Chapter 4

Things are coming you can't even imagine. If you knew what they were, you would forgive this one catastrophe that has brought your life to a screeching halt. The world will turn for you again, and when it does, it will take you anywhere you want.

I have to go now, but I love you. I need to leave you, but I'll always be with you. One day, you'll meet me here, and I will tell you this, I will tell you that we made it.

-Lang Leav

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

"I feel like I'm back at Hogwarts, studying for my N.E.W.T.s," Narcissa announced, pushing back from the table and stretching her arms over her head.

Draco started slightly when he looked over at her, still not used to seeing his mother in casual clothes. She was wearing a pair of trousers with a simple jumper and although her clothes were probably still from famous designers, and more expensive than most other witches' formal wear, this was unusually casual for Narcissa, who always wore a dress, unless she was working in the garden.

"I wish I could have finished my N.E.W.T.s," Draco admitted, closing the book he was reading. He grabbed a licorice whip off the table and bit a piece off the top. This was another anomaly, his mother never ate sweets, but had suggested them last week, saying she'd always had a pile of chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans when studying in school.

These past few weeks researching time travel with his mother had been unexpectedly fun. He'd heard loads of stories from her days at school including the real story of how she and his father had got together, where she'd caused him to break up with his current girlfriend ("She wouldn't have been able to handle being a Malfoy, anyway. I did her a favor.")

Draco had learned which N.E.W.T.s she'd taken (something he was surprised he'd never known), that she'd discovered the Room of Requirement and frequented it often (just like Draco had), and that she used to fly (something Draco couldn't picture) but stopped because of a nasty fall in her Fifth Year which turned her off the activity for good and was also the reason her wrist hurt, on occasion.

Draco liked getting to see his mother unwind and guessed since she'd lost the only person in the world she usually dropped her guard around, she was using Draco for that now. He was happy to oblige and was simply glad her eyes weren't red and puffy from crying, anymore. They were still sad, but Draco thought that may never go away.

He was doing better, too. He'd stopped using Dark Magic, primarily to avoid a conflict with Dawlish. He'd also stopped drinking during the day. Draco still drank Whiskey or Potions at night to help him fall asleep (a habit he was slowly trying to kick), but at least he wasn't mixing them together anymore.

The result was a good deal of pain as he was forced to face dark thoughts all day long, but his mother and the other Draco (who he finally knew was real and not an elaborate illusion) had promised things would get better. So, Draco was simply trying to survive each day in the hopes that one day he'd come to find they were right and that his life was finally manageable.

"I'm disappointed you didn't get to finish them either," his mother said in response to his earlier comment. "Especially after how hard you worked in your early years. But I understand why you didn't go back for an Eighth Year. It wasn't the right time."

She shook several Every Flavored Beans into her hand and began sifting through them. She was the only witch he knew who liked that sweet. It was usually just the wizards who would go through the risk of eating them. "You could probably do it later," she continued after she finally found a bean to try, "if it's important to you. McGonagall sent out an open invitation for anyone who wants to live at the castle and study for their N.E.W.T.s."

She popped a red bean into her mouth, then smiled. "Good, cherry. I was worried it would be blood."

Draco shook his head as he let out a small laugh. "I don't know why you bother with those when you can eat sweets that you know are going to taste good every time, but we've already had this argument, so we don't need to rehash it. And about Hogwarts...no, I don't think I'll go back. I probably won't be ready for several more years and I don't fancy being a thirty-year-old student."

"Well, I'm in my late forties, and I still have it," she declared, motioning to the books around her.

"Really? Is that why we've made such great progress?" Draco teased, then bit his tongue, wondering if she was going to scold him for being impertinent.

She just chuckled and popped another bean into her mouth, this time without looking. Draco winced instinctively, but it didn't seem to be a gross flavor. He could tell by the faraway look in her eyes that she was back in her memories. He took another bite of his licorice whip, then she turned to him and asked, "Is there still a carving of a banshee in the Common Room, just to the left of the-"

"Third lantern? Yes. Why?"

"Your father carved that."

"He did?"

She smirked. "It went with this song we sang nonstop that year, about the perfect Slytherin witch. I forgot the tune, but the words were something like, 'She was proper and pretty, and perfectly witty.'"

"'Kind and charitable, head of three committees,'" Draco continued, providing her the tune of the song.

"You know it."

"Yes, but - it's pretty obscene." The next verses go on to describe how the witch, who's perfect in public, is wild in bed and screams like a banshee, then gets up to all sorts of other mischief not befitting a proper Pureblood witch.

