Chapter Text
"What is your plan, exactly…?" the brunet asked, massaging his forehead with his fingers. It was unnerving how similar he was to James. The smallest differences were there, otherwise it would have been a clear case of polyjuice. The eyes were the most unsettling, there was something deeply strange about seeing his wife’s eyes peering up out of his own face.
"Well, er, a chat? Find out who the hell you are?" James offered with a half chuckle.
The James clone just threw a rather disgusted look at the blond, who looked ill. The Malfoy boy shook his head, staring at his hands with a haunted look.
"Right," the alleged Potter said, looking over at James with complete contempt, "So… what? You put on his face and think I'll spill my guts?" he rolled his eyes and leaned back, drawling, "Maybe you expect me to ask some question to confirm and you happen to know the right answer to gain my trust… as if I'm not aware that between Snape and Wormtail you know more than I do."
"Wo-" James nearly blurted out, catching himself. He crossed his arms and frowned,
"Recruitment requirements have really gone downhill, haven't they?" the boy asked, "Can I at least ask for a competent interrogator? Heard good things about Rookwood."
"Shut up, Potter," the blond hissed.
"Oh, what, you're scared of him? Aren't you on the same side?" the bespectacled boy jeered, "Should I ask after your darling aun–"
"SHUT UP, you self obsessed little bastard," the blond shouted.
The black haired boy smirked, before shooting James a glance, "Really? No response to the insult? Pretending to be James Potter and you don't care about someone besmirching your wife's character?"
"What about her? " James snarled. Truthfully, he was not the best choice of interrogator. It wasn't in his wheel house. The hope that they'd called the boy's bluff about being related to him had well and truly fallen through.
The boy just gave him an incredulous look, "Bastard? Who even are you that you don't realize that's insulting my mum?"
"Your… your mum," James repeated numbly.
"Or is this some bullshit that you don't recognize a marriage to a muggle born?" he looked over at his fellow captive, "Is that a thing?"
"What do you think?" he snarled, "This level of incompetence seems more like your lot, anyways."
"No, going this long without the cruciatus seems more like my lot," the brunet scoffed. The other boy made a noise that was a strange cross between a laugh and a whimper. His eyes flickered up at James for a moment, fear visible, before he resumed staring at his bound wrists.
James took a long breath and tried a small grin, "Alright. Well. You two seem to have me at a disadvantage. You know my name is James - but I don't know yours."
"Really, Potter, you can't imagine anyone on either side would use this tactic," the blond muttered.
"Your aunt tortured the Longbottoms into insanity! This is very believable to me, all death eaters being brain damaged makes a lot of sense," he snapped back.
"The Longbottoms?" James said harshly, slamming a hand on the table, "If there's a plot against them, you better start talking now. "
"You'd be the one to know," the boy spat, "Neville’s at Hogwarts - if the lovely Lestrange wants to finish the set, it's not like Headmaster Snape will stop her."
Anger flared for a moment, before the words fully sank in and it was replaced by sheer and utter confusion. “Headmaster” Snape? At Hogwarts? Neville at Hogwarts?
"Neville… how do you know that name?" James asked. Lily and Alice had been going through their pregnancies together, their due dates so close. It hadn't been long since both women had found out they were having boys. The four of them celebrated by sharing their chosen names - Harry James Potter and Neville Longbottom.
No one knew that name. They hadn't told anyone outside the four of them. Sirius didn't even know that name.
The blond was watching him sharply, and leaned over as much as the bonds allowed, speaking quietly, "Harry - something is wrong-"
"HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT NAME? " James bellowed, making the blond jump and somehow go even paler.
The black haired boy, the so-called Harry Potter, simply looked amused but the pale boy furrowed his brow. The door opened and James soon felt a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Remus,” the black haired boy whispered.
“What year is it?” the blond called over urgently.
Remus gave them a strange look as he directed James back towards the door, “1980.”
Once James was back with the others, a cup of tea pressed itself into his hands, he glanced over to see Dumbledore waving a wand towards him without looking. The old wizard was frowning as he watched the two strange boys, something dangerous in his eyes. Everyone in the room knew that both the Longbottoms and the Potters were at particular risk. The suggestion of Bellatrix Lestrange attacking the Longbottoms was not something to be taken lightly.
“There’s a muggle movie like this,” the bespectacled boy muttered, “He goes back in time and meets his parents - and has to make sure he doesn’t mess up the past, or he’d never be born.”
