Chapter Text
July 29, 1999
Leaving the Malfoy Manor didn’t hurt, not in the way Draco expected. He realized the Ministry would destroy his childhood home because they didn’t want to bother with the numerous dark artifacts inside. They used a team of curse-breakers to safely demolish the house. Draco and Narcissa had to hastily gather their belongings. Draco, however, couldn’t bear to leave the library behind, it may have held painful memories of the Dark Lord’s presence but it was the Malfoy legacy. So he persuaded his mother to help him shrink the books and fit them into a single bag.
Unlike the British Ministry, the French Ministry didn’t view them with suspicion. With a prepared portkey, they left England. Narcissa had purchased a house under a different name when she first married, as a precaution in case her husband turned abusive. This way, the Ministry couldn’t seize it.
Nevertheless, the Ministry aimed to make them homeless.
Narcissa Black’s French house was situated in the countryside near Paris, next to a wooded area. The property was adorned with strawberry bushes, and Draco hoped that the taste of strawberries would help banish his nightmares. They had spent a week moving their belongings between the manor and the French house, so most things were already in place. Draco unshrunk the books and added them to the library.
“Get ready for bed, Draco,” his mother said. He nodded and went to his bathroom.
As he gazed at his emaciated and feeble body in the mirror, the ugly snake tattoo and the scars left by Potter stared back at him. He began scratching it, a habit he couldn’t break, waiting until blood stained his fingernails before stopping. He had to clean the blood, but the Mark itself couldn’t be removed. Even though the caster was dead, what if it was a sign that he hadn’t died? What if he and his mother were doomed to bear the mark of their failure for eternity?
He lay in bed, plagued by his usual thoughts, his thumb rubbing his scarred chain. The largest scar from the Sectumsempra spell, scarred from neglecting the treatment of dittany, no one believed he was worth it in the midst of a war with people who needed it more. “At least Potter seems to have difficulty looking me in the eyes after the trial,” he thought. It could be guilt, disgust, or both.
What if he had never accepted the Dark Mark? What if they had never been involved in any of this? Regret consumed him endlessly before sleep took over.
The next morning, he sat in the kitchen, having breakfast with his mother.
“Draco, have some jam. I made it myself,” Narcissa said, trying to smile and encourage her son to eat.
“It’s delicious, Mother. Thank you,” he murmured, savoring the smooth texture of the jam on his tongue. Could they possibly be on the path to healing? He didn’t expect his nightmares to vanish anytime soon, but his mother was making an effort, so he should too. In the subsequent months, things did get easier. Firstly, he declined to return to Hogwarts for his 8th year. He needed time to heal before facing the people he had wronged, who now could bully him.
Finding a hobby with his mother’s help proved enjoyable.
Gardening muggle fruits using magic and by hand helped him divert his thoughts from the Dark Mark and the war. Showering became less of a chore. Who would have thought he’d grow attached to a strawberry bush and name it Frasier?
He had time to brew potions again, which had always been his passion and a subject he excelled in, even surpassing Granger. Professor Snape had told him in his fourth year that his potions were of high quality, store-level, hinting that he could sell them. Draco remembered how his nerves were fried by Aunt Bella’s Crucio, but his hands would stop shaking much once he started brewing. In their small home, he used an attic room with a large window that he could dim when working with light-sensitive materials. Basements still gave him the creeps, but fortunately, they didn’t have one.
He was currently checking on Frasier, observing the green strawberries and estimating how long until they turned a beautiful red.
“Draco, it’s about to rain. Come back inside,” his mother called from the doorway, dressed in a pastel blue sundress that made her look her age, her hair fully dyed blond.
Draco cleaned his hands with a silent Scourgify charm and checked his clothes for any dirt on his soft pink jumper and light red dungarees.
“How is Frasier doing?”
“We can make some jam and tea in another week, we can sell some in the farm market next week too” Draco gave her a small smile.
“How about arranging the rest of the library? With hot cocoa, the weather is getting cold, ” Naricssa suggested. He nodded and followed her to the library.
The coziest room in the house, with circular couches and warm lighting, was the best place to watch the rain from. He went to pick up the pile of books yet to be arranged, he now wonders what made him rush to take the books. In the hope of preserving the Malfoy legacy?
