Hello lovelies!
I was going to wait until Friday to post this, but I got way too excited. Regardless I hope you enjoy this chapter and as always, THANK you for all your delightful reviews x
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
Friday, April 9th, 1999
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Restless and eager to get out the house, Draco finally paid a visit to Hogwarts. He'd been putting it off since the last time he'd been within Hogwarts' walls—in this time—it spat him decades into the past. Thus, he hadn't been in a rush to darken Hogwarts' hallways again just yet.
Draco stared at the wrought-iron gates as they swung inwards with a loud groan and at the witch dressed in emerald robes awaiting him on the other side. Minerva adjusted her black, pointy hat and a prim smile was affixed to her features.
"Welcome back, Mister Potter," Minerva greeted warmly when Draco joined her. She reached out to grasp his upper arms, gazing at him in wonderment and rubbing some warmth into his chilled limbs.
"Miss me, Minnie?" Draco asked with a crooked grin. Minerva scoffed and lightly swatted him.
"Dreadfully," Minerva said dryly, but the sparkle in her eye said otherwise. The witch turned on her heel and the soft earth squelched underfoot, her black leather boots sinking into the mud as she made for the Castle. Draco easily kept pace with her, his hands now tucked away in his pockets.
"How's he been?" Draco asked. He needn't voice aloud whose wellbeing he was inquiring after; Minerva knew in an instant.
"The youngest Potter has been quite well considering his best friend and former sworn enemy both vanished into thin air several months ago." Minerva shrugged cavalierly. In a softer, muted fashion she added, "since you've been back he's been…different, I'm not sure how yet."
Minerva halted on the incline, digging her heels in slightly so she didn't slide or move about. "After class a couple days ago, he asked what you were like growing up."
"You told him I was charming, extremely handsome, funny and—"
"I told him the truth," Minerva said, cutting Draco off before he got too carried away.
"So, what I said still stands. Charming, handsome…"
Minerva laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that rolled around them and disappeared into their misty environs. "I have certainly missed you, Potter." She resumed walking.
"Thank you for letting me visit today. I figured all the recent excitement has drawn Harry away from his studies quite a bit, and I recall how stressful NEWTs can be."
"Ah yes, you already sat your Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests…that reminds me that I keep forgetting to remove you and Miss Potter's names from the examinee list."
"It is certainly going to be a task merging our two lives, the paperwork alone is bound to be a nightmare," Draco muttered unthinkingly. He dreaded the tedious hours that assuredly awaited him within the Ministry's walls. Hopefully Kings can help make the process a lot less painful, although he might be cross that we borrowed all our official paperwork from the Seventies.
"That is a concern for another day, Mister Potter," Minerva said sympathetically, a hand on his forearm. Draco peered down at the witch, and she smiled tightly. "Harry should be free until this afternoon, but I am not privy to his current whereabouts. You shall need to hunt him down I suspect."
"That won't be too hard," Draco shrugged. It wouldn't. The pair shared a bond whether Harry liked it or not, and if needed, Draco would follow the strings that connected them in order to find the boy.
"I'll leave you to it then," Minerva said. She squeezed his arm, and before they parted she added. "I have missed you dearly, Draco."
"You won't be saying that in a couple weeks when I take to visiting you at odd hours," Draco teased.
"Morgana help me," Minerva said with a wry twist of her lips, but the undeniable warmth behind her words lingered long after she'd disappeared into the mist and back into the Castle.
The vague shape of the large doors to the Entrance Hall loomed before him, their dark shadows beckoning him forward. Draco's legs refused to move.
I could come back another day…or I could just go visit Hagrid. Draco dismissed the idea, he wanted to see the half-giant but there were others he needed to see first. Draco's mind turned in circles as he contemplated his next course of action. If he didn't seek out Harry then the next logical step would be to make the trek down to the Dungeons and announce his return to his friends.
Hermione never pressed for details, but she knew he missed them as much as she'd missed Harry and Ron. Their friendship was different, not as warm and intimate, but their loyalty to one another was fearsome and unwavering.
One night when they were sixteen, Blaise had been pissed to the point of near incoherence and he'd openly declared his affection for their close-knit group in the Common Room with witnesses. Their housemates hadn't let him live it down for months afterwards. Which led to some minor mishaps where all those that had mocked Blaise ended up in the Infirmary with creative afflictions; none of them had been gravely injured, but it was a message and a promise. Do not fuck with their group.