"I wrote that," his mother said, without a hint of shame.

Draco's eyes widened in shock. "Mother! It's very inappropriate. Was it about someone you knew?" Please, don't say you, he added in his head.

"Of course not. It was just a stupid little song. One of those things you did when you were supposed to be studying. Like sneaking drinks from Hogsmeade or causing trouble with Peeves."

"With Peeves?" Draco shook his head again. "I'm not sure I wanted to know all this about you."

"Like you were the perfect student," she scoffed.

"I was Head Boy," he said, affronted. "And you saw my letters, you know what I got up to at Hogwarts."

"Right," she replied, her eyes twinkling mischievously, just like Draco's were. "I'm sure you included everything of note in your letters."

Draco dodged her unspoken question. "It's weird hearing these stories. You and father seemed so proper."

"Lucius had a wicked sense of humor."

"So do I. I wish you two hadn't hidden it from me."

She reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "I know. We were just getting to the part in parenting where you can stop trying to set a good example and be friends with your children. Losing your father right now, it was bad timing. I think you two were on the cusp of...I don't know...something."

"Yeah," Draco said sadly, looking down at the table.

Just then, that feeling of intense vertigo came over him. "Shit, I mean, sorry, Mother."

His mother's eyes widened and she pulled her hand away from his arm, which Draco noticed was flickering in and out. "What is this?" she asked, dropped the beans she was still holding and shifting closer to him.

"This is how it feels when I'm about to time travel," Draco explained.

Her eyes widened further. "Oh, okay. Well, remember what we talked about?"

"Of course." Draco grabbed his wand from the table and shoved it into his pocket. "Wish me luck."

"Good lu-"

The next moment, he blinked out of sight.

Present Time: February 2006 / Draco's Time: March 2000

When Draco reappeared in the library, the room looked different. It had been rearranged slightly, with the large table he and his mother had been working at pushed to the side, and it was nighttime outside. As Draco looked out the window, he saw a few snowflakes begin to fall.

"Welcome to the future." Draco jumped, then turned around to find a different version of himself sitting in one of the plush armchairs. The other Draco closed the book he'd been reading and set it on the table, then crossed the room and held his hand out in greeting.

Draco took it and discovered how awkward it was to shake your own hand. "Hi. Uh - what's the date?"

"So, you believe me this time?" the other wizard asked sardonically. "Are you sure this isn't just some construct of your imagination?"

"Don't be a prick," Draco grumbled.

The other Draco smiled, then turned to a nearby desk and pulled out a parchment. He looked at his watch, then wrote out a line before handing it to Draco. Draco looked down and saw he'd written out the date and time. February 12, 2006. 7:13pm.

"Add that to your log, will you? It will help me."

Draco nodded.

The other man reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded-up piece of parchment. "And this will help you," he said, holding the paper out to Draco.

Draco took the folded parchment and flipped it open to reveal a list of dates and times. He guessed these were the dates he'd time jump into the future. The next one wasn't until May, so he'd have a little bit of a break. Then after that, there were only four more, ending in October of this year.

"So, I figure out how to stop it in October?"

"Earlier than that, but you need to keep it going until at least November."

"Why?"

"You already forgot what happened in November?"

"No, of course not. I jumped there, and that Draco replaced me in my time, which is something you don't do. Why is that?" Draco put the parchment back in his pocket and crossed his arms, remembering the plan he'd made with his mother to wheedle as much information out of this Draco as he could once he saw him again.

"I can't tell you," the other man replied. "You'll figure it out, and soon. It's not that hard, you two are just overcomplicating things."

"Fine. Why do I need to keep this going until after that time jump in November? At least tell me that."

The other man smirked. "I know you have a plan to trick me into giving you information about this time travel. I remember the plan, and I also remember that I will only tell you exactly what I intend to; no more, no less." He paused to sigh. "It's so much better being on this end of the jumps."

Draco rolled his eyes at his older self's smug expression. Did he really look like that? It was a wonder he didn't get hexed more often. "Has anyone ever told you you're a prat?"

The other Draco smiled inwardly, as if enjoying some secret joke as he ignored the question. "The November jump is part of your past now," he explained. "If you change it, this timeline will break, causing your whole life to change."

"Is that really such a bad thing?" Draco mumbled.

"Yes!" the other man said with unexpected force.

"Okay," Draco replied, raising his hands up in surrender.

"It's imperative you don't change a thing."

"Right, got it. Change nothing."

The other Draco glared at him for a few more moments before finally relaxing.

"So, it's good?" Draco asked. "The life you're in now. You seem fiercely protective of it."

