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Meeting Harry Potter for the second time doesn't go the way Draco expects.
He remembers meeting a small, shy kid with oversized clothes and a permanently confused expression. He never told Harry that he knew the Hogwarts' Express wasn't their first interaction, but this day—Harry's birthday—is etched into his memory as deep and secure as it can be inside his mind.
But when the Boy-who-lived steps into Madam Malkin's that fateful day, he's anything but.
He's still wearing muggle clothes, but they seem to be of a higher quality, well fitted to his body, the colors accentuating his dark features and his eyes, his glasses nowhere in sight.
Draco's breath falters for a second. Those eyes, he'd almost forgotten how bright they were.
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," he introduces himself with a hand stretched out, trying to follow the script he had memorized in his head.
Harry gives him a cold once over, and ever so slowly, he takes Draco's hand in his own, his grip so tight it almost hurts. "Harry Potter," is the only thing he says.
That's his first clue.
He knew there would be changes to the timeline when he decided to make the jump, but somehow he never imagined that Harry would change this much. At this point he should still be living with his awful relatives, and yet he seems healthier than Draco can remember him ever being. Not to mention the fact that he's so... distant.
Even back when they were rivals, Draco could always get a reaction out of him if he tried hard enough, but this new Harry only seems unimpressed whenever he tries to get his attention.
It unnerves him.
He can't even fool himself into thinking Harry's like this with everyone, because he is still friends with Weasley and Granger, and the smiles he gives them seem to be genuine.
He wonders what could have happened to make this eleven year old have such an apparent disdain for him. What changed in the new timeline that made the Gryffindor who always wore his heart on his sleeve close up like a clam whenever Draco comes near.
Perhaps he's living with Draco's cousin. Sirius Black could have taught him about masking, the way all purebloods are, and he could have told him stories about his family that made him wary of Draco, but since they're not really friends, he can't really ask him about it.
Not that Harry outright shuns him or anything, but every time Draco attempts to become closer with him Harry gets this look on his face, his eyes cold despite his polite smile, like he's simply indulging Draco. It never fails to make the blond Slytherin back off.
It's frustrating, being at the sidelines once again, he has to sit and watch as the same events from last time unfold before him.
Except, not really, because the night when the troll is supposed to attack Granger in that bathroom, she's instead sitting happily with Harry while they chat about something or other.
And, more worryingly, the next morning, professor Quirrell's dead body is found in his office.
He doesn't dare look at Harry while he listens with clear shock to Dumbledore's announcement, but if he had, he would have noticed the pair of green eyes burning holes into the back of his skull, not leaving his form even once.
Draco had a plan when he decided to come back in time. Granted, it was very hare-brained, more suited to a Gryffindor than someone like him, but he was on a time crunch, and "befriend Harry Potter and join his side before the dark lord can even think of looking at him and his family" seemed like something feasible enough.
Harry had told him stories about his adventures in Hogwarts, he told Draco about the challenges in the third floor corridor, about the philosopher's stone in the mirror of erised, the basilisk in the chamber of secrets, Sirius' wrongful imprisonment, Wormtail, Barty Crouch Jr. putting his name in the goblet of fire, the graveyard, the D.A, the battle in the ministry, everything that happen before they started meeting each other in their sixth year.
He had a rough idea of everything that was supposed to happen, and he wanted to be by Harry's side so he could help him circumvent all of that or be by his side when it all went down.
But that's not what ends up happening.
The chamber of secrets doesn't open.
There are no dementors in their third year.
No one casts the dark mark after the quidditch world cup.
He doesn't even know what he's supposed to be doing anymore.
Draco's intervention is clearly not needed in this new timeline.
And what's worse, Harry doesn't trust him.
Perhaps that shouldn't hit as hard as it does. Harry is right not trusting him. He's a Malfoy, he's a wretched person, willing to do anything to save his family's arse, but still, Draco can't help the feeling of despair every time that reminder comes back to him.
He misses being with Harry.
Back then, he had approached him with the intent of simply gathering information for the dark lord, he never planned on developing positive feelings for the green eyed Gryffindor, let alone fall in love with him.
