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Chapter Text

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18 June 1996



"Pressure of examinations!" the old OWL's conducting wizard said sympathetically, and quite loudly, patting Potter on the shoulder. “It happens, young man - "

Draco looked up from his place, eyes narrowed at Potter. He was half falling out of his chair - had he slept while the exam? Draco wouldn't put it past the attention seeking  hero.  Though, why he looked like he had seen a boggart, Draco didn't know, and as amusing as it was to watch Potter flounder about, he had a paper to score an O in.

(Only O's are fit for a Malfoy heir, Draco.)

" - I suggest you go and have a nice lie down," the old wizard said, as Draco muffled a snort. He didn't know what Potter was upto, in all his  golden gryffindor glory  - but sleeping was not on his schedule.

Obviously.

Potter nodded vigorously, to a point where Draco gleefully pictured his head falling off, and after quite clearly lying about doing  just that, professor, yes,  ran out.

Draco looked after him with a quirked eyebrow - wondering with a sneer - how many points Gryffindor would get after this little adventure of his.





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19 June 1996

 

It was his mother's letter that reached him first.

He cursed loudly, hands shaking, disbelieving, at first - until Crabbe and Goyle came back to the common room, Pansy right behind them - all with pitying, and sympathetic faces.

(Pity doesn't become you, Draco. Malfoys are respected, and envied by all, feared by most. But we are never pitied. By anyone.)

He crumbled the letter in his hands, before chucking it into the fireplace -

His father was in Azkaban.

He yanked off his tie, which was choking him, all of a sudden, as Pansy rubbed his shoulder, in a manner which was supposed to be soothing.

His trial was tomorrow.

That's where Potter went, he thought, with dull resignation, before sheer fury engulfed him.

The trial was just a formality.

It was Potter's fault. It was all  fucking Potter's fault,  his meddling in business that shouldn't be meddled with his constant spurring of the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord was in the Manor.

He tried breathing slower - the ashes of the letter flying above the kindle - his mother was all alone, with her deranged sister and fucking werewolves and -

He wanted retribution for Lucius's mistakes.

Draco would pay it. He would have to. It would be an honor, he told himself firmly, to start off so young, something he had been trained his whole life for. But, there was a sinking,  sickening  feeling in his stomach, his mother's letter was unclear, and if Draco dared to read between the lines -

Draco didn't know how, but he was going to kill Harry Potter. Right fucking now.





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It was surprisingly easy to find them, Draco thought savagely, his wand in his hand - grip white, as he spotted Granger and her pet Weasel sitting under the tree near the lake.

They were three people, and Draco didn't really know what he wanted to do - but he just wanted to see Potter's stupid face, once -  and hex his stupid balls off  -

Oh. Wait. Potter wasn't there.

He glanced around - they hadn't seen him yet, so that was good - but Potter was definitely not there. That was suspicious. Where was he right now, if not with his sidekicks? Shouldn't the "Holy Trinity" be together right now, what with their whole Ministry fiasco - life threatening situations bringing people together?

His mother hadn't known exactly what had happened last night, but she had told Draco about the way Potter had been falsely lured into the Ministry - he didn't know how Potter could be stupid enough to fall for that - and he had heard vague rumours of Potter having a breakdown. 

Draco - frankly, had no idea why - and he didn't care enough to find out.

He walked back from the grounds, with a twinge of disappointment, and reached the East Wing corridor. He could barely think straight, and preferring not to think at all about his father's condition or about how his mother would be -

Crash.

He straightened up immediately, spinning around to his left, from where the sound had come, as another shrill crash came from the same direction. He walked slowly to the should-be-empty classroom, and pressing his wand to the lock, opened it with a whispered  Alohomora .

And promptly felt like breaking his skull open, as he came face to face with Potter, who was very clearly wiping tears off his face -  why was he crying?  - and glaring furiously at Draco, from where he sat on a table, shards of broken glass lying under his feet.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Malfoy?" he spat, angrily - an embarrassed flush on his face - but it didn't have the same bite to it, probably because Draco knew he had been crying.

"Just wondering who was causing damage to school property," Draco drawled, forcing a smirk on his face, and tapping his badge. "Prefect, you see."

"Great," Potter snapped, looking away. "Now you know. And you can get out."

"Not quite," Draco snarled, his anger finally taking hold, and swiped his wand downwards, as Potter leaped off the table to duck, scrambling for his wand. "You're fucking  dead,  Potter - "

"Funny," Potter said, sending a sharp curse volleying towards him. "You'd think I'd have stopped walking around - "

"You're going to pay," Draco said, as he ducked Potter's severing curse. "I'm going to  make  you pay - "

"Well, I'm  terrified  now," Potter said, sarcastically, as Draco's curse scraped him lightly by his shoulder blade. "I guess Voldemort is just a warm up act, compared to  you -  "

"You can't land my father in prison - " he began, sending a disarming curse.

"I thought I just had," Potter said, jeering as Draco yelled frustratedly and brought his wrist up in a smooth swish.

"You wouldn't understand much about fathers, would you, now?" Draco taunted, and Potter's smirk faltered as he avoided a ricocheting jinx. "Since nobody's ever cared about  you  enough to - "

"SHUT UP, Malfoy!" Potter shouted, his wand hand shaking as Draco struggled out of Potter's Incarcerous. "Your father is nothing but a - "

" Don't you dare speak about my father ," Draco said icily, belatedly wondering whether they were audible to the castle. "You know nothing about him or what he's done for me - its your fault he's in fucking  Azkaban  - "

"HE IS JUST IN AZKABAN!" Potter screamed, sounding extremely tired all of a sudden. "THERE ARE  NO  DEMENTORS LEFT THERE. Your scumbag of a father will be out in no fucking time. But because of him,  Sirius  - "

He broke off, his wand lowering.

