See disclaimer in part one
A/N: Thank you to those you reviewed. :) It's hard to justify putting all this time into writing when everyone seems indifferent, and getting reviews gives me a major happy. If you like it, please let me know!





Chapter 3
In which questions are answered, and more are raised.

++

Traffic was worse then usual, a bus versus pedestrian accident on the corner between the Lucidity Offices and the freeway entrance turning the street into a parking lot. With the air and radio on full blast and a lattè in hand, Draco was well equipped to handle the delay calmly. He tapped the leather covered steering wheel in time to the music, eyeing the police activity going on to his right with the same casual disinterest as everyone else. Not that there was much to be seen anyway. The stain on the asphalt could just as easily be leaked oil from the bus as blood, and the police seemed to be fully occupied with standing around and socializing.

Between the radio and casting glances to the right, he was surprised enough to nearly drop his drink when someone tapped on his left window. Locked? Radio off! Police? Car jack? flashed through his mind in quick succession, and he turned wild eyed to the driver's side window after punching the power off on the radio.

Lee Jordan?! he couldn't do much more then gape. If Harry had been a surprise, then this was heart failure.

Lee smiled at him, and gestured towards the door, pantomiming walking around and getting in. Draco nodded, hitting the lock for the passenger door. If Jordan already knew where he was, there was no reason to be uncivil. Things would play out as they wished, and the whole matter was out of his hands. Lee quickly slipped around the front of the car and slid in, sighing with relief when he felt the cool blast of the air coming from the vents. LA might not be hot by Inland Empire standards, but when a person got used to it always being in the high seventies, ninety was a killer. Especially with the weather being so damn strange. It wasn't more then a few days ago that it had been raining.
The car ahead rolled forward another forty feet, the driver of the blue Accord behind him hitting his horn when Draco didn't immediately move. He waited until Lee was buckled in and settled before rolling the window down far enough to flash the official company loyalty salute at the offending driver.

Nice car. Lee was running his hands over the leather seat, and eyeing the sound system with interest. Sub woofers?

Of course. Is there a reason for this, or did you just want to admire the car? Draco drawled, his annoyance clear.

Lee whistled. Testy little bastard, aren't we? Can't an old friend just drop by?

he snapped.

I'd think you would be more appreciative. What I'm about to tell you may save your life.

That's what the Jehovah's Witnesses said. Right before I shoved them off my porch. Traffic moved ahead another fifty feet.

You just keep gettin' better with age. Like Limburger cheese. Lee reached out to fiddle with the radio, and Draco swatted at his hand.

Stop that. Get to your point. He had his teeth gritted and a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel, and was trying to think positive thoughts. He'd hired an anger management coach earlier this year to consult with the supervisors after the second director of personnel in a row had gone postal. He had received a private consultation after he had voiced his displeasure over the meeting starting a half hour late. The woman had said that he should count backwards from twenty and think positive thoughts to stay calm. He focused on an image of Lee's head crushed under the bus tires. Draco supposed positivity was relative.

Traffic finally loosened somewhat now that they were past the crash, and Draco was able to make it onto the 110 headed towards Hollywood without cutting off too many poeple. It took him a bit father out of his way then the 60 or 10, but avoided some of the congestion. He swung over into the carpool lane. Might as well get some lemonade out of this lemon.

Your father is alive.

Draco's hands jerked on the wheel, bouncing a front tire off the concrete barrier. He over corrected, swerving dangerously close to the fast lane, but then got the car steadied again. Why would you think that?

Because I've seen him, Lee said, and his tone had gone from light and teasing to a cold professionalism. I don't know exactly what happened behind closed doors, and I'm not sure I want to. But I have to ask, you ever see the body?

he said softly. But he has to be dead.

Well, you believe what you want to. But I'm telling you I'm not out here to visit Disneyland. You-Know-Who may be dead, but the Ministry is as busy as ever. And one of the things we're busy with is your daddy dearest. He's up to something, and I doubt it's anything he'll get a Nobel prize for.

You've spent quite some time around Muggles.

Yeah. Undercover shit, mostly.

The Nobel prize reference gave you away. If Lucius is alive, He didn't call him father. He would never call him father, why do I care?

