Work Text:
Part One
May 8, 1998
The only thing Harry could say for being dead, was that it was peaceful. Boring, but peaceful, and in the peace it was decidedly eerie and he started to hate it.
He had no idea how long he sat in limbo waiting for something, but he was sick of the silence that was only broken by the pathetic mass of weak feeble crying, which felt and sounded like the weirdest since of Deja vu.
Glancing around what appeared to be King Cross, Harry shifted on the bench, either the same one he started near, or one he passed countless times, because nothing seemed to change, every thirty feet was the same, two benches, an empty garbage can sitting under an unlit lamppost, and rolling bouncing mist that drifted around the ball of feeble crying.
He hadn’t really investigated, the aura of unrepentant evil making him shy away, not wanting to have anything to do with that in the afterlife, even if he wished there was some sort of contact.
If he thought about it, he had expected to see his parents or Sirius, maybe even Remus, hell at this point he would have been happy to see Severus Snape, or Albus Dumbledore, but alas, it was nothing but silence and mist.
With a sigh, he pushed off the bench, pacing in a circle wishing he was hungry or thirsty so he had something to concentrate on other than his own thoughts, but that didn’t seem likely in this place either.
It seemed as if the afterlife was perfect, and boring and he was already sick of it.
Sighing he ran a hand through his hair, and glanced around the empty station, wondering if he’d missed something, even though he knew he hadn’t. There was nothing to miss, except for a lack of garbage and people, even the light didn’t change, it was always overcast with the illusion of dampness even if he never felt it.
Hunching over and burying his heads in his hands, he wanted to cry, which felt selfish and wrong for some many reasons, he couldn’t even list them, not even in his mind. it wasn’t fair. He should be there, helping them fight, helping them end it, once and for all. Instead He got internal peace and boredom and left his friends with grief and mourning.
A whisper of sound brushed Harry’s ears, and he froze, lifting his head cautiously just in case his hearing was playing tricks on him, and glanced around eyes widening in shock, that quickly turned to grief. “Oh, no, you-you can’t- stop wearing his face!”
A soft sad smile crossed the face in front of him, the shoulders dropping slightly, “we meet for the first time the day after your birthday and your introduction into the wizarding world at Madame Maulkin’s, I was a right little snobbish prat, and you looked like a homeless waif.” There was a pause before Draco added softly, “and I’ve never regretted my actions that day more than I ever have, maybe if I’d been more pleasant we could have been friends.”
A single unexpected and unexplainable tear rolled down harry’s cheek, as he slowly shook his head in denial, “I’m so sorry.”
A smirk lifted the corner of lips on a pale face, before it fell, along with apparent age that made Harry blink and than blink again when he saw he was looking at a Draco Malfoy from the end of fifth year, and not the haunted and guant looking teen he’d scared in sixth year and than rescued from fiend-fire hours ago. Tears filled his vision, as his brain tried to process what he was seeing, and he slowly shook his head, “What- I-I don’t understand…”
“No, I don’t suppose you do.” Was the soft reply, followed by a dejected sigh, “none of this is your fault, Harry.”
“You’re dead, Draco. How is that not my fault?” Harry demanded harshly glaring at the blonde Slytherin, not even questioning the useage of first names.
Draco tilted his head considering the question, then licked his lips, “because no matter how many lives I’ve lived, they always end up the same. I die at the end of my fifth year, punishment for my father’s failure in obtaining the prophecy.”
Harry jerked back, tear splashing onto his hand, his eyes widening in horror as the words penetrated, “lives?”
Draco smiled sadly, lifting his head to look towards the ceiling, “yeah, I’ve lost count how many times you’ve gotten here to this point.” He shook his head ruthfully, “it’s the longest on going case of groundhogs day, I’ve experienced, though thankfully I don’t remember until I’m dead.”
“Draco.” Harry’s voice cracked and broken, his head shaking in denial, “you-you can’t be dead, i literally just saved your ass in the Room of Requirements.”
“My father actually.” Draco replied carelessly, plucking an invisible bit of fluff off his cloak and flicking it away, and then sighed heavily. “Look, what’s the one thing you’ve always assumed about the Malfoy’s?”
Harry clamped his jaw shut and averted his eyes, refusing to poke at a dead man lest the cosmic universe thinking he was being disrespectful.
“Oh, love, you’re not. There isn’t anything you can say bad of my family that wouldn’t be the absolute truth.” Draco whispered softly.
