Chapter Text
Draco groaned and lifted his arms, swatting at the hands that were currently holding him, and shaking his shoulders. It took a moment for his hearing to kick in, because in the next moment he jolted up as he finally registered the annoyed “Malfoy!” Being repeated aggressively in his ear. “Potter? Oh.” Draco calmed slightly as he stared at Potter, who was eyeing him warily. “You passed out, I think.” Potter commented after a moment, and Draco nodded. He scooted back slightly, taking stock of his shaking limbs and pounding head.
“Eloquent as always, Potter. It seems I have over exerted myself.” Draco replies, easily slipping into a sneer as he taunts Potter. Honestly, he hadn’t even meant to do so, but he was terribly tired and achy. “Tch, I didn’t ask, Malfoy..” Potter replied, trailing off as scrutinised Draco. “You look.. Unwell.” Potter said after another moment, and Draco rolled his eyes, slowly lifting himself off the ground. “Yes, well, you know.” Draco waved his hands around vaguely, pointedly ignoring the bespeckled boy as he dusted himself off and combed a hand through his hair. His eyes fluttered back up to stare at Potter, said boy standing awkwardly a few paces ahead of him.
Taking pity on the socially inept man before him, Draco sighed and sorted his thoughts, quickly familiarising himself with the conversation he and the golden boy were engaged in before his fainting episode. “In first year, you stopped Quirrel.” Draco stated simply, and Potter squinted slightly, staring at him sceptically.
“Everybody knows that, Malfoy.”
“But does everybody know that when Quirrel touched you, it burnt his hand?” Draco counters, crossing his arms. Potter stills for a moment, before setting his jaw.
“And how do you know that?” He asked, and clearly Draco had to spell it out for him.
“Were you not listening, you dolt? I am a seer. Sodding Gryffindors..” Draco groaned out, eyes nearly twitching in his annoyance. If he had a galleon for everytime Potter showed his idiocracy, he’d somehow be richer than he currently was, which truly was a feat.
“That’s,” Draco shuffled slightly, adjusting his stance as his feet started to hurt. “Is that how you knew the dementors would come after me?” Potter finally said, staring at Draco with an odd look in his eyes, so Draco merely nodded. How Draco had actually acquired that information was much more annoying of a process, including the exhausting job of befriending Neville Longbottom (Much to Draco chagrin.). At first he was going to go for Ron Weasley, but the Weasel had a strong distaste for Draco, so he quickly changed his sights to Neville, as he knew him and Hermione had gotten closer in the later years of Hogwarts. It was somewhat easy for him to worm his way into his life, but it took a long while, and was truly a pain in the arse. (As much as Draco loathes to admit it though, he eventually found himself quite enjoying their Sunday tea sessions.) The Quirrel bit was a surprise however, as Draco had actually been aiming for information about the stone said man was after, but in the end he knew it was useful to know everything he could, and he sure was glad for that now.
Potter regarded him carefully, and Draco felt almost naked under his gaze. “The thing I don’t understand, though, is why exactly you chose to come and help.” Potter questioned finally, and Draco almost squirmed under his gaze. Note the ‘almost’, as it was far too unbecoming for a Malfoy to be caught squrming. “I can’t simply help a peer without being questioned?” Draco responded, lips quirking up slightly as he analysed his well-kept nails in faux boredom. Potter let out a genuine chuckle at that, causing Draco to make an indignant noise,
“Why are you laughing? Surely it’s not that unbelievable.”
“Right, right. I totally believe you Malfoy.. So am I supposed to pretend you’ve never called Hermione that awful muggle slur? And that you haven't tormented my friends and I the past 4 years?”
Potter’s words sobered Draco up, and he felt frustration bubble up. Of course he knew going back in time would erase the casual politeness and passing forgiveness he’d had from the golden trio and company, but it still stung to be regarded so harshly.
“I apologise, then. It was awful of me to insult Granger as I did.” Draco said amicably, ignoring the way Potter seems to choke on air at his admission. “Are you actually Draco Malfoy?” Potter quipped lightly, though it had an edge of seriousness as the green eyed boy seemed to analyse Draco carefully, as if he’d be able to detect a polyjuiced person. Draco nearly scoffed, “I’d like to think I am, as that has been my identity for the past fifteen years.” Draco responded, rolling his eyes as he gracefully lowered himself to sit on the edge of Potter’s bed.
