History Repeats Itself

Authors Note: This fic was written for and beta'ed by my lovely friend Shannon. It's swiftly becoming one of my favorites to write.

Chapter 2 Perception is Reality

I sighed my relief into the open air. Standing outside in the courtyard--my time’s courtyard-- never felt so right.

I couldn’t help but be happy to be back in my own time where things were normal. A time when the portraits were in the right place, when Slytherin’s knew their duty and, most importantly. a time when I didn’t have sex with Potter.

I know it wasn’t actually me, but it might as well have been. It certainly sounded like me and looked like me, it probably even tasted like me, but that brought up a whole different crop of things I wasn’t ready to think about.

A flash of silver light caught my eye as I looked toward the lake, but it was gone the next moment. I trained my eyes harder at the spot and saw it again and grimaced at my returned bad luck.

It had to be stupid Potter under his stupid invisibility cloak.

I sighed and turned to leave, but something caught my attention. It sounded almost like crying; quiet sobs wafting through the breeze and carried directly to my ear. I tried to ignore it but images of Orion comforting Edward made me pause and walk slowly toward the source of the sound.

I have no idea why I went to him, no clue why I even cared, I just felt like I had to. No one else was around, his friends were probably off snogging one another and it didn’t seem as though Potter every really talked to anyone besides those two.

Having no idea how to even begin a conversation with my arch nemesis and oldest rival, I decided not to. I just found the place where I suspected him to be and sat down beside it.

It seemed like he was leaning against a gnarled tree, though maybe he had left the moment he saw me approaching, because all was silent when I sat down. I suspected he was still there though, just being quiet, and probably hoping I would go away. I was hoping I would go away, in fact I continually willed myself to do so, but my body wasn’t listening to me. Go figure.

We sat there for a while in silence, or maybe it was just me sitting alone in silence. The ground wasn’t terribly comfortable, but I could see why Potter came out here; the view was magnificent. We were raised just slightly over the courtyards below on a grassy hillock and the entire vista of Hogwarts spread out before us on one side, and the vast shimmer lake on the other. It really was the perfect spot to sit and think, or even sit and cry I suppose.

“If you want to be alone, just tell me to shove off. I just thought… well, I don’t know what I thought exactly, but if you want to talk, I’m here,” I said at last, probably to the wind.

I might have been mistaken, but I swore I heard a scoff of mocking laughter. It was most likely just me imagining the boy’s probable response.

“I know it sounds ridiculous, it certainly does to me,” I added.

“How did you even know I was out here?” Potter replied.

It was odd talking to thin air, but even odder talking to Potter. “I heard you.”

“Brilliant, now I suppose you can run along and tell all of your Slytherin mates all about the great Harry Potter’s breakdown,” he muttered.

“I’m not going to do that, didn’t you just hear me?” I huffed. I was already getting tired of this and desperately wanted to get away and pretend it never happened.

“I heard you, but what am I supposed to think? The icy cold Draco Malfoy has a sudden change of heart and has decided to befriend a blood traitor?” Harry spat.

I only shrugged. How was I supposed to explain it to him when I could hardly explain it to myself?

“So then, why me?” he asked, tentatively, as if not sure he wanted the answer. I wasn’t sure I did either.

“I wish I knew,” I muttered.

Harry chuckled and it didn’t sound sarcastic, or mocking, it sounded like a genuine laugh and my heart warmed. It was disgusting. “So what, some higher being told you to come and comfort me? Did Merlin visit you in your dreams?” Harry asked, sounding cheered.

“If you’re going to tease me, maybe I should just go,” I huffed. I didn’t need to take this behavior from the Gryffindor Golden Boy. I made a move to leave and an invisible hand stopped me.

“Are you really going to keep all this quiet?” Harry asked.

I nodded. “I have nothing to gain by telling anyone.” That was true enough; I was already the king of Slytherin, having either respect or fear from everyone in my house. Potter’s tale of a sobbing hero would do me no great service.

“No one would believe you,” he tried to convince me, but I only laughed.

“Everyone would believe me. Gryffindor’s are notoriously emotional,” I replied.

“So are Slytherin’s emotionless, then?” Harry asked.

“Hardly--I have emotions; I’m just good at keeping them inside where they should be, not out in the open for my enemies to see and use against me,” I replied, entirely unsure why I was telling him any of this.