‘What legacy? Branded Death Eaters? The losing side? The dark wizards never to be trusted with a job at the ministry.?
He looked at the titles of the books, maybe it was a higher power at work arranging these random books one under the other to help his line of thoughts, maybe it was his desperate self finding connection, but he will forever believe in fates from that rainy July day.
The Mopsus Potion and its seer-like effects by Constance Dagworth
Draco raised an eyebrow and took the book to the TH- M section.
The next book was.
The time turners and their usage by Saul Croaker
He hammed, the idea of a time turner is indeed useful unfortunately it only goes up to five hours into the past. He moved to the next book.
The Horror of Ageing and the Way to Prevent It by Alice Macfusty
Draco stopped an idea itching to come. He carefully moved the book to see what was under it.
Blood Ritual’s Secrets by Azekel Gaunt
“Mother”
“Yes, Draco?”
“Do we have a time-turner? Five-minute time turner will do”
He looked around him searching for a specific book he had read while fixing the vanishing cabinet in Hogwart. He found the book easily by its soft span from use and notes between the pages sticking out.
The Teleportation in Space (Floo, Portkey And Apparition) by Saul Croaker
His eyes caught it.
" I have a project to do “
“Draco, I will get you the time turner just tell me what are you planning?”
“I would like to have made some progress before I share it” Narcissa smiled.
“I’m glad to see you excited about something other than strawberries and potions“
Draco did realize his tiny smile as he gathered the few books and went into studying.
✄———————————
He spent extensive time searching, filling his spare time with the hope of going back in time, as Draco delved into his studies, he became consumed by his newfound project. He spent hours researching and experimenting, combining the knowledge from the books he had gathered. The idea that had sparked in his mind was to find a way to change the past, to undo the mistakes he and his family had made during the war.
“So you are trying to travel back in time?” Narcissa asked, looking over his shoulder at his notes after setting the time-turner on the table. Narcissa, supportive of her son’s endeavor, provided him with the requested time turner. She watched him with a mix of concern and anticipation, hoping that this project would bring him the closure he sought. She knew that Draco needed to find his own path to healing, and if this was what he needed, she would stand by him.
“We are. If it worked and I did get to my ten-year-old body not many changes a child can make and you will notice if I act differently” Draco carefully ripped a page and started writing in a new one.
“Ture, and returning a year before your school starts gives us more time to prepare. Removing ourselves from the war will be easier”
“ I like this house. I just don’t want the mark, and I wish to fi-“
“ I understand. I too would like to get rid of it…“ Narcissa’s eyes looked far away lost in memories.
“ but we mustn’t be hopeful, if it fails it fails,” Draco warned
“I trust you Dragon, I believed you would be sorted in Ravenclaw until your first-week letter arrived with green wax “ grinned Narcissa.
“Do you think I should be sorted in Slytherin still?” Maybe if he was in a different house he would escape easily from being labeled the enemy by the rest of the school.
“I thought of a plan,” she told him and Draco added his points and told her about his school years, noting down important things.
“You think Father will change?”
" I have known him longer than you, if he doesn’t want to change we will just have to cut him clean,” Narcissa said.
✄———————————
December 25, 2002
Days turned into weeks, and Draco worked tirelessly, fueled by determination and a glimmer of hope. He meticulously followed the instructions outlined in the books, making notes, and adjusting his approach as needed. It was a delicate process, but he was driven by the desire for redemption and the chance to rewrite history. As the months passed, Draco made progress. He successfully combined the principles of potion brewing and time manipulation, creating a unique blend of magic that he believed could alter specific events in the past. He experimented with small-scale changes, testing the limits of his newfound abilities. The process was not without setbacks and frustrations. Draco encountered unforeseen consequences and paradoxes as he tampered with time. But he persisted, learning from each failure and refining his methods. He was determined to make things right, to undo the pain and suffering caused by his actions.
his mother took his hand and led him outside his laboratory to enjoy the Yule, they exchanged gifts, gifting him a notebook he immediately started using it to write all his thoughts about this project, a paper cut on his thumb led him to new ideas.
