Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I own nothing.

Summary: (AU) What would you do to save the love of your life? Even if that love may never be returned? Draco Malfoy will find out he will do anything to keep the man he loves alive after he's sent back in time. The werewolf and Slytherin traitor stood with Harry Potter in the last battle for the fate of the wizarding world. They lost and Harry died, but something went wrong in the last moments of Draco's life and he is cast back in time to when he was eleven years old. Will he be able to accomplish everything he couldn't the first time around, or is time travel just too damn hard?

Author's Note: This story is set from Draco's PoV, which some people confuse with a narrative voice as I write in third person. Unless reading an Aside, he knows nothing of what is happening except what he has learned second and third hand from Harry, or remembers of his own past.

Other people seem to think my Draco knows everything. He doesn't, he's flawed and lost and floundering half the time. Please don't hold this against him; he's doing his best.

Draco fell to his knees in the snow, catching the lifeless body Harry Potter in his arms. The once vibrant green gaze stared blankly at the treeline, the direction he guessed the spell had come from. In his peripheral he watched Weasley and Granger fall, their eyes as blank and empty as the man they had followed, hands outstretched as if reaching for each other one last time. Another spell sizzled in the air where he had been standing moments before, catching his sleeve and burning straight through the white cotton. The edges spit and crackled with red energy, but Draco didn't care.

Harry Potter was dead.

The snow, or shock, was making his hands numb as he clutched the lifeless body to his chest. His mind couldn't accept what he was seeing. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Harry was supposed to face Voldemort in the battle of the century, never mind he had never been certain he could survive a confrontation with the Dark Lord. They had run out of options. A direct attack was out of the question for exactly this reason, the Death Eaters were too strong and there were too many of them. Draco only went along with the plan because the inner council of the Order of the Phoenix had assured him they had a plan, one they were confident that would succeed. It involved an ambush and a ritual that Hermione had been working on and it had clearly been idiotic because here they were and Harry was DEAD.

A tortured, primal scream ripped from Draco's throat as the wolf inside him thrashed in agony and grief, demanding control of their body. He didn't fight the change, nearly losing his mind to the beast in a wave of weakness at the overwhelming loss. His mate, his friend, his rival was dead, lost forever, and to fall into the primal nature of the werewolf would be a soothing balm to his grief.

Another of the strange, red balls of spellfire hit Draco as he shifted, bouncing off his fur as the werewolf's magical protection saved him from the same curse that had killed Harry, Ron and Hermione moments before. The shock of it cleared his mind, reminding him of the last promise he had made to his mate before they had left on this suicidal mission. He couldn't give in to the wolf just yet.

Howling a challenge to the attackers hidden in the trees, Draco tore himself from Harry's corpse and charged into the forest. For wizards who had spent so much time fighting besides dark creatures, the three men who had ambushed them had no idea what to do when fighting against a werewolf. The first Death Eater Draco spotted fell in a spray of blood, his throat torn from his neck. The werewolf was on his next enemy before the first even hit the ground, claws slicing through skin like tissue paper. The third panicked, he screaming as he conjured a billowing cloud of black smoke that wafted in Draco's direction.

A single leap took him over the cloud. A second brought the Death Eater to the ground. A snap of his neck ended the man's screams for good.

"Well done."

The sibilant voice drifted through the clearing and Draco spun to see Voldemort emerge from the forest. Dark robed figures flitted about him and through the trees. There were too many, far more than there should have been. Looking into the red eyes of the Dark Lord now, Draco could see the truth.

They had been set up.

A low growl rumbled through the cold night, but the Dark Lord merely laughed as Draco's body tensed to spring. He would never make it that far, they would kill him before he even reached Voldemort.

"Yes, dear boy," Voldemort hissed, "you were betrayed, but that matters not at all with your mate dead. Join me, Draco Malfoy, help me build my empire. There is no longer a reason for you to fight me."

The rage at Voldemort's suggestion turned Draco's vision red. After murdering his parents, his friends, and his MATE, the man actually thought Draco would switch sides?

"A pity," Voldemort purred as another growl ripped through the trees. "You have been Harry Potter's strongest weapon."

Draco ignored him, concentrating on the change. He had to revert to his human form again; a spell was the only thing that would reach Voldemort before they killed him.

Tilting his head to the side in a parody of curiosity, Voldemort watched him begin to shift back. When he was halfway finished, the Dark Lord's lips stretched in a parody of a smile and he casually raised his wand.

"Avada kedavra!"

Draco panicked. Half way through his change, he could hope to cast the spell right, but failing Harry wasn't an option either. With a desperate howl, he flicked his wand at the Darkest wizard to ever live and prayed that his soul would find Harry in the next life. The incantation that left his mouth was distorted by his half wolf, half human jaw, mangled until it was barely recognisable at all. Mercifully, the jet of sickly green light burst from his wand and sped towards his intended target. Moments later, the spell smashed into the Dark Lord's and burst in a brilliant globe of green light.

Shielding his eyes, Draco tried to fling himself flat on the earth to avoid the hexes and curses he knew the Death Eaters would send his way and instead found his legs numb and frozen, locked in place beneath him.

"No!" Draco cried, his mouth once again his own. If he died now, everything he and Harry and the Order had accomplished would be for nothing. He had to get free for one more chance to put Voldemort down.

Looking down to find what had happened to his legs, Draco froze in horror at what he saw. Starting at his feet, his legs were turning to sand. A pile of the white grains lay beneath where he hovered, steadily growing as whatever it was progressed up his body. Any thought of fulfilling his promise fled Draco's mind as he completely panicked, trying every spell he knew to reverse what was happening.

Nothing worked.

The last sound Draco heard as his body turned to sand was Voldemort's sibilant laughter and the exultant cheers of his followers.