Chapter Text
Harry wakes up to egregiously loud knocking. He grabs his glasses and shuffles his feet into his slippers. He walks, uncoordinated, to his front door with sleep still clinging to him. He assumes it’s Hermione, or Ron, coming to ask him about the party, to ask him about his answer- which he’s settled on. Either that or it’s the non-wizard mailman coming to ask him why there’s owl droppings all over the post office again.
Harry opens the door to find out it is very much neither of them, but a haggard looking Malfoy holding a time turner in his hands very preciously.
“Let me in,” He tells him. Harry blinks and pinches his arm. A flash of pain confirms that he is, in fact, wide awake now. He’s standing infront of Malfoy in matching checkered pajamas and slippers, looking like a twelve year old boy.
“Let you in, what are you, a vampire? Why didn’t you just floo?”
“If you woke up to me inviting myself into your home, would you listen to anything I’d have to say?” Malfoy takes a quick look behind himself before jamming his foot into the small gap between the door and the frame.
“Fair point,” Harry admits, and opens the door wide enough for Malfoy to slip in. The moment he closes the door and steps away Malfoy casts about a dozen protective spells. Then he stands awkwardly infront of the door, still holding the time turner.
“Wait, why do you have a time turner?” Malfoy furrows his brows as he looks Potter up and down. It’s a testament to how nervous he must be that he doesn’t mention it.
“Sit down, I’ll explain everything. The Ministry’s after us.” Harry blinks. Then he leads Malfoy to his kitchen, putting down a mug of water. He pulls out one chair for Malfoy to drop onto, and sits on his own stool, painfully aware of how underdressed he is for this occasion. Malfoy takes a sip.
“So, what’s with this whole…” Harry motions to Malfoy’s getup, still wearing his robes from yesterday, his hair tussled. Previously unseen wrinkles littering his robes, a tiny cut on his cheek. Clearly he’d been in a fight. Malfoy stares intently at Potter for the first time in ages, his gaze only broken by occasional blinks. Harry can feel his ears heating up. Finally, after what feels like hours of awkward tension, Malfoy speaks.
“Are you aware that time turners can go back further in time than previously thought?” Malfoy tells him, or more so asks, because it’s so becoming of him to talk in circles instead of getting straight to the point. It’s too early to get mad.
“Yeah. Hermione said… am I allowed to tell you this? Okay, whatever- she said that the Department of Mysteries found a way for a time turner to go back years, and that I could, hypothetically, go back in time to before the war.” Malfoy barks out a laugh, sharp and callous.
“Of course the Department of Mysteries took credit for that, of course! No, Potter, time turners have always been able to go back years in time. There is no hypothetical here. There are simply restrictive charms placed by ancient wizards that prevent us from abusing it; it’s all kept tightly under wraps by the Department of Mysteries. It’s one of their biggest secrets. For nearly two centuries, they couldn’t figure out how to reverse the charms.” Harry frowns at Malfoy’s expectant expression. For the life of him he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be learning right now. Thank goodness Malfoy wasn’t his teacher, he’d have failed every class.
“Okay, that still doesn’t explain why you have it and why you know that.” Malfoy tuts irritatbly, and for the first time since he arrived he looks like the Malfoy Harry knows. He places the time turner, almost hesitantly, onto the table, and pushes it toward’s Harry’s folded hands.
He looks at it longingly, and Harry watches Malfoy’s hand twitch. Harry slowly reaches for the time turner, turning it around his hands. Malfoy’s eyes never leave the time turner.
“As you are aware, I work as a museum archivist, but that is not the extent of my work. My work is done specifically in the dark magic sector, where I study the history of dark artifacts and catalogue items to the exhibits. I received this specific time turner last week, by an anonymous donor.” Malfoy intakes sharply.
“You were put in charge of handling dark magic objects?” Something sour flashes in Malfoy’s expression, before he shuts it down with shutters of impassion. Harry clears his throat.
“..I was saying, I’d been given the task of studying the time turner’s functions and history- but knowing the rarity of these in these trying times, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to meddle in the mechanics of it all- so I dissected them, deactivated almost every single charm preventing them from reaching their full potential. I even made modifications, as you can see.”