The fact no one searched how to make time turner sands is understandable and he didn’t have the time for it, he simply opened the time turner and duplicated the sand (not an easy task making sure the sand doesn’t lose its properties that alone took a year and a half ) in it until it was the required amount for going back 9 years ago.
Mixing the sand with his and his mother’s blood in a bowl made it a thick mixer great for painting the runes needed. He studied different companions, planning to destroy this timeline from existing if he could.
✄———————————
August 23, 2003
“I can’t”
His mother tilted her head surveying his poster and the bowl full of sand and blood mixer. He stood on the precipice of altering the past, doubts crept into Draco’s mind. He questioned the ethics of what he was about to do. Was it right to meddle with time, to potentially erase important lessons learned from the consequences of his actions? Would changing the past truly bring healing and redemption, or would it simply create new problems and unforeseen consequences?
“I’m sorry Mother, I promised you we could fix our life, now faced with the chance, I found myself thinking, if we died here it would be pointless, no one is looking for us and no one would care, and if they found us the world will just call us ungrateful fools trying to revive the dark lord again, or that we didn’t warrant Potter’s forgiveness or help”
“And if we didn’t die but got caught doing the ritual it would be worse” he started huffing in a panic and his mother was quick to hug him, grounding him to earth.
“It’s okay, we deserve to live in our mistakes, we will face the world together “
Narcissa held his hand.
They hid the bowl away as they had no idea how to get rid of it without sabotaging themselves. They burned all the research, and everything related to it including the books with his notes in them.
“I promise to be a better son,” he told her over the fire, she only took hold of his left hand and he didn’t shy away. Draco resolved to focus on the present and the future. He would use his knowledge and experiences to make amends, to contribute positively to the world around him. He understood that he couldn’t undo the past, but he could shape the person he became and the actions he took moving forward.
✄———————————
April 19, 2004
Daily Prophet
Death Cleansers Strike Again!!!
The group of war victims decided to take justice into their own hands since the Wizengamot showed leniency to You-Know-Who supporters, who they believed were planning for a new generation of Death Eaters to rise again. These wizards and witches compiled a hit list targeting young Slytherins, engaging in what could be described as ritualistic killings in the name of purging the world of evil.
This month, they claimed the life of the young bachelor Blaise Zabini, just a week before his 24th birthday.
Blaise Zabini (b. c. 1980) was a wizard and a student in Harry Potter’s year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was sorted into the Slytherin house and maintained friendly relationships with several fellow Slytherins, including Draco Malfoy (the only confirmed Death Eater with the Dark Mark; refer to page 12 for more information about Draco Malfoy).
A trigger warning for our readers: the next paragraph will describe the victim’s body and the crime scene.
The victim’s body was discovered on the rooftop of one of the Zabini hotels. The body was found lying within a circle of small animal skulls, the upper body completely nude. Here is where the details turn gruesome: a large incision ran from the chest to the abdomen in a straight line, with the hands bound by a silver knife and a veil soaked with unicorn tears left at the scene, presumably used to clean the knife before and after the gruesome act.
Draco closed the paper, feeling a wave of nausea wash over him as he saw yet another fellow Slytherin, this time a friend, fall victim to the Death Cleansers, who believed they were purging the world of future Death Eaters by targeting Slytherins.
Blaise Zabini hadn’t even been a supporter of Voldemort.
“Draco?” His mother glanced at the paper and gasped upon seeing the son of her friend featured in the news.
“What are we going to do?” he asked her.
“Don’t worry, no one knows we are here.”
“I hope so.” He folded the paper, deciding to cut Blaise’s picture for later.
✄———————————
Draco sat in his stall, selling their homemade jam to Muggles. He smiled at his regulars, always happy to buy the first batch of jam. A paper and pen rested on his lap as he idly wrote.
“Draco, how are you doing?” Gabriel, the butcher, asked him. Draco liked to think they were on friendly terms since Gabriel always sold them cuts at half the price if he gave him an extra jam jar. Gabriel had also introduced Draco to some Muggle inventions.
“As good as can be,” Draco replied.
“I brought my friend here to try your jam. He’s an American,” Gabriel said, pointing at the tall man next to him. The man had dark skin and a shaved head, similar to how Blaise used to wear his hair.
“Nice to meet you,” Draco said, sounding less energetic.