The blond scoffed, “And if you had a modicum of sense, you’d realize if it is, indeed, 1980 - both of our mothers will be at minimum in the second trimester. Honestly, Potter, do you even know where babies come from?”
“When two pureblood cousins love each other very much…” he smirked.
The Malfoy boy scowled, “My family does not practice such nonsense. Our willingness to marry half bloods keeps us strong. We are aware of what incest does, thank you very much.”
“Just your mum, then.”
The blond boy made a hard movement towards his fellow - if not for the binding spells, he likely would have landed a punch. He made a rather admirable attempt to break free of the spells that kept him bound before throwing himself back in his chair, panting.
“Keep it down - I need to figure out if there’s anything Remus has told me that Pettigrew wouldn’t know… I think he stopped trusting him, Sirius never did,” the boy muttered, “From the first Order… or before it… fuck.”
James shook his head, “That’s the second time he’s mentioned Peter - maybe we should bring him in."
“Doesn’t mean anything,” Sirius scoffed, “not a secret we’re friends - probably trying to drive a wedge between us. Won’t work.”
“If he’s James’s son,” Remus said quietly, “Why does he know more about me and Sirius?”
Sirius just grunted in response, looking away from Remus and fixing his gaze on the boys. James closed his eyes, taking a long sip of the tea Dumbledore had given him.
“Perhaps contacting Pettigrew would be wise," Dumbledore mused, stepping out of the room for a moment. The three men continued listening in on the two boys, who had been quiet.
The black haired boy was tapping his fingers on the desk with one hand, clearly deep in thought. The other one was glancing warily around the room, although his eyes kept darting to the tapping fingers.
"Oh, honestly! How incestuous was this blasted friend group that you can't think of anything they wouldn't all know?" Malfoy growled, "My father-"
"raised you for 17 years , fuck off," he growled back, "Also - he didn't have a literal rat skulking around. You live with him - you really think that slimy bastard wouldn't be sneaking around, listening in…"
Malfoy shuddered before sneering, "Fucking Gryffindors, so trusting - I had protection spells up for every important conversation since first year. I imagine they were too busy worrying about Black's dog drool to care about a rodent."
This had James and Sirius’s attention, they both went over to the window after that statement. They exchanged a glance before looking over at Remus - James with a look of confusion, Sirius with a glower.
"They aren't wrong," Remus mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"He's our friend," Sirius snapped, "Of course we trusted him. This is clearly some insane fucking ploy to get us fighting against each other."
"How do they know, though? Who else knows? Even Lily doesn't," James argued, "That kid knows things that no one knows."
"Y'know what? I'm sick of this. I'm not listening to this bullshit - I'm getting some damn answers," Sirius growled, opening the door to walk into the room.
James glanced over at Remus, "You're best at keeping him steady."
"Not lately," Remus said with a sigh, rubbing his face with a hand but following anyway.
—
Harry looked over at Sirius and felt his breath catch. Here was a face he'd only seen in photographs - untouched by Azkaban. If they had managed to come back in time, this was Sirius Black about a year before making the greatest mistake of his life. His eyes flickered to Remus, who looked resigned and tired.
He still hadn't been able to figure out anything to ask. His attempts kept getting derailed with rage at how much colossal damage Peter freaking Pettigrew had done.
To his surprise, Malfoy did not have the same problem.
"When you were a child - your brother had a stuffed toy that your parents couldn't know about. You helped keep it safe. What was its name?" Malfoy asked calmly, raising an eyebrow at his alleged cousin.
The effect was instant - Sirius’s face went so pale he reminded Harry more of the gaunt man who barely escaped the dementors. Remus was over just as quickly, a hand on his shoulder rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.
Sirius took a long breath and shook his head, "I'm not answering that - but… that toy was handmade by our house elf."
Malfoy let out a soft laugh, "I could never tell what it was supposed to be," he looked over and met Harry’s eyes, "I'm quite confident he wouldn't have told anyone about that."
Harry rolled his lips together, going to reach his hand out before the restraints stopped him, "Swear on your mother's life."
"So dramatic - very well, I swear on the life of Narcissa Malfoy - this is true," he looked down, his cheeks going slightly pink, "She gave it to me when I was a baby, Uncle Regulus was her favorite cousin."
