All characters in this fiction are originally creations of J.K. Rowling.
It had been very late before anyone in the Slytherin House got any sleep, since Lestrange, Rachel and Avery had gone and awakened just about everybody they could to tell them that there was a new student in their House that had time-travelled from twenty years in the future. They queued up to look at him, and talk to him. Draco had to be very careful about what he would reveal about what the world in his time was like. He didn't dare talk about Voldemort. He didn't want to speak his name or tell anyone what would become of him.
Hogwart's was a truly bizarre place, Draco thought; the fifth year's boy's dormitory had an extra bed, and his trunk, laid out for him by the time he got back into the room to turn in for the night. Draco fended off any more inquiries from his new dorm mates, and settled into a troubled sleep.
Dumbledore's words plagued him. What could he have been meant to do by being sent back in time? This is the sort of thing that happened to Harry Potter, not him! This was not his bag, saving the world. He wanted his comforts and his security. He didn't want to be in a place where no one knew him, and he had no family! He had no place here. But, did he really have a place in his other life? What was his place there? The leader of a band of thugs that had barely enough brains to fill a thimble halfway? The spoiled son of a very wealthy bigot who was a Death Eater? The boy who always lived in Harry Potter's shadow? These thoughts didn't make Draco feel very good at all. He firmly packed them away in a corner of his brain, determined not to think about it until he had time. He didn't have time now. He had a job to do.
The first thing he did the next morning, after dressing and getting himself ready to go down to breakfast, was open his trunk and see if his broom, a brand new Nimbus 2002, was still there. And to his joy, it was! It was with this face of complete rapture that Severus and Lestrange found him as they pushed open their dormitory room door. "Holy shit, look at that broom..." Lestrange breathed as he rushed to Draco's side to examine it.
"'Nimbus 2002'?" Severus read from the gold lettering on the broomstick. "So, they changed it from the Cirrus series, did they?" he asked in the knowledgable way that a person who knew broomsticks would ask.
"Yeah, the Cirrus series died out by the time I was five. My first real broom was a Comet 150. A few years later, they came back out with the Nimbus series. The first one I got from that was a 2001. In between, another company started producing the Firebolt..."(an unpleasant reminder of Harry Potter flashed through his mind, but Draco squelched it.)"which is a great Quidditch broom, true, but when Nimbus came out with the 2002, I just had to get it instead. You couldn't fly better if you had wings than with this broom..."
"D'you play Quidditch?" Severus asked.
"I was Seeker for Slytherin in my time," Draco told them.
"Really?" Lestrange asked with very keen interest. "Were you any good?"
"Well, I won most of the games when I played," Draco answered.
Lestrange made a face. "I'll bet you're better than who we have now. Scared shitless of the Gryffindor Beaters. He won't even try to find the Snitch. We had a supreme Seeker, but those worthless shits knocked a Bludger right in his face, and then he fell down from his broom eighty fucking feet! And you want to know the best part? The bastards went and told Madame Hooch that it was an accident! He's lucky he's alive at all..."
Draco grew very pale, which for him was quite an accomplishment, since he was already almost albino in color. "Oh my God! Was he hurt for a long time?"
"Six weeks in the Hospital wing..." Severus answered, with his voice sounding far off. "I still can't get on a broom to this day..."
Draco's eyes widened in shock. He never knew, in all the years he'd known Professor Snape, that he'd ever played Quidditch! Let alone that he'd been a Seeker, or that he'd been injured so badly that he wouldn't even use a broomstick after he'd recovered from his physical injuries. "Who were these two Beaters?"
"We'll point them out to you at breakfast," Lestrange assured him.
Draco's stomach growled; he was starving! He put his broom back into his trunk, and followed Severus and Lestrange out of their own dormitory and into the Slytherin common room. The common room, with it's low ceilings, green shaded lamps and highback leather chairs placed throughout the room, was just as Draco remembered it from his own time. Only the people in the room were all completely different. One of them, a tall thin young man who must have been old enough to be a seventh year, was pointed out by Lestrange. "Talk to him," he advised Draco, "he's Slytherin's team Captain, Roderick Simmons. Say, Roddy?" he then called, getting Roderick's attention.
He looked up from some of the other people he was talking to, and from the looks of the group, Draco surmised that they must be the other Quidditch team members. There was one girl, and four other boys. Two of them were built like Crabbe and Goyle; they were most likely the Slytherin Beaters. Another was a stout young man, who had to be the Keeper. Draco figured this out by seeing in his mind's eye an image of him hanging off a broom trying to block the red Quaffle. He guessed that the girl, the remaining boy, and Captain Roddy had to be the three Chasers. So where was the Seeker?