“I do actually try, you know. It’s not like I’m crying my woes in the common room or anything,” Harry noted.

That was true. He wasn’t telling the world all about what made him upset, milking the onslaught of sympathy for all it was worse like I would have expected him to do, still. “I’ve noticed something off for a few weeks though.”

“Have you been watching me?” Harry asked sounding amused.

I, on the other hand, was not amused. Had I been watching him? Not any more then usual, which made me realize that I did usually watch him. But then, he was my enemy, of course I watched him. I needed to know things about Potter in order to best him. “It’s hard not to when you sit in front of me in almost every class, Potter,” I replied.

Potter slipped the invisibility cloak from around him and bunched it in his lap. It had messed up his already messy raven hair, but he didn’t bother trying to smooth it. Obviously he realized the gesture would be useless. He pushed up his glasses with one finger and looked at me with him penetrating green eyes.

How I ever mistook his ancestor for him I’ll never know. Their eyes alone were a telling story, not to mention the jagged white scar on his forehead. Talking to air had been embarrassing, talking to an invisible Potter was unsettling, but talking to actual Potter, was just wrong.

“Do you think you could put that thing back on?” I asked.

The corner of his mouth curled into a subtle smile. “Do my looks offend you?”

“No… er, yes, I mean not in the way you’re probably thinking up, yes. I just…” I stammered, knowing I sounded like a fool, but for some reason found myself completely unable to do anything about it. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It was easier to talk to you when I could pretend it wasn’t you.”

“That’s hardly fair. I’ve been able to see you the entire time,” Harry complained.

“Fine,” I said and muttered the disillusionment charm I had been using quite a bit that day already. Now I was invisible and Potter wasn’t, at least not until he threw the cloak back over himself.

We were just two invisible boys having a conversation by the lake. “You’re right, this is better. Now I can just pretend you’re Ron,” he said with a laugh.

I made a face even though he couldn’t see me. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

Harry laughed again and I was thrilled at the idea that it was all for me. I wanted to slap myself.

“Okay then, you can be Hermione,” Harry chuckled.

“Just so you know, I’m rolling my eyes. I know you can’t see me, so I thought I’d narrate,” I informed him.

I seemed to be a natural at cheering Potter up, because he couldn’t seem to contain his laughter around me. “How about Neville, then?” he asked.

“How about not,” I replied, grimacing invisibly.

“Seamus?” he suggested.

“Do I have an accent?” I asked.

“Ginny?” he tried again.

“Do I suddenly have tits?” I complained.

“I don’t know. I can’t see you,” he laughed.

“Well, I don’t,” I huffed.

“Okay then, how about Fred or George?” he offered.

“Do you have any friends without red hair?” I teased.

He was silent for a moment then laughed. “They are certainly the minority.”

“Well, I won’t be a redhead, just to narrow it down for you,” I scoffed.

“How about McGonagall?” he asked.

“Why do you keep trying to turn me into a girl?” I asked incredulously.

Potter chuckled. “Well, you are quite pretty,” he said at last and I paled under my disillusionment charm. Did Potter just call me pretty? Was Potter flirting with me?

No, it couldn’t be. I was just reading things into it because of the traumatizing events I witnesses earlier.

I cleared my throat and searched for some way to change the subject. “How about Snape? I could be Snape.”

“I wouldn’t talk to Snape,” Harry grumbled.

“But then yesterday you wouldn’t have talked to me either. Things change apparently,” I said, and much to my dismay it seemed to be true.

“Nothing could possibly happen that would make me talk to Snape,” Harry huffed.

“So what happened to make you talk to me?” I asked.

“Technically you’re talking to me. It’s not as though I sought you out,” Harry corrected.

I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t seek you out. If you hadn’t been sobbing out in the open I would have gladly left you alone,” I told him.

“You can go any time,” Harry replied.

“I know,” I said with a huff, but made no attempt to leave.

“Sirius,” he blurted, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Pardon?”

“You could be Sirius,” he amended.

“I am being serious,” I replied, not understanding.

Harry laughed. “No, I mean Sirius Black. You could be him; I always used to talk to him about important things.”

“Well, I suppose I could do worse than a Black, even if he was a blood traitor. Why would you be talking to him though? Didn’t he kill your father’s friend or something?” I asked. How the hell did Harry Potter end up with an Azkaban escapee as a confidant? It was no wonder he was so messed up.