“ It’s now easier to pick where and when you want to end up.” Malfoy points to the little rotating knob embedded into the top of the time turner; with a clicker like mechanism similar to a number counter.
“I haven’t figured out how to pick a specific month or date, yet,” Malfoy gestures to himself, “But of course, my brilliant work caught the attention of the Department of Mysteries. Apparently they had been keeping track of it this entire time.” Malfoy sounds a bit smug about that, and a small smile tugs on his lips. Then his expression sobers.
“They came to my museum yesterday, stole it from me, and tried to erase my memories. I barely escaped them. They want to put you back in time with this, Potter. No matter what it takes.” Harry shakes his head.
“I’m not- this is sudden.” Malfoy opens his mouth immediately to say some witty, snarky response, but he shuts it with a click, looking hesitant. When he speaks, his words are cautious.
“You have to take it, Potter, and go before the Ministry finds out I’m here.” Harry bites back the instinctive response to neg at that.
“And suddenly you trust me enough to hand over your most important and valuable piece of work?”
“Yes, Potter, because unfortunately you’re the most important and valuable Auror in the whole world. Is that what you wanted to hear?” He can’t believe what he’s seeing let alone hearing- Harry laughs.
“It’s just- this whole conversation feels like a dream.”
“I wish. If this were a dream, I would probably be burned alive in the Gryffindor dorms for your entertainment.” That rings a spark of amusement through Harry, but there’s still that nagging thought, the investigative side of him that can’t ignore the glaring issue here.
“I still find it hard to believe that you would find such a noble cause and give the turner over to me without any qualms.” Malfoy says nothing to that. His expression is shuttered.
“…Why didn’t you use it to go back?” Harry asks. Malfoy twitches, barely noticeable unless you paid sharp, concise attention. His movements are a bit too rigid for his careless tone. The kitchen feels a bit too chilly. There’s palpable tension in the air, but Harry can’t help but press further, to know more.
“Why would I?” And that takes Harry aback. They fall silent for a moment as Harry tries to rack his brain on why Malfoy wouldn’t have gone back, why he was here talking with Malfoy in a world where he sided with death eaters. There must be a catch. There must be, because that was the only thing about Malfoy he knew to be true.
“…You did this all on your own?”
The predatory air deflates and Malfoy goes back to being this strange, close to civil version that Harry doesn’t understand. His eyes gleam with obvious joy as he talks, and Harry finds it hard to tear his eyes away from pure curiosity.
“Yes, well, it wasn’t very difficult, it took me five years after all. I simply had to reverse engineer some of the tricky charms that put limits on the maximum input of magic. There are many great books on timelines and locking charms.” As Malfoy speaks, the cut on his cheek reopens, blooming with maroon.
“Is it very fragile?”
“No. I’ve installed several defense charms that directly counter all offensive spells and charms. It’d be pointless to use a Bombarda or a Reducto.” Malfoy’s smug smile widens, and this time the blood on his cheek trickles down.
“You have something on your-“ Harry motions to his own cheek, and Malfoy raises the wrong hand and flaps uselessly at his face. Harry sighs, reaching out and brushing the blood off with his thumb. He taps his wand against the skin, and it heals immediately. Malfoy’s skin is flawless once more.
“You can do complicated magic engineering but not a simple healing spell?” Harry jokes, and Malfoy stares dazedly at him. Then he blinks rapidly and huffs; he must be exhausted from running. He knows personally how difficult that is. Harry taps the mug of water.
“Drink more,” Malfoy obeys, “I’m going to put up more protective charms.”
Harry comes back to Malfoy staring at the bottom of his cup. He racks his brain for anything to talk about that isn’t about their complicated past or something offensive.
“How did you find my apartment, actually?” Malfoy snaps back to reality, his eyes flickering to Harry’s face before looking off into the distance again.
“Granger and I see each other quite often professionally. She once mentioned you moving to some muggle house in this neighbourhood. So I looked for your magical signature.” Harry blinks.