Thus was the vicious circle of being a Slytherin. Outsmart your enemies, don't show any weakness, and your cunning and wit would be what really set you apart from your peers. Familial titles and blood aside, it was your mettle that showed who was the top of the pecking order; Draco and his friends more than proved themselves throughout the years.
Draco listlessly gazed at the Castle. Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle; the people he'd been closest to. Milicent Bulstrode had been closer to others in the year above them, not quite one of them, and they generally ignored one another.
Draco ceased being as close to Vince and Greg after their Fourth Year. It could be chalked up to their parents all being Death Eaters and the resurrection of Voldemort, but Draco knew it wasn't that simple. An inexplicable chasm had grown between them, and he found himself seeking out Blaise and Theo's company more often. To the point where they became his confidants and brothers in ways deeper than blood.
Draco sighed heavily, his breath fogging up the air in front of him. Just as Sirius and Remus were Draco's brothers, so were Theo and Blaise. He should have visited them sooner. I imagine the hexes I'll get will be quite creative for staying away for days. I'm sure they've heard of my return from Cissa or Minnie, and if not them, then maybe Harry.
Draco's thoughts drifted back to his nephew and he heaved out another laborious sigh. He'd come to see Harry, so he should visit him first. Theo, Blaise and the others can wait a little longer, Draco thought.
Draco steeled his resolve and was about to make his way into the Castle when he caught movement in his peripherals. Draco barely had time to turn to his right before a warm body crashed into him. A flash of blonde hair and an exclamation of, "Potter!"
Draco was sucked back into another time. Marlene, Draco thought and his chest soared with irrational hope, but the girl spoke again and his chest caved in at the silky voice. It was a voice he recognised, but the wrong one. She was not Marlene, her smell, her height, everything was wrong. His friend had been dead for decades, but that hadn't stopped the longing for just one more moment with her. One more moment at the mercy of her sharp tongue and incredible wit.
Draco pulled back from the girl, and she was staring at him in shock. She was the wrong girl, and he was the wrong Potter. Time halted, the pair of them momentarily frozen as they both realised who they were looking at.
"Draco?" The blonde whispered in shock, withdrawing herself from his side. Pulling her finely-made, plum cloak tighter around her. He spied pale blue jeans and a thick, white jumper underneath. Dark-brown, leather, knee-length boots were on her feet. Daphne Greengrass, a beautiful witch in her own right. Her features were softer than Marlene's, her eyes more like a bright summer's day than the dark oceans that had been trapped in Marlene's. Her hair was much darker, her nose smaller, more rounded. In actuality, the two witches were nothing alike.
"Hello, Daph," Draco replied stiffly. This wasn't quite the reunion he'd envisioned, and the aftershocks of having his hopes dashed trembled through his limbs.
"You're back," She said, eyes narrowing first at his hair colour, and then clinically raking over him; assessing him. "And you're different." An underwhelmingly average word to describe how much he'd changed, but it would suffice for now.
Draco's lips parted to say something—he wasn't sure what—when Harry's voice loudly travelled over to them. Draco leisurely glanced towards the Castle and the boy with the lightning scar was striding purposefully in their direction. Draco noted that the Marauders Map was held in Harry's left hand, his wand in his other.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked. No malice hid behind his words, just thinly-veiled curiosity. Harry settled by Daphne's side, meeting her eye for a brief moment. A wordless conversation happened in a matter of moments, and Daphne huffed out an exasperated breath.
"Fine," Daphne grumbled. She crossed her arms over her chest, but there was a tender edge to her subsequent words. "I'm leaving now, but it's good to see you, Draco." She paused before she left, "do Theo and Blaise know you're here?"
"No."
"Do you wish me to inform them?"
"I don't know."
"That's helpful," Daphne said dryly.
"Strange, I didn't think I was known for my helpfulness," Draco retorted, a crooked grin taking over.
Daphne scoffed. "It's good to see that no matter how different you may be, you are still a colossal pain in my arse."
"Glad to be of service."
"I'm going to tell them. Make sure to visit soon. The longer you wait, the more time they have to formulate…creative methods of welcoming you back."
"Salazar," Draco muttered, mind already wandering down avenues and picking up a few notable ideas that Theo and Blaise would surely stumble across in moments.