"Wouldn't be if she knew how he really died," Harry muttered, receiving a death glare in return.
"How did he die?" Sirius asked softly, looking over, "They never found the body."
"He died while attempting to weaken Voldemort. Voldemort didn't kill him directly, but the defenses he'd set up did. He was a hero," Harry replied, lifting his chin defiantly, knowing this Sirius would spend nearly 20 years believing his brother to have died a coward's death. Next to him, Malfoy’s lips pressed into a thin line.
Sirius curled into himself, placing his face in his hands, his breathing harsh and unsteady. Remus murmured into his ear before looking at Harry, "How can you possibly know that? Who are you?"
Harry snorted, amused that the first time a wix asked him - it was his own godfather.
Then, he realized he was messing with the timeline. If it honestly was 1980. In third year, Hermione had stressed how important it was not to do that. He took a shuddery breath and buried his own face in his hands, "I need to talk to Dumbledore."
"I do believe," a familiar voice said, a voice he didn't believe he would ever hear again, "That is a reasonable request."
Harry didn't look up, but heard as the old wizard directed everyone to leave the room, suggesting that Sirius fetch his cousin a cup of tea while they all waited. When it sounded like everyone else was gone, he took a steadying breath and finally looked up to see Albus Dumbledore, wand out, casting enchantments. The man was old enough that 20 years did not make a significant difference to his appearance. His final year had cast a significant toll, but this Dumbledore looked so much like the man he had met 7 years ago.
Despite himself, he let out a sob.
A soft linen cloth was placed into his hands by magic and he registered that his wrists were no longer bound. He wiped his face and took a shuddery breath, trying to bring himself to look at the man.
"Professor - is it really 1980?" Harry asked quietly, staring at the bright blue eyes behind his half moon glasses.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and smiled amiably, "What year do you believe it is?"
"1998."
"Fascinating," he mused, "Quite a discrepancy."
"I don't- Hermione, you don't know her yet, she told us how important it is not to mess with time. She had a time turner in third year, that's why. And if I mess with time - Voldemort might not be defeated - but I could also save so many lives and he comes back and maybe we could stop that and I don't know how I'm supposed to stop him," he was rambling, he wondered how much sense he was even making.
"How you are supposed to stop him?" Dumbledore asked, amused.
Harry frowned, trying to remember the timeline, he may not have heard the prophecy yet.
"Is Sybil Trelawney working at Hogwarts?" he asked.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, "That is not common knowledge."
"It is in 18 years."
"Of course. Have you taken her class, then?"
"Yes, I was there for the second proper prophecy she made," Harry said, pursing his lips at the memory.
"Then, may I assume you know of the first?"
Harry lifted the hair on his forehead, revealing his scar, "And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal."
Dumbledore’s face became grave.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...." Harry recited, holding Dumbledore’s gaze.
"I happen to know that I am the only person who has heard that prophecy in its entirety," the old wizard said quietly.
"Until I was 15, and you showed it to me after Voldemort tried to trick me into stealing it from the Department of Mysteries."
For a long moment, Albus Dumbledore was silent as he looked at Harry thoughtfully.
"I have asked one of my colleagues to prepare a potion that can determine paternity. It will prove your claims, perhaps after that we can discuss the circumstances and how best to preserve the timeline," he suggested.
"Professor…" Harry said quietly, "If you could save your family, but knew it would risk prolonging a war - what would you do?"
He placed a hand over his eyes for a moment before meeting Harry’s searching gaze, "When I was faced with this choice, I chose to prolong a war."
His eyes widened, "Grindelwald?"
A pained look came on the old, tired face, "Take solace in knowing that your family is far more deserving of being saved."
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered and Dumbledore gave him a sad smile.
—
Draco Malfoy was in hell. One of the two idiots he'd been with had cast fiendfyre of all bloody things in the Room of Requirement, he watched his lifelong 'friend' fall to his death, ended up nearly being saved by Potter . Now he was in hell.
It was what he deserved, of course. Ever since taking the dark mark he had accepted his soul was doomed.
Now he was surrounded by young versions of his enemies, apparently trapped in the past with his nemesis. Not that he should be claiming that title anymore, Potter had long since moved beyond their schoolyard rivalry onto proper enemies.
The nauseatingly touching moment between himself and Black had been well ruined when, on instinct, he had hissed "Don't touch me, half breed" at Lupin when the werewolf tried to assist him in leaving the room.