“What? You talk with Hermione- I have a magical signature?” Hermione never mentioned this? Surely she would have told Harry. Malfoy could just be lying straight to his face.
“You know. I recognised it? Like all other witches and wizards do?” Malfoy makes a vague gesture, his ears reddening, and Harry furrows his brows.
“You can do that? We have magical signatures?”
“…Yes, we do. Everyone has a unique magical signature. How do you look for people?!” Harry shrugs.
“I call them on my phone and if they pick up I ask them where they are. The Muggle way.” Malfoy stares at him like he’s grown a second head, “In my defense, no one told me this! No one mentions this kind of thing around me.”
“I truly wonder how you defeated Voldemort, Potter.” Malfoy deadpans. Offended, Harry huffs.
“Okay, how does my signature look like, then?” Malfoy shuts his mouth at that.
“Well?”
“I seriously cannot believe you’re making me do this. Everyone can see magical signatures, how in the world…ugh, it’s rather strange, Potter. You have a very large signature, and it’s not a matter of how it looks- you can just feel it. You’re supposed to be able to feel it.” Malfoy frowns.
“Yours feels like basking under the sun, or winning something or whatever.” Harry feels hot for some reason. Must be the broken air conditioning.
“-Anyways, isn’t it due time for you to go?” Malfoy motions to the time turner still in Harry’s palm, abruptly.
“I- why don’t you go?” Harry asks, pressing the time turner on Malfoy’s chest.
“I’m not you, Potter. I don’t willingly throw myself at dark wizards fearlessly. I’m,” Malfoy gestures vaguely at himself and hands the time turner over again. “I’m me.”
“You have the same knowledge as me. You specialise in studying dark artefacts. Wouldn’t you, technically, be a better choice?”
“I wonder who defeated the dark wizard?” Infuriatingly, Malfoy taps his chin, “You. I wonder who has Auror experience? And who everyone would actually believe?” Harry falls silent for a moment.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit unfair that I have to do this all over again? Can’t I be a little selfish?” Malfoy’s expression is stone-cold.
“It’s either you go now or you go against your will. Which would you prefer? Being able to choose your circumstances because of me or falling to the whims of the Ministry?”
With that, Malfoy crosses his arms.
“Or we could destroy the time turner entirely.” Finally, Harry says what he’s been thinking. Instantly he can feel the heat of Malfoy’s glare on his face, and for the first time in their tentative conversation Harry feels at ease, because here was the Malfoy he knew so well, this familiar anger and frustration.
“That is months of work. Destroying that would be akin to destroying the last piece of time travel magic we can study.” Malfoy’s voice is flat but he never looks away from the time turner in his hands. And maybe a few years ago Harry would have easily destroyed it in seconds, without any pesky thinking or consideration. But he doesn’t do it now. He can’t because, he understands this version of Malfoy and now he’s conflicted. Yesterday he’d been so confident that he’d made the right choice- but here was Malfoy, messing everything up again. But there was one glaring issue Harry was trying to ignore; that he didn’t know what to do.
“It would make sure neither of us would have to go back though. But if one of us were to go, it should to be you. Because I don’t know what to do.” This unfamiliar Malfoy doesn’t take the chance to be a hero, to gloat in Harry’s face; he slaps Harry. A quick, stinging thing.
“That is my magnum opus. It’s the only pride I have! I’ll bloody tell you what to do— your bloody job as Harry Potter.” Harry swallows, gently caressing his own cheek.
“Fine.” Malfoy blinks, clearly taken aback.
“Really?” He asks, sounding dubious. Did he want Harry to go or not?
“Really. Tell me how to set the settings again?” Malfoy eyes him suspiciously before giving in and fidgeting with it, adjusting the time to a good eight years before Voldemort. He places it in Harry’s waiting palm.
“This will let you keep all your adult magic and form, and let you interact with your own younger self. Just flip the hourglass when you’re ready ,” Malfoy says, all in one breath, casting some complicated spell. Like that. It’s done. The complete rewriting of Harry’s future. Something complicated crosses Malfoy’s expression, and Harry knows.