"Regardless. I will leave you both to it," Daphne said, gently bumping her head against Harry's shoulder. The boy ducked and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, and without another word she left.
No words passed between them as they relocated. They ended up on one of the spires of Ravenclaw Tower, the fog surrounding them so dense they could barely see their feet dangling off the lip of the roof. Harry was on Draco's left. This felt important, like a turning point in their relationship, but Draco didn't know what to do with that so he simply stared straight ahead. Content to sit in heady silence.
Harry was not. "You wished to see me?"
"I figured I could make myself available so if you wanted to ask me something, you could. Nothing more, nothing less," Draco responded. It was the truth. There wasn't a particular reason why he'd made the trip to Hogwarts today other than he told Harry he would visit him in a few days, and that they could talk more then.
"I wouldn't know where to begin," Harry confessed. Neither spoke for several moments, and restless, Draco reached into his coat pockets and searched until his fingers closed around a small rectangular box. He'd made a pact with Hermione to quit, but he always carried a pack, more out of habit than anything else.
Draco removed a fag from the full packet, tucking the box back into his pockets. He rolled the fag between his fingers, he wasn't going to smoke it, but he wanted to hold it for some unknown reason.
"You smoke?" Harry asked.
"Not anymore, Hermione and I promised to quit just before she left."
The joyous sound of disbelief that bubbled out of Harry caused Draco's back to straighten at the sudden sound, but he relaxed instantly, curiously gazing at Harry. "Hermione doesn't smoke."
"Not anymore. I just said that," Draco mumbled. "We quit."
"You're lying."
Two words so haphazardly thrown his way without much care or thought, but they stung regardless of the intent behind them. Draco's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Why in Merlin's name would I lie about something so trivial, Harry?" Draco asked softly.
Harry blinked at him blankly. "I—I don't know."
"Because I wouldn't," Draco sighed. This was frustrating. One step forward and fifteen leaps backwards. Just when he thought they were getting somewhere, a brick wall slammed down in front of him, and he had to claw at it with his bare hands, begging Harry to let him in.
"Maybe I should come back some other time—" Draco started, but Harry blurted, "why you?"
"Pardon?" Draco asked. He knew what Harry meant, but he needed to hear him say it. Perhaps they would get somewhere if Harry started being honest with his feelings.
"There are all these things you know that I don't. Hermione smoked for Godric's sake, and—and you are so different." There was that word again, different.
Harry croaked out his words, they splintered out of him, wobbly with fierce emotion. "You've bloody changed, and you got to see them. You grew up with them, spent time with them. You know what all their favourite foods are, what music they liked, what they fucking sounded like when they laughed. YOU KNOW EVERYTHING."
Harry's head was tilted skyward, his body shaking uncontrollably and a mighty stream of tears flowed down his cheeks.
"Harry."
"I've been told stories, and I get the same bullshite all the time about how I look so much like my Father with my Mother's eyes, but fate decided to let you of all people go back in time and know them."
There was nothing to be said. For years Draco had been plagued by thoughts of how unworthy he was to be afforded the immense privilege—the gift—of getting to know James and Lily Potter. At some point he'd made peace within himself and came to the conclusion that he was worthy of it: of their love, the gift of their time, and everything that came with it.
Harry was hurting, and Draco knew it was cathartic to say your feelings aloud. So he let Harry scream and shout and cry. He let Harry thrash and pound on his chest as Draco drew him into an embrace. Harry let all of his anger and hurt out, and Draco patiently waited it out.
"James and Lily were two of the biggest blessings this life chose to give me, but Harry, so are you." Harry froze, exhausted, tears still flowing. "You are their son. They loved you so much, and I do know all about them, but now I can tell you. I can show you one day…I would really like to show you one day if you'll let me."
Draco sucked in a sharp breath, he couldn't stop talking, the air was charged, this was why it'd felt so important the moment they stepped out onto the roof. "I wish I was sorry that it was me, but I'm not. I would do anything for another moment with them, and I know that is selfish saying that to you when you barely had any time with them at all, but it's the truth.
I was in a dark place before I went back to the past, my life was falling apart. I didn't know who I was anymore, or where I fit. They saved me. Hermione, your parents, Sirius, Remus, Riley and so many others. They saved me."