Sirius?  Draco thought, distractedly.

"Grow up, Malfoy," he said, clenching his jaw and looking away. "This isn't some schoolyard fight between us anymore."

"You think I don't  know  that?!" he screamed, losing his temper once more. "The Dark Lord lives at my fucking house, Potter - you think - you think I'm glad my mother's alone with - with them, with  HIM?"

Potter stared at him for a moment, rubbing his forearm where Draco had struck him, as he tried to stop himself from shaking, and then chuckled darkly, bitterly.

"So, we're both screwed, huh?"





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Harry didn't know what had compelled Malfoy to sit down in the classroom, opposite to him at that particular moment, even Malfoy seemed surprised, but he did.

"Did you mean Sirius Black?" he asked, after a moment, as Harry stared blankly at his hands.

He jerked his head, startled, and looked at him for a moment, trying to see if the boy was just going to use that as fodder to mock him more. Malfoy seemed sincere.

Oh, what the hell.

"Yeah," Harry said, swallowing. "He is my - he  was  my godfather. He - "

Malfoy seemed to understand, as he gritted his teeth, Harry wondered how somebody could express  so much emotion  with just their eyebrows and lip purses.

"Did - did my father - " Malfoy asked, haltingly, like he still didn't want to believe that his father could do something like that. "Was he the one who - "

"No," Harry said flatly, resisting the urge to be spiteful by saying  he might as well had . "It was - Bellatrix. Your aunt, isn't she?"

Malfoy didn't reply, just tensed further.

"You know what the worst part is?" Harry said, smiling without an ounce of humor. "She just stunned him. And Sirius - he fell - though this Veil - this arch sort of thing - "

"The Veil of Death?" Malfoy asked, lifting his head. "In the Department of Mysteries, you mean?"

Harry nodded tightly, wondering why was it that he was always the last to know everything but the first to face them, in the worst conditions possible.

"Why was he near the arch?" Malfoy asked, frowning slightly. "The Hall of Prophecies is a completely separate chamber from - "

He broke off, his throat bobbing as Harry realized that he hadn't said anything about a prophecy, so there was only one way for Malfoy to know about it and suddenly feeling disgusted with himself for even entertaining Malfoy, started getting up and walking out -

He stopped as Malfoy grabbed him by the wrist, swinging around to glare at him incredulously.

"I didn't know," Malfoy said, lowly answering the unspoken question, his voice quiet but firm. "My mother wrote to me,  today morning.  I - I had no idea before this about - whatever trap the Dark Lord had set up for you.  I didn't know. "

Harry shook him off, suddenly tempted to shout again.

"And for what its worth, Potter, I'm sorry," he said, his eyes sincere. "I'm sorry about your godfather."

Harry felt incredibly pathetic,  as that particular line made him blink back tears , the way Malfoy was looking at him, not with pity or surprise that  Harry Potter was human too,  but the understanding in them. Either Malfoy was a much better actor than Harry had ever realised, or he truly meant his condolences.

Harry nodded, finally, as Malfoy stowed his wand in his robes, and leaned on the wall near the door.

"Voldemort is living at your house, you said?" Harry asked, remembering the way Malfoy had been trembling when he had talked about his mother.

"Going to tell your  precious  Order?" Malfoy asked, sneering in his normal way, like the last moment hadn't happened between them. "I assure you, Dumbledore obviously already knows. Malfoy Manor has always been the Dark Lord's main - "

Harry just waited as he snapped his mouth shut, quirking an eyebrow, and Malfoy huffed irritably and pushed past him, striding out.

"Its none of your business, Scarhead," he called back, but it had no trace of his usual bite. "You can get back to your glass smashing."

It almost sounded like Malfoy was joking.

Harry didn't know why, but something about the way Malfoy spoke made him wonder if maybe Draco and Malfoy were two completely separate people, and maybe, just maybe, the git wasn't in as good a situation as he always made it out to be.

"Will do, Malfoy," he muttered, watching his platinum blonde hair glowing in the sunlight.





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It had barely been half a day, before Malfoy came up to him again, this time, looking oddly excited, which naturally sent bells ringing violently in Harry's head.

"Harry?" Neville called, confusion evident on his face as he came from the entrance to the Tower to the common room fireplace. "Er - Malfoy's outside. He's - um - he's looking for you."

Ron choked on the liquorice wand that he had been eating, as Hermione's hand jolted in surprise, the ink from her quill spreading on the letter she was writing home.

"Mate,  what?"  Ron said incredulously, still coughing as Harry got up, wincing.

"He's - well - he," Harry began haltingly, unable to explain. "I'll just see what he wants?"

Hermione and Ron exchanged a worried, and disbelieving glance, before exploding with questions that Harry promised to answer when he came back.

" If  you come back, you mean," Ron yelled as Harry stuffed his invisibility cloak and the Marauders Map in his robe pocket -  better prepared than dead  - and ran out.

Like Neville had said, Malfoy was indeed, waiting outside Gryffindor Tower for him, having quite a conversation with the Fat Lady, who was smiling fondly at Malfoy like he was her own son.

" - definitely darling, after all,  feather corsets  never went out of style, did they?" she's saying when Harry comes out.

"My mother always says - "

Malfoy broke off, flushing, and looked away as Harry swung open the portrait and grinned at him. "Do tell, Malfoy," he said, snorting. "Your opinion on victorian medieval fashion, I'm sure we all are - "

"I know a way to save your godfather," Malfoy said, abruptly.





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Draco congratulated himself on that wondrous delivery.

I know a way to save your godfather.

He should have built up on it, obviously.

Draco wished the Fat Lady, as the Gryffindors called her, apparently,  the heathens,  her name was Lady Elizabeth,  thank you very much,  would stop staring at him.

