herumtreiber

Title: Unusual ending - chapter 8
Chapter: eight
Author:

herumtreiber
Genre: Slash, time travel, romance, adventure
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or related characters. Nor do I make any money from the writing of these stories.
Rating: R
Warnings: Sexual content
Epilogue compliant? No way!
Chapter length: 3617 words
Beta: None.
Summary: Old meets new. Harry walks all over Draco's heart, and when he realizes his mistakes he does the unforgivable so Draco takes him back. Time travel. During HBP, disregards Deathly Hallows - that means everyone's alive, except Sirius, but...

Table of contents

The perils of bookswapping

March 26th, 1997

On Wednesday afternoon, after an interesting DADA class where Tonks enthusiastically subbed for Remus, Harry dashed to the Owlery. He was worried about his hedgehog - he'd left Hector behind, and the animal apparently didn't like the vegetables he pilfered from his meals. He'd ask Dobby for help, maybe it would distract the elf from stalking Draco. Harry shook his head ruefully; Dobby didn't follow Boot as Harry asked him to, instead the elf appeared to be obsessed with his blond boyfriend.

The owls swooped and swirled above him, and Harry had to duck aside when a feathered bullet threatened to hit his head. He looked to the archway as Pig flew away. Apparently the exuberant owl was called by bigot Ron.

Harry gazed upward and found Hedwig perched near the top tier of the Owlery.

He called to her but she refused to come to him. Harry took out a special owl treat he'd taken from Draco and lifted it towards Hedwig, silently beseeching her to come down; but the irate owl apparently found his owl treats not to her liking. Harry paced back and forth and talked to the snowy owl, "Oi, Hedwig! I reckon you must be pretty mad cause I've forgotten you, but I had important things to do, I tell you!"

Sighing, Harry rummaged in his schoolbag; he finally took out a dead mouse he'd taken from an indignant Crookshanks – served the half-Kneazle well for being Hermione's pet! He dangled the dead rodent in front of him and softly cajoled Hedwig, "You're my best friend! You were there that time in Privet Drive, after I had that fight with Draco in the station, you heard me out and consoled me, Hedwig! Don't be mad!"

Harry grimaced, thinking about the time when he punched the wall after Draco taunted him on the platform – they'd arrived home after graduating. Harry tried to speak with Draco one last time but the Slytherin retorted cruelly, reverting to his former self. Ron and Hermione – the traitorous bastards – had to hold him back because he tried to punch Draco.

Hedwig heard him out when all he had left of his love was a simple Wizarding photo. It was a bleak time that he tried to forget as much as he could, but he was apparently unable to – yet his memories of the future grew weaker every day.

Finally Hedwig relented; perhaps because of Harry's entreaties - or maybe because of the mouse. She swooped down from her perch and landed on Harry's shoulder. She nibbled his ear not so affectionately and finally deigned to grab the rodent.

Harry ruffled her feathers gently. He stopped when Hedwig spread her wings and hooted angrily. Shaking his head – the owl started to resemble Draco a bit too much for his tastes – Harry proceeded to tell her about his adventures, indirectly mentioning his time travel.

Hedwig looked sharply at Harry and violently shook her head – such matters as time jaunting were beneath her notice.

Afterward, a satisfied Harry made his way to Gryffindor Tower. He was walking down a corridor when he saw a massive shape just ahead. Grinning, he ran towards Hagrid.

Hagrid smiled and hastily tucked something inside his trousers, beneath his moleskin overcoat. Harry was too happy to see his friend was back to notice this, however.

"How are yeh, Harry? Malfoy… I mean Draco, treating yeh well?" asked Hagrid concernedly. He patted Harry's head gingerly with his enormous hand.

Harry beamed; Hagrid was one of the only few who didn't care that he was gay. His first friend accepted him as he was.

"Yes, Draco's great! You're back from your trip?"

"Well" - Hagrid restlessly moved his feet encased in beaverskin boots – "my trip was good, an' I did what the Headmaster wanted an' all." Hagrid thumped his chest proudly, "An' I got the spelt ring!"

Realizing he had inadvertently let out a secret, Hagrid looked around shiftily and then rested his gaze on Harry, "Forget I said that, Harry."

Harry made the mental note to find out what this ring was all about – maybe Hagrid met the old geezer who helped him travel back in time and got his ring?

After gossiping a bit more, Harry made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, almost skipping along the way like a certain Luna Lovegood.

HDHDHDHDHDHDHDHD

The Fat Lady was trying to sing Habanera from Carmen; she squawked indignantly when Harry coolly informed her that she was a bit too voluminous for the role. The Lady huffed and stepped aside when Harry muttered the password.

He stepped into the Common Room and caught the tail end of a conversation.

"… you've lost us a lot of points, Hermione!" Seamus glared and stomped his foot.

