Dissindere Temporalis

So here we are again, but this time we're in Draco's head. It was harder writing him than I first expected. I wanted to show his lingering trauma from the war but also show that he's diving into a second chance more than the others.

To them things ended okay... but not great. For Draco it felt like his life was a disaster, and his choices ate at him. So he's almost gleeful at getting to make his choices over again.

Enjoy!

Mea Culpa

"Often it is not the mistake itself that is the problem. We are human, magical yes, but still very much human. Mistakes are our birthright. It is not the mistake that ends up causing the most problems.

It is the lack of remorse, the inability to admit fault, even to yourself. So many disasters are caused because someone couldn't admit a mistake. Couldn't bear to acknowledge their failing.

To make mistakes is human. To admit them is true strength. To ignore them...is to invite peril.

- Excerpt from 'The Balance of Magic' by Rhiannon Moreland

Sometimes Draco wondered why he'd come.

It had been the Trio's project long before Harry had turned up on his doorstep, meeting his gaze with that emerald stare and saying he was planning something to make everything better. He'd actually been impressed with the work they had done, and he could see all of them with their hands in it.

It had Hermione's attention to detail, the fine toothed comb looking for snarls or snags or something they'd missed. Although thankfully it looked like she'd lost a little bit of her slavish adherence to only what was in the books.

It had Weasley's steadiness, elements of magic that Draco had long forgotten, but knew in his bones, because they were so intrinsic to living with magic. There was complicated magic in their work, and sometimes there was a firm hand that forcibly simplified it. He knew that was Weasley.

Potter of course brought his out of the box thinking. He'd never really accepted that things 'weren't possible' because his whole existence was 'not possible'. Everything was 'not possible' until proven otherwise, and that showed in his work, creative and innovative but sweeping, missing details. Details which Granger and maybe Weasley caught.

He immediately found flaws, of course he did. They'd known there would be some, that was why they wanted him.

The three of them were almost perfectly balanced. But they lacked the education, the upbringing and the resourcefulness that Draco brought to a problem.

Weasley would never have been able to fix the Vanishing Cabinet. He wouldn't have even considered it as an option, he'd have tackled the problem head-on.

Granger…maybe. Her knowledge would have been invaluable, but her sometimes childlike clinging to the rules limited her. And he didn't mean rules as in school rules. He meant fundamental rules, the kind included in books. Though her time as an Unspeakable seemed to have loosened the reins.

Potter. Yes. Potter would have figured it out, but only with Granger's assistance. He thought out of the box enough to creatively problem solve, but his research skills were…to put a point on it: Woeful.

So he filled a gap. Knowledge, creativity and a deep knowledge of his place in the magical world.

And potions.

They'd offered him a place, to go with them on this quest of theirs. It felt like first year all over again, offering his hand to Potter, only to have him brush him aside. It had hurt then, stung bitterly. Now they offered their collective hand to him.

And he'd taken it.

So…

Sometimes he wondered why he'd come.

And then he remembered.

Remembered the stares, the eyes flicking to his wrist, the sneers and the dismissals. He remembered the bitterness, the anger, the frustration.

What was he supposed to do, what was he meant to do?

There was no way to fix it.

No way to make it better.

Except for this, this miracle of a chance. Typical Potter, swooping in out of nowhere with a way to save the damn world.

So here he was.

"A true Slytherin," the Hat had murmured in his mind, but there was no condemnation in those words, "You have all the traits the snakes prize, but you know that. You've played the Game, and been played in turn."

"I don't want to play anymore."

"Yes, I see that." The Hat mused thoughtfully, "You four are interesting, I rarely get to see inside the minds of such complex individuals. You know what will await you in Slytherin…"

Riddle's dark eyes flashed in his mind and the feeling of visceral fear and rejection was overwhelming.

"I don't want that, not again." he admitted, "Help me please."