He also wished that Potter wouldn't pale as drastically as he did, before reddening just as rapidly in anger and proceed to shout at him about how he didn't need Draco coming and making a joke out of his godfather's death or about whatever had happened in the classroom that day.

He waited for Potter to run out of steam, before passing him a flatly unimpressed glare.

" - and you're really no different than I thought you were, you're still the  same,  selfish git that you've always been!"

"Can I speak now, Potter?" he asked, arbitrarily, before quirking an eyebrow and gesturing to a wide alcove on the side.

Potter mumbled furiously under his breath as they stepped near the outside window.

"If you would kindly," Draco drawled lazily, sort of enjoying Potter's suspicious narrow eyed glare. "not  assume  everything, then I can actually explain why I came all the over here from the dungeons - "

"Get on with it, Malfoy," Potter snapped impatiently, realizing what Draco was doing.

He smiled slowly, before saying, "You said that Black was stunned, didn't you?"

A flash of pain across his face, before he smoothed it out and nodded slowly. "And he fell through the arch."

"So, he didn't have any lethal curses perfomed on him before he died?" Draco pressed, not willing to believe that his half formed plan would work so easily.

"Not that I know of," Potter said, shaking his head, hesitantly at first. "He wasn't hit by anything else except that stunner, no. But I saw him falling through the, Malfoy, there's no way from the - "

"Wait, Potter, just, just shut up for a second, would you?" Draco said, trying to think,  there were just so many variables, so many people -  so many things that could go so wrong -

Potter stayed quiet for exactly a second, before starting to fidget with a yellowing piece of parchment in his hand, like he just carried that around in his pocket,  the uncultured barbarian that he was .

"I really don't understand what you mean, Malfoy - "

Draco looked at Potter, and saw that behind his casually impatient facade, there was so much pain, and exhaustion - and betrayed anger -

(Salazar, Draco, when did you become such a sap? a sly voice in own head asked.

I'm not a sap, its for my own purpose, he told the voice, firmly.)

"Alright," he said, exhaling. "Okay. Potter, its not a foolproof plan or - or very well thought out, right now. But - "

"Is there any chance?" Potter asked, quietly, distrust clear in his eyes - but desperation trumping his suspicions about Draco.

"Yes," he said, just as quietly.

"I'm in, then," Potter said, with a tentative smile.






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Chapter Text

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I know a way to save your godfather.

The words echoed in Harry's head again and again as he walked back to the common room -

Fine then, Malfoy. How about tonight? At eleven, in the Room of Requirement.

Harry knew that he was stupid to trust Malfoy, especially right after what had happened to Sirius, but this time, he wouldn't be risking anyone else, and besides, they had made the oaths.

I, Draco Abraxas Malfoy, swear on my blood and my magic that my recent statement to Harry James Potter is true, and that as of now, I do not mean him any harm, direct or indirect, whatsoever.

Harry had appreciated the way he had shut loopholes in the Vow, because they were after all, on different sides in a war, even as he had made it from his side, too.

I, Harry James Potter, swear on my magic that as of now, I do not mean Draco Abraxas Malfoy any harm, in any sense, indirect or direct, whatsoever.

Draco - he might as well call him Draco instead of Malfoy now - had been adamant in not telling Ron or Hermione anything. His method apparently, was not absolutely legal, and he didn't trust Hermione to not try stopping them or telling Dumbledore.

Harry couldn't argue against that.

Draco hadn't yet told Harry the whole plan, although, he had asked Harry a million questions about their trip to the Ministry, along with the little details about timings which Harry did his best to answer, insisting that he would tell him tonight, after he had researched it properly, and had left in a very Hermione-isque manner.

I'll be in the Library, Potter. Figuring it all out. I would ask you to help if I didn't already know how abysmally dismal your work ethic is.

Harry had quite a fair idea of how Draco wanted to do it, but he wondered how he would get his hands on one. He was almost sure that during the chase in the Department of Mysteries,  they  had all been broken -

He avoided Ron and Hermione's questions the best he could, because he would be damned if Dumbledore's  for the greater good  attitude messed up his chance of getting Sirius back.

I know a way to save your godfather.

I'm in.





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Harry walked noiselessly up to the seventh floor corridor, one hand holding his wand, with a  Lumos  and another gripping the Marauders' Map. There was nobody in the entirety of the floor, except for one dot  - Draco Malfoy -  which was pacing in front of the Room of Requirement's wall. Harry made sure to check one last time, especially for Snape and Filch - before whispering,  "Mischief managed,"  and taking off his cloak so as to not startle Malfoy.

"Malfoy?" he whispered questioningly, willing the light to brighten.

"No, its Mcgonagall's fucking husband," Malfoy whispered back sarcastically, sounding frustrated.  "Obviously  its me, you idiot."

Harry chose to not reply, sending Malfoy a concerned glance, he looked extremely harried and paced three times in front of the room.

We need a room where we can sit and talk privately.

Malfoy was pacing too, probably out of stress, rustling through pages in a diary in his hands, chewing on his quill randomly, which made Harry wonder how bad it was for him, because Malfoy was never anything but perfectly presentable.

We need a room to sit and talk - only something that calms Malfoy the fuck down.

The door appeared, and Malfoy looked at it with surprise, blinking, he had probably never seen it actually open before, without being forced to,  by Umbridge  - and Harry made his way inside, passing Malfoy a nervous smile, who gave him a half hearted sneer.

The room was an odd combination of the Slytherin and Gryffindor common rooms, the color scheme Slytherin, but the pattern more like Gryffindor's cosier one. There were puffy couches with loads of throw pillows and coffee tables everywhere - with Earl Grey pouches, which must be Malfoy's favourite.  Figures,  Harry thought,  the posh ponce .

"Well, Potter," Malfoy began, sitting down gingerly and tearing out papers and handing them to him in quick succession. "This is it. I think I've accounted everything - you told me you've time travelled before to save your  bloody chicken  - "

"Buckbeak's cool," Harry mumbled.