But he never really stood a chance against Harry.
He broke through every single one of Draco's defenses, he destroyed his arguments for blood purity with swift words, he showed Draco that there was no shame in being weak, in showing vulnerability, and Draco had repaid him by....
Anyway.
When the champions of the Triwizard Tournament are called, Harry's name still comes out.
"I didn't put my name in the cup," is all Harry says, but he seems... resigned , his face slack and his eyes dull. Like he already knows how this is all going to end and he can do nothing about it.
That's the second clue, but Draco can't focus on it at the time, because all he can see are the memories of a dragon breaking its chains and chasing Harry in the air, spitting fire at him while he barely manages to dodge.
It reminds him too much of another memory, one that he doesn't like to think about, one that has no place in this new timeline.
Draco blinks, pushing those thoughts away, and watches as Harry steps out of the great hall and into the small chamber with the rest of the champions.
But before he steps out, he turns back once, and green eyes meet grey for what it feels the first time in ages.
And then they're gone.
Harry has no problems with the dragon this time around, despite Draco's fear. He manages to get first place without even breaking a sweat, probably not even aware of the way Draco's heart is about to beat out of his chest.
The Yule Ball comes, and Draco decides not to go. The only person he would like to go with doesn't even give him the time of the day most times, so he curls up in his four poster bed in the Slytherin dorm room and goes to bed imagining what-ifs, remembering the feeling of Harry's arms wrapped around him.
It's the only way he can get himself to fall asleep these days.
It's only the next morning that he learns Harry didn't show up at all to the Ball, either, and no one could get a hold of him until he showed up for breakfast like nothing had happened.
It's selfish of him, but Draco is noticeably happier the days after.
And then the second task arrives, and Draco wakes up freezing, wet from head to toe as Harry pulls him out of the dark lake.
“Harry?” he asks, incredulous.
Harry clenches his jaw. “Hold on tight, Malfoy. I'll get you out of here,” he says, his voice trembling ever so slightly.
He doesn't have to tell him twice. He puts his arms around Harry despite knowing how to swim and let's himself be carried to safety against his chest.
Something shifts after that.
Harry's everywhere after that day. Draco used to catch glimpses of him in the corner of his eye before he disappeared, but now Harry walks up to him and starts awkward conversations that make Draco's heart flutter.
This Harry is not quite like the one of his past. He seems more reserved, more quiet, but he's still familiar in the way he scratches the back of his neck when he feels awkward, in the way his smile crooks when he's trying and failing to hold back laughter. He's as sarcastic and witty as he remembers him being, and even touchier than that.
He likes making contact with Draco, an arm around his shoulder while they sit together, bumping arms when they walk to class, and after he asks him out properly their hands are pretty much glued to each other's.
He takes him to the kitchens and asks the house elves to cook his favorite dish, how he knows what it is, Draco has no idea, but he can't complain, not when they sneak out of the castle under Harry's invisibility cloak and eat it under the stars in the quidditch field.
He doesn't even care that the grass stains his night robes, not when Harry is there to protect him from the cold.
Like that, the following year is one of the best of Draco's life.
The Dark Lord may have resurrected but Draco hasn't been idle, he's tried his best to talk his family into changing sides, and although his father is as loyal as ever, his mother seems to be genuinely considering it, if only for Draco's sake.
This Harry kisses him for the first time after one of the D.A meetings, which he's invited to this time around. His lips are chapped, and it's barely more than a press of lips, but it leaves Draco giddy for the rest of the week.
Dealing with Umbridge is easy with his family's support. His father may not be happy with him after leaving home with his mother, but he loves him enough to help boot the pink toad out of Hogwarts after she gave Draco detention and made him write lines with his own blood.
And lucky that, because after Harry saw the scar he looked mad enough that Draco had to distract him with a make out session to stop him from killing her on the spot.
Harry gets to take out his frustrations later on the year during a fight in the ministry, and after his godfather drags him away when the minister arrives, Draco gets fucked so good his legs don't work the following day.