Jerking at the endearment Harry gasped as searing pain ripped across his chest, vision blurred, and overlapping with a hazy memory that felt jagged and distorted, but he knew viscerally to be true.
A ring of death eaters surrounded Draco as he looked now, laying beside Lucius Malfoy on the ground writhing under the crutious curse, the words when Voldemort spoke directed to someone not seen, “it’s disappointing how tainted your line is, old friend. A failure of a son, and his spawn marked and useless to me.”
Voldemort lifted his wand, a cruel smile twisting his face as father and son continued to twitch on the floor, “tell me Lucius, how long have you known your son had his name in the book of souls?”
Lucius could only stutter uselessly, blood mingled drool dripping from his mouth.
Impatience flickered across Voldemort’s face, and he flicked his wand wordlessly, the curse hitting Lucius who gasped harshly, “his-his-fifth-fifth year, my lord.”
A sarcastic chuckle filled the room, Voldemort gliding around the circle, “oh, you poor fool...”
The rustling of those gathered was broken by Lucius confused, “my lord?”
The dark lord ignored the question, continuing his circuit, pausing to sneer at Draco in disgust, “let see who your perfect match is, it would be extremely ironic forcing you to kill them, it might make up for your lack of worth….”
Nothing happened for a beat, except for the flash of excitement that spread across Voldemort’s, and the lifting of his lip in anticipation of a challenge, his cruel chuckle sending shivers down Harry’s spine. “Oh, and what is this, is this the famous Black talent at play? Tell me young Draco was it your mother who taught you occlumency?”
Draco didn’t answer, not reacting when Voldemort hissed with displeasure, sending a cutting curse Draco’s way that caused his eyes to roll into the back of his head but no sound slid passes his lips.
Snorting in disgust, Voldemort turned away, glaring hatefully at Lucius, “it’s shameful how you allowed your wife to teach your son to hide his thoughts from me, your lord. So, how should we punish you Lucius?” Voldemort tilted his head, “I sadly can’t kill you, you’re still necessary to further my plans, and your wife is untouchable as she’s to carry my Heir…..” Voldemort trailed off, glancing off to the side, his red eyes sliding back across the floor to the still twitching body of Draco, “I wonder-I wonder, where you foolish enough to trust your father.”
Voldemort raised a hand, wandlessly forcing Lucuis’s eyes open, the man jerked helplessly, the scent of urine permeating the air, trapped as he was in the magical hold, tears sliding down his face.
Unshed tears filled draco’s vision, making his silver eyes appear like diamonds, as he forced himself to watch Voldemort torture his father’s mind as he brutally searched for the information he wanted.
The cruel amused laugh made Draco’s already pale face, pale even further, his body jerking as Lucius was flung to the edge of the circle with a sicken crunch and painfilled groan, Voldemort whirling to face Draco again, the older man shaking his finger in a mock imitation of him being naughty. “You gave him too much, it’s almost cruel how you allowed him to hope he could escape my hold.”
Draco’s jaw tightened, and he forced himself to his feet, hand on his stomach, and blood slipping between his fingers, shaking like a leaf in the wind his head held high, “it offered him comfort in the hell we live in, his belief that I could obtain a freedom denied to him is worth whatever pain you inflict on me.”
“And you don’t think it would hurt him when you’re dead?” Voldemort asked curiously.
“We knew I’d be dead the minute I saw the name, but this last year allowed me to dream.” Draco replied evenly, and then shrugged wincing and wiping his mouth as he did, “and in the last hour, it’s allowed me to see that this will end as it always does and I can pray that the next time we get it right.”
“What does that mean?” Voldemort demanded, eyes flashing with a warning.
Draco laughed humourlessly, “you think this is the first time we’ve had this conversation? You’re nothing but a half-blood with delusions of grandeur trying to reach above yourself. And you’ll fail just like you always do. You, your ideology and pointless rhetoric are no match for my soulmate, and it’s ironic that you think so, he’ll beat you again and again, because it’s his destiny and has been since time began.”
Voldemort froze, his slit of a nose flaring as he glared menacingly at Draco, “you speak of him as if he’s the second coming of Merlin.”
Draco lifted his chin, ignoring the blood dripping down his chin, “he’s better. The blood of gods and kings run in his veins and in the next do over, he’ll know. Death is not happy with you, Tom Marvelo Riddle. You’ve cheated true death one to many times, and your day of reckoning is coming.”
