Draco Malfoy and the Obnoxious Stone

Chapter 1

A warm strong gust of air from an open window woke him up all at once.

Something didn't feel right, Draco thought as he tumbled out of his suddenly taller bed, reaching for his wand.

It wasn't there. He rushed to check the drawers of the bedside table, under pillows, on the floor.

Gone, as if Potter got his hands on it again.

The distraction was excuse enough that only when reaching for clothes he realised just how skewed the whole world looked.

Everything was bigger and filled him with a sense of deja vu.

The mirror had to be charmed, there was no other way to explain the blond child staring back at him in shock.

Draco reached to touch the reflection, and looked down.

Indeed, his limbs were short, slightly rounded with baby fat and lacking definition.

Either he was asleep, or something was terribly wrong.

It was only after a considerable time spent panicking and attempting to wake himself up, as well as his mother's call to breakfast, that Draco put himself together to go through the day. He needed a plan of action, something to hold onto when the memories surrounding him became overwhelming.

Most of the day passed in a cruel slog, without any opportunity for him to explore the library undisturbed.

The last thing he needed was to cause alarm, he thought.

There was no spell or time turner that could transport you that far back in time, nor change your body to match.

There was no sign of his child self anywhere, either.

Draco had nothing more to go on from his years of education, time travel being a relatively sore subject even at home since the destruction of all time turners in the Ministry at the end of fifth year.

There were, however, plenty magical object whose properties might include this peculiar form of time travel, he theorised over dessert, largely ignoring his parents' attempts to include him in conversation.

"Draco, dear." His mother finally captured his attention while they settled in the parlour for the evening. "You've been awfully quiet and distracted all day. Is something amiss?"

"No... not at all, Mother." Draco hesitated as his mind instinctively reached for occlumency. "I'm only thinking of how to use the rest of summer to start school prepared."

He hoped it was a good enough reason to explain his change in behaviour, after all the last time around he couldn't stop imagining and predicting all the wonderful things that would meet him at the castle.

Quidditch team, Harry Potter, showing off the handful of spells he practiced with his father's wand all summer, all the new friends he would gather.

This sudden anxiety and silence was a big change to happen overnight.

"You're going to become a respectable head of the family in due time, darling, don't you worry.

You don't have to grow up just yet." She wanted to reassure him, but didn't know the true cause of his stress.

Draco appreciated it nonetheless. "Tomorrow, we can find some useful tomes for you to study in the library.

They should last you until we head to Diagon Alley next week. "

It seemed she was happy to go along with his lie at worst, or fully believed Draco just wanted to study at best. At least he finally had a better grasp on the exact time in the past he was sent to.

He could only hope this was merely a bad dream from a spoiled batch of dreamless sleep potion.

That he would wake up from it tonight, and the whole experience would quickly wipe itself from his mind, as most dreams tended to do.

Draco spent time until then taking turns playing chess against his parents, and getting up to angrily attack piano keys in guise of practice once his winning streak was broken.

A regular evening activity he remembered fondly from his no longer distant childhood.

Draco also remembered a couple muggleborns' screams interspersed with broken piano tones as his aunt or Greyback welcomed them into the Manor for a 'friendly chat'.

A frigid shiver passed through him, the piano loudly expressing his unease when his fingers landed on the wrong chord.

The memory continued to plague him without mercy for the rest of the evening.

That night, Draco worried about remaining stuck there, in the past. What would happen to his old timeline if he couldn't return to it?

Would he have to live out his teenage years, and the war once more?

If he were to do so, he hoped that he could stop the pain and suffering of his family and perhaps even those hurt because of his cowardice in the future-past.

He dreamt of sleep, rougher bedsheets, and an unnerving stillness.

No breeze, no sounds of rustling or steps, no movement in his limbs.

A panic grew quickly from a tiny murmur in the back of his mind, confused and stuck, to heaving on his breaths as Draco bolted up, once again in his moonlit childhood bedroom.

The window burst open, edges hitting the wall stonework from his frantic efforts.

He paced around to and from the bed, trying to walk out the nervous energy, but it only compounded the anxiety about his current predicament.

There was nothing to be done so late at night, without resources, he knew that as a fact.

Yet nothing seemed to stop the barrage of vulnerability and fear which struck him to the core.

It was going to be a long night.