It's all pretty great, if you ask him.
Right until it isn't.
Sixth year comes, and Draco gets the letter.
It's the same situation from the last timeline, but this time there's no dressing it up in nice words, there's no telling him what an honor this task will be.
His mother's life, in exchange for Dumbledore’s.
Draco feels sick.
He doesn't tell Harry right away, he just can't do it.
He knows it's only the start, after he does this, he'll threaten his father, and once he's done that it's going to be both their lives, he'll take everything from Draco and make him think it's an equivalent exchange. Once, he had fallen for it, he thought he was doing the right thing, but he only ended up getting played instead.
But does knowing that change the reality? His parents' lives are still hostage, and Draco can either let himself be manipulated, or let them die.
So he imperio’s that Gryffindor girl, he gives the poison wine to Slughorn. He goes to the Room of Requirement, stares at the vanishing cabinet without blinking until his eyes get dry.
He doesn't want to kill Dumbledore, but he can't let the dark lord think that he isn't doing anything. No one died last time around, so this time they should be fine too, right?
Except people still get hurt. Katie Bell ends up in St. Mungo’s. Ron Weasley spends a week in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey. Draco spends the year feeling like death.
When Katie Bell comes back, he runs to the bathroom, pukes his dinner, and waits for the inevitable.
“I wanted to trust you,” Harry says when he reaches the bathroom.
Draco doesn't say anything, so Harry continues walking towards him. Draco pretends that he's not shaking with fear.
“There was always a voice in the back of my head telling me that you'd end up betraying me, and I listened to it for a long time,” Harry explains, until he's right behind him, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Did you know how hard it is to stay away from you? You're so charming, it's like you have your own gravitational pull, it's impossible to not be pulled in, but I tried.”
“Harry…”
“I lied to myself, told myself that I didn't care about you. That it didn't hurt when you were laughing with your stupid friends instead of with me, but then the second task happened and I realized that there was no lying anymore. I decided to give you a chance, against my better judgment.”
“I'm sorry—”
“Are you?” Harry cuts him off. “That's what you said last time—”
No
“—right before you—”
Stop
“—killed me.”
His eyes are clenched shut, trying to block the images from his mind. He doesn't want to see Harry's dead body again, he can't stand the thought of life leaving his body because of him. Not again, but he can feel Harry's eyes burning holes in him, pinning him down in place with their sheer intensity.
“Nothing to say?” Harry asks. “You remember it too, don't you?”
Draco doesn't deny it.
"Show me," Harry demands.
Draco feels like crying, but he takes the letter out of his pocket with shaky hands, gives it to Harry without looking at his face.
It doesn't take him long to read it, it's a short letter, after all. "I told you, didn't I?" Harry says, but it's not with the vindictive glee Draco would've expected, Harry isn't gloating, he's simply stating a fact. "I told you he was lying, that he'd take and take until you had nothing left to give. Didn't I tell you?"
A sob tries to escape him, but he forces himself to swallow it down. "You did," he admits, voice breaking.
“It's time I change tactics, I think,” Harry says.
“What?” he asks, confused.
“I've given you a too wide berth. I thought you'd choose right this time, but I was wrong, so I'll just have to take all the temptations away. Let you focus just on me.”
“What are you—”
“ Imperio.”
All thoughts vanish from his mind as Harry's spell takes hold. He doesn't have to worry about his mother, or about the dark lord's task. He just has to do as Harry says. He can be happy if he just does what Harry wants.
He smiles. He likes the thought of that.
“From now on you just act like normal, sweetheart. Don't worry about your mother, or your father. I'll take care of them.The war will be over before you know it, and then it'll be just the two of us in a little cottage in the middle of nowhere, just like we wanted back then, remember?”
Draco nods. It's one of his favorite fantasies.
“Not a fantasy anymore. I'll make it happen, darling. I always keep my promises.”
Draco flinches, although he's not sure why, but Harry is smiling at him, so it must not matter, he looks up, their eyes meeting directly for the first time in a while. He doesn't remember that shade of green being so dark.