The other Draco's lips turned up and he began absently playing with his wedding band. "It's good. Really good."

"You're married," Draco pressed.

"Yes. You learned that in your first jump."

"And you don't live here," Draco added, remembering how his future wife's hand on the family clock had been at a new position called London House.

"No, we don't live here."

Draco frowned. "How are you still able to act as head of the estate?"

"My wife altered the wards, tricking them into thinking I still live here."

"What?!"

"I told you she was impressive."

Draco knew this mystery witch was powerful, since he'd failed miserably when he'd tried to break the seals she'd placed on the letter the other Draco had given him during his first time jump, but altering ancient magic, like the kind that protected the Manor, was a whole other matter.

"How long did it take her?"

"She was researching it for a solid year. During that time, I was coming back and forth, spending at least two nights a week here, which we found was the minimum amount of time I needed to stay to have the house recognize me as a resident."

"She must have really not wanted to live here," Draco uttered under his breath.

"No, she hates this house," he confirmed, but didn't seem bitter about it.

"Why didn't you just explain that it was part of her duty as the lady of the estate to live here?"

"Because I prefer to keep my extremities attached to my body," he replied without a hint of irony.

Draco shook his head. What sort of Pureblood witch would refuse to live at Malfoy Manor? He understood a few of them being hesitant, given what had gone on here during the war, but he couldn't see anyone downright refusing.

"You're not going to tell me who it is, are you?"

"No."

"Do I know her?"

"Do you know her…?" the other Draco repeated, looking like he was trying to decide if he should answer the question. Or, rather, trying to remember if he had answered the question. "No, you don't know her at all," he eventually finished, sounding as if he'd chosen his words carefully.

"And what is such an incredible person doing with you?" Draco teased.

But the other man didn't smile. He just nodded and said seriously, "I ask myself that every day."

They were quiet for a few moments and it was Draco who ultimately broke the silence. "I'm glad it turns out. I, uh, can't really see it, from where I'm standing right now."

The other Draco bit the inside of his cheek and nodded sadly. "I understand. And I wish I could tell you that you were close, but you really aren't. Just keep enduring, that's all you have to do for now. I promise it will get better."

"When?"

The other Draco dropped his gaze. "Sometime in the future."

"That is extremely unhelpful."

He looked back up and smiled at Draco. "I know. Okay, we should sit, because I need to tell you something upsetting."

"More upsetting than the fact that I have a lot longer to go until things get better?" Draco asked as he followed the other wizard to a group of chairs at the end of the room.

"Yes, more upsetting than that," the other wizard replied as he lowered himself into the chair he'd been sitting in when Draco first arrived. Draco studied the book on the table that he'd been reading but didn't recognize the author.

"First off, you need to mend your relationship with Daphne," the older Draco started. "I know you're hurting, but so is she and she could really use a friend. You both could. You can help each other."

"What's wrong with her? Is she okay?"

"Ask her," he replied with a shrug.

"Okay...was that it? That wasn't so bad."

"No, that wasn't it. We need to talk about Potter."

Draco's stomach turned. "Oh great, my favorite person," he groaned. He wished he could forget about that speckled git, but his stupid 'another way' speech had been playing in Draco's mind on loop since he'd last seen the Wonder Boy.

"If it makes you feel better, that 'another way' thing wasn't his idea," the other Draco said, guessing Draco's thoughts. "Someone else told him that."

"That does actually make me feel better. Whose idea was it?"

"You'll find out."

"I hate how you keep me in the dark like this," Draco snapped back.

"I know. Anyway, remember why Dawlish was so angry during your first time jump?"

"Yeah," Draco snorted, "he was convinced I- holy fuck!" Something had just occurred to him. Back in his time, he'd disappeared from the map in the Auror Offices. It hadn't happened when he switched with the November Draco, but with this Draco here, he'd be off the map, just like he had been during his first jump.

Damn, after all that energy he'd dedicated to avoiding Dark Magic these past few weeks, he was going to be caught because he set off the fucking alarm. He should have thought to register some travel with the Aurors, but he hadn't known when he was going to leave, again. Dawlish was probably at the house now, interrogating his mother. Fuck.

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" Draco snapped. They'd been talking about some mystery wife when they could have been discussing important matters, like this.

"There's nothing you can do until you get back. Mother will be fine."

"I assume this is where Potter comes in?"

"Yeah. You have to tell him about the time travel."

"Are you insane?!"

"It's the only way he'll agree to help you and believe me, you need his help."