"Yeah, Lestrange?" Roderick asked him. He wasn't looking at Lestrange, however; his blue eyes were fixed squarely upon Draco.
"Guess what Malfoy here has been telling us? He's a Seeker, Roddy!" Lestrange explained in excitement.
Roderick stood up in undisguised delight. "Really? You any good?" he asked Draco.
"You should see the bitchin' broom he's got..." Lestrange went on.
"I was talking to Malfoy, Dolph, not you," the Quidditch Captain told him in an imperious tone. Then, Roderick saw Severus, and bowed his head. "Sorry, I shouldn't be talking about this now..." he muttered.
An expression came over Severus' face that Draco had seen literally hundreds of times before in his previous existance. The younger version of Professor Snape narrowed his eyes and snapped, "Don't worry about my 'tender feelings,' Simmons! Slytherin needs a good Seeker desperately, and you're doing our entire House a dishonor if you continue letting your misplaced guilt feelings get in the way of running the team!" Draco struggled to keep his jaw from dropping in shock. He remembered Marcus Flint, the old Quidditch Captain that he used to play with in his early Quidditch days. Flint would've flattened anybody that had dared accuse him of sabotaging the team. But this Roderick didn't flatten Severus, or indeed, answer his accusation at all.
"I wish we'd go upstairs, I'm famished!" Draco complained loudly to break the tension in the room. The other players seemed to jolt back to life, though none of them would quite look at Severus in the eye. Ignoring them, Severus held his head up and proceeded to lead the whole lot of them out of the room. Draco watched the others as they walked silently behind him to the Great Hall for breakfast. Off and on again, they each would give Severus a pitying look behind his back.
"Dolph? How long ago did this er, 'accident' happen?" Draco leaned over and murmured to him.
"Just earlier this school year. The first game of the season was a week after Halloween." Lestrange shook his head with the memory of it as they sat down to eat. Draco got the sense that the rest of the team, along with a lot of other people, considered Severus' 'accident' a tragedy. "You had to see him to understand it," Lestrange continued. "Snape was brilliant. Without a doubt, the best Seeker Slytherin's ever had, maybe even the best one Hogwart's has ever had. He could've been picked for any national team. But now..." he sighed, "he won't even climb onto a broom. He's ruined. And it's all their fault..." Lestrange ended darkly as his brown eyes narrowed at a few people at the Gryffindor table, who were paying not the slightest attention to the Slytherin table at all.
Draco looked over to the table, and had to catch his breath, because he couldn't believe his eyes. "Potter!" he hissed with mingled horror and loathing. "How the fuck did he get here?"
"You know him?" Lestrange gasped.
Draco immediately jumped up from his seat, knocking over his porridge, and strode with rage in every step over to the Gryffidor table. Because Draco's ears were ringing from pure fury, he only dimly heard Lestrange rouse Severus from his seat, to trot over behind Draco to the Gryffindor table.
"Potter!" Draco growled. Potter looked up from his breakfast with surprise in his blue eyes. And at that moment, when Draco saw the boy's face fully, and searched his forehead with his eyes for the scar, and saw none, he realized his mistake. "Oh, sorry, you're not Potter..." he apologised feebly.
"Yes I am..." Potter told him, standing up from his seat. "James Potter. And you are?"
"Draco Malfoy," he answered, offering his hand. James shook it. Despite the fact that his head was spinning from the fact that he was actually shaking Harry's father's hand, Draco took note of James' companions. One of them had black hair, like Potter and Severus did, but it was long and wavy, and he had golden eyes that made him look mystical. Draco thought sardonically that he'd be considered very handsome by the girls. Another one, to Draco's shock, was one he recognized. He had brown hair, without the gray in it that Draco had recalled, and he had grey eyes much like his own, only not as pale. It was Lupin, the werewolf! The last one was short, with thin hair that really had no color. He was on the porky side, and had stains on his robes from his breakfast.
"You must be new here," James said.
"I am, and I'm not," Draco answered mysteriously.
"What kind of answer is that?" asked the handsome one.
"An honest one..." Draco shrugged.
Draco noticed, suddenly, that Severus and Lestrange were at each of his elbows. Now, he saw James and his friends staring at Snape and Lestrange murderously. Draco understood it once he saw the porky boy squirm in his seat. These people were all involved in the traditional Gryffindor-Slytherin Rivalry. Draco smiled as he looked at Lestrange's and Severus' faces full of contempt. "Well, sorry I thought you were someone else, Potter. I guess we'll get back to our breakfasts, eh? Can't take this silly school stuff so seriously..." he suggested airily, and then led the way, with Lestrange and Severus in close persuit, back to the Slytherin table.