“I’m Matthew. It’s my first time outside the USA,” he smiled but seemed less confident about Draco’s reaction.
Gabriel laughed, trying to ease the tension. “How did you do with the DVD player?”
Draco’s face brightened up, and he moved closer. “My mother loved it, but we don’t know how to ‘replay’ certain episodes. Also once it reaches episode 10, it restarts.”
“Oh, you need to use the remote to move to the next episode,” Gabriel explained.
“Remote?” Draco frowned.
“Don’t worry, I will teach you what that is,” Gabriel waved his hand in the air, used to the clueless mother and son duo.
“He doesn’t know what a remote is?” Matthew asked, alarmed.
“Oh, he was part of a cult, but he and his mother ran away from it to Paris. Now they are healing from it,” explained Gabriel, as if he had to explain it numerous times to different people.
“Is that why you didn’t like me?” Matthew said.
“Huh?” Draco’s confused face matched Matthew’s.
“Never mind, just what kind of cult was it? If you don’t mind sharing,” Matthew rubbed the back of his head.
“Oh… It… made us believe that certain family lines are better than everyone else. That we are pure-blood, and everyone else is less and Mudblood. At some points, the cult leader no longer cared and started killing everyone, whether they were Mudblood or pure-blood. My mother and I ran away when he started killing children my age,” Draco looked down, ashamed. No matter how many times he regretted it, it would never be enough.
“Is that why you got nervous when you saw me, because of my skin color?” Draco’s confused face cleared. He had learned about Muggles’ hate towards skin tones, which sounded dumb to him. But when compared to his belief in blood superiority, he realized he sounded just as dumb as them. In war, everyone bleeds red.
“No, you just remind me of my friend who I learned died today,” Draco bit his lip to hold back tears. Gabriel patted his back, and the two guys consoled him.
“Here,” Matthew took out his business card.
“I will stay in Paris for three months. If anyone suspicious hangs around or you feel threatened, tell me. I’m an FBI agent.”
Draco didn’t know what an FBI agent was but took the card. The two saw his confusion and started explaining it to him.
After the afternoon sun had moved, painting the sky orange, Draco started packing up his table. Gabriel and Matthew came by again and decided to help him. The three engaged in casual chat as they walked him home.
“Don’t lead us to your home. Someone has been following us for a while,” Matthew said casually in a lower tone.
“Laugh like I said something funny so they wouldn’t notice,” Matthew instructed. Gabriel started to laugh nervously, but Draco’s eyes were searching for the person who could be following him unfortunate enough to be spotted by a Muggle.
Draco immediately noticed them. One thing he had learned from Muggles was how outlandish wizards’ clothing styles appeared in comparison. Anyone wearing wizarding robes would stand out.
The person was hiding well, but every time they leaned in, their wizarding robe made them unforgettable.
‘Death Cleanser? Or Auror?’ Draco wondered. It could be someone from the Ministry assigned to watch over him and ensure he wasn’t up to no good. Fortunately, he had gotten rid of all the evidence, leaving only the sand-blood mixture hidden away.
“It’s okay, let’s split,” Draco waved at the two while Matthew stopped him.
“What do you mean? This is dangerous,” Matthew expressed his concern.
“I know him,” Draco lied easily.
“What?” Matthew was puzzled.
“He just wanted to speak to me alone,” Draco waved the Muggle away. If it was an Auror, he didn’t want them to think he intended to harm Muggles. And if it was a Death Cleanser, he would protect these Muggles.
Draco hurriedly made his way to the magical entrance of his house, where Muggles couldn’t follow and wizards couldn’t bypass the protective sigils. He ran to the kitchen, where his mother spent her time.
“Mother! Someone is following me,” Draco exclaimed. Narcissa dropped the bowl she was holding and rushed to the living room window. Dread filled Draco when he saw the person who had been following him standing outside, and more people apparated, circling his house like vultures.
“We should use the Floo,” Draco suggested. The two of them ran to the fireplace, but an explosion shook the room, sending ashes and smoke flying. Draco covered his face to avoid inhaling the ashes.
Silence fell in the house as the two of them watched the fireplace, wands at the ready. A few seconds passed, and Narcissa cautiously approached.