Because you're the one he wants to kill. Or at least, the first one. I have a feeling it's a pretty long list. He half turned in the seat so he was facing Draco, a serious expression on his face. Draco could just make him out in the corner of his eye, keeping his main attention fixed on avoiding the drivers who seemed to believe that using a turn signal was against their religion. Look, you sure as hell aren't as pure as the driven snow, but you could have made things a lot worse for us, and you didn't. You've been minding your own damn business out here, and honestly, we'd just as soon leave you to it. But something is going down, and it's going to be bad. Real bad, for everyone. Like it or not, you're involved.

Involved how? Do I have to do anything? It was bad enough that everyone from his past seemed determined to waltz back into his life and have surreal conversations with him. Now he had to be involved. He hated involvement. It wasn't even a nice sounding word. Involve.

No. Just keep on living your life in whatever twisted little way you see fit. It would be nice if you'd turn those letters you've been getting in to me though. I can give you a P.O. Box to drop them off at.

The letters are from him? Draco couldn't keep his surprise from showing.

Yeah. I don't know why though. Maybe it's all a mind game, or maybe he's just gone totally insane. Time will tell. Almost as though a switch had been flipped, Lee had gone back to his easygoing manner. Draco wondered what he had been doing all these years to gain the ability. It was a specialty rarely developed by normal people with happy little lives.

Fine. I get anymore, I'll give them to you. By the way, are you coming home with me?

Nope. Just dump me off at the first Metrolink station we go by.

That will be coming up in about five miles. Do you mind if I ask you something?

Depends on what you're asking. Might answer it, might not.

Does Harry Potter work with your little...group?

Lee was silent for a moment, and Draco began to wonder if he was going to get an answer. When he spoke, it was hesitantly. Harry...Harry kinda does his own thing. He was in tight up until the final battle, but then he just sort of...drifted off.

So he wouldn't know about any of this?

No. Got a reason for asking?

Idle curiosity. The sign came up for Metrolink Station, Next Exit' and Draco began to move over lanes. Can I expect any more impromptu visits?

Not unless shit hits the fan. This is good, I can walk the rest of the way. Draco pulled up to the curb just clear of the off ramp, and Lee slid out. He began to shut the door, then paused halfway. Oh, and Draco?



You do get killed, I got dibs on the car. He flashed a startlingly white grinned, slammed the door hard enough to make Draco wince, and jogged off towards the station.

++

Draco had taken to spending the late night hours in his home office, on the off chance that Potter hadn't been a hallucination and might indeed return. He had also switched the security system off, so that Harry wouldn't accidentally trip it. Tonight, he had changed his suit for jeans and a fairly tacky old Fleetwood Mac concert t-shirt, and was sprawled out in his recliner, nose buried in the latest Stephen King novel. CNN provided just the right amount of background noise on the television. Marie had left a few hours earlier, saying she was going to visit a friend, which meant she as going to go shag Miguel, the gardener. He hadn't even managed to work up his usual surge of irritation over it, and she'd stormed off in a huff. She liked it when she could raise a reaction from him.

Draco allowed his thoughts to drift. Potter had driven a bulldozer through the ordered Zen rock garden that was his life. It wasn't just the shock of seeing someone he'd never thought he'd see again, or of being able to have a serious conversation that involved magic. Lee had given him that, and the thought of Lee naked evoked much the same reaction in him as imaging Attorney General Ashcroft in the same condition. Not quite enough to drive a man to celibacy, but pretty damn close. No, Harry was another matter entirely.

He had enjoyed seeing Harry Potter. Even now his thoughts continued to stray towards green eyes and lean hips, rewriting the meeting into a thousand infinitely more interesting possibilities. Thinking that perhaps he simply needed a good fuck to get things out of his system, he had swung by one of his favorite bars after work yesterday. Elusive Tranquillity was a spot where he always had good luck finding someone who was up for a casual swing. It had an unusually wide selection of drinks, and an atmosphere that wasn't as quite as cheesy as the name would suggest. Draco had only been there a couple hours when he'd realized he was only hitting on men with dark hair and glasses. After that, he had settled for drinking himself into oblivion.

He folded a page corner down to mark his spot, and set the paperback on the end table. It was almost two in the morning, and he was due to go golfing in Temecula at nine. Traffic wouldn't be all that terrible, as at that hour everyone from Orange County and the Inland Empire would be headed towards the LA area, not away from it. Still, it was going to be a solid hour, hour and a half drive. Hopefully, he'd be driving alone this time. If he was going to get any sleep in before leaving he'd better start now. Potter obviously wasn't going to show tonight.