"Seamus, I don't know why McGonagall was so angry," Hermione essayed a weak smile, "I only gave her back her own book. I guess…"

"Doesn't matter, Hermione. You may have cost us the House Cup!" interjected Lavender Brown, her face as red as a ripe tomato.

"But I was just…" Hermione looked imploringly towards Dean Thomas.

"Hermione, I guess you're just not as smart as you think," said Dean while he dribbled with a soccer ball.

Harry felt a strange sensation in his stomach. Granted, he was very angry with his former best friend, but she didn't deserve this cavalier treatment from the Gryffindors. She usually was the one who amassed enough House points to win the Cup. And now, just because she lost some points doing Merlin knew what, they turned against her – in just the same manner that they misjudged him in the past.

"CAN'T'VE MIONE RUINING OUR HOUSE POINTS, CAN WE?" shouted Harry.

The Gryffindors stopped harassing Hermione and turned to look at the irate Harry – just like ferrets about to be devoured by a rampaging hippogriff.

"AFTER ALL, SHE ONLY EARNS MOST OF THEM!" yelled Harry as the portraits shook and their inhabitants fled the Common Room in search of sanctuary. The couch rattled ominously and Lavender hastily jumped away from a flying book that almost smacked her in the face; she was not so lucky when a flying inkpot crashed against her hair and tinted it black, though. Dean's soccer ball flew and hit Seamus on the head.

Nearly Headless Nick chose that moment to float through the Fat Lady into the Common Room – the portrait shouted furiously but the noise was lost among the impending conflagration caused by Harry.

"IT'S EASY TO BLAME EVERYONE ELSE, RIGHT?"

The Gryffindor ghost decided that discretion was indeed the better part of valour and discreetly glided away to disappear through the wall.

The scared Gryffindors scampered away like mice about to be devoured by a hungry Kneazle, and only Hermione was left. The paintings stopped shaking and the flying books dropped to the floor with a loud thumping noise.

She looked at Harry a bit scared and ashamed; she opened her mouth to thank him but was stopped by Harry.

"Don't, Hermione – just don't," Harry put up his hands in warning, and then ascended the stairs to the dormitory.

Hermione burst into tears and walked tiredly to the stairs connecting to her dormitory, lamenting that 'Hogwarts a History' didn't hit that slut Lavender in the face.

HDHDHDHDHDHDHDH

On Thursday morning, Draco was walking to his Arithmancy class, which he took with the Ravenclaws.

He fussily arranged his Slytherin tie as he sidled next to Cho Chang. The beautiful witch smiled charmingly at him, "Hello, Draco, long time no see."

Draco nodded curtly, but then broke into a smile, "What's up, Cho?"

He squinted at her, "You're not jealous about Harry, are you?"

"Not at all, Draco. You can have him."

"It's just that I recall when you two were together, but then…" Draco smirked evilly as he waved towards the door of the classroom, "… I remember when you told me about your kiss with Harry."

Cho shrugged nonchalantly, "Yeah, that time on the Hogwarts Express."

They took their seats next to each other and waited for their professor. Mr. Fibonachi usually was late, so after Draco took out his parchments and quills, he gazed into the stone wall of the classroom and remembered that particular time.

HDHDHDHDHDHDHD

On the journey home in Fifth Year, after the D.A. members hexed Draco and his two friends to Kingdom Come, Harry, Ernie and Justin hoisted them upon the luggage rack and left the three hapless Slytherins there - remarking gleefully that they looked just like three gigantic slugs. Pompous Ernie McMillan made a cutting remark about Narcissa's face when she found her son in such a state and the happy D.A. members left them thus - with nary a care in the world.

Draco drifted in and out of consciousness, irritably wondering if those tentacles were his hands or other appendages. He swore he would get his revenge on the stupid Gryffindors.

They always reacted like this to him - they apparently found it perfectly fair to gang up on him, like the stupid twins and Potter that time after the Quidditch game; or this occasion, when a compartment full of Hogwarts students used him as an outlet to relieve their frustration.

During a moment of mental clarity Draco blushed, hoping that his mother would enter the train and finally take off their spells. He hoped he wouldn't have to go to St. Mungo's – the public shame would be too big to bear.

He fumed, imagining countless forms to enact bloody revenge on St. Scarface: He would love to have that hypocrite at his mercy. He mentally constructed a scene where Potter was lying motionless on the floor and he would just step on his face and break his nose; that would be extremely satisfying, indeed.

Draco squirmed when a tentacle touched his face, and he turned to the door of the compartment when he heard a noise.

Lacking his hands, he squinted to protect his eyes from the glare as someone entered. Draco scowled, thinking it was a Gryffindor who came back to mock him - and he was surprised when the figure approached him almost timidly.