“I love you,” he says with a smile, just like the voice tells him to.
“I love you too, Draco,” Harry says, his voice painfully soft. “Let's get back to class, yeah?”
Draco's life becomes so much simpler after that. His dreams are sometimes scary, like the one where there's a green light that makes Harry drop to the floor, or the one where he puts his hands inside Draco's chest , but when he wakes up the real Harry is there holding him until he can fall asleep again.
He passes his classes with ease, and after Dumbledore dies, Harry holds his hand for the funeral.
After the summer, instead of going back to the castle, Harry takes him to their new home, a small cabin in an unplottable space of land in an unknown country, and tells him to wait for him while he finishes some things up, so that's what Draco does.
He takes up knitting, and painting, he learns to sculpt with clay the muggle way, dances to records belonging to Harry's godfather. Food appears in a basket every week, and there's a book with recipes that are easy enough to follow, so he doesn't starve, but he never sees anyone else even when he ventures outside the house.
All he sees is endless green, with small patches of blue, yellow, and pink flowers. A pond and a few trees for shadow. He never goes farther than that.
He'd rather stay at home with his crafts. There he has a wireless—a muggle one, with no access to wizard channels—where he listens to a few muggle shows, and he always makes sure to change the channel when they talk about the terrorist attacks that have been happening all over England.
Those programs always give him nightmares.
It's quiet in his new home, but Draco makes do with his music, and his programs, and the sound of the birds chirping. It doesn't matter that he hasn't spoken with anyone other than Harry since he left Hogwarts.
Or that he hasn't come back in weeks.
He'll come back. He always does. The days Harry comes home are Draco's favorites, even if Harry looks tired, or hurt, or angry. Those days he gets to hug him, to kiss him, to make love with him. Harry's smile is rare, but it's brighter than the full moon.
He doesn't get any letters here, but it doesn't matter, not when Harry is here to tell Draco about his friends, about the world, the things he's seen and done, and Draco takes it all in, even if it all truly amounts to nothing. He doesn't ask any questions that he knows won't be answered, he savors every word as if it were the last, because as far as he knows one day they might be.
Sometimes he even brings him flowers. Daffodils and lilies, or red roses with champagne, because he's a romantic at heart.
He sometimes wonders if he should tell him that the imperio broke off months ago, a few days before he started showing up with a different wand, but he's still a coward at heart, so he doesn't.
This is more than he could have ever hoped, back when he got the idea to travel back in time.
He still remembers performing the ritual. It had been easy, all things considered. After what he'd done, stabbing himself in the heart with the dagger was far from a hardship.
The pain was unbearable, but 'unbearable' had become commonplace in his life. Life under the dark lord's rule was unbearable. Life without his family was unbearable. The memory of Harry's face as he realized that Draco had betrayed him was unbearable.
So he welcomed the pain. He screamed in agony until his throat gave out, his body somehow still alive as all his blood left it and formed the magic circle around him to power the ancient ritual, but he didn't once attempt to make it stop. It wasn't his place to do so. He deserved it.
And then, as if it had never been there, the pain stopped, and everything went dark.
A lifetime with no one but Harry is way less than he deserves, but if that is all that Harry is asking for, Draco will give it to him without hesitation.
He'll get a new hobby, and avoid reading the newspaper when Harry brings it with him and forgets taking it back, even if he sometimes sees his parents’ faces in it.
They're alive, and that's all that matters.
It's more than he had before.
“Draco? I'm back!” Harry's voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and he runs to the front of the house, ready to hug him as hard as he can.
“Welcome home,” he says as sweetly as possible. “Are you staying for long?” he asks, trying not to sound too hopeful.
Harry kisses him chastely. “As long as you want me to.”
He gasps, meeting Harry's eyes, noting the small light in them. “Are you done?” Did you kill him?
“I did.”
He wonders what that'll look like. A world without the dark lord, but—
“Now it can be just the two of us, just like it was meant to be.”
—he doubts he'll be out there to see it.
Draco buries his face in Harry's chest.
He can't ask for anything more.