"Once, you would never have reached out." the Hat pondered, sounding pleased, "Gryffindor is no place for you, you are brave but the people within it will bring you nothing but bitterness. Hufflepuff…"

He winced.

"Still the old prejudices?" The Hat was amused now, "After everything you know about stereotypes… Hufflepuff would be good for you. You'd be supported, nourished, you could be content…"

He'd considered it, but then the little voice in his head spoke once more, "I want more."

"Ah yes, there it is," The Hat chucked, "Well then young Malfoy, better be, RAVENCLAW."

He liked his Housemates.

That had been a surprise.

Kelanna Hale was a quiet and dreamy sort, the type to drift off into deep thought, but somehow still be paying enough attention to the conversation to have an opinion.

Alex Tirgan was a dark eyed and dark haired boy, with a sharp gaze, a sharper tongue and a competitive streak that did not take being bested well. Sadly for him, he was continually being so, by Draco, by Hermione and by Tom Riddle. He reminded Draco strongly of a young Hermione Granger, memorising every text like he'd swallowed the damn book, but without really knowing what it meant.

He was one of Draco's new dormmates, along with Ollivander, Meadowes and, weirdly, Crouch.

He remembered the serious, stuffy man from the Tri-Wizard Tournament officials, he remembered his father's sneered stories of how he'd pushed for power and lost it all, and he remembered hearing the story, as well as reading it after everything was said and done, of Bartemius Crouch jnr.

A hard man, ambitious, willing to do anything.

Dangerous.

So he stayed away from "Barty" who at 11 years old was pompous, demanding and gave himself airs.

Victoria Greengrass was a meticulous note taker, and he found he enjoyed reading her little margin notes on her texts. She had a flair for charms, and cared about few of the other subjects even if she was diligent with her notes. Still she was intelligent and a witty conversationalist. And he'd always liked the Greengrass sisters of his time.

Aurora Selwyn was precocious and ferociously intelligent, with large brown eyes and a hundred swift retorts and cutting comments. She was clever with people, manipulating her way through the world with expert ease. He could see through her game, but it amused him to watch.

She was a Slytherin through and through, but had used her snake-guiles to convince the Hat to put her elsewhere. Like him.

As such she was his favourite.

He, Aurora and Kel sat together in class, sometimes with Victoria as well. And he realised that this time around he actually enjoyed the feminine company.

These young women were intelligent, driven, and witty, traits they hid from time to time much to his displeasure, but he knew they were there. With the Wizarding population as it was, these young women were prized as the mothers of the next generation, but they were also given their own agency.

He'd had a great many discussions with Hermione about the differences between Magical and Muggle society at this time, and had been quietly appalled at the idea that a woman was only as much use as breeding stock and house elf duties. He had also been shocked about the idea of 'purity' in the muggle world being about not having sex before marriage, at least in relation to a woman.

The Magical world hadn't been shaped by the muggle religious fervour of years gone by. Yes, the pureblood families would sneer at the idea of a woman sharing a bed other than her husbands, but only so far as worrying that she'd bear another man's child.

Fidelity, marriage, that was a means to a bloodline. Pleasure was an entirely different proposition.

The first time round, he'd scoffed at Pansy. She wasn't as intelligent as some, and sadly she knew it. She longed to be Lady Malfoy, to be safe and secure and to not have to worry about her life. But he'd always wanted more. He wanted a wife who was his partner, his equal, his driving force. Like his Father, like his Mother. She was a Black, she was intelligent, ruthless, clever and cunning enough to hide all of it behind beauty and refinement.

She was strong.

He wanted someone like that at his side. How could he not?

The first time round, he'd tolerated Crabbe and Goyle. They were useful, and from good families. It was expected of him. And they had their own simple charm, for a while.

Now, now he was older.

Now he had new classmates.

He gravitated to the young women, those brilliant, young women.

And he supposed Granger also fell into that category too.

"Why would you do that?" She hissed at him.