"You're right," Draco grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. "I hate this. Plus, there's no way he's going to believe me."

"He won't, at first, then you'll tell him some things about his future that will convince him you're telling the truth."

"What things?"

"That's what I'm about to tell you. Ready?"

Draco paused to consider. Fucking Potter. Why did everything come back to him? "Is there really no option, besides Potter?"

"There might be, but in my timeline, the one where I'm happy and have a wonderful wife, I go to Potter, so I suggest you do the same."

"Fine," Draco said, resigned. "Tell me what I need to say to him."

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

Three days later; two days after Draco had returned to his time, been carted off to the Auror Offices, interrogated, then informed that Dawlish was opening an official investigation into his unexplained disappearance, Draco was standing on the doorstep outside Number 12 Grimmauld Place, trying to work up the nerve to knock.

He was standing there for a solid ten minutes when the door opened unexpectedly. Draco's eyes widened and he began to panic, but his feet seemed to be stuck to the ground. Granger was on the other side, saying something over her shoulder.

Since she wasn't looking where she was going, she walked right into Draco, then crashed to the ground. Her bag and a stack of letters she'd been holding fell out of her arms and scattered on the doorstep around them.

In a normal circumstance, Draco would have reached out to grab her, preventing her fall, but he was frozen in place, embarrassed at having been found lurking outside Potter's house. By the scowl on Granger's face, she thought he'd let her fall on purpose.

Draco held a hand out to her and hissed, "Get up," fearing that Potter would walk up any moment and accuse Draco of pushing one of his precious sidekicks to the ground. He needed Potter in a good mood tonight.

Granger was grumbling about Slytherin statues but cut off when she saw his outstretched hand. Her eyes widened comically and she leaned away from him. A joke about whether Mudbloods like her preferred to sit in the dirt passed through Draco's mind, but he knew better than to voice it. Fuck, he shouldn't have even thought it. What was wrong with him? This is what happened when he was stressed, he reverted.

Draco sighed and shook his hand in the air. She glared at it for a few more seconds, then huffed and grabbed it. As soon as they touched, the world stopped. The heat from her hand seemed to seep into Draco, warming him where their skin touched, then slowly spreading through the rest of his body. The sounds of the street disappeared and the only thing Draco could hear was his heart pounding in his chest and the soft sound of Granger's breathing.

His eyes were locked on hers and he noticed for the first time that her irises weren't muddy brown, like he thought, but a pleasant chocolate color with startling specks of gold. Alarm bells rang in the back of his mind and he tried to pull his gaze free, but he couldn't look away. He was trapped; completely captivated by this witch.

At that thought, his brain snapped back into action and he felt a rush of Occlumency enter his mind, allowing him to push away the thoughts of Granger (which had completely taken over). Now that he was thinking clearly again, his mind began racing, trying to figure out what was going on here. He would have suspected an enchantment of some sort (Granger was certainly capable of that sort of thing) but she seemed as wrapped up in him as he was in her.

Though, unlike Draco, Granger didn't have Occlumency to help her clear her mind. She was frozen in place as she continued to clutch his hand and stare at him oddly, like he was some rare, magical creature. Draco was about to pull his hand out of hers when Potter appeared in the hall behind her.

"Hermione? Why are you holding hands with Malfoy?"

That seemed to snap Granger out of her trance. She pulled her hand away violently and scowled again. She was much less pretty with that expression on her face.

She's not pretty at all, scowl or no scowl. What is wrong with you?!

"You probably want to wash that," she sneered, looking down at his hand, which he was still holding out. He put it back at his side.

"That's exactly where my mind was. Are you a Legilimens?" Draco replied automatically, then instantly regretted it. Fuck, that's not where his mind had been, and now he'd gone and insulted Potter's friend, right in front of him, just before asking him for a huge favor. Fuck.

This witch was messing with his head. There was clearly some sort of odd magic surrounding her - maybe a backfiring love spell. Draco needed her to get as far away from him as possible so he could think clearly again.

She was still sneering at him. "Sod off, Malfoy. What are you doing here, anyway? Trying to bribe Harry to drop your investigation? Because it won't work."

"She's right, it won't work," Potter chimed in. He was using his wand to gather the letters Granger had dropped earlier.

"I need to speak with you, alone," Draco said to Potter. He saw Potter glance at Granger.

"Couldn't hurt to hear him out," she said in response to Potter's unspoken question. Draco kept his eyes on Potter, still too shaken by his recent interaction with Granger to look at her again.

"I think Potter can handle a simple conversation without a sidekick," he replied, still keeping his eyes away from her. "Or am I wrong? Do you still have that co-dependent thing going on?"