“Well, in any case, you need to apologise to Hermione, not me. And Ron too, now that I think about it.”
“Yes, yes, I get it Potter, I have many to apologise to. Now, as I’ve clearly done what I came here to do, I will be taking my leave now.”
With that, Draco stood and made for the bedroom door. It seemed Potter agreed with his idea, as he stayed silent behind the blonde boy. Draco said nothing else as he stepped out of the room, the silence was broken however when he made a high pitched, strangled, noise in the back of his throat. Standing in front of Draco were five people, only two of which he recognized, though one of the women looked eerily similar to his aunt Andromeda. Of course, five adult wizards had quick reflexes, and as expected it only took another breath before five wands were pointed at him, led by professor Moody and Shacklebolt.
“What are you doing here Malfoy?” Moody questioned, fingers curling tighter around his wand. “Stop! It’s alright, he’s with me.” Potter interrupted, almost tripping over his words as he scrambled to stand next to Draco. Nobody lowered their wands. “Really, it’s alright. Malfoy is alright, he was just leaving actually.” Potter repeated himself, lightly setting his hand on Draco’s shoulder, though by the pained look on his face Draco would easily guess he was not pleased doing so. Hesitantly, all five adults lowered their wands, though none outright put them away.
Draco was always a quick witted boy, his brain worked exceptionally fast, especially after living with the Dark Lord and his cronies for a few years. In the manor he always had to be cautious, he had to think fast and move faster. Clearly his reflexes have dulled after all this time, but Draco’s mind was still sharp as a blade, and he could see the calculating looks he was receiving. He knew, realistically, they did not trust him and were planning to (most likely) obliviate him. At best. At worst? Kidnap him. Just because they were the ‘good guys’ did not mean he trusted them to be fair or good in any way, this was a war after all.
Draco swallowed nervously, clasping his hands in front of him, and nodded at what Potter was saying. “I have no ill intentions, Moody. I came to discuss a private matter with Potter. I was just on my way out.” Him simply speaking made everyone tense up, and Draco forced himself to untense his shoulders. “That’s interesting. I didn’t know you spoke to Malfoy like that, Harry.” Moody said, eyeing the boy who had shrunk in on himself just a tad. “Regardless,” The purple haired woman spoke suddenly, garnering the attention of everyone. Draco knew that tone, could hear the edge in it. Now was a good time to take his leave, then.
Draco’s legs tensed in preparation for his movement, and summoning a speed he thought he’d lost, he casted a protego and then turned and booked it for the stairs. He heard shouts and various curses thrown his way, all of which missed their mark due to the well casted protego. He ran down the stairs so fast, skipping steps as he went, it looked as if he was sliding down. He heard multiple sets of feet chasing after him, but he ignored them in favour of wrenching the front door open and bolting out into the muggle neighbourhood.
From here, Draco managed to dive onto the lawn of an adjacent home, practically fly around the corner of the house, and out of view of everyone, apparate home to the manor. One thing that Draco would never complain about, in regards to being born into a pureblood family, were the advantages that came with it. Pureblooded children received wands to practise magic well before attending school, private tutors, and were taught to apparate before the required age of seventeen.
Obviously, Draco was not an idiot, like Potter. He knew he couldn’t go around apparating in front of anyone. Despite knowing how to, and being able to around non-law abiding citizens, it was still illegal for him to be doing it. Hence his mad dash to find the privacy needed for his vanishing act. He just hoped they wouldn’t catch on, or attempt to come for him. Draco pushed the incident to the back of his mind, for right now he needed to focus on getting some sleep, and eventually some food.
“That definitely could have gone better. It could have also gone worse, though, so.. Draco one, original timeline zero.” Draco spoke smugly to himself, “This time around already feels much more promising.”
.
.
.
Draco should have really learned by now that when things look up for him, the world always finds a way to stomp all over it. He had planned to lay low until fifth year started (Which was less than a week away), and then further keep a low profile while he figured some things out for the coming years. (Of course he had researched with fervour before making this forbidden trip, but reading versus doing were very different.) In truth, he had planned for that interaction to be the last with Potter and his sort for a while, he had only wanted to plant vague doubts of his death eater nature, after all.
Notice how this is all past tense, because there was a wrench thrown in his plan. A long haired, beared, exiled Black, looking wrench. Draco truly wasn’t expecting someone to come snatch him, because while the idea had crossed his mind, he didn’t think anyone would be brave enough to break into the manor. Clearly, he was wrong. He also never would have thought they’d send his azkaban escapee second cousin! Of course Draco knew he was innocent, and a part of the order, but still. It was outrageous, if you ask Draco. (Who was currently bound via a surprise attack, in the form of a quickly cast incarcerous.)
