Chapter Text
There was nothing but pitch-darkness enveloping Draco. He couldn’t see or even feel. Everything was muted and muffled. Was he dead? If this was the afterlife it wasn’t so bad. And then it all went bad. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was drowning. Except there was no surface to swim for. He wildly thrashed…or at least he wanted to. The way things were going, he doubted he had any limbs for that.
“Draconis Lucius Malfoy.” A voice quite different from the one he was accustomed to spoke up.
What are you? Draco thought in awe.
“I am the being that summoned you here. In this realm where you don’t belong.”
How did you–? Draco was alarmed.
“Read your thoughts?” It shrewdly deduced, “This is where my power is the strongest. Normal senses hold no dominion here. But that isn’t why I’ve summoned you, Ninety Third Traveler.”
So there are more like me. Draco mused.
“On the contrary, there were more like you. I can only summon one traveler at a time. Two would take too much of my magical core and that could risk me dying.” The being corrected him easily.
Why me? Draco felt bewildered.
“I only call upon whom my essence is drawn to after all. Yours was an unexpected case, though–I must admit. After the last failure of the traveler, I was much too weak to actively summon anyone.” The voice seemed crestfallen.
And I performed the Kronosanguine Ritual to be summoned? Are you bloody mental?! If Draco could shriek, he would have been howling by now.
“How the Dagger of Death came to be in Bellatrix’s possession is beyond me. I am merely a being who guides, not a being who knows.”
Why am I here? Draco pressed more insistently.
“To fix the cracks of time. To heal what should not have been broken. To save the life of the one that should have survived.” The voice cryptically replied.
What the fuck is that even supposed to mean?
“You must be aware that you have been offered a second chance? My only advice is that you take it.” The being was firm and sure.
What are you?
“I am many things. Humans know me by many names. Thanatos, Anubis, Yama, Hel. But you would know me best as Death,” The being finally revealed itself.
It wasn’t shadowy or shrouded. It would suffice to say there wasn’t even a scythe. Death was just Light. Like a supernova. The being transcended any physical form.
But the Kronosanguine ritual doesn’t remotely mention Death. Draco mused.
“Death and Time aren’t so different, young one. Your soul is one I shall take great pleasure in reaping. I await the day you exhaust your borrowed time.” Death seemed to glow brighter with mirth
So you’ve been whispering in my ear this whole time? White hot anger rushed into his head.
“Gods, no! Do I look like I have the time to be watching your every move? No, Draconis,” The light seemed to glow brighter with mirth, “I have no vested interest in watching, though you are rather entertaining for the occasional glance.”
Then who…?
“All in good time, Draconis,” The being reassured, “Patience, young soul, I have a feeling we shall be meeting quite a bit.”
When Draco’s eyes fluttered open, he was met with the flowy white beard of Albus Dumbledore with his purple robes and blue twinkling eyes. The man was sitting patiently on a stool beside him and was…watching him? Weirdo.
“Sir!” Draco mumbled, regaining his senses with even more speed after that first shock.
“Mr. Malfoy, have some earl grey,” Dumbledore greeted him with a genial smile.
He nudged a cup of tea towards him and motioned for him to drink it. And Draco clasped its handle between his fingers, raising it to his lips but the voice suddenly jolted from behind him, quite literally yelling.
“Don’t drink that.”
Draco was in half a mind to disobey his schizophrenic alter-ego or whatever that was, clearly he was giving in to some sort of paranoia that was taking over him. But he kept his mouth tightly shut as he ‘supposedly sipped on his tea’. Even the brush of the liquid against his skin had him feeling overwhelmingly giddy and trusting—and so honest?
“Pray tell, Draco, what exactly happened two nights ago? Your peers have recounted a rather lovely story which I can’t help but wonder has more to tell.” Dumbledore patted his arm amiably.
The fucker’s trying to drug me.
“Er, what exactly do you want me to tell you?” Draco asked him hesitantly.
