Chapter Text
Lucius Malfoy always knew his son was different.
Unlike other babies Draco wouldn’t cry or make a fuss unless it was ultimately necessary, instead he would just observe the place where he was, or the people around him, Sometimes he would move his little fingers so delicately and with such coordination that Lucius doubted a baby should have.
When the months began to pass and his son still didn’t not say a word, or rather didn’t seem to even want to try, they took him to all the healers and specialists they could find, but they all came to the same conclusion: there was nothing wrong with Draco and he would probably talk when he wanted to.
The answer was not satisfactory, what if he decided never to speak? How would he do spells without speaking? A part of him just wanted to force his son to talk, but something in those gray eyes so similar to his would always make him stop... Maybe he should have faith in his son.
At three years old, Draco, instead of talking, began to make gestures with his hands and then expectantly looked at the people he was addressing as if waiting for an answer. After many research, it turned out that what his infant son was doing was sign language.
Which created a completely different question, where did his three-year-old son learn sign language?
Again they went to all the specialists and this time if they could give him an answer.
His son had memories of a past life, which led to the conclusion that in his other life Draco was probably mute, which is why instead of trying to speak using his mouth, he used sign language.
If Lucius had to be honest with himself, he didn’t know what to think about it. As the specialist explained, everyone reincarnated but not everyone was able to retain memories, at least not as clear as his son’s. They usually retained brief feelings associated with places or situations, creating what muggles knew as “déjà vu” when they thought they had already experienced a similar situation before without knowing when.
For now, Lucius was happy being able to hear his son speak, of course after explaining that there was in fact nothing wrong with his voice and he could speak if he wanted to
“Come on, love. You can do it.”Narcissa said encouraging his son to say his first word and he grimaced.
“Any word is fine.”He added trying to appear calm but was actually eager to hear his son’s voice and secretly wishing it to be “Father” or “Dad”, he wasn’t too pick.
“Didn’t I already say—”
“S-Severus!”exclaimed the little boy running to his newly arrived godfather leaving his parents behind.
Neither Lucius nor Narcissa will ever admit to pouting in disappointment before their son’s clear preference, nor will Severus admit to smiling warmly at the little one.
.
Narcissa was amused to see her son walking the streets of London with interest and curiosity. The specialist recommended that they stimulate Draco’s memory, ensuring that it was healthier that he would recover as much as possible as a child than when he would be an adult or a teenager as it could cause conflict with his perception of the “I” among other things.
Thanks to the sign language that his son used - and now that everyone at the mansion knew including Severus, because although Draco now spoke the old habits died hard, and Draco favored the use of his hands over that of his voice - it was English, British, at least for the most part, they knew that at least their son was English, so London was a good place to start looking for memories, and it was a good opportunity to spend time together.
Although... there was still something that made noise, her son still reacted with amazement to the magic...Which could indicate that in his past life he was a Muggle, and although that was behind him, Narcissa wasn’t sure if Lucius could accept this once he realized it, not to mention the cultural difference that could separate them from their Draco once he regained most of his memories.
What if in his other life he was one of those horrible Muggles who thought magic was the work of the devil? Narcissa wasn’t sure what she could do as a Mother...
“Narcissa?”Lucius asked noticing her silence and she blinks.
“I...”She muttered that her son was no longer in front of her. - Where is Draco?”she asked in slight panic that was turning into total panic when she didn’t finding her son and soon her husband joined the search.
“He couldn’t have gone far.”he answered looking around, the streets were almost empty, and there were only a few shops, he looked a little more and inside one of the shops he saw a mop of platinum blonde hair like his. “There.”He pointed to the tent and soon they both rushed in.
Narcissa looked everywhere realizing that the place was a music shop, and that it was therefore full of instruments, but he still did not see his son.
“If you’re looking for a little boy with blond hair, he went at the end of the store, said he was looking for the piano.”The cashier indicated and they soon followed his instructions.
“Dra—”Narcissa tried to call him until she saw her son move his fingers gently on the keys of the piano.
With a long breath of air, he closed his eyes and as he let out the air, he began to play. It was a soft, but beautiful melody, and as she felt how the song brought all sorts of feelings, happy, sad, melancholy, Narcissa knew it.
Maybe her son was a Muggle in his other life, but he was always magical.
.
At the age of eight, Draco knew quite a few things about who he was and who he used to be.
In this life, his name was Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy formerly Black. He came from two of the most prestigious, ancient and famous family of wizards in Europe, and was the heir to at least the Malfoys.
His house was a mansion surrounded by albino peacocks, they had house-elves with whom he enjoyed talking and playing with, and a Godfather who worked at Hogwarts as a teacher.
From his past life, he knew that he lost his voice when he was little, the details were not clear, but remembered that it was a great lost until his grandfather taught him how to play the piano, and he found his voice again.
He was a pianist and he played in different places around the world for various symphonies and orchestras, and sometimes on his own, he was a very good pianist and had or used to have many awards that proved it.
He also remembered seeing his brother-after giving him the game-play “Hogwarts, a story of love and magic!”.
Oh…And also in that life, he was a woman.
So, yep, at eight years old, Draco Abraxas Malfoy had his first existential crisis.