Draco understands, though, that Black was probably the only one who could retrieve Draco, as the Malfoy manor wards would bar entry from anyone who wasn’t a blood Malfoy or Black. “As lovely as it is to meet you, cousin, I’ll have to ask you to release me immediately.” Draco huffed out, this was the most undignified way to be kidnapped, truly unsightly. Black gave a dry, “Ha ha.” before proceeding to ignore him completely. With his wand tucked away in his boot, the only thing Draco could do was allow himself to be carried. He made sure to complain obnoxiously though, small victories. All Draco had managed to do was get a meagre two hours of sleep before being accosted, as such, he was not happy.
Arriving in front of Grimmauld place in a flash of black smoke, Draco only registered where he was after Black roughly set him down inside the narrow hallway entrance of the home. He had visited his Great Aunt Walburga, and subsequently Grimmauld place, a few times when he was very young. She had died shortly after Draco turned five, and although he didn’t exactly have the awareness to mourn her passing, he did notice her disappearance, and had missed her in some capacity. She was a shrewd woman, but had been decent to Draco, from what he could recall.
He stared unimpressed at Black, as the man urged him forward. Draco walked forward nervously, hearing the loud voices of many people in the room directly ahead. He could distinctly recognize the voice of Molly Weasley, Professor Lupin, and Potter. “Sounds like a party.” Draco commented, fixing his dishevelled appearance as they approached the door. As soon as the door swung open, everyone’s eyes turned to fixate on Draco and Black, the latter of which swept past him and took a seat at the head of the table. Draco’s eyes swept back and forth, assessing the situation.
He was able to identify a number of people, including Shacklebolt, the Weasley matron and patron, a few of said Weasley’s brood, Granger, professor Lupin, Black, Moody, and the unknown purple haired woman. Quite the assortment of people, and not the good assortment, if you asked Draco. “Well, you finally joined us.” Lupin said, Draco letting his eyes settle on the scarred man. “Why am I here?” Draco asked, keeping his tone and face schooled.
“Why do you think, Malfoy?” Potter spoke up from his place at the table, finally turning around to look at Draco, him having been the only who didn’t immediately hone in on the Malfoy. “I’ve got no idea what you’re on about Potter.” Draco huffed in reply, crossing his arms defiantly. “Bloody prat.” He heard one of the Weasels say, and Draco shot the three red-headed boys an icy glare. “I’m inclined not to believe that, after Harry told us of your claims of being a seer.” Black spoke up from the end of the table, causing Draco to still. He sniffled slightly, “Yes, well. I am quite talented, aren’t I? Unfortunately though dear cousin, I am not a seer.”
Black stood up suddenly, stalking closer to Draco, who shrunk in on himself. He wasn’t daft, he knew any fight that broke out would end with Draco losing, but that didn’t stop him from gripping the wand tucked into his sleeve. “Don’t act innocent, Malfoy. Harry told us what happened, and while he may be unsure, I for one know you’re up to no good. Especially with this seer business.” Black spat out, glaring down at Malfoy with a fierce anger, some of which Draco could only assume was more directed at his heritage, and father. Black looked unhinged, in all honesty, and it freaked Draco out more than he was willing to admit. The eerie resemblance to Aunt Bella was getting to him. “Sirius Black! We may not trust him, but I will not let you scare him in front of me. He’s just a boy!’ The shrill voice of Molly Weasley came from behind, causing Draco to tilt his head just slightly to see behind him, where he watched with wide eyes as the Weasley mother stomped towards them. She scruffed the Black heir, and pulled him back, away from Draco. Before turning and setting her eyes on Draco himself.
“Come here, Draco. Let's get you set up with something to eat, hm?” Mrs. Weasley spoke nicely, guiding him to a chair next to Potter. Draco spluttered, eyes widening as he was pushed onto a chair, and a plate slid in front of him. “Thank you.” Draco thanked her quietly, and she smiled warmly at him. “Now, what of this seer business?” She questioned, and oddly enough, Draco felt somehow comforted. Sure, this was definitely not the usual way he received motherly attention, but it was.. Nice. Narcissa was a lovely mother, she loved him, showered him in affection, and was sure to spend time with him, and he loved her dearly. However, Mrs. Weasley was all warmth, it was just a stark difference. Plus, he distinctly remembered his own father getting into a physical squabble with Mr. Weasley, a fact which caused heat to rise to his cheeks.