Now Black and Potter Sr were glaring at him and the damned werewolf was casting him pitying glances.
He drank the tea he was given, praying it was poisoned.
It wasn't.
It was, however, oversteeped and made with poor quality leaves.
Given that he had been living with a noseless madman, an aunt prone to torturing for fun, and Wormtail - perhaps he ought to be able to be grateful for whatever beverage was offered. But at least he had proper tea at home, not this peasant nonsense.
Fortunately, no one seemed keen to talk to him. The attempts at interrogation had apparently been put on hold while Dumbledore discussed with his precious Chosen One . Of course. Instead he had to listen to their hissed conversation, trying to pick anything up.
Either this was an utterly convoluted farce of a plot, or he had, in fact, been thrown back in time.
The thought of what his aunt was capable of without 14 years in Azkaban to dampen her powers made his skin crawl. If the Dark Lord found out about him…
He was stuck begging clemency from the people who happily let Severus risk his life spying for them. There was no Unbreakable Vow to save his skin this time. He was doomed.
—
The two boys were set up in a room in the safe house that had two beds and was attached to a small bathroom. Remus had been the only one to express concern that they might kill each other if left alone together. Sirius and James pointed out that, without wands, a Potter would likely wipe the floor with a Malfoy. This did not reassure him. Dumbledore, meanwhile, seemed unperturbed.
"Severus's potion should be finished tomorrow. I have a few contacts I must discuss this situation with to determine the best way to handle it, should their story turn out to be true - as well as confirming the protections on the Longbottoms," the old wizard remarked, "So I must request there be no further interrogation. The situation has become muddled enough."
"You said you'd contact Peter- what's going on with him?" James asked, frowning.
Dumbledore smiled pleasantly, "I checked in on him and I assure you he is well and accounted for. Regrettably he's not able to be contacted right now."
All three men frowned at that.
"Now, I believe that your wife will be needing you home, James, can I trust you two to hold down the fort, as it were?" he continued, looking at Sirius and Remus.
"Make sure two teenagers don't blow up the house. Got it," Sirius said with a salute and cheeky grin. Dumbledore left at that.
"Keep me updated," James said wearily, "But - I'm not going to be telling Lily. Things are stressful enough without someone showing up, claiming to be our unborn child."
"If this turns out to be the real deal, I do not envy you that conversation," Remus agreed, hugging him goodbye.
Sirius stepped over and pulled his best friend into a tight hug, "Try not to stress too much. The best they got is a kid's toy and some outlandish stories. The test'll come back false and we'll figure out what crackpot plan that snake fetishist has come up with."
James nodded warily before apparating back to Godric's Hollow.
—
Sirius was the one to fetch the boys for breakfast the next morning. Part of him hoped they would have changed appearance, some glamor finally failing, but it was for naught. He was once again met with two teenagers - one the spitting image of James, with Lily’s striking eyes, and one very much the child of a Malfoy and a Black.
They were both somewhat bruised, though. Malfoy was sporting a black eye while Potter had a split lip and evidence of a nose bleed. He raised an eyebrow.
Malfoy refused to meet his eye and Potter just shrugged, "He needed to learn how to throw a punch. It was pathetic."
"If it was so pathetic then why did you do this to my eye?" Malfoy spat.
"You threw the first punch - then I realized how bad it was and, really, you're going to hurt yourself," Potter replied airily.
Sirius huffed out a sigh, "Right, s'pose it's on me to heal you two idiots up." He took his wand out and the Malfoy boy flinched.
"We're fine. Is that potion ready?" Potter interrupted.
"No, but if you want breakfast maybe you'll be more polite," he suggested, crossing his arms.
"Yes, I'm sure Moony will let you starve us," Potter said, rolling his eyes and Sirius tensed his jaw in irritation.
"Could you not antagonize our captors, Potter?" Malfoy ground out through clenched teeth.
Potter shrugged, looking down at his trainers.
"Come on, I was planning on feeding you in here but I'd rather not have to deal with broken crockery if you two are going to start brawling again," Sirius said, shaking his head, "I know I'd rather not deal with Snape on an empty stomach."
Both of the boys completely stilled at the name and Sirius raised his eyebrow again. Well, at least they had some taste.
"Potter, you can't- if it is 1980, he hasn't done anything yet-" Malfoy was hissing at the boy, shooting worried looks towards Sirius.