The student peered up at him and he heard a sweet voice, "What have they done to you, Malfoy?"

He turned his face downward and recognized Cho Chang. "Just the usual, I guess," drawled Draco lazily.

He cringed when the girl took out her wand and swished it efficiently; he expected more damaging spells - instead he sighed when the tentacles disappeared.

Cho finished with a strong Scourgify to rid Draco of the slime.

She put her wand back on the pocket of her jeans, "Hop down."

Draco climbed down from the rack and faltered. He would have fallen if not for Cho's steadying hand.

Once he was upright, Cho extended her hand and Draco gladly took it. He trembled as he sat down on the seat, "Thanks, Chang."

Cho fixed him with a glare worthy of a Slytherin, "You know you could call me Cho, Draco.

"After all, I've seen your warts" – Cho finished with a smirk – "and your tentacles. That implies some fellowship, I guess."

Cho pointed to the rest of slime on the floor and asked, "Who hexed you?"

"Your boyfriend and his gang of little do-gooders, if you must know," huffed Draco.

"Oh, he's not my boyfriend anymore, Draco."

"Might I ask why?" asked the Slytherin seemingly nonchalantly.

"We didn't hit it off. It was exciting at first but, well" - Cho shrugged and wiped a tear off her cheek when she remembered Cedric – "Harry has too much baggage, and our kiss was…"

Cho struggled to find the right words and finished with another shrug, "… rather wet and unexciting. Besides, he and Granger, they're too close. She might as well be his girlfriend."

"I know what you mean, Cho," Draco scowled at the door of the compartment.

"Those three – they might as well form a threesome, they're joined at the hips," Draco brushed some residual slime from his robes as he thought angrily – and a bit jealously – about the Trio of psychos.

He gloated, thinking about his nemesis' rather limp love life. Scarface was probably lousy in bed anyway - what with his goofy smile, his verdant green eyes, his unruly mop of hair and his lanky body.

Thinking these rather uninspiring thoughts, Draco noticed something standing to attention; he hastily pictured McGonagall in a tutu dancing Swan Lake to calm a certain sudden ardor.

Cho reached up to brush a strand of hair off Draco's face, "I've always admired your hair; wish I was blonde."

Draco pretended to brush invisible lint off his robes while he mentally prepared a sarcastic reply worthy of Snape's godson, but then he reflected ruefully that Cho had indeed proven friendly when she could've finished him off. Besides, he had nothing against her, now that she had broken off with that loser Scarface.

"Your hair's nice enough as it is, Cho." Having recovered some strength, Draco stood up and looked around the compartment.

"And what brings you here?"

Cho reached up to the rack on the left and retrieved a box decorated with two interlaced Cs. She took out her wand and swished it, casting a shrinking charm. Then she pocketed the tiny box and turned to Draco, "Just came back for my souvenirs, papa is always moaning about how he can't go to Hogwarts and how he misses the school, so I brought him back some things – like a chunk of the Giant Squid."

Draco shivered, thinking of Cho casting spells at the poor Squid and making away with a tentacle in the dead of night.

Observing Draco, the Ravenclaw Seeker commented wryly, "Don't worry, it's just a part of a tentacle that the Squid lost when he fought the Loch Ness monster" – she went to the door of the compartment and opened it – "it's his second cousin or something."

She went out the door and turned back once more, "And try not to be hexed again, Draco!"

Cho waved cheerily and walked away, closing the door softly behind her.

Snorting, Draco looked around and realized that his friends were absent. Probably the hapless duo had been unhexed by Theo Nott. The weedy-looking bloke resented Draco; Theo thought he was smarter than him and he should be the rightful Slytherin Prince.

After casting a hurried Tempus, Draco realized he was running out of time. He went to his compartment to get his trunk. He used the same spell as Cho and shrunk it. He pocketed it absentmindedly. When he heard the door open he whirled around, wand at the ready.

It might be Cho coming back – or it might be a Gryffindor deciding to hex Draco once more for the fun of it.

Draco brandished his wand threateningly at… an old man. The old geezer had white hair and dark glasses.

The man looked down his nose at Draco, "Come on, lower your wand. There's no need for violence between us, let me assure you."

He entered the compartment and reclined lazily against the seat. He pointedly looked at his Muggle watch and said, "We still have a few minutes left, Dragon."

Draco glared at the man, still holding his wand with his left hand, "Don't call me that!"

The man snorted and replied, "Of course, I forgot – your father used to call you that before he went all cold on you."

Draco held the wand so tightly that his knuckles were white.

The man sat up and gently took Draco's wand out of his hand, as if he knew the Slytherin would not attack him. He twirled it softly around his fingers and sighed as if he was lost in reminiscence.

Then he presented it to Draco with a flourish, "Here you are, you might need it if the DA come back."

