Draco blinked and ducked away on instinct as he saw an orb of green magic flying straight at him. It stopped right in front of his face, however, and he noticed how everyone around him started to move backwards, the green light slithering back into snake face's wand. Well, that had been awfully close. He kept sitting on the floor, one of his hands still tightly wrapped around the time-turner as he observed his surroundings. When the golden trio was brought in by snatchers, Potter's face looked even more swollen than when he'd been called in to come and identify them. He couldn't help but linger on Hermione and feel sadness and emptiness overtake him. If he'd do things right and if he would actually make it back to his first year, she would have a chance to live again. Dear Merlin, he hoped she would.
Suddenly, a silver hue opened the doors of the drawing room and a woman who was almost two meters tall stepped through, making Draco crawl backwards as the foreign entity approached him. Her beauty reminded Draco of that of a veela, but she was more ethereal, god-like almost. Even if she did inspire fear in him, his brain suddenly caught up and realised that whoever this was, was also safe.
"Why thank you, little dragon," she smiled as she came closer, a little slower this time to allow him to adjust to her presence. "I thought now was a good time to introduce myself to you properly, Draco," she said as she crouched down to get down to his height. "As you now know my spirit has been protecting the Malfoy family for over 900 years, ever since your ancestor Armand Malfoy established the manor here in Wiltshire. You may call me Deandra, as your ancestors have done before you."
She offered him her hand to shake. He stared at it for a second. He knew this was not just a simple introduction. This was also an agreement, a magical vow perhaps even. Shaking that hand would mean that they would work together, that they would accept each other as protectors of the Malfoy family and that they would stand for the Malfoy motto. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper. Purity Will Always Conquer. His father would have laughed at him if he ever dared to mention that the founder of the family hadn't meant it as being pureblooded. Draco eventually shook Deandra's hand, and her silver glow spread from his hand to the rest of his body, settling the deal as they smiled at each other.
"Now that has been settled," she began as she pulled him up to a standing position, Draco surprised at the strength she possessed, "we should start preparing for what to do when this timestream has been reverted back to your first year at Hogwarts. Since you are planning to go back for around six and a half years, we have much to discuss, my child."
She waved her hands and the doors to the drawing room opened, leading into the hallway of the Manor. "It would be best to relocate to your bedroom as that room has been mostly vacant during your Hogwarts Years and would therefore lead to less interruptions. According to my estimates, we will be in this timestream for about a month or two, so we will have more than enough time to prepare for your return."
Draco swallowed. Did Deandra just say they would be here for a month or two? He hadn't prepared for that possibility. Would he be able to survive without any food or water for that long?
"Not to worry," Deandra said as her silver glow bounced off the manor walls while they made their way upstairs, seemingly able to easily read his thoughts. "As long as I am with you, my magic will sustain you. You will have no issues with your mortal needs."
He couldn't help but wonder if that was what he'd been doing for so long? If he'd been sustaining Hermione's magic and making sure she wouldn't die from starvation? He'd never felt that much magic pull at him at once, and he wondered if his presence here would weaken the Spirit.
"Don't worry about me, little dragon," she spoke. "If anything, you should worry about yourself. What you are attempting to do here is unheard of. Even if it is the right thing to do." She smiled at him and looked pleased as she opened the door of his bedroom for him, leading him inside. "Because of the magical reserves both you and I put into the time-turner, there is a good chance that your body will start de-aging until you are your 11-year-old self again. I hope this will lead to the desired outcome, instead of you having to convince 11-year-old you to make the necessary changes. I'm not sure how he would take your change in views on blood purity and death eaters."
Draco mentally cringed, remembering his younger self. Bloody hell, he was an outright git at that age, a fucking menace. At least now that he'd gotten older and had experienced things… Had seen the war, seen what it could do to everyone… It was probably for the best that he would not need to bicker and argue with his younger bigoted self but would instead revert to his younger body. Perhaps, this would be a chance for him to do everything better than last time round. That thought made him stop for a second. Why had he decided to go back so many years? It had felt like the only possibility at the time, but even going back to a time where they'd not been caught would be good enough. Right?
As Draco laid down on his bed, his arms behind his head, Deandra sat down into the chair at his desk. "First things first," he told her. "We both know that what just happened was because Granger was my…" He could barely say it out loud. The word felt so foreign on his tongue. "Because she was my wife. Why don't I remember any of that? I remember being friends with her, but it's honestly all just jumbled in my head still. I can't find the beginning or the end. It's like a bloody wild goose chase trying to figure out what happened or when…"
"Language," the spirit of the manor scolded him as she crossed her ankles and laid her hands upon her knees, smoothing out her dark blue robes. "I would also like to know how Miss Granger was bound to our family so closely that both me and the house elves recognized her as the mistress of the manor, instead of your mother. I tried to help undo the obliviation spell that she used on you, but it seems some memories are locked away better than others. Probably the ones with the most significance. The ones that she-"
Draco interrupted her, knowing exactly what the spirit was playing at. "The ones that she wanted to hide from Voldemort the most. Merlin, couldn't she just have trusted my occlumency skills?" he barked at the ceiling of his bedroom, anger filling him. Perhaps, if she'd trusted him, he could have saved them. No. Who was he kidding. Knowing that Hermione was his wife would not have saved her from whatever Bellatrix was doing. "Of course she couldn't trust my occlumency, she had to be sure. As usual, she wanted to protect me and had a contingency plan for every contingency plan. Stupid bloody Gryffindor," he mumbled, confused at how he remembered so much of her personality without actually having all of his memories about her.