Harry grew very quiet and when he finally spoke, his words came out in a hiss. “He was not a traitor and he didn’t kill anyone. He was set up.”

“And you know this how?” I asked.

“Because he’s my godfather,” he said surprisingly.

“How does Harry Potter end up with a Black, my own uncle in fact, for a godfather?” I asked, completely baffled.

“He was my dad’s best friend,” Harry replied.

“How didn’t I know this?” I asked, more to myself than to Potter. How had I been so unaware of how closely laced my whole life was with Potters? It seemed he and I went back over a hundred years, and who knew, maybe even longer. And here I find out that our current lives are so tightly woven yet I knew nothing about it. If Sirius had raised Potter, then he and I would have grown up cousins.

My mother always liked Sirius, despite what my grandmother said, so I would have most likely seen Potter on holidays at the very least and we might have even been friends.

“I don’t know, Malfoy. Maybe because your parents don’t tell you things,” Harry offered.

That was true enough, but I didn’t like Potter saying it. I was told information on a need to know basis. Given my father’s predilection for controversial decisions I liked it better that way, plausible deniability and all that. But this was different, or at least, it seemed different now that I knew what had occurred in the past.

Did my father know about that? If so, then why would he insist I make friends with the boy on our first day of school? Was he testing me? It didn’t seem like a risk my father would take, but then, how well did I know him?

“Malfoy?” Harry called out.

“Hm?” I answered distractedly.

“You’ve been quite for awhile. I thought you left,” Harry said.

“Do you want me to?” I asked, not sure what I wanted his answer to be.

He didn’t answer at all for a moment; finally I heard a faint ‘no’ and I smiled to myself.

Harry Potter actually enjoyed my company, who would have thought? I’m not sure why that idea made me so happy, but it did.

“So if you’re Sirius, then who am I?” he asked, breaking my train of thought.

“Well, since you were so set on making me a girl, I think you’ll be Pansy,” I said haughtily.

“Ew,” he groaned, but surprisingly made no complaint or protest.

“You’re not going to argue?” I asked.

“Did you want me to?” Harry chuckled.

“No, but I expected you to,” I corrected.

“I’m not sure you know enough about me to expect anything, Malfoy,” he replied smugly, or at least I interpreted it as smug, but maybe it was Gryffindor pride or some other emotion I wasn’t familiar with.

“I think I know you pretty well,” I said. “I’ve shared a classroom with you for over six years.”

“You didn’t even know about my godfather and he was a huge part of my life for two of those years,” Harry scoffed.

Touché.

“Okay fine, so then tell me something about you,” I challenged.

“What do you want to know?” he asked.

“Where did you get the invisibility cloak?” I began. I was curious if my prediction was correct.

“My father left it to me,” Harry replied easily.

“And who left it to him?” I asked.

“I’m not sure actually. You see I’ve never gotten to ask,” he replied sarcastically.

I laughed triumphantly. “I know something about you that you don’t even know about yourself.”

“And that would be?” he asked, sounding irritated.

“I know who your great, great grandfather was, and he had that cloak before your father, probably even passed down to him from his father,” I boasted.

“How do you know that?” he asked skeptically.

Well shit. I was so busy trying to impress Potter that I forgot I wasn’t supposed to have the time turner, or even know about it for that matter. Why was I trying to impress Potter anyhow? “I read about him in some of my family’s journals,” I lied.

“Why would my great, great grandfather be in one of the Malfoy family journals?” he asked, and it was a good question, one that I did not have a good answer to… yet.

“They were… er… it’s sort of a long story,” I stammered.

“Well, I know you can’t see me, but I’m getting comfortable so that you can prattle on with your long story,” he said, and I could hear the grin in his voice.

“Okay, so the story isn’t actually long… just complicated,” I replied, seriously not wanting to tell Potter anything else. I debated just leaving, but decided that would be rude. What irked me the most was that a couple hours ago I wouldn’t have blinked at being rude to Potter.

“Tell me,” he demanded, but in such a playful way that I found it impossible to resist. So I just blurted out the truth, or at least the version of the truth I could tell him.

“He and my great, great grandfather were lovers in school, then apparently they split up when they left Hogwarts,” I said, probably so quickly that Potter wouldn’t even understand a word of it.

I wasn’t quite that lucky though. He understood all of it; only his reaction was not at all what I expected.