" - but that was much less complex," Malfoy continued easily, like Harry hadn't said anything. "You didn't have to break into the Ministry, or avoid your multiple version too actively. Neither was I there, which makes everything even more complex, because I cannot be seen by anybody, especially a death eater - if you're seen, it'll take a genius to tell that you've  bloody well time travelled ."

Harry just nodded, trying not to be too distracted by Draco's fiddling with the ring on his finger.  It was probably his Malfoy heir ring,  he thought, pursing his lips.

"How do you even have one?" Harry asked, as he looked through Malfoy's list of people to avoid at what time and tasks to do by what time and grudgingly admitted that even his scribbled handwriting was like calligraphy. "A Time Turner, I mean?"

"Oh, come on, Potter," he said, huffing. "My father has a hundred aretfacts he shouldn't technically have. You think we won't have a Time Turner, when the Ministry gives them to thirteen year olds for  classes?!"

That made sense. Harry tried focusing his attention on the fact that he loved Sirius more than he hated Lucius Malfoy.

"I wrote to my mother," he continued, sniffing a touch snootily. "It was...a little strange how she didn't ask any questions. In fact, she gave it quite happily. I first got the idea from her letter, too," he muttered, frowning a little, before letting it go. Probably a coincidence, he shook it off. "And I've spent the evening learning how to make a short distance portal. It should work, if we place it right in front of the Veil, and somehow conceal it properly."

"A portal?" Harry asked, quirking an eyebrow. That sounded difficult. "Exactly where would that connect to? And will it work in the Ministry?"

"Oh, that's easy enough," Malfoy said, tearing another page and pointing to a rough layout of the Ministry which didn't look  easy  to cross. "It'll probably be harder to explain Black's sudden appearance - because I'm certainly not going down with you for this. Also, sneaking back into Hogwarts might be tough, because while its easy to just mount a thestral and go out, every ward that's being crossed from the outside is overseen by the Headmaster - "

"Leave that to me," Harry said, setting his chin determinedly. "I'll see to that. Also, let's not take thestrals. Brooms will be better for us. Except, I don't have mine yet so that's an issue - "

"I'll arrange that," Malfoy said, nodding sharply - his eyes narrowing at Harry's claims of being able to enter Hogwarts easily. "When do we leave, then?"





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Malfoy and Harry stood in the grounds, both clad in Harry's winter cloaks, which they had gotten from the Gryffindor Tower, because they hadn't wanted to go down to the dungeons, they had sent a message down, through a second year kid who had been sneaking about the kitchens.

Malfoy was shivering quite badly and Harry was resisting the obsessive and obviously  deranged  urge to take off his cloak and wrapping that too around him. In the end, when the chattering of his teeth got too much - Harry calmed himself down by applying a warming charm which Malfoy barely reacted to.

"Why're you doing this?" Harry asked, finally - he had briefly entertained the notion of Malfoy of doing this out of the goodness of his heart - and then discarded that with a laugh. "What're you getting out of this?"

Malfoy blinked at him like it was obvious.

"Why am  I  doing this?" he asked, before smiling bemusedly. "You really haven't realised it, yet have you?"

"Spell it out for me, why don't you?" Harry said, sighing.

"Well, obviously - "

"Mr. Malfoy?"

Both Harry and Malfoy turned towards the high pitched voice, as a tiny Slytherin second year, the same one who had been outside the kitchens, came forward into the light. "Mr. Malfoy? I got your brooms?"

He certainly wasn't carrying any. He wouldn't have been able to walk straight with them.

"I told you to wake up Crabbe or Goyle, didn't I?" Malfoy said, crossly, striding towards him. "Why'd you come back yourself?"

"Also, where are the brooms?" Harry added, inspecting behind him with raised eyebrows.

"Pansy told me not to wake them up," he said, his lips so blue that Harry was starting to worry. "Mr. Zabini shrunk them for me. He also told me to tell you - well - I can't say the exact words," he blushed slightly, " - but he meant to say take care."

Draco nodded distractedly, taking the miniature brooms from the kid's hands and nodding a  thanks and if you tell anyone about this, I'll ruin your life . The kid started turning back towards the castle, when Draco called back, "Were Pansy and Blaise both awake?"

The kid flushed so bad, Harry bit back a smile, looking at Draco quizzically, even as Draco started laughing.

"Er - yes. They were - um - they were both in Mr. Zabini's bed," he said, to Harry's shock, shuffling his feet and Draco snorted loudly, shaking his head fondly.

When the kid had disappeared from sight, Harry turned to Malfoy, and blurted out, "Aren't you and Pansy - er - together?"

Malfoy laughed so incredulously, Harry almost felt stupid, until he realised he definitely wasn't the only one who thought so.

"I just thought - you're both so," Harry said, expanding and mounting his Nimbus 2001 because he didn't know what to do with his hands. "Well, you know,  touchy."

"Pansy's just a very physical person, Potter," Malfoy said, dryly, unshrinking his own broom, the golden chain of the Time Turner visible on his collarbone. "More so with me because we've known each other since - well. There probably wasn't a time when I didn't know her. We share birthdays, you know. Born next to each other. Its... just  how we are."

He gaped at Malfoy for a second.

Harry hadn't ever realised how much Pansy meant to Draco until this little speech, the way he talked about her with so much fondness, he felt a little pang of jealousy at the fact that Malfoy had had a friend like that since forever. Harry didn't have any friend who he could talk about his childhood with. There was nobody out there who could claim knowing Harry like that.

"She's like a bossy elder sister that I never asked for," he said, grinning at Harry before realising what he was doing and stopping abruptly.  Harry probably shouldn't miss his smile as much as he did .

