Chapter Text
Draco knows it's insane. But there's nothing much to do while stuck under house arrest in the Malfoy Manor except to drink his way through the Malfoy wine basement and to go through all the junk that the aurors hadn't found in their post-Voldemort searches of Death Eater's properties, and that doesn't lend itself to making good choices.
They'd missed a spot or two, and as Draco looked through the hidden materials to see if any of it was even worth reporting he found a few old things of his father's. Recipes, trinkets, books, and old wands, the last of which he puts aside in case of emergency.
Apparently when the Dark Lord fell the first time his father was just as distressed as Draco is now, and he'd done some research on time magic. Except Lucius had had his family at the very least. He'd held his head high while lying about being Imperius-ed to obey Voldemort and lived the rest of his life disdained by both the remaining Death Eaters and polite society alike, so that he could remain with Narcissa and their son. Draco had never understood what a sacrifice that was before.
But now his father is dead, or as good as. Kissed by a dementor for returning to Voldemort's side. His mother received 10 years in Azkaban for her part, and he already sees her starting to slip away when he visits. His surviving school friends had lighter sentences due to their age and typically lighter crimes, and he...
People had testified at his trial. Potter mostly. About how he couldn't kill Dumbledore, even though he feared for his life and his parents. That he'd lied when he saw an imprisoned Harry. Between that and the lack of concrete evidence of the worst things he'd done for the Death Eaters, and the fact that he was pressed into taking the mark by family when he was underaged, the jury decided to give him the most lenient sentence of all. Five years house arrest and ten years parole after that.
He's not grateful.
He's not mad at Harry, he knows the other man was just honestly reporting what happened. But all his former allies that are still alive think he's either a coward or a traitor, whereas those who fought against Voldemort still hold his past against him. He's completely alone.
Hence, the drinking and the research project. He's got a broken timeturner and a book on time-manipulating magicks, and he daydreams about what he'd do if it actually worked.
Draco's drunker than he meant to be when he goes through some of the books he hasn't yet. Among various pureblood musings on how to best "integrate" half-bloods into society, and a book of spells that would definitely trigger the house-arrest wards, there's one on Horcruxes. It's heinous stuff which is why he had left this book in particular alone, but the alcohol lets his curiosity win out.
The book turns out to be fairly academic, trying to theorize how the soul-splitting and then re-integration works when a murder is committed, why Horcruxes can survive without a physical body. There's a particularly fascinating section where the author theorizes that a Dementor could destroy one by consuming it.
But what catches Draco's eye is the section about other uses of a soul segment. Soul magic is extremely illegal and few would ever risk themselves to do it, but apparently there are potential applications...
He wakes up in the morning with the worst hangover he's ever had and some truly deranged notes on his desk. Plans to kill someone, siphon the segment of his soul into a redesigned time turner, and use his Hogwarts letter as an anchor. Insane stuff. And an infinitesimally chance that it would even work.
Two weeks later, he's drunk again when a fugitive Death Eater breaks into his home looking for revenge. The story about the Elder wand mix-up had come out in the press and this one had come to the conclusion that Draco did it on purpose, that he was not just a traitor but one of those directly responsible for Voldemort's death.
He doesn't have his wand as part of his house arrest, but luckily the Death Eater finds his helplessness amusing and stalks him as he drunkenly stumbles to the library, taunting him and hitting him with stinging hexes. He gets to where he'd left the old wands he'd found, and knocks out the surprised Death Eater.
Draco stands there, Death Eater unconscious, waiting for the Aurors to arrive. They were sure taking their time. Draco highly doubted this man had somehow undetectably broken the wards.
They must be hoping he gets killed, he realizes. No forgiving hearts among that lot, unlike most of the Wizengamot who hadn't been on the front lines. And when they got here they'd immediately realize he'd had a wand, even though he was under house arrest. He's going to be sent to Azkaban.
He pushes the mask off the Death Eater and faintly recognizes him, though the name escapes him. A real monster, though. On the run, not on parole or plea bargain for sure.
His eyes fall on his time-travel research. The letter, the unsealed time-turner with customized runes, waiting for a spell that would never come. An intrusive thought enters his mind.
No. No no no. He was not going to do that.
Although. If you kill a man and travel back in time before he's killed and then don't do it again, you basically never killed him. Right?
No. He was going to sit right here and ... get taken to Azkaban.
This guy was guaranteed to get the Dementor's kiss anyway! It was a waste of a perfectly good soul if you thought about it!
Fuck it.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The unconscious man's body jerks when the green light hits him, the only tell that he'd transitioned from unconscious to dead. Draco wants to puke, the rent in his soul becoming immediately obvious. The alcohol wasn't helping either.
"No, keep it together, fuck." he mutters to himself, stumbling to the desk. He focuses on his memory of opening his first Hogwarts letter and uses his wand to extract it and deposit it into the unsealed time turner. In the other end he places that Hogwarts letter folded up, and with a spell turns it to sand. He seals the ends.
Now for the energy.
Pulling a segment of your soul out of your body is probably the most excruciating thing Draco has ever felt, and he's been Crucio-ed by both Bellatrix Lestrange and Voldemort.
It's unnatural, his soul fighting him every step of the way. As it leaves, he feels a tiny bit of the guilt for killing the Death Eater fading. He thinks of his mother, and yes. He's pretty sure he loves her a bit less, cares a little less that she's rotting in Azkaban. He should hate it but there's a little relief in not feeling all the pain as much.
He can hear pops outside of Aurors finally coming in, possibly noticing extremely dark magic being performed or just finally deciding to do their jobs.
It's too late now. He has to go back.
The time-turning glows with the soul energy, and Draco takes a deep breath.
"Please fucking work."