“And who are you to judge that?” Voldemort asked in a cold voice.
A peaceful smile crossed Draco’s face, at the furious glared on Voldemort’s face, his shoulders relaxing, “Hadrian Peverell’s soulmate.” Draco paused and tilted his head, “you might know him as Harry Potter.”
Harry let out a gasp, heart clenching even as Draco’s body hit the ground, seconds before the killing curse left Voldemort’s wand, and his eyes snapped open to stare at the Draco in front of him.
His Draco sat beside him on the ground of kingscross, gently caressing his hair, “I made a vow on my life and magic to never reveal your name. My father never knew, refused to know, and the vow was the only advice he could offer, trapped as he was in a life he didn’t want.”
Harry lay there panting, wiping the tears from his eyes, “I saw that before, I know I did, so why did I forget?”
“Protection.” Draco replied simply, “Lady Magic didn’t want you to suffer the grief of watching your soulmate die as it can be magically and mentally devastating.”
“And you think remembering it this way is easier?” Harry demanded sitting up, “I don’t even understand what a soulmate is, Draco.”
Draco regarded him with intense silver eyes, and licked his lips, “It’s a promise from magic. essentially we were made for one another, that one person we can trust, love, and know they’ll never betray you.”
A small understanding smile, teased the edges of Draco’s lips, followed by a soft chuckle, his hand coming up to smooth the wrinkle on Harry’s face, like he knew what he was thinking.
Unable to stand the non-judgmental expression, Harry swallowed and averted his eyes, not sure how to react to Draco’s explanation other than a deep almost visceral reaction of want inside.
“You-you said that i beat him?” Harry whispered, desperate to change the subject.
“You do.” Draco agreed softly, keeping his expression even, “I can tell-“
Harry shook his head, and closed his eyes, “right now, it’s enough to know we win.”
Draco’s mouth twisted as if he disagreed with the statement but didn’t object, and asked instead, “so what do you want to talk about?”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea, what happens now?” Harry asked, finally sitting up, glancing at the other teen, heart clenching for even in death he was beautiful.
A faint smile crossed Draco’s face as if he heard the thought, though he didn’t verbally acknowledge it, answering Harry’s question, “you stay until you decide what you want to do.”
“Decide? Aren’t I dead?” Harry asked in confusion, that grew when Draco shook his head.
“No, you’re literally at the Crossroads, in which only one person is ever offered the choice of what they wish to do.” Draco explained, glancing around Kingscross, before focusing on Harry again eyes intense, “it’s interesting that you view King’s Cross as freedom, but I guess given your muggle relative’s that makes sense.”
Harry couldn’t help the flinch, averting his eyes once again, not wanting to discuss that at all, “you said one person is offered-“
“Only one person, yes.” Draco interrupted, smirking when Harry sent a glare in his direction, “oh, come on, Harry, you’re not that stupid, you know exactly what I mean.”
Lowering his gaze, Harry heaved a heavy sigh, “Master of Death….”
Nodding Draco tapped out a beat on his leg only he could hear, “yeah, it really ruins the plans Dumbledore’s had in place when you survive. He thought he had executed the perfect failsafe, and the negation of deaths power.” A humourless laugh escaped Draco, and he shook his head, “over confident fool, he thought he knew everything.” He met Harry’s eyes, “if he’d listened to you about your very real suspicions regarding my doppelgänger, and investigated he would have learnt it wasn’t me.”
Frowning, Harry slowly shook his head in disagreement, “at this point, knowing what I know of Albus Dumbledore, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew and just didn’t care.”
Draco grunted, but that was his only acknowledgment of Harry’s statement.
They both fell into a comfortable silence, Harry examining the memories he’d been provided, taken peeks at Draco.
Finally after a few minutes, Harry licked his lips, “how’d they hide your death, I didn’t think polyjuice would work long term after…”
Draco smiled when Harry trialed off, “the Malfoy family magics is centered in Illusion, but even if they hadn’t they had enough hair from when I was alive in stasis to keep up the ruse indefinitely.”
“I still don’t understand how family magics work.” Harry admitted embarrassment making his cheeks flush, and he shrugged when Draco looked at him, “I don’t even know what I don’t know, if that makes sense?”
Draco nodded silently, gazing at him intently, the expression one Harry thought he should have felt uncomfortable under, but in this strange limbo it felt comforting and familiar, though that thought brought a whole host of other questions. “Can I ask a question?”