"It's called friendship," Potter snapped, "a concept I know is foreign to you. And my guess is that you're about to ask for a favor, so maybe you should stop antagonizing one of my best friends."

Draco glowered, but knew well enough to stay quiet. He could tell Potter was curious, so would at least let him inside and hear him out, as long as Draco didn't do anything to piss him off.

Potter handed Granger her letters, then bid her farewell. "Okay, I guess I'll see you at the Burrow tomorrow. Bye, Harry. Malfoy," she added at the end, her voice dripping with disdain.

Draco saw her scowl at him out of his periphery, but still kept his eyes away from her. It wasn't until he heard the sound of her footsteps behind him, followed by a soft crack of Apparition, that he let out the breath he'd been holding. He had no idea what that was, but he couldn't think about it now. He had to focus on the task at hand.

Potter cocked his head toward the hall and Draco followed him into a very dark and dingy house. He was surprised Potter hadn't redecorated, adding red and gold wherever he could. The Manor had a similar cold feeling in the air that was ever-present in places that had seen a lot of Dark Magic, but at least it was beautiful and elegant. This house was downright depressing.

Draco shook the thoughts from his mind and took a seat in the chair Potter had indicated. He wasn't here to give the Chosen One decorating advice.

"Why are you here?" Potter asked as he lowered himself in the chair opposite Draco.

Draco launched right into his tale knowing if he stalled, it would just be harder to get it all out. He explained his three time jumps so far and all he and his mother had learned about the magic of time turners.

"That's where you go? The future?" Potter asked once Draco was finished talking.

Draco nodded.

Potter sighed and laid his head back against the chair, looking up at the ceiling as he said, "I get you're in a bad spot with Dawlish and that you probably don't need a full-scale investigation right now, but you should have thought of that before you left the country."

"I didn't leave the country," Draco replied, trying to keep his voice even. "I went to 2006."

"Oh? 2006? You didn't say the exact year before. Now I definitely believe you," Potter said sarcastically.

Draco glowered at him. "I know you're all convinced I have an illegal Portkey in the house, but I don't. Your Aurors have searched the Manor countless times and found nothing."

"I know houses like yours have secret hiding places, rooms that only open for the head of the estate and the like. I'm not an idiot."

"You had me fooled."

Potter stood and motioned toward the hall. "Okay. I think we're done here."

"No, wait," Draco said quickly, sinking further into his seat. "I can tell you about your future. How about that?"

Potter rolled his eyes and gave him a look that said, This ought to be good. But he didn't protest, so Draco continued talking.

"You marry Weasley. The girl, not your true love."

Potter rolled his eyes and ignored the jibe. "I marry my current girlfriend. Very enlightening."

Draco sighed. "I have more."

"I hope so," Potter snapped.

Draco took another deep breath. "You'll get married on September 1st, your favorite day of the year, in a secret location. You actually go so far as to rent out a fake venue and hire several actors to stay there on the day of your wedding to draw the reporters away from your real wedding venue, which anyone who knew you could have guessed in five seconds."

"Where was it?"

"Your precious Burrow, obviously." Even Draco could have guessed that one and had been surprised when the future Draco told him the ploy had worked and that Potter's wedding (which he'd surprisingly been in attendance at) was free of unwanted guests.

"Tell me more," Potter demanded, taking a seat back in the chair across from Draco.

"By 2006 you have two sons, James, who's two and Albus, who's a newborn. Apparently, James is an absolute disaster and drives you and your wife mad, since he always seems to be exploring new methods of putting himself in danger. Albus, on the other hand, is calm and serious and looks remarkably like you."

Potter was staring off in the distance now. When Draco stopped talking, he looked right at Draco, fixing him with that intense stare of his. "More."

"You live in this house and still work in the Auror Office. You're actually the head, taking over for Robards when he retires in the Summer of 2005. You hate the job, since there are a lot more meetings and paperwork and much less fieldwork, but your wife likes it, since it's safer. She has a plan to return to work when you're finished having kids, hoping to get into Quidditch reporting, so she writes articles on the side as she can fit it in. That is, when she's not trying to catch up on sleep or keep your eldest from killing himself."

"Stop."

Draco obliged since he didn't have anything else to say. That's all the other Draco had told him about Potter's life.

"I don't - I don't understand," Potter said softly. Draco saw that his hands, like his voice, were shaking.

"Did you want me to repeat all that?"