“I saw Potter and his ugly cousin get attacked by dementors, and it looked quite.. Dire, if you will.” Draco spoke finally, after a moment of organising his thoughts. “Have you always had these foretellings?” Lupin spoke up finally, focusing on the blonde haired boy. Draco nodded, but stayed silent as he ate, taking care not to make a fool of himself amidst his ravenous hunger. “Elaborate, please.” Lupin asked, and that made many eyes turn towards Draco. Said boy swallowed the food that was in his mouth, taking his time wiping his mouth off. “Occasionally, I get these.. Visions. Visions of the future, or a version of it, anyways.”
“What does that mean, a version?”
Draco cleared his throat, already wanting to be done with this conversation. “Well, I’ve found that I can change what happens, so my visions aren’t set in stone. They just show me what will happen if someone doesn’t intervene.”
There was silence for a few beats, before Black spoke, “Have you interfered with any other situations?”
“No. Well, yes but I try not to. I learned long ago that the visions don’t always show the entire story, sometimes there will be parts missing. Like the end of the situation, bits of the middle, or the context that led up to the event. When I don’t have the whole story, I don’t feel the need to intervene, as I could simply worsen the situation.” Draco explained, mouth drying as he went on. Taking a few gulps of water, he quickly resumed eating.
“Why choose to help out this time, then?” It was Potter that spoke next, to Draco’s surprise. He had almost forgotten he was there. “My vision showed you pinned against a wall, with no upper hand, and clearly no help.” He responded, rolling his eyes. “Yes but, why? You and I both know you don’t like me, as much as I don’t like you. We’re enemies, you and I.” Draco sighed, casting a glance at the shaggy haired nuisance, only to see him already staring at Draco. His hands clenched from where they rested on his lap.
“I just did, alright? Shove off.” Sure, Draco knew his response wasn’t exactly.. Eloquent, or graceful, and also probably not the best thing to say in front of what seemed to be Potter’s group of bodyguards. But, he couldn’t help himself. Black looked like he was well on his way to blowing a fuse when Draco spared him a glance, but luckily Arthur Wealsey spoke first. “Why don’t we settle down, boys. Malfoy, we’ll take you home. We.. Have more questions, but I’m sure you need to be getting home now. Sirius, can you take him home? And, Draco, I apologise for our unexpected visit.” At that, Black looked annoyed but relented, as he stood up and made for the door that led to the hallway they entered from.
Potter’s eyes seemed to light up for a moment, seeing the opportunity torment Draco he supposed, before he opened his mouth, “Malfoy’s fine, honestly his only thought was probably that getting thrown over a shoulder was undignified.” After the words left his mouth, a few of the adults stifled chuckles, and Draco shot him daggers. All the adults silenced themselves as Draco glowered at the table, though he was steadfastly ignoring the blood filling his cheeks.
Black sighed from his position at the door, calling for the Malfoy heir impatiently. He watched as Draco stood from his chair, handed his empty dish back to Mrs. Weasley, and finally made his way towards Black.
“Wait- What if he tells his father about where we are?” Potter spoke suddenly, jumping up from his seat. Black spun on his heel, facing the room again. He radiated smugness as he grinned, “Don’t worry Harry, we apprated, he has no idea where we are currently, I’m sure.” Black looked so satisfied, Draco almost didn’t want to ruin it for him. Key word, almost. “I’m quite aware of our current location, Black. I visited Great Aunt Walburga plenty of times, enough to remember her house, anyhow.” Draco spoke up, eyes glinting with evil amusement as he watched Black sputter, and a few heads whip towards him. “You said it’d be safe to bring him! That he wouldn’t know our location!” Shacklebolt said, standing up like Potter as he clenched his jaw. “I thought he wouldn't!” Black defended himself, swallowing nervously.
“I won’t be telling anyone about where you all are located, obviously. I do not have a death wish. Though, for future reference, I’d suggest avoiding bringing a supposed enemy into your home base.” Draco spoke up, crossing his arms, gaze swishing back and forth. “Yes- Well-” Black cut himself off, groaning and waving him forward, and Draco followed him stiffly. This was already a mess, and he’d hardly been here for a day. What was Draco’s life?