Deandra sighed, letting him vent his anger. "Let's start from the beginning," she said, "let's start from the first memory she tried to protect the most. We will go from there. If we are going to save her, we should have all the facts and be well prepared. Close your eyes, little dragon. Together we will find the truth."
Draco agreed with her and did as he was told, closing his eyes as if he was ready to go to sleep. He prayed to Merlin that this wouldn't turn into another nightmare. When the spirit's magic reached him, it somehow felt like a warm, comfortable blanket around him. He hadn't felt this safe since… He frowned. He'd never felt this safe. Why had his father and grandfather not believed in the spirit of the manor? Even if he'd lost the Malfoy lordship ring on his finger as soon as he'd gone back in time, he still felt strengthened by her presence, if not as much as before. If only his father and grandfather had accepted the spirit… It would've done the Malfoy name so much good with a power like this on their side for the past 100 years, instead of the vile magic used by Voldemort and his lackeys. Bloody idiots the lot of them.
Deandra seemed to chuckle at that. "Lower your occlumency walls, Draco. You can trust me. Let's see what miss Granger, and you, have been trying to hide."
He almost scoffed at the spirit when she implied that he had anything to do with this obliviation nonsense, but he wisely held his tongue as she dug through his mind, finding all of the severed threads between his memories.
- Third year, Hogwarts grounds -
Draco blinked when he felt Deandra connect the first two threads. It almost felt like he went through some weird out of body experience as he was pulled from his body and put into an another. Reconnecting his memories was nothing like looking into a pensieve or having a look at someone else's memories through legilimency. No, it seemed like he was actually going to be reliving it. He knew he was reliving it, because Hermione was yelling in his face, her anger and magic making her hair even more frizzy. That he definitely did remember. It was why he loved riling her up so much when he was a kid. Even if she would ignore him and keep a straight face, her magic would always respond in kind, knowing he'd gotten through to her. What a fucking asshole he'd been.
When she approached him, swinging her arm back, he knew what was coming. Dear Merlin, why.
"You! You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!," she yelled, right before she punched him square in the face, his head cracking against the stone behind him.
He could hear Deandra giggle in the back of his mind. "Feisty, isn't she," the spirit admired. "Like all mistresses of the manor before her, she does not let others walk over her so easily. Not even you."
Draco grunted. "And exactly why am I reliving this memory? I hadn't forgotten about her punching me in the face. My ego was bruised for months after that. Do you have any idea how much the other Slytherins scoffed at me and laughed at my expense? Beaten up by a freakin mudblood."
"Now, now, no need to use that foul language. Let's just see what happens. I asked you to go back to the beginning, so there is something here that she's hidden," Deandra answered, the spirit being nothing more than a spectator to his second most embarrassing Hogwarts moment.
Draco was holding his nose and walked off with Crabbe and Goyle following him, just like he did the first time around. Mhm, interesting. He wasn't in control of his body it seemed. Everything would play out as it had the first time, making sure his mind would connect the right threads.
"Go ahead to the infirmary so Madam Pomfrey can fix my nose," he said, waving the other two bullies off. They did as they were told, smirking at his predicament, and hurried away as Draco glowered at them, blood still running freely out of his nose. He turned around and looked back down at the golden trio who were now cuddling together, watching as that stupid hippogriff was killed. Well, technically it wasn't. He knew the damn thing had survived, even if the memories were hazy. Thank Merlin it was still alive. He'd been a real prat for wanting it to be killed.
As he gazed off in the distance, he couldn't help but frown at himself. Had this truly been what he'd been like? Nothing more than a pathetic bully who needed his father's approval? Fuck. He definitely would need to do better this time around. Another memory tugged at him, but he couldn't be distracted. Granger had hidden something right here, and he needed to find out exactly what.
Then suddenly, he saw her in the corner of his eye, at the edge of the forest. She was standing right there in that awful pink sweater, holding onto Potter's hand, a small smile on her face. Her clothes were the same as those of the Hermione that had just punched him in the face, but he noticed that she was a mess. Her clothes were bloody, muddy, and all ripped up. What had happened to her? And why the fuck was she in two places at once? He tried to shake his head, remembering that he'd blamed him seeing double on his nose being broken and having a possible concussion after Granger had smacked his head into the stone behind him. Now, he knew that she had actually been there, the time-turner around her neck glistening in the light. So that was what she'd been hiding.
Her head turned, and he saw her gasp as she looked at him. He couldn't help but stare at her and Potter, wondering what she'd gone through to have them look like they were beaten up. Then, the memory shifted and she was no more.