"Easy for you to fucking say," Potter spat, also in a whisper, he was shaking and his fists were clenched. For the first time, Sirius noticed scars on the back of his hand that appeared to be words.
"The fuck did he do?" Sirius asked, baffled.
"Dumbledore doesn't want me saying anything until the test is done and he's decided what to do with me," Potter replied flatly, shaking his head.
"He hasn't said anything to me," Malfoy muttered.
"Yeah, well, what do you even know? How to beg daddy for help and how Voldemort takes his tea?" Potter snapped. Malfoy glared at him but said nothing.
"I'm actually curious about that - how he takes his tea - I always assumed it was plain. Black and bitter like his soul," Sirius mused as he got them to finally leave the room and he was able to direct them to the small kitchen.
"He doesn't let anyone see him eat or drink," Malfoy said dully, "Takes away from the mystique."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, "Is that new? My parents had him over for dinner before I ran away."
Malfoy shrugged, looking away.
They settled at the breakfast table, and Sirius frowned when Potter not only sat next to Remus, but moved his chair closer to him. Malfoy positioned himself as far from everyone as possible, a feat at the tiny table, perched on the edge of his seat.
Predictably, Remus leaned in to ask Sirius why he hadn't healed them. Unexpectedly, Harry caught it and answered, "Malfoy flinches every time someone raises a wand at him - I think things have been really bad for him after everything - and I'm not bothered, had to let worse heal without magic."
Malfoy went slightly pale, he hadn't touched his food.
Remus tilted his head curiously at the Potter boy, before looking at Malfoy, "Are salves better? Snape-" Potter made a disgusted noise, "makes some that are really useful."
"Erm, yes, that would be appreciated, thank you," Malfoy muttered, not looking up, "If Severus doesn't mind."
Remus and Sirius exchanged another look, although a Malfoy being comfortable using Snape’s first name was hardly surprising. It was more the juxtaposition - one of them couldn't stand to hear the man's name, the other was on a comfortable first name basis.
It prompted a rather thorough ' What the fuck was going on? '
—
It wasn't long after breakfast that the safe house found itself hosting both James Potter and Severus Snape. Dumbledore would not be joining them until after the result was decided, when decisions would need to be made.
It brought back a flash of rage from Harry's fifth year, when Dumbledore had fobbed Harry off on Snape for Occlumency lessons.
Fortunately Snape didn't seem to have any desire to spend a second longer than he had to on the task, nor to acknowledge him. He did pause to look over Malfoy, but quickly moved on. He swept into the small table in the kitchen, which was clean, but he still made a show of sneering and cleaning it with his wand, casting a withering glance at Sirius and Remus. Harry was caught up in it, standing as close as he dared to Remus, and the look of pure hatred in his eyes made Snape hesitate.
Then a cold smirk came onto his face, "I see the apple did not fall far from the tree."
"The potion, please, Severus, we don't know who this person is," James said steadily, he hadn't looked at Harry once since he came back. This was absolutely the way he'd always imagined meeting his father to go. Sirius wasn't warm, either, and Harry wasn't sure how to feel about him - everything his Sirius had ever said about himself at this age had been harsh. Remus, usually happy to sing his partner's praises, had little positive to say about this period in their relationship.
At least this Remus was regarding him with an amused compassion.
"Very well, Potter, this brew will indicate the degree of relation between two people. If they are not related - there will be no change - I will be able to test if this so called Malfoy is, in fact, related to Black as well as confirming if this clone belongs to James," Snape drawled, laying out a cauldron and two crystal cups. With the ladle he filled both of the cups.
"Each of you will need to place a hair in the cup. This one is for the Potters, and this is for Malfoy and Black ." His lip curled in disgust when he said Sirius’s name.
Remus plucked a hair from the nape of Sirius’s neck, short and wispy, kissing his cheek.
Harry had already pulled his own hairs out and when he saw that he sheepishly held them up to Remus, "Er - Remus? Would you mind?"
Remus gave him a perplexed look but nodded slowly, taking the spiky black hairs.
"Make sure you don't mess them up, eh? Don't need to prove I'm James's kid, yeah?" Sirius asked, rolling his eyes.