“You’ve got to say something, no?”
“I haven’t told you something,” Malfoy admits after a beat, unable to look at him. Harry grits his teeth
“I knew it. God, I knew it. What is it?”
“It’s not that big of a deal, Potter, it’s just a favour I want to ask-“
“Are you serious? Tell me you’re joking.”
“Listen to what I’m saying- I just want you to gently steer me out of Voldemort’s path.”
“How am I supposed to do that? Your goal was literally to help Voldemort try and kill me.”
“Technically—”
“There are no technicalities here! Am I supposed to convince you, hey, instead of killing the guy you hate so fucking much, let Voldemort kill your family and let the guy you hate live only to get killed later on?”
“You almost killed me!”
“Accidentally cursing you is different from intentionally trying to fucking kill me! Was the Ministry thing even true?!”
“Of course it’s true, the only reason they haven’t found us yet is because of the spells I put up! I’ve got integrity!”
“Well, with all the evidence you’ve given me, that’s hard to believe,” Harry bites back, and Malfoy clenches his jaw tightly. He holds himself painfully upright, one leg crossed over the other, hands flicking wildly in the air to justify himself.
“I have integrity. I’ve laid my life’s work bare infront of you. What more do you want from me?”
“To stop expecting everyone to do what you want them to.” Harry motions to Malfoy, and he sees the man break.
Malfoy grips onto Harry’s pajama shirt, not quite aggressively but not gently either, and Harry tries not to stiffen. Animosity comes off him in waves, and years of self-reflection is the only thing that prevents Harry from reaching for his wand and cursing the man.
“Do you want to know why I came to you? Because I’d listen! I’d fucking listen to whatever you say! If you told me I could be better, I would believe it. That. Is. Why.” Malfoy’s face is too close to his, and he can see a bead of sweat dropping from his forehead.
“How much more do you want me to spell it out for you? We don’t have time to fight like this- what would it take for you to just salvage this?” Malfoy’s earnestly asking. He thinks that if he asks nicely, hands over some ancient artifact, that Harry will get right to being the propagandist for the Malfoy reputation.
“I-“ Whatever rude comeback is about to come out his mouth vanishes at the sight of Malfoy’s pleading expression. Harry’s mouth is entirely too dry, and he’s seen entirely too much.
“Ha. Okay. I’ll do it.” Malfoy drops his hold on Harry’s shirt in surprise.
“Really? All of a sudden?”
“Yeah.” Yeah right. Harry would rather saw off both his legs than stop Malfoy from making the most in-character decision of his life.
“…Alright then. Turn over the time turner when you’re ready.” Malfoy steps back several steps, crossing his arms and staring expectantly at Harry.
“Okay. Just give me a second.” Harry places the turner on the table.
He thinks of the strongest spell he can conjure, a spell that would be able to override any defenses Malfoy ingrained in it, and imagines the time turner shattering into pieces. An entirely new spell. Then he points his wand at it.
The moment Malfoy realises, the spell he shoots towards Harry misses and strikes the time turner instead. Harry can feel the moment the two spells break the time turner. He can feel Malfoy’s enraged glare at the back of his neck.
For several seconds it feels like time pauses for a moment- or maybe it actually does? As Malfoy and Harry lock eyes for an agonisingly long time and he feels unspoken rage be let out in this sparse moment of silence.
Harry drinks in the sight of Malfoy’s lively, almost lovely eyes, the way he stared straight at Harry in anger, in panic, his lips moving but still. Fruitlessly trying to form words. All he can feel is heat and magic and Malfoy and for hours, days, or seconds Harry can do nothing but watch as the time turner implodes. The explosion is so clearly slow but it feels so incredibly fast, and the contrast is enough to make Harry’s head explode. It’s over, he tries to say, to the stumbling Malfoy a few steps away.
Everything happens at once, too quick but too slow, as if someone was toggling the speed on a video- the time turner blows up in their face, and Harry feels it before he sees it.
The last thing he sees is Malfoy’s defeated expression, not quite angry but not quite accepting either, before everything goes black.