- Malfoy Manor, unknown time -
Draco's eyes flashed open as he returned to his body once more. He felt so disoriented after living through that last memory and receiving an influx of other tiny memories. Hermione and he had been darting around each other ever since spring of their fourth year. They'd challenged each other, taunted each other, driven each other crazy with arguments and discussions. To be honest, they had bloody infuriated each other. But like Hermione had said, the bite was out of it. It had been nothing more than a game, seeing who would give up first. Who would admit first that instead of bickering, all they really wanted to do was have a good snog. Dear Merlin, being a teenager fucking sucked.
Straining his eyes and looking at the day-and-night-cycle flashing past outside his window, he noticed that he was still travelling back through time. Deandra had moved again to the chair near his desk. She followed his gaze, and understood what he'd been wondering.
"We've gone back about two years while we reconnected your memories," she said. "Your body is already getting younger."
Draco sat up and looked down at himself, feeling his arms and his face. Deandra conjured a mirror for him, letting him study himself. This was beyond weird. Sure, he hadn't really turned into an adult yet and he still had some of that boyish sluggishness when he'd gone back in time. He'd been gaunt, paler than usual, and it was weird seeing his rounder cheeks and his more childlike features again. The one thing he had noticed immediately was that his dark mark was finally gone, his skin unblemished once more. Thank fuck for that.
"Let's hope that foul magic will never stain you again," the spirit sighed as she watched him trace the inside of his left forearm. "Now, let's start planning for your return. We already know that you will do what Hermione said she would change. But the most pressing matter is that we need to figure out what the Horcruxes are. Since Hermione and Professor Dumbledore have been working on it for a long time, I'm not sure how far we would get with the time we have left. As of now, we can only assume that the diary is one, and that your aunt has another hidden in her vault. According to Hermione, Harry might be carrying a soul fragment as well. What about the other four vessels? Is there anything else that seems off and could potentially help us in finding them now that you've regained all of your memories?"
Draco stretched his neck, cracking it as he did. He crossed his legs under him, leaning back on his arms and looked up at the ceiling of his bedroom, thinking. "The Horcruxes are associated with especially dark magic, correct?" he asked Deandra. She nodded in agreement, encouraging him to continue. "Something which has always felt foul and off to me was his familiar, Nagini."
"Ah yes, Nagini," Deandra said, seemingly saddened. "An unfortunate story, that one. She might be as attached as she is to Tom Riddle because she used to be on another dark wizard's side in the past, albeit as a human."
"A human?" Draco whispered, looking at the spirit in shock. "Nagini used to be a human?"
"The victim of a blood curse, I'm afraid," Deandra responded. "You've heard of maledictuses?"
"I thought they were a myth," he whispered in horror. "No one has seen one in hundreds of years."
"There used to be one in the Malfoy line, about six hundred years ago," Deandra explained, reminiscing and looking out of the window as the moon and sun kept passing by. Seemingly annoyed, she stood up and closed the curtains, lighting up the candles in his room with a wave of her hand before she continued. "A beautiful little girl with strawberry blond hair was born here at the Manor. It was before the west wing was built. Her mother had been cursed after she'd married into the Malfoy family. One of the other contenders for your ancestor's hand, and thereby his fortune, could not live with the fact that she was second best, so she cursed his wife. It was a blood curse, affecting any children the wife might bare. After about thirty years, the daughter turned into a peacock and stayed that way forever. She and her mother never had any children in order to not spread the curse through more heirs. Your ancestor eventually remarried after his wife's death and had other descendants, you being one of them. No one wanted that particular curse to spread in the bloodline." An evil and twisted grin was plastered on the spirit's face. "The one who cursed us definitely got what she deserved."
Draco wasn't sure if he wanted to learn more about that particular instance. The look on Deandra's face scared him shitless. Whatever punishment she and his ancestor had devised for that woman, it must've been horrible. Trying to steer of topic, he jokingly asked: "So the peacocks in the garden?"
"Don't worry, they are not your distant cousins," Deandra laughed, seeing where his train of thought had been going. "They became a tradition to honour your ancestor's firstborn child. I'm afraid that the story of how this tradition came to be was lost over time."
"So, Nagini couldn't be a Horcrux?" Draco asked, trying to steer the conversation into that direction again, sighing softly that the idea for peacocks was to honour an ancestor and not something more twisted.