"What the fuck were you thinking, shaking Potter's hand like that!" Lestrange spat at Draco as soon as they sat back down. Draco looked up and saw the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team gazing back at him with disgust.
"Well, maybe you ought to tell me what I did wrong this time!" Draco drawled while trying to clean up the mess he'd left at the table before.
"Maybe we should have Snape explain it to you!" Lestrange suggested with a definite tone of loathing in his voice.
Severus sighed, and appeared as if he didn't want to discuss the matter. Roderick looked at Severus with incredulous disbelief when he saw this. "Snape! Those bastards ruined you! Tell Malfoy what they did!" he demanded.
"He knows what they did!" Severus snapped.
"Wait a minute!" Draco ordered them. "Are you trying to tell me that..."
"That Jim Potter and Sirius Black are Gryffindor's Beaters? Yeah!" Lestrange growled. "They're the ones. And they are capable of just about anything..."
"And I suppose you'd know this because you are capable of just about anything too, aren't you?" Draco muttered, unable to keep the knowledge of Lestrange's ultimate fate out of his mind at that moment. When Lestrange appeared as though he was about to make a nasty reply, Draco looked to Roderick. "Who is our esteemed Seeker?"
"Evan Rosier is only our reserve Seeker, just a fill in, and he really can't cope with those two coming after him. We need a good Seeker for long term," Roderick told Draco as he shot the Gryffindor table another dark look. "Would you care to try out this evening after dinner?"
"Sure! I love Quidditch, and I don't think I could bear life in this place without at least having that..." Draco declared. All of the other Quidditch players glared at him again, apparently aggrivated by his insensitive remark. But before Draco could say anything more, Severus nudged him and then shook his head.
"They're always going to act like that," he explained to Draco quietly. "I wish they'd stop it."
"Don't you know how you can stop them from pitying you?" Draco asked Severus.
"No. How?"
"By getting up on your broom and flying again. By playing Quidditch again!" Draco answered, as if he couldn't believe that Severus could have lost his nerve so completely. "That's the only way!"
"I can't..." he said as shook his head. Draco had never seen it happen, but somehow, all the same, knew it was so traumatic that Severus would never forget the horror of it as long as he lived. "I just can't!" He rose from his seat and stalked off.
Draco watched him go, and then looked back at the Gryffindor table, where Potter and his companions chatted away without a concern in the world. Bile began to rise in his throat. It was amazing, he thought; no matter how much things change, some things just stay the same. If it was true that one of those boys was Sirius Black, then Draco knew that it couldn't have been an accident. After all, Draco knew what would happen to Black in the future. He was going to get sent to Azkaban for murder. He has it in him to kill. This just proves it; he's already gotten Potter to aid him in attempting to kill Snape, didn't he?
Draco looked up at the teacher's table, and saw Dumbledore looking at him with a keen interest. Was Dumbledore turning a blind eye to the Gryffindor's antics? Was he showing the usual favoritism that he had shown Harry Potter as well? Did he just have a soft spot for people that broke rules and were incorrigible show-offs? Was it at all possible to do anything about it? Dumbledore cast his blue eyes in Draco's direction, and grinned slightly. His half-moon spectacles twinkled with merriment. Draco simply nodded in response.
Someone came up from behind him. Draco turned and saw Professor McGonagall with his schedule in her hand. "So!" she said, "You must be the new student that Professor Dumbledore told us about! Here is your course schedule. I understand that you are fully caught up on all of these subjects; therefore, no testing will be necessary for placement." Draco was a bit taken aback. Though her demeanor was quite as crisp as it had always been, he was surprised at how very lovely she was.
"Sure, Professor McGonagall," he said, smiling as he took the card from her. She looked rather pleased that he knew, somehow, who she was. Professor McGonagall grinned tightly and departed. Draco watched her go, and he had to blink several times to get the vision of her out of his mind. Then, he looked at this schedule, which looked like it was a bit jumbled up from what it had been his time. For instance, normally on Tuesdays, he would have had Care of Magical Creatures next period with the dratted Gryffindors, but instead, he had double period Potions with them.
He looked up at the teacher's table again, this time, trying to see who else was familiar. He saw Flitwick, and Sprout, but of course, not Snape. Instead, there was a sour-pussed, balding, portly man in his place. Hagrid was at the end of the table, like he'd been before, and would be in the future. But Draco knew that he'd just be the Caretaker and Keeper of the Keys and Grounds, like he'd been before he took over as Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Draco was curious about how everything would be. So he pulled his book bag up onto his shoulder, and headed back downstairs to the Potions Dungeon.