They cast disillusionment charms, as strong as possible, even though it really wasn't that important because it was so dark, and then took off.

Harry suddenly remembered why he hated Umbridge so much all over again -  she had taken this away from him -  the rush of wind, the adrenaline burst as he dived or spun.

They hovered just a little above the castle,  Merlin, it was so cold  - until Malfoy said, somberly, "You asked me why I'm doing all this. Its simple, Potter. I love my father just as much as you love your godfather."

Oh. I am really a brain dead idiot.

Obviously, Harry thought, shaking his head. He couldn't exactly fault Malfoy for trying to save his father from prison - he was a father to Draco before he was a death eater. He couldn't even fault Draco for being deliberately vague about it all, because he should probably have guessed it already - and Draco needed Harry, to tell him exactly where the place was, when it had all happened - what if this tipped Harry off board?

Harry didn't look at Malfoy, but he could see him from the corner of his eye - shoulders tense and taut, like he expected Harry to back out  even now  - eyes narrowed and calculating as he looked at him.

He spun his broom into another dive, before coming and stopping right in front of Malfoy - and jerking his head in the general direction of where they had to go.

" Scared, Malfoy?"  he asked, grinning, and Harry saw him visibly relax, before he smirked wickedly, his smile all canines.

"You wish, Potter."





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Chapter Text

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19 June 1996



Harry and Draco maintained the flight easily, their speeds reasonably fast, as Harry looked all around, he hadn't seen the way at all last time, he had been too worried about Sirius.

He could see tops of buildings and the streams of luminous headlights, and Malfoy's blonde hair from the corner of his eyes - it was so dark that every once in a while, Harry had to use  Lumos  again. Malfoy had reassured Harry a hundred times, that since they were on broomstick and actively moving, and the Ministry had no way of tracing underage magic to specific wands, they could freely use it.

They didn't talk the entire way there, because honestly, what  do  you say to your worst school enemy when you're on an illegal mission to save your loved ones? Quite suddenly, as Malfoy pointed downwards, and Harry recognized the place with a painful lurch - they were landing.

"Hurry up, Potter!"

Malfoy marched into the battered phonebooth - and Harry did his best to calm down his nerves, realizing now that Malfoy was one of those people who constantly needed to do something or they would go in anaphylactic shock.

He waited as Malfoy spoke fake names like  John Smith, yes and his brother Henry,  giving the directions coolly even as he shrunk his broomstick and put it back in his pocket.

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

"Absolutely pathetic," Malfoy muttered, as the clear voice rang out, and Harry forced himself to focus on now, not the last time he was here. "The Ministry's security really is pitiful at best. My father always says - "

Was it wierd that now Harry could see that Malfoy wasn't always showing off when he said his father's name, but rather that he admired him so much he couldn't stop talking about him?

Was it also wierd that Harry somehow found it sort of endearing?

Yeah. That probably was wierd.

 



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"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant experience," said the woman’s voice.

"Lumos,"  Malfoy and Harry said, at the same time, their wands aloft. The Halls were dimly lit, but Harry couldn't see past the fountain.

He led Malfoy, (no, wait,  Draco )  ahead, eerily parallel to how he'd led the DA earlier, glancing around, hoping that they wouldn't find anyone here, at the moment.

"Lift?" he whispered, and Draco nodded. They got in, stabbing the button for Level Nine, all reminding Harry too much of the previous time they'd come here.

"The Department of Mysteries," the cool female voice announced, and Harry swallowed nervously, before they stepped into the corridor with the doors.

Atleast Harry knew which one to take, this time. 

He exchanged a look with Malfoy, and pushed open the door they'd gone through earlier. Another door, another step to the right, and there they were standing, once more, in the large, rectangular room with the raised dias.

The room was larger than Harry remembered, the center of it sunken, forming a great stone pit some twenty feet below them, like an amphitheater. On the raised stone dais in the center of the lowered floor, was the stone archway, ancient, cracked, and crumbling, the dark veil fluttering and swaying without wind, and when Harry looked at it, all he could see was Sirius laughing, still-shocked and falling, falling, falling -

"Potter, calm down," Harry blinked down to see Malfoy's hand on his shoulder, and shook himself. Yeah. Calm down.  That was it,  except that the whispering beyond the Veil had increased, and Harry needed to go and see for himself, talk to the voices -

"Alright, that's it," Harry heard,  " Aguamenti!"

Harry sputtered as the cold water hit his face, suddenly and without warning, and blinked to see that he was much closer to the Veil than he had thought. Malfoy was looking at him, warily, his wand pointed at Harry, as the water stopped flowing out of it.

But the Veil was -

Oh.  Harry was hearing them again. The Dead. Like the last time. But they had work to do, here. Harry was going to get Sirius back even if it killed him. And for that -

"Sorry, sorry," Harry said, taking a deep breath and decidedly looking away from the Veil, and at Draco. "I just... it won't happen again," Malfoy looked at him strangely but didn't speak. "Well. Are you ready, then?"

Draco pulled out the golden chain of the Time Turner from around his neck, and smiled, just slightly.

Harry couldn't help but smile back. 

They were going to do it.  Now.

"Twenty-four turns," Harry said, and Draco started spinning the dial, heart beating fast.





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18 June 1996



"Three hours," Draco said, when the room stopped spinning around them, when the images of the Death Eaters around them disappeared, when it all became quiet again. "We have three hours to do it. Lesser, even. Because the Death Eaters will be here by then, probably. I've taken a margin. The other  you  should be here in three hours and fifty six minutes. With your whole motley crew."

They both looked at the Veil, and then at each other.

"That's enough time," Harry said, and it sounded like a vow. "We'll manage it."





______________





Draco started working on the Veil, first.

There  had  to be a way to stop the sounds, or Potter would walk in if he went nearer. That much was clear. But how to stop the whispering when you don't know what's whispering -

"Silencio!"