As if on cue from his thoughts, the doorbell rang. He bounded up to get it, slowing to a sedate walk and catching his breath a few feet before he reached the front door. A glimpse through the peephole confirmed his suspecions; it was Harry.

he said calmly, as though he answered the door to wizards at godawful hours of the morning regularly.

Good eve- er, morning Draco. May I come in? His entire demeanor was terribly polite, and Draco felt like someone had stolen a gentleman from some 19th century novel and transposed him for the Harry Potter he had once known. Manners breed manners, his aunt had used to say when he was little, and he felt himself adjusting his posture despite himself.

Of course. The living room is to the right. he stepped back, allowing Harry to walk by him before closing the door and throwing the locks. Anything to drink?

Harry shook his head, I'll be fine. When Draco returned from the kitchen with a beer for himself, he continued, Amazing what a difference the front door makes, isn't it? I was half convinced I was going to get a golf club upside the head the other night.

Draco settled himself on the La-Z-Boy across from the sofa Harry was on, leaning back and throwing one leg over the arm rest. Well then. What sort of bombshell are you going to drop on me tonight? Find out the Lindbergh baby was behind the murders all along? Harry just looked blank, and Draco had to remind himself to keep the Muggle references to a minimum. It was odd to think that he, a Malfoy, one of the purest bred wizarding families around, was closer to being a Muggle then the Muggle-raised Potter. It was more then slightly disconcerting.

Harry didn't waste any time getting to his point. I think I may have found a reason for the murders. Harry looked uncomfortable, and Draco was getting a bad feeling about the future of his day. Aw well, he hadn't wanted to go golfing anyway.

he gestured for Harry to continue.

It's part of a spell. A very, very dark one, that was supposedly lost a few thousand years ago. Whoever is behind this, wants to use it change what happened at the final battle. Bring the wizarding world into Voldemort's hands after all.

Draco frowned. I imagine quite a few people still want that. Why is this lunatic any different from the rest?

Because this lunatic is succeeding. Of the ten tasks that must be completed, our mystery wizard already has two down. According to the limited history I've been able to access, no one has gotten that far before. Harry was becoming more animated as he spoke, as though this was something that truly excited him. Then again, saving the world had always seemed to be Harry's thing. Maybe he got off on it.

So, what can be done? You seem to be up on things, track this guy down.

Well, there's a small problem. It can't be stopped from here. I'd have to be back where it all began, at the last battle, to keep things right. Besides, call it a hunch, but I think this may involve you.

Draco had fulfilled his yearly quote of being involved'. It was time to get down to some serious being left the hell alone'. What am I supposed to do about it? Really Potter, if living in earthquake country has taught me anything, it's to not loose sleep over shit I can't help. It will happen or it won't, and that's that.

You can go back and fix it. Harry said, settling back in the chair as he waited for Draco's reaction. It wasn't long in coming.

You're insane. A complete raving nutter. I can't believe I let you in my house. How much lead paint did they feed you growing up?

Well now. You're skeptical. I can understand that.

At the risk of sounding too much like a Muggle, no shit Sherlock.

Harry grinned, his enthusiasm refusing to be muffled. There really is a way to do it. I know you don't believe me, I didn't believe it at first either, but it is possible.

Draco got up and left momentarily, reemerging from the kitchen with a bottle of Gray Goose and a shot glass. This situation called for some serious intoxication. Enlighten me, he said, settling back down. Because there isn't any spell I know of that will go back further then a month. Well, at least not take you back in one piece anyway.

Harry said, shaking his head. There is a spell. But-, he held up a hand to stall Draco's protest, it isn't one that would do us any good. Unless you can think of ten people you wouldn't mind butchering.

Again, I ask how?

The Muggles may have come up with a way.

Draco, uncertain of a way to combat such obvious insanity, merely sat and stared. He cleared his throat a few times, started to speak, then lapsed back into silence. Finally, after a minute, he managed a

You think I'm insane, don't you?

Didn't we already establish that? Draco threw back another shot of vodka, making an even half dozen. A few more, he mused, and Harry would start making sense.