They were in an alcove, a few days after the fight against the Fifth years. And Hermione was spitting mad.

He knew she would be, had known she would be as soon as he made the choice to interfere.

But he also had known that she would never do it herself.

"You know, Professor," he'd murmured after one Potions Class, lips curving up faintly as Slughorn lifted his head to listen, "Hermione is the descendant of Hector Dagworth-Granger… they're very close. He sees her almost as a daughter…"

"Oh really?" Slughorn's eyes gleamed with delight, "He revolutionised the potions industry you know, he's an absolute titan in this field, yes I knew she was exceptional, this explains so much…"

He'd never even asked why Draco was informing him, even though he'd had a reason ready on his lips.

And then of course he heard about the next Slytherin and Gryffindor potions class, and how Slughorn had brought up her relative, insisting on an introduction and how he'd known she was gifted for a reason.

He'd known it was only a matter of time before she confronted him about it.

"If they are muttering about Riddle, they'll eventually start muttering about you," he informed her haughtily, "If they haven't already. The only reason Riddle was the one attacked was because he was the one showing off. But rest assured, you were next."

Granger's face flushed red and then white, "You had no right-"

"Why are you so angry?" he goaded her, swift to get back on the attack before she could whip herself into a fury, "Why would this make you angry? It doesn't diminish you, doesn't lessen any of your accomplishments…"

"Of course it does!" Hermione snapped, voice sharp, "That my grades, my talent, it's only because of 'good breeding' how does that not 'diminish' me! It validates their prejudice!"

"It buys you time!" Draco retorted sharply, irritated, "you're a muggleborn Granger, and I know you're proud of that fact. I know you're proud, but you don't know the Snakes like I do…"

"This is a different time…"

"It is." Draco gripped her shoulders and gave her a small shake, "It's worse. Grindelwald is talking about Muggles like they're beasts. The pure-bloods are only getting more vicious, the more they feel their way of life is under attack. This buys you time. You're one of them now, you can show your talent and your power and when you have it, you use your true lineage. But stubbornly waving it in their faces now? That will only get you hurt."

"It makes me look like I'm ashamed of it." Hermione sagged in his grip, "I'm not."

"I know." He gave her another small shake, fondly this time, "You just need time to change the world. This will give you some."

She didn't look convinced, but at least now she wasn't crackling with fury.

He knew this wasn't the end of it, this problem, the prejudice was going to dog them the whole way through, like it dogged the whole Magical world.

Like it had dogged his whole bloody existence.

Of course it was Revenge that had gotten Riddle back on board.

The group took over a third floor room off a corridor that joined the Charms classrooms, one that had made both Weasley and Potter give these stupid little smirks, while Granger rolled her eyes at them.

The classroom was large, and dusty. Obviously disused, though there were signs of other students having come and made use of the space.

It was serviceable for now. Potter had wanted to use something called the Room of Requirement, but Granger had talked him out of it, at least for now.

And so it was here they gathered. A large group of first years, agitated little eleven year olds wearing red, green, blue and yellow.

Their group had grown.

Draco frowned slightly as he considered the shifting group of students, seeing natural groups falling together.

Magic was a natural force, but arithmancy was the language that the magical world was built on. Music followed the same principles, something his mother had imparted on him as part of being cultured.

Modern magic, the kind that used the wands, the spells, that was one thing. But Magic had been around far longer than wand lore. It was the beating heart of all life, but it still, for all its wildness and power, followed patterns. It still followed rules.

Three was a powerful number, a trio working in concert was strong, stable, powerful. In music a triad, or chord added layer and depth.

A quartet was also strong. One only had to look at the four elements, the four houses, the balance it brought.

And then there was the number 7. The combination of both 3 and 4. The most magical of numbers, arithmetically.

He was noticing the young witches and wizards were naturally forming these groups.

There was Potter, Weasley and Granger, the original trio, strong and unbreakable. They had added him, reforming into a quartet as well.