“I can’t promise to have an answer, but yes, you can ask me anything.” Draco said, a sympathetic grimace crossing his face, “I think after everything that’s happened, it’s something you deserve.”
“Who was Riddle talking to in that memory? The one he called old friend?” Harry asked after hesitating for only a moment.
“My grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy, he went to school with Riddle, same graduating class, and one of his most devoted followers.” Was the prompt response, the flicker of hatred growing in Draco’s eyes, “the year after Riddle disappeared, Abraxas arranged it so my father could assume the title, and then faked his death, which allowed him to continued undermining the ministry and pave the way for his return.”
“So you’ve always known….” Harry trailed off, at Draco’s clipped nod.
“Of course, my training started the year I turned six. I could throw off Imperisis by the time I started Hogwarts, and my mother had trained me in Occulamany on Grandfathers orders to hide my childhood.” A faint flicker of amusement lit Draco’s tone, “though I will admit, Grandfather did recieved a punishment for that after I died. Riddle would have been happier if I’d survived, assuming he could work around the vow I made in front of the book to never speak your name in relation to being my soulmate.”
Feeling a sharp jab of pain, Harry averted his gaze, and licked his lips, “when did-did you find out?”
A long sigh escaped Draco, and a rustling of clothing sounded as Draco shifted on the ground, “the day you had your trial in front of the Wizanagmots, father brought me to give me a break from the occupants of the manor under the impression it was educational.”
Frowning, Harry tried thinking back to fifth year and slowly shook his head, admitting softly, “I don’t remember seeing either of you.”
Snorting Draco laughed a little, “I can’t say I’m surprised, the Ministry did there damnest to distract and ruin your reputation, obviously on Abraxas orders of course, though under Lucuis’s face.”
Glancing up at that, Harry frowned, “what? I-under Lucuis’s face? What’s that mean?”
Draco sighed again, and rubbed his face, “it’s the family magics, the Malfoy’s are masters of Illusion Magics, it’s practically undetectable, and combined with polyjuice, no one would suspect anything.”
“That’s kind of amazing even as a horrifying as it sounds,” Harry breathed, and then blinked in sudden understanding, “have I ever actually met your father as Lucius then?”
Draco opened his mouth, and then shook head, “no, other than that day, and later that year in the hall of prophecies not that I know of, any interactions you would have had with Lucius was when he adopted my face, and Abraxas and Riddle had him under so many loyalty charms and compulsions by then he couldn’t do anything. His one act of defiance in the manor refusing to name you, almost killed him.”
“I would have helped him if I’d known.” Harry whispered, and closed his eyes horrified at the idea of what Draco and his father had lived with for the last seventeen years. “What about your mother?”
Draco swallowed, “if you go back? She’ll die, father will follow shortly after that, as Abraxas will be furious at what he considers further betrayal.” Licking his lips, Draco dropped his gaze, “I can’t say what will happen to the Malfoy line, I-i can’t see that.”
“You said I had a choice?” Harry asked after the silence stretched between them. “What are they?”
Draco sighed, “you can go back, you’ll wake in the forest with my mother over you claiming you’re dead, and you’ll go on to defeat Riddle. Five years from now you’ll marry the Weasley girl, and have three children…” the blond swallowed and averted his eyes, “you’ll become head Aurora by the time your thirty and never claim your title, because your relationship with the Horde is contentious at best, and outright hostile at worse, though I blame your wife for that.” He paused, “and Dumbledore, I blame him most for all.”
“Will you tell me what he’s done?” Harry asked, not sure how to address the future Draco described.
A short bitter laugh escaped Draco, as he swung silver eyes in his direction, “what hasn’t he? He systematically destroyed the education in Britain over an almost 80 year span, he increased the divide between light and dark. That book Skeeter wrote?” Draco asked, waiting for Harry’s nod before continuing, “she didn’t lie, though she didn’t know the whole truth, she got enough of it out there for people to question Dumbledore’s past, unfortunately you find out at the end of the war, someone killed her, and whatever truth she’d uncovered was ‘forgotten’ or outright denied. That wasn’t helped by the Weasley’s steadfast support and blatant lies they spread in your name.”
“What-what lies?” Harry whispered, feeling the sting of tears burn his eyes.
“You never claim your titles, though retain your vaults, it’s spread about you didn’t believe in an archaic system, and in memory of Dumbledore revoked your titles.”