The whispering muted, for a second, before starting up again. Draco couldn't really hear anything, but he would bet that Potter could.

"Okay," Potter said, jaw clenched. "That's better."





______________





Draco and Potter were steadily going through the list of potential ways to somehow save Sirius Black. Dismantling the Veil, or displacing it wouldn't work, because then Black would be stunned and at Bellatrix's mercy. Draco wasn't sure it was  possible  to destroy or move the stone arch anyway.

Which only left them with one option.

It was difficult, complicated magic to make an actual  portal,  and Draco hadn't studied it before yesterday, even though he had the general idea. Maybe they should have gotten Granger along. He spelled a protective ward around the veil first, the only one he knew because his Mother had taught him that, the very  first  ward on Malfoy Manor.

He started on it, the latin on his tongue already,  facere speculo -

(Two hours and forty two minutes left.)




____________





"It's not working, Potter," Draco said, wiping sweat off his brow. His wand arm was shaking with the effort, but as soon as he would set up anything workable, the Veil would seemingly pull it in. Swallow it. It made Draco want to step in, pulling him in like it had it's own force field -

"Silence the whispering again," Potter said, ignoring him, and walked down the dias, rolling his shoulders, before walking up again, pulling his sleeves back.

(One hour and twenty eight minutes left.)




______________





"Forty minutes more," Draco said, voice shaky. Potter had resorted to literally plugging in his ears to not hear the voices, and firmly not looking at the Veil. "We have to think of something else, this isn't going to work - "

"Stop it," Potter said, sharply, a furrow in his brow. "We  will  do it. We're just missing something, this enchantment is too complicated. I haven't ever even heard of anyone knowing how to make  Portals.  We need to think of some other alternative to - "

Draco’s eyes widened.  Portals. Port.  Portkey.

"What?" Potter asked, eyes bright, desperate. "Is there anything else that we can - "

"We're such idiots," Draco said, slowly. "We've been trying to create a portal  outside  the Veil, but the Veil pulls everything in."

Potter frowned, eyes narrowing.

"Don’t you get it?" Draco asked, pointing his wand at the archway already. "A portal is volatile magic, and so the Veil keeps pulling it in. But we don't need a portal. We just need a  portkey.  And if Sirius is going to fall inside, why not just - "

"Keep a portkey in the way," Potter realized, nodding. 

They glanced down at the little stone edge sticking up. 

"Sirius tripped on this," Potter said, sounding relieved, and grinned at Draco. "He...touched it, right before falling in."

"Perfect," Draco said, and it was.





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"Come on, you can do better than that!"

Apparently, she could.

In Sirius's defense, it had been fourteen years since he had last used a wand for this kind of duelling. On the other hand, it wasn't like  dear cousin Bella  had spent the last decade practicing. Besides the screaming and the taunting, that is. She had done a whole lot of that in Azkaban.

 

( - Bellatrix was the one who first taught Sirius how to duel. She had been eleven and he had been seven, and they were the dynamic duo of the Black family. The fiercest in their respective nuclears, the powerful - most notorious children around, with sharp smirks and sharp eyes and even sharper words. Narcissa and Regulus were the soft ones, the ones that Bellatrix and Sirius felt protective about. Andromeda had always been too smart to get into their little skirmishes.

"Come on, Bella, you can do better than that!" seven year old Sirius had yelled, laughing as she sent a horrible tickling jinx towards him. "Even Cissy can do better than - "

"Keep your guard up, cousin!" Bellatrix yelled, as she twisted around and shot a binding spell that immediately grappled Sirius to the ground - who pulled a petulant face. "That's the first rule of a master dueller. They never, ever lose focus." - )

 

He hadn't learnt that well enough, maybe. There was a blur of motion, the red spell zooming out to his chest - Bellatrix's delighted expression - the paralysis he felt as he stumbled - he could suddenly hear voices he hadn't heard in so long - the words all jumbled up and unclear, was this what people meant by their lives flashing before their eyes -  James was calling him -



All of it maybe happened in a second, but Sirius could almost separate the voices and from where they were coming - he could hear someone else now, a younger voice, all mixed up - Harry, Harry was calling for him -





"SIRIUS! SIRIUS! NO - HE'S NOT DEAD! - "

Sirius wondered if he would ever be able to make it upto Harry.

Probably not.
 



Harry, Harry,  Harry,  was he going to be alright? Sirius could only hope, and what was the point of that when all his other hopes had been dashed -

 
 

Sirius could see Remus holding Harry back - his grey hair suddenly more pronounced, the pain in his eyes clear, along with the knowledge that Sirius did that, and Harry, who was yelling, calling him back -

 

"SIRIUS!"

Sirius wished he could scream back.





"I KILLED SIRIUS BLACK! I KILLED SIRIUS - "

"HE - IS NOT DEAD! - SIRIUS! - "



Harry - Harryharry Prongslet Harryharry - I'mso sorry sorry - moonyRemus packremus remusharry -

 

"SHE KILLED SIRIUS - SHE KILLED HIM, I'M GOING TO KILL HER! - "

 
 

Sirius could feel the pressure under his skin, prickling and burning and boiling, if Harry ran after Bellatrix, he was as good as dead, it was all Sirius's fault, he shouldn't have changed Secret Keepers, shouldn't have listened to Harry last summer and killed Pettigrew, a dead body was evidence enough, shouldn't have spent so much time in Grimmauld alone and moping, should have done more, done better -

Sirius's foot caught on the stone ledge, and something tugged in his stomach, almost like a hook, like Apparition or - 


There was darkness, and then, sudden light.
 

Sirius blinked as he saw two figures standing in front of him, dark and light, just as one of them streaked towards him, enveloping Sirius in a hug.