That made them strong.

Weasley had his own trio too, Robins and the redheaded muggleborn, Thompson flanking him. Robins was loud and brash and charming, Thompson quiet, always watching, brave but not stupid.

Next to Riddle he saw Rosier, the male one. The one who'd alerted them about the other boy being hurt. Abraxas, his grandfather, stood with them, apparently having already started gravitating towards the future Dark Lord.

And yes he knew he sounded bitter.

He was electing to ignore it.

Potter was also with them, as always the exception, and was conversing with them intently.

Granger was holding court with Druella, and the Hufflepuff girl.

And then there was him. Aurora stood at his side, Kel and Victoria with them. A quartet of their own. Aurora sharp and wicked, Kel relaxed and easy going, Victoria stubborn but charming. Three intelligent women.

It was refreshing.

He tried not to think of what their fate had been in that other world.

He had no idea where they'd ended up, how their lives had gone. The books on genealogy were with Granger…and while he was tempted…

He didn't want to know.

He didn't want to know what had happened to these beautiful, fierce young women.

He knew enough to know it wouldn't be a happy ending.

No one had happy endings in that world. Not really.

Finally they all settled down, and looked at each other intently.

Hermione elbowed Potter and he got up, coughing.

Draco smirked, Potter was a natural leader but he was also hopelessly awkward. It was nice to see that some things just did not change.

"The fifth years haven't really done anything again." he said, starting with all the delicacy of the Whomping Willow whacking a rock.

Speaking of which, Draco had been shocked to see no Whomping Willow at all on the grounds of Hogwarts. He'd thought the beastly tree had always been there.

"But we'd be fools to think this whole thing was over," Potter continued, "If I know one thing, it's that no Slytherin takes a loss laying down."

All of the Slytherins nodded in agreement.

"They will retaliate," Granger murmured, "The question is when, and if we strike first."

"We did well," Robins pointed out, "But that's because they weren't expecting us."

"Even if we do nothing, they're still going to come after us," Druella pointed out smoothly, leaning back in her chair, "Better not to wait to be whipped."

"I'm not saying do nothing!" Robins quickly clarified, "just that the odds are against us, we're first years, we just don't have the same knowledge, even with Riddle, Potter and Granger."

Draco felt a flare of irritation and deliberately looked down at his cuticles. It was a habit he'd picked up from his mother.

"Bulstrode and Parkinson are lazy, and their friends aren't much better," Riddle murmured, dark eyes stormy, "We're not. But you're right, they certainly have us at a disadvantage in terms of experience, and age."

"We have numbers," Thompson pointed out, and he glanced up to see the red haired muggleborn flushing slightly as everyone looked at her. She squared her shoulders though, like a bloody Gryffindor, and met their gazes nervously, "They attacked Tom because he doesn't have an ancient name. Even though he's the best of the year."

Everyone looked at each other uncomfortably then, as Riddle's jaw clenched.

"It's stupid." Aurora drawled, drawing everyone's gazes, "Come on we're all thinking it."

"Now hang on," Abraxas looked alarmed, "Blood-purity…"

"Is a crock of shite." Weasley sneered and Draco immediately groaned internally.

Hearing that from a Weasley was a sure-fire way to piss a Malfoy off.

Abraxas' eyes narrowed as he focused on the redhead, "You would say that Weasley, your whole family are blood-traitors-"

Weasley sat up sharply and Draco decided he'd had enough.

"Blood-purity is a crock of shite."

Everyone was staring at him now, but he could see both Potter and Granger were trying to hide grins, bloody traitors. The irony was galling but he wasn't an idiot. He could admit when he'd been wrong, especially since he'd been given the incorrect information to make an opinion on.