Draco grabbed his wand, scowling fiercely at the old geezer. He put it in the pocket of his robes, "Who are you, anyway?"

The old man offered his hand, "My name is Messier… Antares Messier."

Draco contemplated not shaking the man's hand, and that poignantly reminded him of the time in the Hogwarts Express when Potter refused his friendship.

The old man – Antares – lifted the rim of his glasses with the pinky finger of his right hand, and Draco noticed the silver ring the man wore, intriguingly shaped like a snake eating itself. Deciding that no self-righteous Gryffindor proud of his house would dare wear such a Slytherin symbol Draco smirked and shook the man's hand.

"I know you're angry with those awful Gryffindorks and the Golden Boy himself…" said the old man, sneering just like a Malfoy.

His next words shook Draco, "… but you have to make your peace with him."

"B... but he hexed me!" stammered Draco indignantly.

"Yes, I know, but you need him, Draco." Antares comfortably put an arm around Draco's shoulders, as if he had known him for a very long time, "He's vital for the well-being of those you love, Dragon."

The man motioned towards the wall of the carriage as if it were a screen upon which the future would be unraveled, "If you don't help him, Severus will die."

Draco was so shocked by the news that he didn't notice the old man's trembling arm.

"And your father – he will get the Dementor's Kiss."

Antares stood up and gesticulated wildly, "I know you're ok with him in Azkaban; but you really don't want him dead – you want Lucius to turn a new leaf, as it were."

The man took Draco's hands imploringly, "It depends on you, Dragon. It's in your hands. Befriend Harry."

Antares smirked evilly, "Besides, I happen to know that you like him a lot."

Draco blushed and wrenched his hands away from the lecherous old man.

He looked to the window of the compartment and espied the arse McMillan walking proudly on the platform. Draco stabbed his wand angrily in his direction and muttered, 'Impotentia maxima!' He smirked when a translucent yellow beam shot towards the unsuspecting Hufflepuff.

"My, my! A bit vindictive today, aren't we?" said the old man, snorting.

"You would be too, if you'd been turned into a giant slug!" shot back Draco, glaring at Antares as the old man cocked an eyebrow.

"Anyway, to return to important matters - you could build a strong relationship with Harry; you could be his soulmate" - the old man leered insinuatingly – "now that sweet Cho is conveniently out of the way."

Draco stepped out of the compartment; he looked around to see if anyone was around and then reclined on the partition. He waved his arms wildly, "But Potter hates me, why else would he hex me so bad?"

Antares buffed his nails on the sleeves of his black robes and replied indifferently, "You tried to hex him first, you know."

Draco pointed accusingly at the old man.

"You want me to enter into a relationship with Potter – he'll just use me. He likes to pretend that he is the man in charge when he is not, when he lets himself be bossed around by his two minions and Dumbledore" – Draco took out his wand and nervously twirled it around his fingers – "by just about anyone not named Malfoy."

Antares smirked suavely, "You'll make him fall in love with you – and you'll find out he is nothing like he seems. Need I remind you that a Pureblood uses all the weapons at his disposal? Even those that appear to be underhanded?"

The old man shivered, "And you will save dear Sn…" he faltered for a moment and then recovered, "… Severus."

He stopped abruptly and appeared to meditate something, "But of course every man has a limit; if you find Harry to be too stubborn, too demanding – well, you know what to do. Try to be patient, though - it'll be worth it in the end."

"Please tell me how you know all this?" sneered Draco.

The man rubbed his ring nervously, "As a Pureblood you should know that a person uses all the tools at their disposal" – the man hesitated for a moment – "let's just say my sources are impeccable."

With that the man nodded curtly to Draco and turned around, walking briskly to the other end of the train - his robes billowing impressively behind him.

Draco heard someone calling him from the platform.

"Draco, Draco – I'm waiting for you," the Slytherin looked out the window and saw his mother. Narcissa was dressed in a red gown, which contrasted nicely with her silvery hair. She motioned imperiously towards the platform and pouted, "I've been waiting for ages, my Dragon."

He sighed and made his way out of the train, mentally thanking Cho for sparing his mother the sight of her only son converted into a slug.

He heard something uncanny when they were leaving the platform, a strange howling sound that made him shiver and hold on to his mother.

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Draco came back to the present when the professor arrived. Mr. Fibonachi entered the classroom almost timidly, his white hair quite unruly - his glasses askew. The Slytherin snorted, thinking that Harry would look just like that in perhaps sixty years.

The professor took out his wand and flourished it with verve, and magical equations appeared on the blackboard, "Last time we studied the interactions between the Pythagorean theorem and runes…"

Draco looked to his left and winked at Cho, but the witch was too engrossed in the lecture to pay much attention to his antics.

"… now we'll study this numerical sequence and how it can be used to formulate better spells."

The trouble with elves - part 1