"Seven years in a dormitory was plenty of time to recognize the difference between your hair and James's," Remus mused, placing the hairs in the appropriate cups. Harry’s looked identical to the spiky black hairs that James had added, while Sirius’s black curls couldn't be more different to Malfoy’s straight, nearly white hair.
Severus took out his wand, waving it over each cup in turn. Fairly quickly, they both reacted. The 'Potter' cup turning a gleaming gold and the 'Malfoy & Black' cup going turquoise. Harry briefly wondered if there was any sort of logic to the colors.
James audibly sucked in a breath, Sirius grated his teeth, and Remus placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder.
"Congratulations," Snape drawled at James, "It's a boy." Then, before anyone could respond he looked at Malfoy, "And you are the first cousin once removed of Black - you certainly bear a striking resemblance to Lucius Malfoy, though he will want more definitive proof. I trust you'll want to be reunited with your own parents."
Malfoy went pale, and Harry snarled, "I bet your boss would love to get his hands on him, you grimy git - how would Voldemort reward you for delivering knowledge of the future?"
A pained look briefly flashed over Snape’s face before he replaced it with a mask of indifference, "I have Dumbledore’s trus-"
"Dumbledore is wrong ," Harry spat, "He's wrong about you."
"Severus, you should leave," Malfoy said quietly, looking down at his feet.
Snape raised an eyebrow, "There is nothing I enjoy less than having to endure these imbeciles, but regrettably it is Dumbledore’s orders that I remain."
The information finally seemed to have sunk in for James and he finally walked over to Harry, placing his hands on his shoulders and giving him a nervous smile, “So - you really are my son? Sorry about being so awkward, but you’re a bit early - we didn’t expect you for a few months.”
Harry gave a small, half laugh, shrugging, “Could’ve been worse - when I met Sirius I thought he was going to murder me.”
James hesitated, “What… what do you mean when you met Sirius? Surely… you’ve always known him…”
“I really need to talk to Dumbledore,” Harry muttered, “I don’t know what’s safe to say.”
"Murder you? What the hell?" Sirius asked, running a hand through his hair.
"You were being a drama queen with a revenge fetish," Harry pointed out wryly, remembering when they'd talked about that night later and Sirius had cringed about his handling of it, "' Only one will die tonight ' - honestly…"
"That tracks," James said with a slightly strained laugh.
Sirius flipped his hair, "You seem to know Remus - how did you meet him, then?"
"He saved me from a dementor," Harry replied with a smile. Remus flushed.
"Well that's just not fair," Sirius muttered, "I could have done that."
Harry bit his lip, not sure how much more to say, wanting desperately to save them but not knowing the cost of doing so.
"This," Snape cut in, as if reading Harry’s thoughts, "is precisely why I was asked to remain here. We do not know what damage could be caused to the timeline if you sentimental fools persist in getting information out of him."
"You will not tell me what I can and cannot speak to my son about," James said firmly, stepping in front of Snape.
"Your son ," he spat the word out with such disgust it may as well have been acid, "has not been born yet - this boy may be a genetic match, may have been a James Potter's son in another timeline, but he is not yours and it would do well to remind yourself-"
The man collapsed in the middle of the sentence, gathering bewildered expressions. Harry had been seething, fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment he wondered if he'd cast accidental magic. Then his eyes flickered to Malfoy, who was shaking slightly and staring at the collapsed body.
"You can do wandless magic?" Remus asked, tilting his head to the side.
Malfoy nodded in a jerky motion, cringing slightly as he prepared for retaliation, "He's just stunned."
"Thanks," Harry muttered, not looking at him.
"He doesn't deserve your rage," Malfoy said, his voice tight, " This Snape hasn't done anything and even then - he'd made an Unbreakable Vow -"
"Then he should have died , rather than betray him," Harry snarled, echoing the words from the first day he had met Sirius.
"If I hadn't been a coward-" Malfoy snapped.
"It's not cowardice! He was a disarmed old man-"
"That man hasn't been helpless a single day of his life!"
"It bothers me how much this reminds me of you two," James said to Sirius and Remus, shaking his head, "Alright - enough! Strictly speaking, a Death Eater has just attacked an Order member-"
"Don't you dare ," Harry snarled, stepping between him and Malfoy, and James faltered.
"Er- okay. Right. Anyway . It's probably for the best for Snape not to be involved," James continued, glancing nervously at Remus and Sirius, "since you seem to have… future? history… so let's just say one of us did it."