Harry grinned as though it all was a grand joke, and Draco was reminded of the worst two Weasleys, the twins. Harry looked like there was a Canary-Cream hidden somewhere in the works, and Draco was about to bite into it. I wouldn't have believed it myself, he said, getting up to pace the room, but then I met this Muggle in the train station. His voice, his whole manner conveyed an incredible exuberance, and Draco was forced to admit that he was particularly optimistic and motivated for a madman. They know how time works now...the whole passage of time is nothing but an illusion. Einstein said it first, The past present and future are only illusions, even if stubborn ones.' All time is equally real. We're in the now, but the past is still there. Do you know what that means? If time isn't fixed, if it isn't cast solid?

Draco shook his head.

It means, Harry said, coming to a stop facing Draco, that we can move within it. The past is still there, all we have to do is figure out how to reach it.

Oh well then. If that's all, why don't we get right to it, Draco said, with an eye roll added to emphasize the sarcasm.

You need some kind of wormhole to do it, Harry mused, and Draco got the impression he was talking mostly to himself at this point. Muggles haven't yet figured out how to create a stabilized artificial wormhole, and they can't pick up on the natural ones- they can be there and gone in an eye blink. But if you added magic into the mix you could do it, and on a small scale, without going out into space.

Draco said carefully, supposing you have a brief bit of sanity hiding in that head of yours. Suppose we can go back, and do. Isn't that opening up the ultimate Pandora's box? What if we fuck things up and the situation is worse when we return?

Harry shook his head. But we can't. We can't do something that is inconsistent with logic and the laws of physics. It's like trying to fly by flapping your arms - no matter how badly you want to, it won't happen. Even magic follows the laws of physics, although it's going to be a very, very long time before Muggle science develops to the point where they can understand all the laws. We can't do anything that will prevent us from going back in time in the first place. If events don't play out exactly the same, we won't travel back, and then we couldn't have gone back and changed it in the first place, so it's still the same. We're just stopping him from changing it. Understand?

I'm going to have to trust you on that one. He refilled his shot glass, and peered at Harry over the rim. This was going above and beyond merely being weird. The strangest part of all, was that his gut feeling was telling him to go with Harry. Or maybe it was the Vodka talking. He tossed back the shot. Suddenly, a light switched on in his mind. We're just stopping him from changing it. Wait a minute - we've gone from mystery wizard behind door number two doing a spell that can change things to a specific he' who is traveling back in time to change things. Pardon me for the blonde moment Holmes, but do you think you can go back over that deduction a bit more carefully?

Harry's fidgeting had quieted somewhat, and he was back on the couch. Do you believe in seers?

Draco moaned and massaged his temples. This conversation was giving him a headache. What kind of seer? If you mean the pretend gypsies who hung out in Diagon Alley when we were kids and told fortunes for five Knuts, then no. As for the legendary ones, I don't know. Wait until I meet one, then I'll get back to you on that.

But you might believe...you aren't just dismissing it out of hand?

His answer seemed to be very important to Harry, and Draco began to have a sinking feeling. Oh no. He doesn't believe... You're a seer?

Well, you said it not me. He almost seemed embarrassed. I have dreams, and they come true. What would you call me?

Draco shook his head. Insane, to start. They were wondering too far off topic. Okay, setting reality on the shelf for a moment, and assuming you do have prophetic dreams, how is this tying in with your proposed Orwellian adventure? The time machine, he added when Harry looked confused.

Well, I had a dream...

Draco spent much of the next hour with his head in his hands, wishing desperately that he could just wake up and have the world return to normal. He was starting to understand what Lee had meant by Harry does his own thing. If it hadn't been for Jordan, Draco no doubt would have kicked Harry out on his ass after hearing your father and not dead used in the same sentence. But, if Harry didn't have access to any of the Ministry information, that left only the most terrifying possibility of all - Harry might actually be on to something.

he said, interrupting, Let's see if I've been able to follow this. You saw in a dream that Lucius is alive. If Harry was surprised that Draco preferred to use a given name rather then acknowledge any relationship, he hid it well. Not only alive, but bent on killing me, going back in time and bringing the world under Voldemort's rule. Then kill him and step into the limelight himself no doubt, Draco thought, but kept the idea to himself. And, according to you, I have to be there or he will succeed?

I think you've got the gist of it.

Wonderful. Absolutely fucking wonderful.