Sirius couldn't react, as he saw the messy dark hair and wondered if this was James, was that how the afterlife worked, but he didn't feel particularly dead -

Green eyes.  Lily's eyes.

"Sirius - I'm sorry, I'm sorry - I didn't know and Voldemort sent me a dream, and Kreacher lied to me, and then, you died - "

Harry.

Sirius didn't know what was going on or what Harry was saying but he hugged back even tighter than Harry's death grip, yes, yes - it  was  Harry, Harry's smell, and Sirius could taste salt, was he crying or was Harry?

"Its okay," he said, ruffling his hair unconsciously. "Its okay, I'm okay, are  you  okay?"

He swept his gaze over Harry who definitely looked a lot cleaner and less injured than Sirius last remembered, but Padfoot's instincts were never wrong, this was Harry, this was his  pup  -

Somebody cleared their throat softly, and Sirius gently untangled from Harry, only to look at -

Malfoy.

Junior.

Well.

Sirius gave his surroundings a perfunctory glance, if he had to guess, they were in another level of the Ministry, Level Six, judging by all the fireplaces, though how he got there was another question. And if what Harry was saying about Sirius dying was true, then -

He resisted the urge to stun Malfoy and  apparate with Harry out of the country. Now that Harry had calmed down a little, Sirius was still rubbing his back slowly, he looked a little sheepish, yet determinedly defiant.

Sirius had spent enough time around James to know  that  particular expression.

He wondered how many rules Harry had broken by doing whatever he did and just how many justifications he had for it.

"Are you ready?" Malfoy asked, shifting his weight from one foot to another - in a nervous - and completely uncharacteristic lack of display of Malfoy-ness.

"No," Harry sighed. "But let's go, anyway."

Sirius held his ground, raising a single, questioning eyebrow.

Where the hell were they?

How did they even get here?

More importantly, what the hell were they doing here?


Harry sighed, and started speaking.






______________

Chapter Text

_____________



18 June 1996



Things went wrong almost instantly.

Let it be known, though, that Lucius had not wanted Bellatrix to come, anyway. She was loud, and impatient, and bloodthirsty, in a way that Lucius found slightly... disgusting.

"WAIT UNTIL WE’VE GOT THE PROPHECY!" Lucius yelled, because Bellatrix refused to listen to reason, and that was, pretty much, when it all went downhill. Potter’s group ran, and duelled (mediocre level jinxes and hexes, but powerfully used, Lucius would concede), and  broke shelves upon shelves of precious glass instruments.

And as soon as Dolohov had Potter on wandpoint, just when Lucius thought  now he would get the prophecy -

The Order came. 

Potter still wouldn't give the stupid prophecy.

Then  Dumbledore  came.

According to Lucius, that would have been a great time for going back. From the corner of his eye, he could see Bellatrix duelling Black (who, of course, was at the Ministry when the whole world was looking for him), and Lupin was turning out to be quite a menace, fast and with good aim.

There was a strange sound behind him, and he looked back for a bare second. Black was laughing, right before he toppled into the stone arch. Bellatrix screamed out her victory, like expected, and Lupin advanced, quickly. 

Lucius backed into the wall on his side, ducking the beams of red light, there was something savage,  feral  about Lupin's face, his gaze still on the Veil behind them - the light hit Lucius straight in his chest, his wand flying out of his hand - 

He felt his neck prickling, like there was someone behind him - " SIRIUS!" someone yelled, Potter possibly, "SIRIUS!" - and Lupin changed tracks, running after the boy instead. Lucius was just about to pick his wand up again -

"Potter, now!"  a voice said, from right behind him, and Lucius tensed.

He  knew  that voice. 

That voice didn't belong here. It wasn't supposed to be here, he wasn't supposed to be here, for whatever reason -

A hand covered Lucius's mouth, and the solid wall seemingly turned into a door - a  disillusionment charm,  he thought, as he was pulled back out the door, fruitlessly grappling for his wand.

He blinked in the sudden light and came face to face with -

Potter? But he'd been running after - And Black? And of course, that  voice - 

"Draco,  what in the nine hells - " Lucius hissed, getting back up on his feet, glaring at him. 

His son was, indeed, here. He wasn't even supposed to know about this. Moreover, he was here with  Potter,  who wasn't supposed to be here either and Black, who was supposed to be dead and -

Draco lifted up some sort of chain on his neck -

His Time Turner.

Well. That made more sense, and also, lesser, at the same time.

"You would have been imprisoned," Draco said, flat, blank-faced. "It was the only way to stop it. Mother sent me the Time Turner. Or she will. Tomorrow."

Black rolled his eyes, looking like he was restraining from saying anything. 

"You - you - " Lucius couldn't really think, it  was  making sense, but, "...azkaban?" he asked, finally.

"Yes," Black said, sounding quite miffed out. "It's a right pity that you're here, really," he muttered. Potter was looking amused, his head leaning on Black's shoulder. 

(Lucius wondered for a bizarre second if Draco wanted to hug him, too.)

"The Dark Lord," Lucius realised, suddenly. Draco’s eyes flashed with something that Lucius couldn't read, as he scrubbed a hand across his face. "I need to - I had to get the - "

"The prophecy," Potter supplied, dryly, eyebrows raised at Draco, who glared back, an angry flush on his cheeks.

"He'll be...angry," Lucius said, thinking of Narcissa, at home. His son had prevented his going to Azkaban, apparently, but the prophecy and the mission -

"Why can't you just  not  do it?" Draco asked, suddenly, the words seemingly spilling out. "W-why are you - why did you join him anyway? And now, he's going to - are you just going to  let  the Dark Lord in the Manor where Mother and I - "

Potter stared at Draco, open-mouthed, his expression alarmingly soft. Lucius realised with an abruptly-rising horror that there were tears in Draco’s eyes. Angry tears, his fists clenched on his sides, mouth trembling.

