Used to Call You a Crook, Called You a Bandit

On Wednesday, the Fifth of June, 1991, Draco Lucius Malfoy awoke at exactly 12:01 am with a start.

It was dark in his room, in his childhood bedroom that he hadn't seen in months, it was dark and exactly warm enough and he was home. Draco sat up, too small he was in his now too large bed, and raked his clean hands through clean short hair and sighed.

"I've done it." He whispered, his voice just as small as he was, higher pitched than it had been since puberty.

The room was just as he had remembered it; dark grey curtains adorning the window, pulled back so that the barest traces of moonlight filtered through the tall windows, the bathroom across from his bed had an enchanted candle glowing in it, and the light shown through the open doorway onto the silver bedspread and dark oak bed he lay on.

Draco continued looking around, awash with memories. Then, he paused. He realized why he was here, in this bed, with memories that did not belong to a barely 11 year-old. He knew what he was here for, of course he did, but why ever should that make him prepared for it.

Of course, Dumbledore, that daft old man, warned him of this... shaky fear he would have. In fact, as he lay awake, his mind 17, in his eleven-year-old body, in his childhood bedroom, in a Manor not yet destroyed, he was afraid and he was definitely shaking and he was not ready for what he was going to have to do.

It wasn't as if he had just appeared in his body, no, that would have been too simple. For that one minute past midnight, there was a limbo of pain and confusion. For a moment, when real 11 year-old Draco and 17 year-old Draco's memories were a tumbling mess of confusion, for a moment it didn't feel as if he had done the right thing. Then, he was awake in his bed, ruffled and afraid, but a perfect combination of Old Draco and New Draco.

Without realizing it, it was dawn, and a house elf was tapping his shoulder softly.

"Master Draco, Master Draco," the house elf squeaked, "It is Master Draco's birthday it is, and Mistress Narcissa has sent Ladry to fetch you, she did. You's is to get dressed and come to breakfast, yes."

Draco blinked sleepily at the elf, confused for a moment, and then caught himself. "Of course, Ladry, I'll be right down."

Ladry nodded hard with a large grin on his face, and then disappeared with a pop.

It was quiet in the room again, and that stillness that had surrounded him in the old timeline was back again. Draco yawned, and drew himself out of bed. There were clothes for him, at the edge of his bed. He picked them up, and was delighted that they weren't the starched ones he was expected to wear when in public.

"A day at home, perhaps," he muttered quietly. "I do remember staying home, which is… refreshing."

He dressed, and attempted to fix the rumpled mess of his hair in the mirror. He didn't slick it back as he did in Hogwarts, but he did brush it, if only to avoid his father's disapproval.

Finding his way down the marble staircase, he came to a halt at the entrance to the dining room, which was awash in soft candlelight from the chandelier.

His mother was standing near the fireplace, her back to him. His father was sitting at the far head of the table, with Narcissa's hand on his shoulder.

As he stepped into the room, Lucius drawled, "Good morning Draco."

Draco smiled softly, "Good morning Father, Mother." He pulled out the ornate chair to his father's left.

Narcissa turned and walked to him then, her hands resting on his shoulders. She smiled gently at him, "Oh good morning Draco dear, and happy birthday."

Draco startled slightly. It was his birthday.

Lucius raised his eyebrows, "Of course, happy birthday, son. Your letter should be here soon enough, I suppose."

"I hope it does hurry. I'm very excited." Draco said.

His parents looked to each other for a moment. Narcissa smoothed down Draco's hair and said, "It's not every day a wizard turns eleven, and that is a very special birthday indeed."

As Narcissa took the seat to the right of Lucius, breakfast appeared on the table before them.

It was his birthday, and, circumstances aside, all felt well.

A/N: Sorry bout how short it is, but I wanted three this week for a good foundation to build on. Chapters every Saturday. Thanks for reading!