“Considering I didn’t even know I had titles, that wouldn’t have been hard.” Harry snorted rubbing a hand down his face, “I’m being potioned and spelled to blindly follow their directions, aren’t I?”
Nodding sadly, Draco swallowed, “unfortunately, the Weasley’s had access to potions Snape had brewed and continued dosing you throughout the war.” He offered a weak grimace, “I’m not sure if it’ll make you feel better, but Ron was punished severely when he left for those three months, he knew the plan and how important it was to keep you and Granger complainant, and susceptible to suggestions and the right sort of guidance.”
Harry frowned, conflicted over Ron’s actions, before asking softly, “did he- was it….” He slowly shook his head, not wanting to know the answer, it hurt to much just thinking their entire friendship might have been fake.
Thankfully Draco seemed to understand, and readdressed Harry’s original question, “back to Dumbledore, because of his actions in trying to control the outcome, he effectively destroys four ancient family magics because the titles languish with a living heir with sons who could pick up the mantle. The in adverse effects ripples out throughout the magical world, and while it doesn’t happen in your life time, magic dies.”
Mind whirling at the information, Harry frowns and looks at Draco, a little wrinkle forming on his forehead, “you’re talking like this has already happened.”
Draco shrugged, “for me it has happened, Harry. Does it matter if it was ten minutes ago, or eighty years in the future? Not really, time is subjective Harry, you died, and you were sent back to this point in time to make a change.“
Draco held his eyes the entire explanation, expression calm, “which leads me to those choices, you could of course continue on, live out the life I’ve already seen, or you can go back.”
“Back?” Harry croaked hoarsely, half terrified for the continuation of that sentence.
“Yes, like I said to Riddle, Varda is not happy with how things have turned out, and is providing the option to be sent back to make changes, hopefully for the better.” Draco replied evenly, once again avoiding eye contact.
“When-how far would I have to go back?” Harry whispered, once again unsure if he wanted an answer, though the small surge of hope that he’d save some people rose steadily.
At this Draco sighed face conflicted, “the end of fourth year after his resurrection, but before the summer before fifth year starts.”
Tears stinging his eyes, Harry dropped his shoulders not really expecting a different answer, but still disappointed anyway, “I’m guessing that has to do with the blood of the enemy bit?”
“Yes, it doesn’t matter anymore if the prophecy was true or not, Riddle irrevocably linked your future reaction to his actions that night. With that one act, Riddle wrote his own death warrant by tying you together.” Draco confirmed gently.
Harry’s jaw tightened, and he demanded, “the prophecy I heard at the end of fifth year, the one that ruined my whole life was fake?”
A somewhat condescending expression flicked across Draco’s face, “it doesn’t matter if it was true or not, it was a self-fulling prophecy, Harry, Riddle believed it to be true and acted. Unfortunately for him, his act of marking you don’t happen until the night in the cemetery, the scar on your forehead is from your mother, it was and is the ultimate protection created in a self sacrifice ritual.”
Startled Harry’s gaze snapped to his, his mouth dropping open in shock, “you mean my mom….”
When he trailed off, Draco reached out to touch, but dropped his hand before contact and nodded, “gave you her magic? Yes, the ritual she used is old - pre-ancient even, and has only been successful cast and completed three times throughout history. It’s why none of the suppression blocks cast on you worked, none are strong even to lock down what amounts to two magical cores.”
“Oh….” Harry’s whispered was soft, and sorrowful, as he hastily wiped at the tears that formed, “what about the parsaltongue then?”
A snort of distain emerged from Draco before he could control it, “don’t believe the crap Dumbledore told you, it didn’t come from Riddle, Parsaltongue is a gift from Hecate, and given to Nemue which she passed on to her son, Salazar Slytherin, which you directly descended from as well as being the Heir of, through your mother.”
Astonished Harry blinked the left over tears from his eyes, as a slow satisfied smile spread across Draco’s face, and he added in delight, “which means I was right in spreading that rumour in second year, by the way.”
“So how did Riddle get it?” Harry asked in confusion, “he called himself the Heir.”