Sirius raised his hand with a smirk.
"Great," James agreed, clapping his hands together and giving an uncomfortable smile, "Now then. We aren't allowed to talk while Dumbledore takes his time."
"A wizard is never late," Remus said with an eye roll.
"He arrives precisely when he meant to," Harry finished with a smile that again had Remus looking both pleased and surprised.
James cleared his throat, "Tolkein aside - if we send you two back to, er, your room can you avoid beating each other up?"
Harry looked over at Malfoy, who just scowled.
"We won't kill each other," Harry offered with a lopsided smile. It was the best they were going to get.
—
Harry lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. On the opposite side of the room, Malfoy was curled up in the corner, his eyes vacant.
"That's not the first time you saved me," Harry said, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.
"I was saving Severus, " Malfoy snapped, and Harry just hummed in response, causing him to make a noise of irritation. "You must be so happy . Harry Potter, the Chosen One gets to save his own parents," he sneered.
"No, I don't," Harry said quietly, not taking his eyes off the ceiling.
Malfoy turned his head and glared at him, "Of course you'll save them - famous Harry Potter . You wouldn't even let me die."
"If I save them… Voldemort won't be defeated, who knows how many more die," he said hollowly, "I have to let them die. Walk back what I said about Pettigrew, hope I haven't already fucked up the timeline. Then, when Voldemort's gone - hope we can sort out the horcruxes so he never comes back."
" Horcruxes ," Malfoy hissed, "Plural?!"
"Eeyup," he replied, letting the 'p' pop loudly on his lips, "Six. Got a hard on for the number 7 apparently."
"Yes… he does…" Malfoy said, leaning his head against the wall and sagging in defeat.
"We destroyed four of them, before…" Harry said with a heavy sigh, "One was in your aunt's vault."
"Of course it was," Malfoy said with a hollow laugh, "That's why you broke into Gringotts."
That hung in the air between them for a long time. After nearly an hour had passed in silence, Malfoy broke it again, "Why can't you save your parents? He only has to try and kill you."
"No," Harry said thickly, putting a hand over his eyes, "He has to… he has to kill my mum. She wouldn't step aside, and that gave me sacrificial protection."
"Step aside?" Malfoy asked, "She was a mud- muggle born , he'd never give her the chance."
"He did," he said, "Their deaths are what I hear around the dementors. I heard him. He killed my dad and told her to step aside and…"
"Severus," Malfoy whispered.
Harry sat bolt upright, glaring at him, and the blond boy held up his hands.
"He loves her!" Malfoy yelped in alarm, "He must have begged the Dark Lord to spare her! That's why she was able to activate the sacrificial protection!"
"What?" Harry asked blankly, "He's a Death Eater . How could he have loved a muggle born?"
Malfoy cringed, shutting his eyes, "She chose James and…" then he shook his head, "I know he never stopped loving her, his patronus is still a doe - for her. That's why you lived. It was the only time the Dark Lord offered mercy and she used it to save you."
"Then… it had to be me," Harry said softly, running a hand through his messy black hair, "No matter what. It had to ," he laughed bitterly, "and maybe, maybe , I could save my dad… how fucked up is that?"
"I'm sorry," Malfoy said very quietly, not looking at him. Harry looked up at the pale boy for a moment, noticing the circles under his eyes and the way his skin had greyed. His hair was slicked back, but it wasn't as shiny anymore, it looked brittle. His eyes looked defeated as they stared off at nothing.
When had that happened? Harry had never stopped seeing Malfoy as the impeccably dressed, cocky little shithead he'd met at 11. Harry looked down and chuckled darkly, wondering what he must look like now after so long on the run.
"I really hope that they don't make me meet my mum, because I won't be able to go through with it," he laughed again, tears rolling down his cheeks now, "All my life my greatest desire has been to have my parents back, to be part of a family, and now - now I have to lead them to their fucking deaths."
"I wish I'd let my parents die," Malfoy said quietly, "The Dark Lord held them over me - made me do- put me through-" his teeth were gritted, "because if I didn't he told me he'd kill them. I should have just let him. Run away."
"He would have killed you, if you tried," Harry pointed out softly.
Malfoy just shrugged, "Dumbledore might still be alive. Hogwarts would never have been attacked. Not like I've done anything worth saving. Should have died in that fucking flooded toilet."
