the end of the quill, then set the parchment and quill aside. "Okay. I need to check your wand now."

Draco sighed and handed it over. He hated when Potter was the one to do this. He always wondered if his wand still recognized Potter as it's master. Why wouldn't it? The master of the Elder Wand? Surely, his wand sensed that. Draco tried to push the uncomfortable thought away and make his face blank as he watched Potter check all the spells his wand had cast in the past few months.

Potter frowned at the end of his inspection, but Draco knew he hadn't found anything. He wasn't stupid enough to use this wand when he went to the Practice Room.

"You're using Dark Magic," Potter declared, holding Draco's wand out for him.

"The spell was clean. I watched you cast it."

"You're not casting it with this wand, but I can tell. I could feel it as soon as I walked close to you and I can tell by your eyes and the way your hands are shaking."

Draco balled his hands into fists instinctively. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes I do." Potter was leveling him with that intense stare of his and Draco stared right back. If it came down to a staring contest, he was pretty sure he'd win. Unfortunately, he didn't expect Potter to make it that easy.

After several moments of silence, Potter said, "I'm not going to put it in the report."

Fuck. Maybe it was going to be that easy. Draco faltered and dropped his gaze. Damn, there went his staring contest win. "What are you playing at, Potter?" Did he need something? Money? Probably not, he'd inherited the Black fortune back when they were in Hogwarts and Draco guessed being the Chosen One paid well.

Potter was looking at him curiously. "Why? Just – explain. Why turn back to it; you're not evil."

Draco dropped his eyes again. "That's none of your business."

"Tell me, or I write it down."

Fucking prick. "Fine," Draco sighed. "Have you ever performed Dark Magic?"

"You know I have."

Draco let out a snort. He'd temporarily forgotten that he had several scars on his chest as a result of a Dark Spell Potter had performed. "Do you remember how it felt?" Draco asked.

Potter shrugged. "Not really."

Draco looked out the window again as he responded. "There's a nice, numbing effect. It blocks everything else out."

Potter was quiet for a long time and when Draco finally looked back at him, his green eyes were sad and haunted. It was a disturbing look that eerily mirrored how Draco was feeling and his eyes unexpectedly filled with tears.

"Well, you need to find some other way to cope," Potter said suddenly, getting to his feet and gathering his papers. "In three months, Dawlish will be back here and he won't be so lenient. Believe me, you don't want to be carted off to Azkaban, there's no whiskey there," he added with a smirk.

"Fuck you, Potter."

"Back at you, Malfoy." Potter crossed the room and when he reached the doorway, he paused. Draco watched him curiously for a few moments, then Potter turned back to face him, his expression determined. "I'm going to say something," he announced.

"Can I stop you?"

"No."

Draco shrugged and waved for him to continue, then crossed his arms over his chest.

Potter looked nervous, which was amusing to watch. "Okay, here it goes. I lost a lot of people in the war, as you know, but for some reason their losses didn't really hit me until the end. I think it's because I never really thought I'd survive the whole thing. Well, anyway-" He paused to sigh. "I had to come to terms with this thing and I think it could help you, so I'm going to say this."

"Just say it, Potter. Or better yet, leave and-"

"Shut up." Potter sighed again. "There's this way you think your life is going to go. The way it should go. For me it was having both my parents around, having my godfather, getting to see Dumbledore and talk about something besides Voldemort, having a godson that isn't an orphan – having all these people I lost, play major parts in my life. And you get to thinking that that's the only path to happiness, you know?"

"No," Draco said quickly. But he was lying. He knew exactly what Potter was talking about.

Potter rolled his eyes. "Anyway, the point is, there's this path to happiness with all the people you love on it and you convince yourself that's the only way to get there. But it's not. There's another route you can take. It's not as short or easy and it probably has a lot of twists and turns, but there are other ways to be happy, even without the people you lost. The path with them was the preferred one, of course, but it's not the only one. There's another way."

Potter cut off and the room was quiet for several moments as the two wizards regarded each other.

"Is that it?" Draco asked in a flat voice. He was channeling all his energy into keeping his mind clear with Occlumency, since Potter's words had stirred up a torrent of emotions in him and he was desperate to keep them from showing on his face.

"Yeah," Potter said, hitting the doorframe with his fist. "And try to keep yourself out of my office. I don't want to see your ferrety face again any sooner than I need to."

Draco wanted to retort but wasn't sure if he'd be able to say the words without his voice cracking, so he stayed quiet. Potter gave him a nod before finally leaving the room.

Draco sat there for a long time, trying to get his emotions under control as Potter's words echoed in his mind. "The path with them was the preferred one, of course, but it's not the only one. There's another way."

Bloody hell. Who'd have thought that of all the people in his life, it would be Potter who showed up and said the exact words Draco needed to hear?

"There's this way you think your life is going to go. The way it should go. And you get to thinking that that's the only path to happiness."

"But it's not the only one," Draco finished aloud, testing the words on his tongue. "There's another way."

He took several more deep breaths, then rose and walked to the other side of the house, a newfound hope flowing through his body. For the first time in weeks, he felt like doing something more than sitting in a chair and thinking about how awful everything was.

He had no idea how long this was going to last and knew just what he wanted to do before the burst of energy went away. When he reached his destination, he knocked on the door and entered when he heard his mother's voice on the other side.

She was sitting at one of the larger tables in the library, surrounded by books. "Do you need something, Draco?"

Draco shook his head and took a seat next to her. "I want to help. Where can I start?"

His mother smiled and lowered the book she'd been reading. She reached across the table and grabbed his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Start by telling me what you know about all this. Because I feel like I'm casting spells in the dark, here."

"The other Draco didn't-?"

"He was hesitant to give me too many details. So, if you want to help, you can tell me what you know, and I'll tell you what I've learned, then we can piece it all together."

Draco nodded. "Of course. And – uh – I'm sorry it took me a while to come help you."

"No matter. You're here now."

She gave him a small smile and Draco noticed it didn't quite reach her eyes. Her eyes hadn't looked as bright as he remembered since his father had died and he wondered if he'd ever see them look like they used to again.

"Mother?" he started tentatively.

She hummed.

"Do you think we can be happy? Without him?"

She looked down at the table and Draco could tell she was thinking hard. "Yes," she said eventually. "It'll be harder, for sure, but I think we can manage it. We're both a lot stronger than people give us credit for."

Draco smiled. "Well, you certainly are."

"You are too, Draco. You'll see."

A/N: When my beta read this she commented on how frustrating it is to see Draco starting at square one, especially when we know how good he can be. I get it and I promise there are happier times ahead. And in the next chapter Draco and Hermione will have their first interaction!