"She could've been," Deandra mused. "It would be best to cross reference the magical signature of any Horcruxes we find, like the diary, with any others we encounter. If they truly carry some of the Dark Lord' soul, they will call to each other. It would be easier to locate them if we knew what to look for. Nagini might've been made a Horcrux after Voldemort returned in your fourth year, however. So we can't be sure about her status as of now."
"That leaves three others," Draco sighed, leaning back onto his bed and covering eyes with his elbow. He could really use a nap. He was so tired. But he knew that he wouldn't need sleep as long as he was here. Just giving his mind some time to rest would be nice.
"How would we even get to the one in aunt Bella's vault, if there even is one," he started thinking out loud, his mind too cramped to keep in his own thoughts.
"How's your Gobbledegook?" Deandra asked, surprising him. "It's always smart to keep the goblins in your pocket with more than just gold. They respect honour and tradition, and they would definitely want to get rid of any foul magic in their vaults. Perhaps a trip to Gringotts is in order once we get back."
"Gobbledegook?" Draco blanched at her. "Why on earth would I know Gobbledegook?".
"Right," the spirit huffed as she moved away from the window and walked closer to Draco. "I'd forgotten both your father and grandfather were so poisoned with their hatred to anything not Sacred Twenty-Eight that they forgot to actually educate themselves and their children."
Deandra sat down on the side of the bed again, putting her hand on his forehead as if checking for a fever. "Luckily, you have me on your side. As a thousands of years old spirit with whom multiple of your ancestors have shared their knowledge, I for one do speak Gobbledegook. As well as some Elvish. I can easily transfer this ability to you, if you'd be open to that? Any of my knowledge will always be available for the children of House Malfoy."
Draco just stared at her. Did she just say she held all the knowledge of his ancestors as well as her own? She'd just said she was thousands of years old, meaning she'd lived long before Armand made his pact with her. Why had his father and grandfather never known this? If he had the spirit on his side, he couldn't imagine how his life might've turned out. Maybe he wouldn't have been such a fucking idiot to begin with. He couldn't believe she was on his side.
She smiled down at him softly. "I will always be on your side, little dragon," she said. "I'll take that as a yes?".
Draco nodded, feeling her hand get slightly warmer on his head. He was waiting patiently for something to happen when suddenly thousands of words filled his mind. Even though he had never heard them before, he could understand them. How excitingly peculiar a feeling that was. Mione would've loved that…
[You wouldn't happen to know Parseltongue?] Draco jokingly asked her in Gobbledegook once she lifted her hand off his forehead.
"The Gaunts did marry into the Malfoy line," Deandra chuckled. "But it is not an ability that is as easily transferred because it's actually an hereditary magical trait, much like being a metamorphmagus. People might raise questions if I'd actually succeed in teaching you Parseltongue, and you might attract certain familiars which would raise some eyebrows. I'm surprised that Mr. Potter never had a snake as his familiar, actually. Magical snakes are especially attuned to speakers, seeking them out if they have to."
"So no cool magical hereditary traits for me," Draco pouted, feigning disappointment.
"At least you have a cool, magical spirit by your side," Deandra chided him playfully. "We can think about the Horcruxes more later. What we should do is take the diary to the goblins. They and their curse breakers will be able to help us. What are we going to do about Hermione? Are you truly willing to trust her judgement that she'd fit in with the snakes? That she might actually enjoy herself in the dungeons?" she wondered.
"All I know for sure is that we need to protect her," he told Deandra, closing his eyes as he remembered how she'd been treated. Not just by death eaters and their spawn, not just by the purebloods, but by the magical community as a whole. Even that damned Mrs. Weasley had refused to talk to her after Skeeter wrote that article on her and Potter during the Triwizard Tournament. One time Hermione had gone off at him how the Weasleys had a "cousin who was an accountant which they never spoke about." That meant that even the blood traitors weren't too keen on squibs and those who had not grown up in the wizarding community, even if they would never admit it. Maybe they didn't even realise how biassed they were considering they were a Light family. The more he thought about Hermione, and how she'd been opposed every step of the way, either by him, the Light, or the bigots in the Wizengamot, the more he realised that the magical community wasn't worthy of a witch like her. He wasn't worthy of her.
Honestly, he had no clue why the fuck she had started to aid him, and spend time with him in the first place. Even after seeing more than two years of memories, he could barely believe that she'd eventually ended up loving him. Had it been pity? Curiosity of the tiny string of magic that connected them? Her stupid Gryffindor determination that saw him as her new pet project that she needed to save?