Without realizing what he was doing, Harry’s feet were moving and he found himself sat beside Malfoy, leaning against the wall. The bed was narrow but he managed not to make any contact. Malfoy stiffened for a moment before his body sagged again.
"Next time I'll make sure I kill you properly," Harry offered, returning his gaze to the ceiling.
Malfoy laughed. Properly. It was the first time he'd heard it in years, since they were 15, only he hadn't actually heard this laugh - it wasn't the cold, cruel cackle that accompanied taunting and insults. It was an honest to god laugh.
Harry had not realized he was capable of it. He didn't move, too emotionally numb from the situation to do anything more than note something interesting had happened.
"Go to hell, Potter," Malfoy muttered, a hint of mirth in his voice.
"Thought that's where you wanted to go," Harry reminded him, "You really want to be stuck with me forever?"
Malfoy snorted, "You're the Boy Who Lived, I haven't been able to get away from you a day in my life."
At that point, the door opened. Malfoy stiffened again, Harry didn't bother to look over, "They're not gonna hurt you, you know."
"You cannot possibly know that," Malfoy hissed.
"They're not teenagers anymore," Harry pointed out with a sigh.
"Black…" Malfoy whispered quietly.
Harry sighed and looked over to the door, to where his father was looking at them with a fond expression. He looked over at Malfoy, "I wish I could pretend you were just talking about his family, and not the shit he did to-" his face darkened, having a hard time not thinking 'the bastard deserved it' and he saw Malfoy flinch and he just shook his head, "He's not Bellatrix and they're not radical fanatics - they're just trying to protect the people they love and survive."
"Yes, I'm sure they won't register me as a threat," Malfoy grit out.
"Don't let me interrupt," James mused, "but Dumbledore’s here and he wants to speak with-" his breath caught in his throat as he met Harry’s eyes again, "...with my son."
Harry leaned forwards, resting his head on his knees while his breath came in panicky, short bursts as his shoulders trembled. A slender hand came to rest firmly between his shoulder blades.
"There is a cruelty in being so casual with an abused orphan," Malfoy said, his voice steely, and distantly Harry registered the words and knew he should object to the destroying of the timeline.
"Orphan-" he could hear his father's voice crack, and Harry started laughing that the only reason he knew his father's voice was a combination of dementors and Snape’s worst memory. The tears were still falling and he was still shaking and somehow he'd landed in a reality where Draco Lucius Malfoy was the closest thing to comfort.
Then broad arms wrapped around him. He felt himself being shifted, situated so he was in James's lap. His father was still larger than him, barely, another growth spurt would likely ruin that. He smelled like spices Harry couldn't recognize, something floral he didn't know, hummed a tune that Harry had never heard, and the feeling of his fingers in Harry’s hair was foreign. It hurt .
It was what he'd always dreamed of, yearned for, what he saw in the mirror of Erised and wasted his first winter holiday at Hogwarts staring at. And it was wrong .
Eventually James looked over at Malfoy, pleadingly, "Do you know what happened?"
" Everyone in our world knows," Malfoy said, looking away, "Everyone knows the story of how the Dark Lord was defeated, and the Boy Who Lived vanished."
" Vanished? "
"From our world, at least," the blond sucked in a breath, "We weren't friends. He's always hated me - I deserve it - I don't know-" he curled his lips together and shook his head, "he disappeared from our world, there were whispers of people spotting him, then when he was 11 he showed up at Hogwarts knowing nothing of magic. I heard he lived in the muggle world with his aunt and uncle."
"The muggle world… his aunt and -" James wrapped his arms more tightly around Harry, "They couldn't have. No - where was Sirius? Remus? Peter? The Longbottoms? Anyone? "
Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him, "I imagine Dumbledore doesn't like to be kept waiting."
" Malfoy ," James snarled.
"I'm not angering the most powerful wizard in the world," he replied flatly.
Harry took a shuddery breath, getting back to himself, "Be nice. He's been through hell. His dad pissed off Voldemort when he was 15."
" Shit , mate, that sounds terrible," James said, startled and with a hint that he was impressed.
"Where is Dumbledore, then?" Harry asked with a sigh, leaning into the warm chest, hearing the heartbeat, and feeling his resolve crumble.
"I'll take you to him," James said softly, giving him another squeeze before letting him get up. He turned to Malfoy, "You'll be alright here by yourself?"
The boy nodded without looking at them.