“Whatever you know, Mr Malfoy,” The blue eyes twinkled, “Or rather whatever an eleven-year old can fathom out of such a grave encounter.”
I’m about to lie in this old twat’s face and he won’t know shit.
“Well, the minute we entered we saw Professor Quirrel over there, in front of some mirror. I couldn’t really see it, you know, my hands were literally tied. But then,” Draco leaned in conspirationally, “I saw him.”
“Saw who?” Dumbledore goaded him on eagerly.
“The Dark Lord.” Draco answered in a hushed tone, “He was in the back of Quirrel’s head!”
“That is funny,” Dumbledore mused, “My sources tell me he is currently in a forest in Albania.”
Jackpot.
“Really? But I could’ve sworn I saw him there…” Draco frowned before suppressing a ‘yawn’.
“Take some rest, Mr. Malfoy. I assure you, your efforts have very well saved a life. Take Mr. Potter, for instance. I will let your peers know you have regained your consciousness.” Dumbledore smiled widely and left.
And Draco watched his every move as his robes flowed behind him, only unclenching his fist when he was out of sight. He exhaled shakily and rested his head against his pillow.
“Draco!” he heard Hermione’s shrill voice pierce the air and sure enough, she rushed in, followed by Weasley and his Slytherin friends.
“What happened to you?” Blaise demanded suspiciously, “Granger-girl told us something about a Philosopher’s Stone and then somehow Quirrel died.”
“Are you okay, Dray?” Pansy interlinked her hand with his and Draco had to gently pry it off, “You were out cold for two nights!”
“What in the name of Merlin is going on here?” Madame Promphey’s stern and matronly voice echoed in the infirmary.
“Er, we were just–” Vince began with a rather intimidated look.
“It does not matter, Mr. Crabbe. I must insist on you all leaving the room this instant. I will not have you disturbing my patients. Run along now! Shoo! Only two visitors at a time!” She waved her hand at them and nearly all of the small crowd huddled around his bed scuttled off. Save for Hermione and Weasley.
She flung herself into his arms with a garbled shriek. Weasley followed, hovering awkwardly over his sickbed with a hand raised in greeting. He quickly held out some bacon and toast in a napkin he’d brought hidden in his robes.
“I figured the food here would be very dull here, Malfoy.” He flushed a bit as Draco took it gratefully and immediately began scarfing down on the food.
“Oh, Draco, are you really okay? Nothing hurts right?” Hermione pestered him with more such questions.
“I’m well, Granger. What about you and Weasley?” He asked hopefully.
"You'd think," Granger sighed, giving him a judgmental look, "After we nearly all died together, even you would have to admit we'd crossed the threshold past which any normal civilized person would have begun to use each other's first names."
Draco groaned, rolling his eyes. It was too much effort to put up with her nagging about it anymore. "Alright, then. You can be Hermione. And he can be…er,"
“Ron,” Weasley prompted with a cheeky grin, “I’d have thought you would at least remember my name by now, Malfoy–I mean Draco. You wound me.”
Hermione sighed and lurched forward as if to give another tight hug. But Weasley–no, Ron—held her back with an easy tug.
"Hermione," he said, "Will you leave the poor convalescing Slytherin in peace?"
“Sorry…” she weakly laughed, her voice watery with emotion.
“I see you’ve upped your vocabulary…Ron.” The name felt weird on his tongue.
The red-head snorted and shook his head.
“Where’s Potter?” Draco felt his insides twist oddly.
Hermione’s face fell a bit and she chewed on her lip as she answered, “He’s still unconscious. Oh, Draco! It’s awful. He’s not moved an inch!”
Draco paused at that. He wasn’t as alarmed as she was. After all, Potter had taken a few days to come around. There wasn’t much cause for worry.
“He’ll be fine, ‘Mione.” Ron consoled her with an awkward pat on her head.
“Yeah…he will…” Draco agreed faintly, thinking of the brilliant green eyes.