Scowling, Draco folded his arms, “technically linage tracing could have considered him the Heir, at least until your mother was born, and she could have contested his claim when you where born as she was from the oldest line, Riddle from the youngest. But for Riddle, his circumstances as you know weren’t ideal growing up, his mother was practically a squib - it was put out that she didn’t go to Hogwarts because of lack of funds, yet as a direct descendants of a founder she would have been entitled to an education per the charter. As for Riddle’s ability in speaking with snakes, he wasn’t born with it, and it wasn’t a beast speaker ritual - though those exist, his was actually an accidental boat of magic. He had a snake as a ‘friend’ at the orphanage, and when he was six years old, he merged and absorbed the snake.”
“And got the ability to speak to them.” Harry finished unnecessarily, running a hand down his face, “this feels like a lot of information, and I don’t know what to do with it. If I go back to my fourth year, I’m still going to be under Dumbledore’s control, and he makes me go back to my Aunt’s house which I’m pretty sure he has watched.”
“He does.” Draco concedes appearing thoughtful, “so I have a suggestion on who to contact, but you’ll have to do it while you’re still at school.”
“Who?” Harry asked in interest.
“There are two contacts, the first is Salazar in the chamber, his portrait is there, waiting for his Heir, and the other, His name is Byron Warren, he’s head of the Department of Mysteries and an unspeakable, their number one directive is in defense of Avalon and the preservation of magic as influenced by the Stone of Camelot.”
“What?” Harry asked dumbly than shook his head, trying to dispel the idea that the legend of the sword and stone was real, though by Draco’s sly smile, he seemed to understand the direction of his thoughts because he just hummed and continued,
“To grab his attention, you’ll need to address it as Croaker, care of DOM and name him in the letter, he’ll be sure to reach out. His identity is an international secret and only known to a small select few.” Draco advised seriously, “explain the past happenings at Hogwarts, and describe what happened in the cemetery and we’re you’ll be come summer, he’ll find a way to reach you without Dumbledore being aware.”
“Why should he listen to me, at the end of fourth year I’ll just be a traumatized almost fourteen year old whose name happens to be Harry Potter, the prophet is calling a liar and fraud?”
A soft expression crossed Draco’s face, and he shook his head sadly, “oh, love you’re so much more than that, and while I would love to tell you, you won’t believe me.”
“You mean beyond the Heir of Slytherin?” Harry asked dryly with a hint of amusement, and tilted his head consideringly, “would you believe me if I said that Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin?”
A host of conflicting feelings spread rapidly across Draco’s face before the teen sighed, and he rubbed a hand down his face giving a huff of self deprecating disgust, “and you didn’t because of me, right?”
“I feel like I should say yes, but if I’d already been under compulsions, what’s to say I wasn’t steered in the direction I was led, do you honestly think Dumbledore would have stood for a Slytherin boy who lived?”
“No, probably not,” Draco admitted, huffing again, “for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for my words and actions over the years. I thought after you rejected my friendship, I had to be the person my grandfather always told me I was.”
Humming, Harry shifted in the ground, surprised to find that his body wasn’t going numb from the extended period of sitting, “and your parents?”
“You’re not going to ask about the titles?” Draco asked in surprise, earning a shake of a dark hair.
“I’m sure I’ll be pissed about it later, but that’s not information that will help me short term, I need information on your situation if I’m going to help you.” Harry explained, and then shrugged, “or at least I assume you want my help, and give whatever the soulmate business is, it seems to me to be kind of imperative I help even if you think you don’t deserve it.”
A flush climbed Draco’s cheeks and he averted his gaze, lips barely moving when he spoke, “simply put, my parents are trapped, any free will they had disappeared when Artecus Black got sick, and when he died it gave the Malfoy’s seniority in the marriage rights. If there was a Black lord that could be sympathetic to their cause it could help them escape.”
“So Lucius is forced to let his father use his appearance for his own benefit?” Harry asked, green eyes glinting.
“Yes, and than he’s forced to take my place, Lucius has even less freedom than my mother, she’s bound by the marriage covenant, my father bound by Imperious.” Draco replied evenly, though there was a hint of resigned sadness in his eyes.
Mind whirling with an overload of information Harry swallowed and licked his lips. “This- fuck, Draco I’m never going to remember all of this.”
Silver eyes met his, and Draco tilted his head, “you won’t have to, Medea will and she’ll prompt you with information as needed.”
Startled Harry blinked, “what is Medea?”
A grin threatened to take over Draco’s face, lighting it up and making it him gorgeous, “the embodiment of the Black Family Magics, as Lord-“
“Draco I’m not-“ Harry interrupted only to cut himself off, eyes flashing with a mixture of hurt and sadness, “Sirius was my godfather.” At Draco’s nod, Harry swallowed thickly, “I never even thought of it, but I guess a magical godfather is vastly different than the muggle equivalent, right?”