“Tell me about him, please,” he asked, his voice soft and childlike, as if he were asking me to read him his favorite bedtime story. “Everything you read about him,” he added.

It was the please that did it.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. How could I deny this boy, who never knew his own parents let alone any of his other family, this seemingly simple thing? I would have to be careful though, or else I might reveal too much and link myself to the theft of the time turner.

“Aren’t you curious about the fact that he and my ancestor were lovers?” I asked, my own curiosity peaked at his apparent lack of concern.

“Why should I be? I have nothing to say about the sexual preference of a man who died long before I was even born,” Harry replied reasonably.

“How about his choice of partner then?” I asked, trying to get something out of him that even remotely resembled my confusion over it, but then, Potter hadn’t witnessed it in such close proximity as I had.

“He probably could have done worse,” Harry replied, and even though I couldn’t see him shrugging, I could imagine the gesture well enough.

“You seriously have no problem with this?” I asked incredulously.

“You do apparently. It’s not like it’s us,” he replied.

And that was it; he hit the nail on the head. I was still thinking about it as being Harry and I, still picturing it and hearing the echo of it in my mind. If I perceived that to be my life, having a relationship like that with Potter, would it come true? No possible way. “Right,” I said at last and I proceeded to tell him what little bit I knew about his family. “His name was Edward Potter,” I began.

“And your great, great grandfather?” he asked.

“Orion,” I replied.

“That’s a nice name,” Harry whispered, and for the first time I wished he hadn’t put the cloak back on so I could see his face.

“Nice like Draco?” I asked playfully.

“Draco is nice too,” he agreed and I blushed. I could feel it coloring my cheeks and I thanked Merlin that he couldn’t see me. “Tell me more.”

“Well, he looked just like you, except he had hazel eyes,” I said.

“And no scar,” he whispered.

“Clearly,” I replied. “But otherwise he was very similar. Same messy black hair, same height, same build, he even wore glasses too,” I added.

“Your family journals are thorough,” he commented.

“Yes, they are. Malfoy’s are nothing if not thorough,” I replied.

“So he looked like me?” Harry asked.

“Very much so,” I confirmed.

“I can see why Orion fell for him,” he joked.

I smiled despite myself. “Me too,” I whispered, not believing the words falling from my mouth. I mean sure, Potter was good looking… for a boy, but that was just it, he was a boy!

“What?” he asked, my luck finally showing in that he didn’t hear me.

“Nothing. Anyway, maybe he fell for Orion?” I replied smugly.

“Did Orion look like you?” he asked.

“Nearly identical,” I replied.

“Then I could see that, too,” Harry said with no trace of sarcasm or teasing.

“What?” I was appalled, speechless and several other emotions I couldn’t begin to describe.

“Come on, Malfoy. You know what you look like. Your looks are probably your only redeeming quality,” he teased with a laugh.

“Hey!” I shouted, not able to come up with a suitable response to Potter’s sudden dig.

Harry kept laughing for a good while, but eventually calmed. “I was just kidding, mostly.”

“Mostly?” I asked.

“Well, I was kidding about it being your only redeeming quality, but you are attractive, and I’m sure you were well aware of that long before I said anything,” Harry added.

“Yes, I was, but knowing you think so is different,” I said, not really meaning to. For some reason my brain didn’t seem to work right when I was around Potter.

“Why? Because of our ancestors?” Harry asked, unexpectedly perceptive.

“Perhaps,” I offered, unwilling to give up and further introspective.

“That’s not going to happen between us,” Harry said, the grin still evident in his voice but all other mirth had faded.

“How do you know?” I asked, truly curious how he could make such a confident statement.

“Because I know us, and I know it would take far more than a civil conversation by the lake to fix the damage between us,” he said.

“Right. Why didn’t I think of that?” I said.

“Probably because you were too busy trying to picture me naked,” Harry teased.

“I--what? I most certainly was not,” I stammered but Harry only laughed and I could hear the sound of his voice moving a little further away. He was no longer leaning against the tree, and instead he was standing behind me, as if to leave.

And apparently those were his exact intentions. “Thanks for cheering me up, Malfoy, but I’m going to go before you say something to ruin all of it,” he said with a laugh and then everything was silent.

I was left there, staring off into space, with no invisible Harry to talk to, and I felt utterly bereft of his presence.

Authors Note: For reviewing this chapter I think I shall be handing out kazoo's and Viewfinders with naughty pictures of Harry and Draco.