She had changed him. He knew that much. Blood purity had once been the most important determinant of someone's worth in Draco's eyes. But that nonsense had been passed down to him through his father and grandfather. They had both followed the Dark Lord, who apparently as he'd learnt in his memories, was a half-blood himself. Snake face was nothing more than the son of a muggle and a near-squib.
How had he even turned so bigoted? Draco's mother had multiple half-blood friends and was never rude to anyone, even though she always stayed on his father's side and had never actively sought to teach Draco otherwise. She had spoilt him, her only child, and had not thought of the consequences.
"I don't care for her bloodstatus," he confessed to Deandra. "I might have once, but not now. Not anymore. She never cared about mine either…" A sigh escaped his lips. "She never cared that I was a death eater. I still don't understand why she didn't. I just know that I want to make life easier for her, in any way possible. I'd overthrow the ministry for her, let her blast my father out of the Wizengamot and get rid of all the bigots making up the rules and make it so they would all see her for who she truly is. Brave. Brilliant. Beautiful. She saw something in me, which even I didn't see. And now…" He swallowed deeply. "Now she's dead. Because I didn't protect her well enough the first time round."
His hands had started shaking. He would do better for her. He'd make a better magical world for her, a better home for her. He'd do his best for her, prove his worth, even if he didn't deem himself worthy of her. He'd make everything she ever wished for come true. That was what he promised her when he put his blood and magic into that trinket. And he was damned sure he would keep that promise.
But what would he do now, now that she was gone? Could he do this without her? He'd lost her. She had been his, despite his upbringing, despite his more than questionable alliances. Because of the stupid war and the insanity of one man, she was gone. Even if he remembered now, she would never, just like she'd warned him that night in the Room of Requirement. They would never share any of these moments he'd just lived through. His Hermione was gone and she would never return. His wife would never return.
"I can't make her love me," he whispered to Deandra. "Even if I will try and do well for her, change the whole bloody wizarding world for her, I can't expect her to choose me again. I told her I would be able to live with it if she wouldn't remember me, if she'd fall in love with someone else… And even though it is so hard of me to admit it, I truly just want her to be happy. With or without me. I just… I can't believe that I lost her. That I lost all of those memories of her, and when they were finally returned to me, it's only to realise that she-" he chocked on his own words, the gravity of the situation hitting him. She was gone.
Deandra had seen this coming, wondering when his mind would finally catch up to everything he'd just witnessed and felt. He'd finally realised what he'd lost, and that it might never return. She put a comforting hand on his shoulder as Draco was mourning his friend, his beloved, and the times that would never be.
"It's alright, little dragon," she soothed him, her silver hue enveloping him like a warm blanket. "All we can do now is honour her memory. Make sure she grows up with a bunch of friends and loved ones, even more than last time. I assume the Weasleys might be more difficult to come around if she starts associating with you, but what is meant to happen, will happen. If their bonds were strong, they will find each other again. You will find each other again, in time."
He looked up at the spirit, grateful for her presence. Here he was, having a breakdown and sobbing his heart out, but she was there for him. No one but Hermione had ever been there for him. Even his own mother had not always been on his side, had not supported him through thick and thin. If only he'd known all of this before. If only he hadn't been such a git to Hermione… He could've had seven whole years with her. He could've prevented all of this from happening, whisking her away from the war. No… She would never have allowed him to do that. She'd always stand by Harry, and stand for what was right. Wasn't that exactly why he'd fallen in love with her? Because she was the balance to him, jumping into danger where he couldn't, doing what was right, when all he wanted to do was what was easy?
"There is no use in thinking about the past," Deandra finally stated. "Let's think about Hermione's status as a muggle-born in magical England for now. Outing her as connected to the Malfoy family through Armand's adopted line might be too much. People would scarcely believe it, and your father would fight it even. I remember that in one of the memories, you mentioned she might be connected to the Dagworth-Granger line on her father's side?"
Draco nodded. When Slughorn had asked her if she and the famous potioneer were related he wanted to kick himself in the ass. Of course a witch with her magical power and intelligence had not just been born magical out of nowhere. She had one time tried to explain the intricacies of what muggles called "DNA" to him and how she assumed that it was because of this "DNA" that she turned out to be a witch. She also told him it was probably why so many pure-blooded families ended up with squibs or not getting pregnant, considering they kept marrying between themselves. Apparently that wasn't prime conditions for carrying on the families' strongest assets, like most pure-bloods would like to believe. Another example of why they should perhaps update muggle studies at Hogwarts and make it obligatory for all those who hadn't gone to muggle primary school. Alas, as Hermione had often pointed out to him, Muggle Studies was based on the 1800s. That was one more thing he'd like to think she'd fixed if she ever became Minister for Magic.