“Yeah,” Draco agreed softly, “basically, Sirius adopted you and magically became your third parent, how or why you’re lord over him, I’m unsure, but Medea would probably be able to tell you.”
Biting his lip, Harry dropped his gaze, staring blankly at their feet, slowly raising his eyes to met Draco’s, “why have I never heard her before?”
“She slept.” The response was prompt and tinged in sorrow, “by the end of 1981, the remains of the free Black family members numbered four. You and I would have been babes, Artercus who had been ill for a time, and my mother, all other members had left the family willingly or been incarcerated in Azkaban.”
“Did your mother tell you stories?” Harry asked softly, catching Draco’s eyes.
Shaking his head, Draco drew in a breath, “no, I only found out about her after I died, she came to me, taught and guided me in what I needed to know. She wanted to come to you, but as you never claimed the title she had no way of breaking through the compulsions you were under.”
“And because I was never taught, I didn’t know I could.” Harry sighed heavily, and nodded, “alright, so in order when I go back, search the chamber and reach out to Byron Warren, claim the titles-“
“It would be advisable to get in touch with Ragnok at Gringotts too.” Draco interrupted, and shrugged apologetically, “they can run an inheritance test to explain the rest of your titles.”
“Which I assume Byron can assist with?” Harry asked dryly, and shook his head amused, “the potion and compulsions?”
“The old ones won’t be there, though I suspect Dumbledore will attempt to replace them, but you’ll go back with Medea, she’ll negate them as she wakes up.” Draco explained, twisting his hands together in a display of nervousness, “does that mean-“
“I’m going back in time?” Harry finished snorting, and than relenting at the expression of relief that appeared in Draco’s face, “yes, I’m going back and I will do everything I can to rescue you, and you’re parents. Will Sirius or your mom know medea’s been woken up?”
Shrugging helplessly Draco shook his head, “I don’t know, neither does she, but if they do, they’ll be duty bound to not talk of it, from the way Medea explained it, she rarely interacted directly with anyone in the family, content to work through the current head.”
“Will you remember?”
Blond hair moved as Draco shook his head,
“Not at first, though it was explained to me, that this time when I visit the book of souls I will.”
Nodding in with a frown of concentration Harry reached across the small space between them offering his head. Draco took it after a minute of hesitation, “so that gives me a little over a month to arrange things, and hopefully hit the library at school while exams are taking place.”
Confused Draco raised any eyebrow, “library?”
Huffing a laugh, Harry squeezed his hand, and explained, “I don’t understand half the things I learnt today, and I want too.”
A hopeful smile tugged at Draco’s lips, “you feel it?”
“I think on reflection we’ve both always felt it, the first five years of school interactions kind of proves that, and while my sixth year leaves me feeling decidedly odd, something obviously responded to who I assumed to be you.” Harry returned frankly, even as a blush climbed his cheeks, “nothing ever felt right with Ginny, it was like this expectation that I was supposed feel that way, yet it was a forced feeling.” Harry shook his head with a frown and admitted, “I don’t know if I’m explaining it right.”
“I understand.” Draco smiled softly, a hint of hope building behind the hesitation in his eyes, “do you….”
Harry frowned as Draco trailed off, and repeated him with a little squeeze of his fingers, “do I what?”
Draco still hesitated and dropped his gaze, focusing on Harry’s knee, “do you think we can make this-“
His words where cut off as Harry leaned across the small space between them, and pressed his lips against Draco’s, the kiss soft and chaste yet the spark it left behind left them both breathing hard in surprise.
Draco pulled back as Harry lifted his head, fingers shaking as they touched his lips, ears turning an adorable shade of pink a colour softer than the magenta of his cheeks.
Chuckling softly Harry lifted his hand and pulled Draco’s down to caress his cheek, “I think we’ll be fine, I think I’ve always thought you beautiful even if I could never admit it.”
A hesitant but thoughtful expression crossed Draco’s face as he whispered his question cautiously, “is that due to your muggle relatives?”
Nodding, Harry lowered his hand, “yeah, same sex pairings aren’t readily accepted in the muggle world, and given I’ve been kept pretty sheltered in the Wizarding world, it wasn’t something I thought to ask.”