________
“Madame Promphey said he’s awake!” Hermione gushed excitedly.
Draco sighed as he saw her positively skipping about the corridor in delight. Ron exchanged a look with Draco and sighed.
“We heard too, you know.” His voice was too soft for her to catch, but it made Draco chuckle at the resignation.
“Oh, let’s go visit him after lunch! He’ll be really happy!” Hermione beamed to no one in particular.
“Yeah, that works for me!” Ron nodded enthusiastically.
“Count me out.” Draco replied, which made the Gryffindor pair freeze.
“What?” Hermione looked deflated and incredulous at the same time.
“I don’t think he’d like to have his friend group reunion poisoned with my dark cloud of a presence.” Draco dryly explained himself.
Liar.
It was more like Draco couldn’t bear to see Potter all weak and injured. It wouldn’t feel right to insult his intelligence or excessive goodness then. And without that, what did they have? It would be odd. Weird.
“You’re no cloud, mate!” Ron piped up quickly.
“Thanks for the assurance. But I think Longbottom needs a long-overdue visit from my side. I could use the free time, you know?” Draco easily countered, “I’ll meet you all for the End of Term feast anyway.”
And so, the pair went rather reluctantly all alone to the Infirmary, Weasley grumbling a few complaints along the way.
_______________
“Neville!” Draco yelled at the chubby boy sitting by himself in the courtyard. He saw the lone kid fiddle with some grass rooted in the ground and looked up at Draco with a queer expression.
“What is it, Malfoy?” He asked mutedly.
“I was thinking and just realised…” Draco began uncomfortably, “That I never truly apologised to you.”
“Apologise?” Neville’s eyes narrowed, “Whatever for?”
“I pushed you away…just because of my stupid fight with Hermione. And when we made up, I never really made it up to you, y’know.”
“Yeah, you didn’t…huh…” Neville’s voice went a bit distant.
“Yeah. So, I wanted to give you a little something.” Draco held out a package with elegant wrapping about it.
Neville’s ‘cold’ disposition melted away at the sight. Why the fuck had Draco forgotten him? The poor soul hurt his heart.
“Draco…you didn’t have to…”
“No, Neville. I did. Now open it up!” Draco gestured to the box.
Neville tore open the package rather messily but the sheer happiness that lit up his face was well worth it.
“A Complete Guide to Herbology!?” He whispered in awe.
“Er, yeah. I know it’s a bit simple. And books are the most boring gift you can give…” Draco awkwardly continued, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, “But I —oh!”
Neville cut him off with a very sudden hug. And tears were glistening threateningly in his eyes.
A wolf-whistle cut through the air and they both whirled around to see Blaise, Pansy and Theo smiling happily.
They rushed up to the pair and enveloped them in a group hug that very nearly broke his bones.
“Merlin’s pants, what is it with everyone and hugs today?” Draco grumbled before relaxing into the hug.
____________
Draco made his way up to the end-of-year feast alone that night. The Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin’s winning the House Cup for the seventh year in a row (Though, Draco knew that streak would be short-lived). A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.
“Oi! Where were you, Draco?” Blaise called and shifted in his seat making some space for Draco to sit.
“Thank you, Blaise. I was deep in thought.” Draco cryptically replied which earned a snort from him.
Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.
“Another year gone!” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “And I must trouble you with an old man’s wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were . . . you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts. . . .”
Nobody really laughed. Only a few sycophantic laughs were heard from the Gryffindor table.
“Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two.”
A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Again, it would be short lived. Draco slumped in his seat, awaiting the dreaded last minute points. He felt an urge to look up and when he did, clear green eyes were burning holes into his head with death glares.
Oops. Draco dryly mused to himself.
“Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin,” Dumbledore continued. “However, recent events must be taken into account.” The room went very still. The Slytherins’smiles faded a little.
“No way that old wanker’s going to do what I think he is going to do!” Daphne burst out with indignation.