"The goblins at Gringotts would gladly conduct a heritage test to unlock all of those vaults that have been sitting there, making no money. Perhaps they would even be willing to keep her connection to the Malfoy line hidden," Deandra stated. "Especially if you approach them with respect and address them in Gobbledegook."
"I should do a test of my own," Draco murmured. "Every Malfoy heir that has come of age has done them before, so I'm sure nothing interesting will pop up with me, but it couldn't hurt to try."
Deandra agreed with him. "What about Mr. Potter? Perhaps it would be wise to get him to Gringotts as well. His mother was a muggle-born witch, and considering her many accolades and accomplishments at both Hogwarts and during the first war, perhaps her blood is not as "new" as it seems. Even in squib lines, magic keeps growing, nurtured as it waits to reawaken in a new and healthy generation. She potentially is also the descendant of squibs, making Mr. Potter the unknown heir to certain Houses. The Potters were never very traditional, from what I remember when they used to visit and marry into the Malfoy line. It wouldn't surprise me if they didn't bother with heritage tests either."
"Harry's parents died in Godric's Hollow," Draco said, finding his will to continue on without Hermione again. He gratefully touched Deandra's hand, thanking her for her support and wisdom as he got up to his bedroom window. He moved the curtains out of the way with one hand and watched the sun set and come up again for what felt like eternity. He could feel his clothes getting too big for him. Ugh. It would be annoying to be a small little runt again.
"There are a lot of other magical families who lived in Godric's Hollow over the centuries," he continued explaining to Deandra. "The Dumbledores and Bagshots being the most known ones, as well as the Peverells and Gryffindors. He might be more than just a Potter."
"Political power and alliances will be needed if we want this war to stop before it begins, little dragon," Deandra said as she came to stand next to him, her hand upon his shoulder once more. "They will be even more important if we truly want to change the world after the war is done. If Mr. Potter would be able to take up his lordship, and perhaps others, it would give us an advantage in the Wizengamot. We would have your vote, his, and perhaps even the Dagworth-Granger seat if Hermione turns out to be one of their descendants."
"We should test all three of us," Draco agreed. "The more ancient and supposedly dead Houses we can get on our side, the better."
They both stood in silence, thinking, watching as a younger Draco ran into the room and spent his time reading in the bedroom, not aware of the two time-travellers in the room with him.
"If Hermione ends up being a half-blood," Deandra tentatively began, "this would mean she could be sorted into Slytherin. Have you thought about the sorting situation? I assume it would be easier to be all sorted together considering the rivalries you went through. Gryffindor would absolutely be out of the question. Their qualities are admirable and I am happy to see Hermione has rubbed off on you and made you into a more brave and chivalrous man. However, I feel like wit and cunningness would get us further, which means… Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Both would suit you well, little dragon. Most of your ancestors have been Ravenclaws or Slytherins and I am sure your mother and father would be fine with either one. Hermione would do well in Ravenclaw, and as a half-blood, she could thrive with her ambition and resourcefulness in Slytherin. Harry was even supposed to be a Slytherin. Do you think it wise that she would join the two of you in the House of the snakes? I know that the Hogwarts houses do not define who you grow up to be. They only bring out the potential of what is already there. Hermione has more than shown her determination and cunning. That witch has a contingency plan for her contingency plans," the spirit said, almost lovingly.
"If I can explain to both Harry and Hermione the virtues and advantages of being a Slytherin, then yes, Slytherin it is. Harry might want to be in the house his parents were sorted in, however. And who knows what Hermione will decide? She will be the first one out of the three of us to be sorted. Whatever she picks, I will choose as well. I'm sure Harry will too, if I manage to introduce them before they leave for Hogwarts on September 1st. I promised her I'd save her brother in all but blood, after all. The only unknown factor in all of this, are the Weasleys," he sighed. "I don't want her to lose her magical family, just because she is sorted in Slytherin."
"The Weasleys will come around in the end, even if it will take them a few years," Deandra said, sounding convinced. "Headmaster Dumbledore will not be pleased if Mr. Potter ends up in Slytherin. That old man has always liked to meddle and keep his secrets. I remember your great-grandfather going on a rant about the Gryffindor Head Boy being a know-it-all, even if he was aligned to the dark arts back then, considering his association with Grindelwald."
