Draco Malfoy and The Elder Wand

Chapter 1

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For once again, Draco regretted his decisions. His oh so idiotic decisions. He stood there, well, once stood at the edge of the cliff, the elder want securely in his grip.

He had idiotically rushed to get Voldemorts newly acquired wand, and he succeeded, giving the boy who lived ample time to get the upper hand. Only, the floor gave up on Draco, which resulted in him falling, and falling, and falling.

Shouts of his name were called, but he couldn't pinpoint who the other voices that were calling him from. He could only recognize his mother's voice, his father's, and most surprisingly Harry Potter was calling out for him too, almost jumping off the ledge, only the boy was too occupied defending himself from the various spells aimed at him.

Draco knew it was futile to even cast a floating spell on himself, and even a broom won't make it fast enough to catch him. But who was he kidding, he was bleeding out so fast, and he was almost at the brink of death itself when he had decided to steal the dark lord's wand.

So Draco thought why not let fate take it's course. He was going to die anyway, so there was no use postponing the inevitable any longer.

He still had his regrets, and everything he wanted to change, but it was too late. Draco could see the multitude of spiked rocks he was about to hit. This was goodbye, he could only hope Harry had won his little duel with the dark lord.

Draco let out a blood curling scream. His body embedded by the sharp rocks, his arm was even decapitated by the force.

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Draco screamed, completely sitting up from where he was laying. And it spiked his interest, noting the soft bedding he was sitting on.

"Dragon, what ever is the matter?!" A door suddenly opened, momentarily distracting Draco from pain. Very realistic pain, despite the fact that there were no wounds on his body.

He looked at the source of the voice. Draco found his mother, very young and tragedy hasn't touched her yet. He missed this version of his mother. All young and no creases of stress present on her delicate face.

"Mother..." He longingly muttered, something wet running down his face. He was crying, and Draco hated himself for that. He was supposed to be strong.

Narcissa walked up to the boy, engulfing him in a caring hug. She let him cry, knowing Draco would eventually tell her what his problem is.

Draco let his vulnerability slide. Clothing on his mother's robes for dear life. And that was when he realized something.

His body was smaller, his magic was a lot weaker. And oh, the room was his room from when he was eleven. Before one day he decided to be too old for the pastel greens and oddly animated toys.

But how was that even possible? That was his question. And it doubled when another person walked into the room. Well, two other person's to be precise.

One was his father and the other one. Draco didn't quite know or had he really just forgot.

But from what little he knew, he must be in the past. Or this was his version of hell, getting to replay every single tragedy in his life as karma for his asshole self.

His father opted to not say anything, and blatantly ignoring the boy who came in the room with him.

Draco was about to question the new face, but the boy beat him to it. Putting a pale hand to their lips, indicating to keep silent.

Now the boy was giving him a smile, a smile oh so caring, and warm. And with that little ministry he disappeared.

Draco was left in confusion once again, was he going insane. Noticing the smile on his father's face he very well hope he was going insane.

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It took a few days to say so, at the very least, that Draco wasn't going insane.

Looking himself over in his bathroom mirror once again he couldn't help but comment, "I look hideous".

His hair was slicked back with a humpy amount of hair gel, looking over his small body, "And bloody hell I'm stuck in the past... Or another blasted universe".

And to make a point he was supposed to meet his parents downstairs in a few minutes, to go shopping for his school necessities. Draco was dreading it, he so vaguely remember meeting Harry Potter at Madam Malkin's.

In an attempt to distract himself, Draco opened the faucet, setting himself on washing the gel away from his hair. How I'm the world did his mother had thought the slicked back hair was ever cute, he didn't know.

A minute later he was putting shampoo on his hair when he realized that the gel won't come off completely with just water. And that lead him to change his clothes.

His mother would probably ask why he decided to completely change his style of fashion but that can be easily reasoned by.

So now Draco was walking carefully down the stairs in black slacks, a white turtleneck, and a dark grey jacket that his mother picked herself. So technically he wasn't changing his outfit entirely.

Seeing his parents Draco awaited for their comments. Because this was the first time ever did he go against their will of clothing.

"Draco, you look fantastic... my little Dragon" Narcissa let her amusement show. She was happy, now knowing her son had inherited her fashion sense.

"Indeed, I do so hope this isn't just a phase" Lucius commented, which earned him a subtle glare from his wife but that was just how he was.

Unknowingly to the mother-son duo, Lucius made a mental note to take his son shopping for new clothes. Maybe some days later.

"Carry on now, we have a schedule to follow" Lucius started, waiting for his wife and son to apparate before he did.

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