“Knowing him as well as we do. He definitely is.” Draco hit the final nail in the coffin.
“Ahem,” said Dumbledore. “I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes . . .First — to Mr. Ronald Weasley . . .”
Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn.
“. . . for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House fifty points.” Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver.
“Second — to Miss Hermione Granger . . . for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House fifty points.” Hermione buried her face in her arms; Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves — they were a hundred points up.
Only Draco and his friends cheered (albeit reluctantly) for the pair.
“Third — to Mr. Harry Potter . . .” said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet.
“Wonderful.” Theo dryly muttered, making Draco smile.
“. . . for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House sixty points.” The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points — exactly the same as Slytherin.
“There are all kinds of courage,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom.” More deafening applause filled the Hall.
“But that was just the Gryffindors so far. We have one last candidate who has points left to be awarded. To Mr. Draco Malfoy….” Draco nearly fell from his seat with shock. How could he have forgotten?
“I knew it!” Pansy giggled.
“Fifty points for sheer loyalty and skill in magic. It is very rare when we find people so willing to risk their life for their friends this often.” Dumbledore added the joke at the end.
And there was a terrifyingly loud din from his Table and everyone yelled and cheered. Slytherin maintained its streak after all…huh, surprising.
Severus stood up at the head of their table and clapped rather openly, his lips twitching with what he believed was a smile but looked more like a grimace, with the effort he was putting to reign his emotions.
And then the blasted scrolls with their results dropped in front of their plates. Draco unfurled his own scroll with trembling hands, if he lost to Granger one more time he’d actually riot.
HOGWARTS FIRST YEAR RESULTS
Pass Grades:-
OUTSTANDING (O)
EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS (E)
ACCEPTABLE (A)
Fail Grades:-
POOR (P)
DREADFUL (D)
TROLL (T)
Draco Lucius Malfoy has achieved:
Astronomy O
Charms O
Defense Against the Dark Arts O
Herbology O
History of Magic O
Potions O
Transfiguration O
Rank in Foyer: 001
Draco breathed shakily as his eyes zeroed in on the 001.
“No bloody way! He beat Granger-girl!” Blaise announced loudly and quite a few shocked faces turned to Draco.
“Blimey, you’re a genius. You are.” Greg enviously mumbled, clutching his own grades rather disappointedly now, which was funny, considering he’d gotten nothing less than an Exceeds Expectations in History of Magic, Potions and Herbology and all O’s in everything else.
“What about you Theo?” Pansy suddenly asked.
And Theo scrunched his paper a bit shyly to himself.
“It’s nothing really.” He mumbled.
“Won’t you show us, Theo?” Draco egged him on gently, hoping he didn’t push the introverted kid too far.
The boy sighed and laid his sheet flat on the table for everyone to see.
“Merlin, you’re third in the foyer! Theo~” Pansy’s shrill voice announced.
And he received several pats on the back. All in all, everyone had passed and Slytherin’s spirits were unfailingly at an all-time high. Draco was hailed as the Hero of Slytherin for the points and it felt nice to be appreciated, for once the limelight on him rather than a certain Gryffindor. One who was walking suspiciously close to his table now, with his two friends worriedly in tow.
“Draco.” He greeted oddly.
“Potter. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Draco scanned the boy’s face…for much longer than he usually would (out of concern, of course!).
“Harry…” Hermione placed a calming hand on his shoulder which was shrugged off easily.
“You didn't visit me. Not even once.” Potter confronted him immediately.
“Er, let’s take this outside, shall we?” Draco looked at his friends who were pointedly looking at the ceiling out of courtesy, well not so much, but they would be eavesdropping for sure.
Thus, he was led out rather angrily by the messy-haired boy and waited beside the door for him to speak.
“Why didn’t you come?” Potter broke the silence.
“...I wasn’t sure you would want me interrupting you and Hermione and Ron’s reunion.” Draco lied.
You just didn’t want to see those eyes. His mind taunted him.