Draco pulled back to look Harry directly in the eye. The almond-shaped bright green eyes shimmering with tears so like his Mother's.
"I wish you'd known them like I did, the way they laughed, the sparkle of mischief in your Father's eyes before he came up with a prank, Lily's sharp tongue and how she could not hold her alcohol. Your Mother loved to braid Hermione's hair, and she shifted into a doe in the middle of James's proposal out of sheer shock. James fucking loved Pumpkin Pastries and hated to share but still did if we asked."
Draco faltered, Harry's grip on the back of his shirt had tightened and the boy was listening raptly, eagerly drinking in every word. Draco swallowed and continued, "Lily loved to bake, and was frightfully gifted with potions, it came as naturally to her as breathing. She made the first move in Seventh Year—"
"She did?" Harry asked gently, surprise punctuating his features. Hermione'd mentioned that Harry had seen the incident in fifth year after their Defense OWL. Draco hated that that moment had stained Harry's idea of his parents' relationship.
Draco let out a breathy laugh. "She did. She was so in love with James." They hadn't been perfect, no one is, but their puzzle pieces fit together. "Your Father made lilies sprout wherever your Mum walked when we were younger and she hexed him for it, but he did it again at their wedding and despite the misery the war caused, we had each other…"
"James was our staunch defender. He always fought to keep everyone safe."
"Everyone always tells me that he was brave."
"He was, and even when he was scared shitless, he still kept fighting. It's just who he was," Draco mumbled. "He was brilliant as well, and remarkably funny. I don't think he gets enough credit for how intelligent he was."
"Tell me something about him, something real," Harry whispered, clutching at Draco desperately. Draco understood what he meant.
"When he was nervous he would run his fingers through his hair, he hated doing the dishes, his favourite flowers were cornflowers, and daffodils because of our Mum, and he preferred raspberry or blueberry jam on his toast. He used to smother French Toast with jam and syrup, it should have been illegal how much jam he used to scoop onto it. And sometimes, he would get a cuppa, bundle under a thick blanket and go sit outside in the cold when he needed to think."
Draco's voice cracked, his heart laid bare.
A vision of James waving around a large piece of French Toast—secured on the end of his fork—as he passionately argued about the Arrows match against Puddlemere the day before with Sirius came to mind. They were fifteen, seated in the Great Hall, still naive to the cruelty that came with death and war. Sirius narrowed his eyes and kept cutting up his sausage. Syrup and jam were dripping from James's fork, but he didn't seem to notice.
Hermione snorted, but jumped in and added fuel to the fire with a wicked grin. James threw his arms out, vindicated as his sister took his side. His fork slipped from his hand and landed with a clatter on Remus's plate a few seats over. Remus shook his head, bemused, and passed it back to his friend. A sheepish grin was on James's face as he accepted it, his cheeks and ears bright red.
Draco blinked back tears, his eyes burning. He missed his brother.
"I'm sorry," Harry said after a few poignant moments of quietness. His voice gruff like sandpaper from all the screaming and crying; it broke on the last syllable.
"Harry—"
"I am, I'm sorry that I said those things to you. I shouldn't have," Harry sniffed. Draco nodded, an acknowledgment of the apology since he wasn't sure what to say.
"I haven't made it easy since you've been back. Remus told me that I was being unfair, but I wasn't seeing it from your side. I'm sorry. You knew them, but you also lost them, and I think it's taken me this long to properly realise that." A watery smile tugged at Harry's features, and Draco's breath caught in his throat.
"I tried to deny it, I didn't want it to be true…you were Draco Malfoy for Godric's sake…but you aren't anymore. You're— you're a Potter. You're Draco Potter and you're family." The last words were a rushed whisper and Harry's eyes widened, as if he'd shocked himself by uttering them aloud.
Draco's body moved of its own accord and he crushed Harry in a hug, tears rolled down his own cheeks, and he didn't trust his voice, so he didn't dare speak. And for the first time since he'd been back, it was like Draco's time was finally moving forward.
Truthfully, the conversation between Draco and Harry was meant to happen in a couple chapters (the chapter before Hermione gets back). Originally I had planned for Draco to visit Harry, but Harry got called away before they properly spoke, and then Draco went to have a reunion with someone else, but...this felt right, so here we are. I am quite emotional about this chapter, purely because I also miss James and Lily.
Thank you for reading as always lovelies!