Abraxas however looked utterly betrayed, "How can you-"

"Very easily," Draco, leaned back in his chair, lounging with all the aristocratic indolence that his father had once had, "Riddle is exceptionally powerful, intelligent, and driven, he is at the very least a half-blood or muggleborn. Potter and Granger…"

"Purebloods." Abraxas pointed out, "Potter is half Black for Merlin's sake."

Potter's mouth turned down mutinously, and Granger shot him a look.

Draco hesitated.

"I'm not Pureblood," Hermione declared, voice firm, "I… Hector Dagworth-Granger is my grandfather. I am the daughter of… of a squib and a muggle."

Abraxas looked shocked, "Oh…I assumed…"

"As did the rest of Slytherin," Potter folded his arms and Abraxas' expression turned abashed.

"Thompson here is one of the top students in Gryffindor," Draco quickly brought them back on topic, "Muggleborn and proud of it.'' He saw the redhaired girl smile a little.

"My family definitely has muggles in it," Robins murmured, unashamed. "Mine too," Kel murmured nearby, "My father is one, and very proud of me."

"So there you go," Draco spread his arms, "Some of the best and brightest that Hogwarts has to offer, muggle-born, half-blood, or pure-blood. It doesn't mean shit." he fixed Abraxas with a glare, "Power is important. Power, and the intelligence to wield it."

Poor Abraxas looked lost.

"I'm not starting a campaign against blood-purity…"

"We're not asking you to." Riddle spoke, voice smooth, and Draco felt his insides curl in fear.

"Do you agree that Tom, Harry and Hermione are the strongest in our Year." Aurora spoke up then, dark eyes bright as they fixed on Abraxas, "Yes, or no?"

"Obviously, yes but…"

"Do you agree that they attacked Tom, based purely on his blood?"

"I-" he hesitated and then deflated, "Yes."

"Is that wise?"

He looked around at the group helplessly, and Draco sighed, taking pity on him, "Your whole life, you've been told you're better because you're a Malfoy. You were born, bred to be…noble. The best." He swallowed, feeling acutely uncomfortable, "It's easy to hate, or subjugate those different from you. It's natural to feel…threatened." He glanced at Weasley who gave him a tiny smile, Potter whose green eyes were shining, and then Hermione, who looked a little misty eyed. "But in the end, we're the same. We're magic."

Silence fell around the circle, before Robins broke like a typical Gryffindor oaf, "So, how are we making them suffer. Hey?"

Laughter rippled among the group, but there was something different in the air now, something…almost conspiratorial.

Draco glanced over at Abraxas, who stayed quiet, frowning.

He knew it would take more, maybe a lifetime, before the boy would believe them. They had to start early, they had to give themselves time to stop this insane idea from taking root in the group, in his grandfather.

Abraxas didn't look happy about it all.

But he'd stayed.

He'd listened.

And for now, that was enough.

The offensive began the next day.

They hadn't planned it, but suddenly, after Potions, they got jumped.

Draco had been feeling uneasy, something in the air making his insides itch with anxiety. He knew these instincts. They'd been honed during the War. Part of him wanted to dismiss them as him being paranoid…

But he knew better than to ignore them.

So he kept a sharp eye out.

Even then he didn't see it coming, not really.

One minute he was walking with Victoria, Kel, Aurora and Tierra away from the Potions Classroom, the last of the combined Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff class to leave, the next his gut was shrieking at him and he grabbed the nearest girl and shoved her to the ground.

"Down!"

A spell blasted where he'd just been standing and he heard a scream from one of the girls as a purple curse flashed overhead.

"Protego!" a voice cried, blue flaring in front of them, before spells hammered into it.

The scuffle was quick and brutal, and ended with Draco casting a particularly nasty Curse of the Bogies at one of the boys, making him sneeze so violently that his nose started bleeding.

Promptly their assailants fled, disappearing down the corridor.

Silence fell apart from their noises.

Slowly Draco rose from his knee, looking around.