Potter shook his head and looked down at his hands in his lap. Draco waited patiently for him to regain his composure, figuring if he'd had that many facts about his future rattled off like that, he'd be similarly shaken.

"How did you know all that?" Potter asked after a while.

"My future self told me," Draco replied, but he knew that's not what Potter had meant to ask.

"How did he know?" Potter clarified.

Draco stayed quiet. This part was embarrassing.

"That's more information than they'd ever print in the papers. How did he know?" Potter repeated.

Draco dropped his gaze and looked down at his own lap. "Apparently we're friends."

Potter scoffed. "Us, friends? That's harder to believe than the time travel."

Draco snorted. "I know. I said the same thing."

"How do we become friends?"

"The other Draco wouldn't say. My guess is that you get this investigation dropped for me, take on my case and, I don't know, something progresses from there."

After several moments of silence, Draco looked up to see what Potter was doing. He was staring off into the fire behind Draco. Draco could see the flames dancing in his eyes, which looked wet. Draco looked back down at his hands, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. "I don't think I could ever properly express how much hearing all that meant to me. Thank you, Malfoy."

Draco just nodded, feeling awkward.

"But if I find out this is a trick," Potter continued, his tone harsh now, "I'll take you to Azkaban myself."

Draco finally looked back at Potter and was relieved to find him looking like his normal self, all traces of the tears from earlier gone. "It's not a trick, Potter. You have my word."

Potter nodded and focused back on the fire. Draco heard him mutter "Friends with Malfoy," under his breath as he watched the flames.

"What do you say?" Draco asked, eager to leave now. "Can you help?"

"Yeah, I can help."

"Will you help?"

"I already do, don't I? That's how this impossible friendship comes about, right? I guess I don't have a choice."

Draco's stomach turned. This was the part of the time travel he hated most. So far, he hadn't been forced to make any decisions he didn't want to make, but who knew what would come later? The older Draco had been so insistent that he not change anything, but could he?

Of course! a voice screamed from the back of his mind. But honestly, he wasn't so sure, and he hated that.

"You need to choose," Draco said harshly. He could tell Potter was surprised by the sudden sharpness of his tone. "Don't help me because you think that's what you're supposed to do. No one should have their free will taken away."

Potter leaned back in his chair and regarded Draco for several moments. Then, he leaned forward, holding his hand out. "Believe me, Malfoy. I agree with that sentiment more than anyone. I'll help you."

Draco looked at his hand for several breaths, then shook it. Fucking hell. What would his father say if he could see Draco now?

A few days later, Draco was walking through the Greengrass Estate, trying to move as quietly as possible to Daphne's room. He knew Astoria was out, since it was Thursday, the night she always went to dinner with her friends from Hogwarts, but her parents were probably still here and Draco didn't want to have to talk to them, right now.

He needed to reserve all his 'talking to people' energy for Daphne. He took it as a good sign that no one had closed the Floo connection between Malfoy Manor and Greengrass Estate and hoped his luck would hold.

When he reached Daphne's room, it was empty. He almost turned around to go home when he spotted the gold locket she always wore on her vanity. If that necklace was here, Daphne must be near. He knew if he opened the gold locket, he'd find a picture of her family from a holiday to Iceland, the summer before Third Year.

According to Daphne, it was the last time her family was together and happy, right before her parents started sleeping in separate bedrooms. Draco sighed. He knew he was the only person who knew that. He was usually the only person Daphne confided in, except Astoria, and look how he'd treated her in return. He shouldn't have pushed her away.

He took his wand out of his robes and performed a Hominem Revelio spell. He saw two figures at the other end of the house (which he guessed were her parents), several house elves, but no Daphne. He was about to put his wand away when it occurred to him to point his wand up. There she was, on the roof. He'd nearly forgotten her obsession with lying on roofs.

Draco noticed then that the window was ajar. He made his way over and stepped out onto the bit of roof right under her window, then climbed up to the spot where he'd seen her figure from the spell. She acknowledged his appearance with a small wave of her hand, but otherwise said nothing as she looked up at the stars. Draco conjured a pillow like the one she had and laid down next to her.

"Thursday night?" Daphne asked after he'd settled into his spot.

"Yeah, I'm a coward. You know this about me."

Draco turned his head and saw her smirking slightly. "Tell me something, Daphne. What's your fascination with roofs?"

She frowned slightly, then turned to look at him. He saw tear tracks on her face, but she wasn't actively crying. "It's not the roofs I like, it's the stars, you dolt."

"Okay then. Explain your fascination with the stars. And after that, tell me your favorite constellation, and it better be Draco."

"You know my favorite constellation is Scorpius."