“Here, take my hand,” Narcissa offered, holding a handful of Floo powder. They attempted to travel to the French Ministry, but nothing happened.
“They’ve cut the Floo connection,” Draco realized, moving back to the window. His heart sank when he saw that the number of people outside had doubled, almost twelve in total.
“They’re waiting for something,” Narcissa narrowed her eyes, analyzing the situation.
“They’re waiting for midnight,” the mother-son duo realized simultaneously. Not all magical rules were taught at Hogwarts; some were so fundamental and deeply ingrained in the culture that they couldn’t all be remembered and written in books. That was one reason why traditional pure-blood families resisted integration with Muggles so that such simple knowledge wouldn’t be forgotten. For example, the fact that protection spells had a weakness in time, where they wouldn’t break but would relax, much like taking a deep breath after tensing for a while. It didn’t render one vulnerable, but it shifted one’s stance, just as it did with magic.
“One of them is a blood traitor,” Narcissa spat, gripping Draco’s hand and dragging him up the stairs.
“We need a way to contact the Ministry,” Draco said, rushing to his room. With a wave of his wand, the room started to rearrange itself.
“Draco, what are you doing?” Narcissa stood in the doorway of the room.
Draco, standing in the middle of his room, turned to face her. In his hand, he held a familiar bowl and two veils.
“I… I…” Draco’s voice trailed off.
“Come,” Narcissa reached out her hand to her son, and he took it. Together, they walked to the attic and looked out the window. The Death Cleansers had now started blasting spells all over the house, trying to exhaust the protective sigil.
“We need more blood, mother,” Draco told her, deeply disappointed in himself for reaching this point when he was cornered. He didn’t want to die as a victim of hate crimes, and his mother didn’t deserve such an end. Maybe he was still a coward because his first response was to travel to the past instead of fighting.
“Anything you need, darling,” Narcissa said, cupping his cheek. He leaned into the touch for a moment. “Can you give me five ounces?” Draco turned his back to her and started searching through his shelf.
“So, is our consciousness going to the past, or is it just memories?” his mother asked while she waved her wand to draw blood from her finger.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I hope it’s our conscience because I was a stubborn brat. I don’t think memories are enough to change me,” Draco smiled bitterly. He found a paper and pen and started writing.
“It’s okay, I will be there to help,” Narcissa said. Draco folded the paper and left it inside one of his books. He took the sand-blood mixer, adding new blood and adjusting the required amount to time travel. It would be pointless to leave at this moment only to arrive in the midst of the war. He began slowly drawing the runes, as it was an easy ritual that he had created, making it easy to remember the steps.
“Our bodies will probably be left here for those savages to do what they want with them,” he informed her. When he looked at the time and found it close to midnight, the runic circle took its time. His mother didn’t speak so as not to distract him, and he could still hear the attacks on the house outside.
“I don’t care,” his mother said.
“Do you think your plan will work? The one we discussed before? I don’t think Father will change his mind just like that,” he started fidgeting, twisting his fingers, and sweat collected on his eyebrows.
“He had the means to save the Dark Lord years before you were meant to go to Hogwarts, yet he chose not to. He didn’t want to follow a madman, but he may be too proud to admit it,” Narcissa took her son by the shoulder to stop his back-and-forth movements.
Draco sighed and looked at the red rune circle.
“Do you trust me with this, mother?”
“I do, Draco. I do. And if we die, we won’t feel it anyway,” Narcissa smiled, and Draco returned the smile.
“Perri Errat In Harenae (to wander about in the sands) is the name, I know,” Draco rolled his eyes at his mother’s raised eyebrow.
“It’s time, Draco.” The clock rang. The wizards outside stopped attacking, all of them standing to focus on one spot. Draco took a step inside the circle and retrieved a vial from his pocket, swallowing its contents whole. His eyes started to glow silver as he helped Narcissa step in. Narcissa drank her vial before taking her son’s hand.
The runes recognized the blood owners and started to glow, with particles flying in the air to surround them in its glow. They heard the front door break. The runes flowed in the air and melted into their bodies, and Draco and Narcissa grimaced in pain.
“It may be goodbye, but I hope it’s a see you later,” Narcissa smiled at her son.
“See you later, Mother,” he leaned in and kissed her forehead.