"Draco," Lucius said, moving to comfort him. It had always been a strange weakness of his, if Draco wanted something, if Draco  truly  wanted something, Lucius would give it. "Draco, it's alright," he put his arms around his shoulders, a hand awkwardly rubbing his back, all the while aware of Potter and Black staring. "It will be okay. I will - I'll make sure it is - "

"We need to get out of the building," Potter said, in the silence, broken only by Draco’s sniffles. "The Ministry's going to come soon, and we're still here. This is Level Six. I'm not sure if they come this way, too, but I don't particularly want to know."

"We'll go our way, you go yours," Black added, shortly, face pulled into a grimace as he looked at Draco. "Until next time, Malfoy."  When we're on opposite sides of the battlefield again.

Draco made a small, scoffing noise, and Lucius wondered, just for a moment, how it would be if they went back like this. What would Lucius tell the Dark Lord? How did he get out without being seen?  Why  did he get out if he didn't have the prophecy? What could he  offer  for his failure? The only thing he had was Draco - 

No.

There was a short pause before Draco untangled himself from Lucius, and looked up at him, resigned, shoulders slumped, eyes still angry, and tired.

"No," Lucius found himself saying, to Potter and Black. "No. We're not going our way. I will not host the Dark Lord in my house. Not with my wife and my son there."

Draco looked at him with narrowed eyes, utterly disbelieving. Black's expression would have been comical in any other situation.

"Draco," Lucius said, not knowing if what he was doing was right, was  smart,  but looking into Draco’s eyes while he did it made it easier. "Go with Potter. I - I have... business  to attend to," Draco’s expression changed from disbelieving to shocked. (Hopeful). 

"What about Mother - "

"Don’t worry about Narcissa," Lucius said, and walked to the door they'd pulled him in from, and summoned his wand, the slim wood flying into his hand. "I'll take care of that."

"You're serious," Draco said, bewildered. Black snorted, though he looked quite the same, speechless. Potter’s eyes were fixed on his, an unreadable, fierce expression there. "You really mean it. You're... defecting."

No. My real loyalty has always been with my family. I wouldn't defect from that. 

"Be safe, Draco. Be  careful,"  Lucius said, instead, and put his wand back in his pocket, walking to the fireplace to floo back to the Manor.





_______________



19 June 1996



Dear Draco,
I hope you're doing well. I'm afraid I have terrible news, Draco. Your father, along with a few of his associates.....

Lucius read through the letter, and nodded at Narcissa. They had set up wards and enchantments around the Manor already, as precautions, had keyed nobody but themselves to it.

....the Dark Lord will be staying at the Manor for sometime. I expect you to not mention this to anyone, but not to be caught unaware when you come home, either...

It seemed genuine enough.

...your father's trial will be held soon, though the details are hushed up. His name hasn't publicly been included in the list of those on trial either, because it shows incompetence on the Ministry itself since Lucius was so high up in rank. He's currently in Azkaban, Draco...




And there, right in the end, ....oh, how I wish there was a way to reverse time.





_____________



18 June 1996


Harry, Draco and Padfoot travelled back through Madam Rosmerta's floo, their brooms shrunk, and their hair color changed, curtesy of Sirius. She eyed them strangely, not seeming as fooled by Harry's blonde hair as he would want her to be. She didn't stop them, though, and they ran up the tunnel through and up the slope to the castle, Draco shushing Harry as he covered them with the Invisibility Cloak. 

"Seventh Floor," Harry whispered, and they took off through the corridor, to the Room of Requirement -

There was an odd, shuffling noise -

"Filch!" Draco hissed, shifting sideways, but Padfoot growled, and snagging the end of Harry's shirt in his mouth, pulled them along, to a portrait. Sirius pressed his paw to the edge, twice on the left and once on the right, and it opened.  Another  passageway.

Draco scowled at Padfoot as they went inside, walking a remarkably short distance to reach the Seventh Floor.

They reached the Room of Requirement, and it opened easily. Draco stared at Harry's blonde hair with a disapproving look, until he sighed and brought it back to normal.

"Just till tomorrow," Harry said, settling down and scratching Padfoot on the head. "But we have to get out before  we  come in."  The other them.  It was quite strange.





____________



18 June 1996



"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, evenly. "I did wonder how you weren’t with your... friends  today."

"It's a long story," Lucius replied, easily, and then, without preamble, "I'm offering the Order help. That is why I've come."

"How interesting," Dumbledore hummed, a mild expression on his face.





_____________



20 June 1996



"Remus," Sirius said, sounding choked.

"Padfoot,"  Remus said, breathlessly, sounding disbelieving, distant. Scared. "I'm sorry."

"You're  sorry?" Sirius asked, wrapping his arms around Remus and pulling him in. "I left you alone. Again. After I said I wouldn't - "

"I'm sorry," Remus repeated, and then, in a fast, nervous ramble, "That I was  so  scared to try. With you. That I kept making excuses of how it's been too long and how we've changed and. I just. The only thing I felt when you fell in was that I-I didn't act in  time.  That I let you go. I-I - "

"I never want to let you go," Sirius gasped, and there was short pause, where Remus could feel Sirius's breath and then, he was moving, their lips touching -

"I love you," Remus said,  admitted,  and somehow, somehow, it felt like the first time he'd said it, back when they were fifteen.

"I would say it back," Sirius whispered, in his ear. "But I'm not in the habit of stating the obvious."





_____________




21 June 1996



"This," Ron pronounced, "is without a doubt, the stupidest thing you've ever done."

Hermione looked at Ron with disapproval.

"I would agree, Weasley," Draco said, from where he sat across the gryffindor table, breakfast laid out in front of them. "But Potter hasn't  done  me yet."

Ron made a gagging noise.

Harry gripped Draco’s hand tighter.





_____________