"Right, my future son's name."

She smiled. "It would be a good name. I'm so jealous my family doesn't have a star-related theme like yours."

"Why did you like him again? I know it's because he killed Orion, who you hate, though I forget why."

"Orion was an obnoxious hunter and claimed he was going to kill every animal on earth. So Artemis sent a scorpion to kill him. I always liked the idea that he was put in his place so thoroughly. And when the Orion constellation sets, the Scorpius one appears at the other end of the sky. I liked that too."

"Is that why you like the stars so much? Because of the stories behind the constellations?"

"No."

"Tell me why."

"Is that an order?" she asked snippily.

Draco sighed and turned his head toward her again. "Of course not."

Daphne was quiet for several moments, then finally said, "I like how big the sky is. How I could dedicate my lifetime to counting the stars and would never finish. I like how small it makes me feel. All my problems and worries, they become small too. I can come out here and get lost and - I don't know - I like that."

A silence settled in between them and now Draco knew it was his turn to speak, but he was struggling with where to start. He eventually settled on, "My hand on the family clock is at the Lost position. Did you know it was metaphorical?"

"I did. My mother's hand spent a good deal of time there."

Draco hummed. "I don't like the feeling of being lost. Certainly not enough to actively seek it out. And in all honesty, thinking of how small I am compared to the countless stars and mysterious forces of the universe makes me sick."

Draco turned on his side to face Daphne. "I have to tell you something. Something insane."

Daphne turned to face him. "Okay."

He grabbed her hand for support, then looked down at their clasped hands as he relayed his story, telling her everything from his first time jump to the meeting he'd had with Potter a few days ago.

When he was finished, he slowly moved his eyes up to meet hers, worried about what he'd find there. Her pale green eyes were lined with concern and all she said was, "Damn, Draco. That sounds awful."

There wasn't a hint of doubt in her expression and Draco let out a sigh of relief. "You believe me?"

She shrugged. "Why would you lie about that?"

He just smiled.

"So, you didn't break up with Astoria?"

"That was November Draco. I actually don't even know what they talked about. Do you?"

She nodded.

"Can you tell me? That way, when I get to November, I can tell Astoria. Then she can tell you, so you can tell me, right now."

Daphne swore under her breath.

Draco smiled again and tightened his grip on her hands. "Believe me, I know. It's really fucked up."

"No kidding. Okay, well, you took Astoria to dinner at her favorite restaurant, The Silver Goblet, then explained that just after your father died, when she was asking you to confide in her and tell her how you felt, you couldn't bring yourself to do it. It's not that you didn't know how you felt or how to put it into words, you just couldn't say it to her.

"And that's when you knew she wasn't the one for you, because you want a wife who you can tell everything to. And then you ended with a lot of reasons why you were rubbish for her and how she deserved much better."

"Huh," Draco said when she'd finished her explanation. "How is she?"

"She's fine. She was only starting to fall in love with you, so it's good you ended it early."

Draco sighed and returned to his back, dropping Daphne's hand as he did so. She stayed on her side, facing him. He could see her out of his periphery but kept his eyes up on the sky.

"Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"Your father -" she started, then cut off. "I know you've been struggling since he died, but was it about him or this time travel thing?"

"Him," Draco said quickly.

"Why? I mean, not to be insensitive or anything, but you didn't even like him."

"Yeah," Draco sighed, "I know. I didn't like him, but I loved him." He was quiet for a long time and Daphne laid there patiently, waiting for him to continue talking.

"I blamed him for the war. But - I don't know if that was fair. I didn't know why he didn't do like your parents and just fund the cause without getting wrapped up in the middle of the evil. But again, he joined up when he was young, like me, and in the beginning I was eager too, remember?"

Draco saw her nod out of the corner of his eye. "I don't know. Everything with him just feels unfinished. A week ago, my mother said she thought we were on the cusp of something - I think it was recovery. I was beginning to see him as a normal person with flaws, rather than the idol I regarded him as growing up. And then it was all taken away, before we could resolve the tension between us, and I hate that.

"And then all his responsibilities got thrust on me at once. It's so much, everything he did, and I don't feel ready for any of it. I thought I had so much more time to figure out who I was, what I wanted to do, but now it's all decided for me. Then, add on the time travel and I - well - I've been a bit overwhelmed."

"That's a lot."

Draco smiled. He felt lighter, having said everything on his mind, like a weight had been lifted from his chest. He should have come to Daphne sooner.

"I just had a thought," she announced.

Draco turned on his side to face her again. "What's your thought?"