“So they’re Ron and Hermione now?” Potter demanded even more forcefully.
Draco averted his eyes, trying to look anywhere but at the person before him.
“What do you want from me, Potter?” He weakly laughed at his feet.
“Ugh…you won’t even look at me. Do you hate me that much?” Potter’s voice cracked a bit and Draco instinctively looked into his eyes, lost in the hazel specks in them.
He has nice eyes. Draco observed as Potter continued talking about god knows what.
“And you’re not listening…” Potter suddenly said, “Jesus Christ, you don’t even visit me, you don’t look at me and now you ignore me?! How old are you? I didn’t expect you to be so—so childish.” He spluttered.
“I’m sorry.” Draco sighed, “What do I have to do to make it up to you?”
Potter paused like he wasn’t expecting such an easy apology.
“Er, I’ll only accept your apology…if you call me Harry.” He childishly decided.
“You want me to call you what?!” Draco floundered.
“My name, Draco. It’s Harry.” He enunciated his name ever-helpfully (the sodding git).
Draco felt his cheeks turn a faint pink with anger and he prayed to whatever force was up there to get him out of this situation.
“Slytherins to your dorms please!” The Slytherin Prefect called and Draco thankfully rushed over to the queue with a hurried goodbye and a sorry excuse.
Green eyes continued burning holes into his head until he was out of the Entrance hall.
___________
“Honestly, Draco, you can sit with us, you know? Harry’s really upset about last night.” Hermione started as she sat in front of Draco in his Slytherin-dominated compartment on the Hogwarts express.
“He can’t, Hermione.” Greg piped up.
“Potter wants Draco to call him Harry.” Vince explained with maddening glee.
“Really? You’re fighting over something this stupid?! You’re better than that, Draco!” She reprimanded.
“Fine, I will talk to him once we get off…” Draco sighed resignedly, there was no arguing with that eleven-year-old.
___________________
As soon as the train reached the Platform, Draco ran upto Potter, who was surrounded in a mass of red-heads—Weasleys.
“Ready, are you, freak?”
A purple-faced, mustached, and furious man rudely interrupted his conversation with whomever it was. Behind him stood a woman and her son, presumably, looking terrified at the very sight of Potter.
“What was that I heard?” Draco heard himself say without warning.
“Draco…” Potter flushed, probably embarrassed from having one more witness to his Muggle relatives.
They were worse than Draco’d imagined.
I thought he grew up living like the fucking hero he is. Draco guiltily thought to himself.
“No, save it, Potter,” Draco brushed him off carelessly, ignoring the curious look from his mother in the distance, “No robes, lack of a wand, dumpy clothes, you must be a Muggle.” Draco spat out viciously.
“What did you say?!”
“Don’t waste my time with your meaningless words,” Draco coldly said, “You better treat Harry well, or I’ll have a bone to pick with you lot.” He swept a disgusted look along his family and his eyes threateningly rested on the whale-like kid, who whimpered.
“I’ll meet you outside, uncle Vernon.” Potter hurriedly told him and turned back to Draco.
“What?” Draco asked self-consciously.
“You called me Harry, back there.” The green eyes glittered with happiness.
“No, I didn’t!” The somersault in his stomach betrayed him (He really needed to get a check up from the Family Physician!)
“Yes, you did,” Potter argued.
“Whatever, Potter.” Draco mumbled and patted him awkwardly on the arm,
He turned to Ron and gave a quick smile and Hermione encased him in another tight hug, “Oh, I knew you could do it!”
“What is it with you and hugs?” Draco grumbled again.
“Draco?” His mother called out a bit impatiently now to him, which made him bid a rather hasty goodbye to the rest of the Weasleys, Fred and George in particular winked jokingly.
“Are you ready?” His mother asked with a lovely smile, which earned a similar one from Draco. His father was nowhere to be found, but that was perfectly fine. He’d have enough of Lucius Malfoy to deal with in the Summer.
“Oh, I was born ready.”