Beside him Kel was also rising, being the girl he'd grabbed at the beginning and shoved into the stones. Her nose was bleeding a little, and he felt a faint twinge of guilt. He'd been rough, but there'd been no time, it had been pure instinct.

Looking around he found Victoria slumped against the wall, white and cradling her arm, an arm very obviously broken, with shattered stone all around her.

Aurora was kneeling, curled over, boils and sores all over her beautiful skin, seething with anger, and sobbing from the pain of it. She was swearing like a sailor, promising all sorts of creative revenge.

Their final companion, Tierra, was standing, bloody cut over her forehead, white and trembling.

And Draco realised she'd been the one to cast Protego, the spell had probably saved them a lot more pain, but when he tried to move towards her, his legs wobbled.

She looked at him, and gasped.

"Draco?" the Hufflepuff whispered, and her eyes were huge with alarm, "Oh Merlin,"

"What?" he asked, but his voice sounded weird, distant, almost watery, "What…"

And the world went dark.

He woke up to find the school nurse leaning over him.

"Oh no," he whispered.

"Oh yes." She scolded, but there was a kind smile on her lips, "You got hit with a pretty nasty cutting curse, young man. You lost a lot of blood."

"The others…"

"Are fine. Miss Selwyn is sleeping off her furnunculus curse, and Miss Greengrass is sitting with her. I healed her arm, but I want to check in a little while to make sure I missed no other damage. Miss Hawthorne has been by your side since she dragged you in here."

He looked over and saw the Hufflepuff girl, fast asleep in the chair beside him, forehead wound bandaged and already almost fully healed.

"Mr Malfoy, I have to ask." The nurse drew his attention back, "Who attacked you."

"No one."

"Mr Malfoy…"

"I fell." he bit his lip, it was the traditional response in his time.

The nurse sighed at him, but didn't look surprised, "Aye and I'm sure someone helped you fall. But okay."

She paused as she stood, and then shot him a wry little smile, "By the way, Mr Parkinson was in here earlier. Suffered a powerful little curse of his own. Said he got it practising duelling."

"How nice for him." Draco kept his face blank, and the nurse chuckled faintly.

"Get some rest Mr Malfoy."

She walked away, and Draco immediately turned to gently nudge the girl's knee.

"Hawthorne."

Tierra started awake, before scrambling to sit up, "Draco," she looked incredibly relieved, "I'm so sorry I-"

"What?" he blinked at her, "Why are you sorry?"

"I should have been faster I-"

Draco rolled his eyes and threw a cotton ball at her from the box next to the bed. Tierra stuttered silent, green eyes comically wide with surprise at being assaulted with a piece of fluff.

"You cast a shield. That was exactly right."

"But you all got hurt anyway…"

Draco rolled his eyes at her, "Imagine how much worse it could have been."

She winced, and then her sweet round face turned dark, "We have to deal with those bastards. They could have seriously hurt you guys,..."

"We will," he eyed her, unsurprised that she seemed more angry and perturbed by the danger to her friends than the danger to herself. Bloody Hufflepuffs, he thought with fond amusement, "Knowing Potter, someone should be getting injured pretty-"

The doors to the infirmary crashed open and a small group of older boys staggered in, all in various states of distress, including a number of unconscious and floating ones.

Tierra gaped at the sight, and Draco snickered quietly, laying back with a warm feeling under his breastbone, "Told you. Potter doesn't let anyone hurt his friends."

Next time around we will be returning to Tom's perspective... I think you guys are really going to enjoy it.

Reviews

Shiara - True change doesn't come from people preaching at you about it. Change has to come from you, but sometimes listening to people talk about things, not necessarily lecturing you about it, will make you think. Or get mad.

Bakeku - Very true. And lets just say after this chapter both Tom and Harry are far more invested in making Bulstrode and Parkinson PAY. It's gonna be good.

Amk - I know we didn't get to see them in full mode this chapter, but trust. It's coming...

Sartel - I'm glad you liked the fight! Was nervewracking to write!