"You broke up with Astoria because you couldn't bring yourself to confide in her. But you just told me everything."

"You're right," Draco said thoughtfully, then grabbed her hand again. "Let's get married."

"Tempting, really," she teased. "A loveless marriage. At least I'd know exactly how to behave, since my parents have been setting a great example, but I'll pass. I don't want to upset your other wife, she sounds scary."

Draco pouted. "I'm already dealing with a dead father, now a rejected proposal. How will I recover?"

"Just remind yourself it could be worse. You could be-"

"-Theo," he finished for her.

"Exactly," she smirked.

Draco let out a laugh and laid on his back again. "Why are we so mean to him?"

"I don't know how it all started. He knows it's a joke."

"He showed up at my father's funeral."

Daphne nodded and Draco could tell this wasn't news to her. "He's worried about you. I'm not sure why, since Theo doesn't care about anything, but, I don't know, I can tell he's upset that you're so upset."

"Do you still meet for drinks at Nott Manor on Tuesdays?"

"We do. It turns out we can go on with the great Draco Malfoy," she replied dryly.

"What would happen if I showed up next week?"

Daphne shrugged. "We'd all behave like proper Slytherins and pretend nothing happened."

Draco let out a small laugh. She was probably right. He took her hand and linked their fingers together. "I'm sorry, Daphne."

"I forgive you. You have a lot going on."

"Will you tell me why you were crying before I got up here?"

"Yes. But not now. My teeny little problems can't compete with yours. So, thank you for reminding me how much worse things could be for me."

"Yeah. But apparently, if I can make it to 2006, everything will be better."

"Do you know anything about what I'm doing in 2006?"

Draco shook his head.

"I don't want to know, unless it's good, of course."

Draco smiled. "I'll see what I can find out."

The next morning, at breakfast, Draco received a letter from the council of the Sacred Twenty-Eight informing him that their current Ministry liaison was stepping down and that he, as the current head of the Malfoy family, was in line to take the position.

"Fuck," Draco swore, then looked up at his mother and frowned. "Sorry, Mother."

"What is it?" she asked, eyeing the letter warily.

"It's nothing that bad, just one more thing to add to my plate." He floated the letter across the table to her.

She scowled as she read it, then said to Draco once she was done, "Arty always hated your father. He was probably waiting for Lucius to be out of the way before stepping down, knowing it was our family's turn to serve next."

"Yeah," Draco replied. He knew the history between his father and Arty Bulstrode and he also knew how much his father had coveted this position. Lucius had been in the process of trying to find some dirt on Bulstrode so he could convince him to step down.

Being the liaison between the Sacred Twenty-Eight and the Ministry was a powerful position. The person spoke for the entire Pureblood faction on every new law. And it was common knowledge that nothing got approved through the Elders without approval from the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

But Draco didn't care about any of that. He was fine to pass it along to the next family in line. "Do you know who's next in line?" he asked his mother.

"The Lestranges."

"But they don't have anyone. So, it would pass to the next-" Draco stopped when he saw his mother shaking her head.

"He can serve in jail?"

She nodded. "Rabastan can serve. And there are distant relatives in France. They're nasty though and don't know how we do things in Britain."

Draco shuddered at the thought of a madman like Rabastan having the power to approve or reject every new law the Ministry wrote for the next several years.

"Your father was glad it was our family next on the rotation, since we're capable. He had a plan, once in the role, to work with the Ministry and the council to revise the parameters around who can serve as liaison. Specifically, adding restrictions around anyone serving while incarcerated and adding limits, like having to live in Britain for at least five years before taking the role."

"So, I have to do this?"

"They don't allow women, or I would. Maybe that's something else you can try to change."

Draco sighed. "What's the time commitment? Do you know?"

"I believe you just go to the Ministry one or two days a week and meet with their liaison. I've met him a few times, Augustus Fitzgerald. He's a very ambitious man in his thirties. A Pureblood wannabe, you know the type. Working with him shouldn't be so bad and you'll learn a lot. I think it will be good for you."

"So, I'll be going into the Ministry?" Great. Just when he thought things couldn't get worse, now he had to make regular appearances at a place filled with people who despised him.

"You're stronger than you think, Draco."

A/N: I intended for this to be a short story when I initially set out to write it, nothing more than ten chapters. Well, that's not happening. I have one story-telling pace, and it's SLOOOW. Thankfully my writing pace is pretty quick to compensate. Oh well, I don't mind hanging out with these characters longer than originally anticipated. I just need to buy more Lang Leav books, since I'm running out of poems...Thanks for reading!