Draco had read all about that particular story. A little later, he had overheard one of the dark underlings saying that their master had travelled to Nurmengard to get something from Grindelwald. They all thought the leader of the Light had killed the dark wizard. Yet, he had never managed to kill his lover. The old wizard certainly did like to keep his secrets. How Dumbledore had never ended up in Slytherin, with him keeping his cards so close to his chest, was beyond him.
"This time, it will be us doing the meddling," Draco answered, determined to make sure that both Harry and Hermione would have all the information necessary to survive the war, if it ever came to that. Dear Merlin, he hoped not. "The old cooch won't be able to penetrate my mind as godfather trained me to be the best at occlumency. Severus might've done a bad job with Potter, but he actually taught me. I'll have to teach Mione and Potter too, I suppose."
"That's another thing that worries me," Deandra admitted. "Well, quite a few things actually, specifically concerning your powers. How will you explain to anyone that a mere 11-year-old boy can perform spells way beyond his years? I can feel your magical core shrinking the younger you get, so your spells will not be as powerful even if you are thriving on a lot of magical power now that I am by your side. But being able to cast every spell on the first try would seem off. Also, it would be unfair to Hermione and others of your class to be outdone simply because you literally were ready to sit your NEWTs in a few weeks."
Draco hadn't thought about that. Hermione definitely always wanted to be the best, and he did feel it would be unfair to her if he suddenly showed up and did everything on the first try, much like she'd done the first time round. He'd always been more talented in potions, and Potter had been better in D.A.D.A., but Hermione was a force to be reckoned with. Greengrass and one of the Patil twins had also beaten Draco in quite a few classes, and, even though he was loath to admit it, Potter had always been the better flyer.
"I suppose I should give them their time to shine," Draco decided. "However, I will not underperform compared to my previous grades and accolades if this is the timeline I will have to live in in the future. I still want to be part of the Quidditch Team no matter the house I end up in, and I still want to be able to become a prefect, which will help into getting into higher positions at the ministry if I need them. Bonding with other prefects might not be a bad idea if we want to make some alliances. Besides, good grades will please my father. If anything, we need to keep him unsuspecting of what we're doing. He might've been slightly disillusioned during the second war, but he certainly wasn't before the Dark Lord rose to power again. He would see through us too easily. On the other hand, if anyone is ever in danger, I shouldn't refrain from using my extended range of spells. I could always blame my knowledge on being an only child with a lot of time to read in the Malfoy library."
Deandra smiled at him. "You really have changed, my little dragon. Just, don't let the wrong people see that you have. If they do, use it as an excuse and say it is to get close to Mr. Potter. To be a spy if need be."
"I will have to tell him and Hermione eventually," Draco sighed. "Not being friends with them blew up in my face once. Once they learn occlumency, I will tell them how I've lied to my parents about the nature of our friendship. I can't tell them the whole truth, but I want them to understand. It might have to wait a few years though… I need to forget what they were like before. They should be able to grow into their own people. Anything could change really. Bloody hell, they might not even want to be friends with me either way."
"Worrying doesn't solve anything," Deandra stated as she guided him back to his bed, feeling him tire out more as his magic kept reducing in size along with his body. "All we can do is plan for the years ahead. Being anxious about the future and what will happen will get us nowhere. We will deal with it as the time comes. All we can do now is use the rest of our time here to plan ahead as much as we can."
"Will you still be here when we get back?" Draco asked Deandra, suddenly unsure. "Or will you disappear again seeing as I am no longer the Lord of the manor?"
"Draco," Deandra began as she wiped his hair out of his face. It had gotten longer again, and his face had steadily grown rounder and rounder, reminding her of the child she'd watched grown up while being banished within the walls of the Manor. "You are the rightful Lord of this manor, even if your father wears the ring. Just like with Armand, I will come to you when you need me. I am always a part of you, even if I am strongest here in Wiltshire. All you will need to do is close your eyes and think of me, and I will come to your aid. Just as I have done with your ancestors who've honoured me, and as I will do with your descendants after you. Now, concentrate. We will need some of your cunning to convince everyone you are still the same little spoilt brat, while actually being friends with Hermione and Mr. Potter."
He gave her his trademark smirk. "Are you doubting me, Deandra? I thought you knew how stubborn of an arse I could be."
She laughed at him as she tucked him into his bed. "Even if Malfoys do always aim for the best, maybe you should train on smiling instead of smirking and sneering at everyone as if they are beneath you," she quipped. "Now rest. We have much to do."