Chapter Text
Draco shivered as he made his way through the corridors of the Manor, his own steps loud and reverberating in the unnatural stillness of the house as he hurried towards his room. Despite it being August, he was perpetually freezing. His mother kept telling him that it was because he wasn't eating (and how did she expect him to eat when his teachers were being slaughtered at their dining table?), but Draco knew that it was more than that.
With the Dark Lord, something unforbidding and so purely evil had entered their house that the coldness had seeped through the walls, stemming off the warm summer air, obstructing its entrance into the Manor, along with all hope and laughter.
Draco finally reached the door to his quarters and lunged for it, longing for that little piece of privacy in the midst of this purgatory that was now his life. He pushed inside and slammed the door shut behind himself, leaning against the wooden surface and closing his eyes, taking deep, calming breaths.
It was only when he opened his eyes that he realised that he wasn't quite as alone as he'd thought.
There, in the middle of his bedroom, casually leaning against his four-poster as if he had every right to be there, stood a man. He was tall, probably as tall as Draco and every bit as lanky, pointy joints and facial features included. Though while Draco was known for his sharp jawline and chin, it were this man's cheekbones that could have cut through stone. His hair was dark and ruffled, strangely reminiscent of Potter, and his eyes were a deep blue that seemed to pierce right through him.
The man smiled at Draco, looking far too cheerful for someone who had just broken into his room.
"Hi," he said, his voice deep and pleasant.
Draco's instinctive response was to reach for his wand, his hand trembling as he pointed it at the intruder.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "How did you get in here?"
There was a displeased frown on the man's face now, and he pursed his lips.
"There's really no need for that," he muttered, with a reproachful tone that Draco found entirely uncalled for, considering the situation. And then, to Draco's complete horror, the man's blue eyes turned golden and Draco's wand flew out of his hand, right into the other man's outstretched palm. "There," he nodded, pocketing the wand. "Much better. Now, please have a seat. I hate to have conversations standing up."
Draco gaped at him, utterly speechless. Naturally, he did not move an inch.
"Fine," the man sighed, shrugging as he sank down onto Draco's mattress and crossed his legs, making himself at home. "Suit yourself, then."
"Excuse me," Draco ground out, his teeth clenched. "But who exactly are you?!"
The man grinned, watching him in open amusement.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he shrugged, and Draco felt his head pounding in a combination of annoyance and the never-ceasing headache that seemed to be his constant companion nowadays.
"How did you get in here?" Draco demanded. "There are wards around this house!"
"Wards can't keep me out," the man waved him off, rolling his eyes.
"What?!" Draco called, his voice rising. "Are you an Auror? Are you from the Order? Because if you're here to avenge Dumbledore, then -"
"I have no business with Dumbledore," Draco was cut off, and finally, the man's expression turned serious. "Or the Ministry. I fight my own battles, and I'm here to ask you to join me."
Again, Draco turned quite speechless in response. He blinked, opened his mouth once and closed it again. At last, he managed: "Join you? For what?"
"Well, in short, we're going to save the world," the man grinned, and Draco was beginning to suspect that he was slightly deranged. "Not only you and me, mind you. You'll first help me, um, retrieve a friend of mine, and then we'll team up with the rest of the troop to kill that madman downstairs."
Draco's jaw dropped. He couldn't help it.
"You want to assassinate the Dark Lord?" Draco asked. "And you think the best place to discuss this is the house he chose to take up as living quarters?!"
"Oh, don't worry, he won't hear us," the man assured him. "His wards can't keep me out, but mine can keep him out. He doesn't even know I'm here."
"What the - who in Merlin's name are you?!" Draco demanded, eyes wide. The other man only snorted, shaking his head.
"Nevermind that. Let's discuss business. You, Draco Malfoy, need to get out of here, and this is what I'm offering you: A way out. You'll be under my protection, and Voldemort will be unable to ever hurt you again. All you have to do is help me."
"I can't just up and leave!" Draco called, slightly hysterical now. "He'll kill my parents in a heartbeat if I do!"
"Not if no one remembers you exist," the man said calmly, and Draco stared.
"What?" he asked, his voice shaking.
"If you decide to come with me, I will erase every memory of you," he explained, blue eyes locked on Draco's. "Only until Voldemort's death, of course. Then they will come back and you can reconcile with your family. But until then, it should keep them safe."
"This - No one can cast a Memory Charm that strong!" Draco protested. "It's impossible!"
"It's not," the man argued. "I can do it, and I will. How do you think someone with my powers managed to stay under the radar in times of war?"
Draco had no answer to that. He had seen and heard enough to know that whoever he was dealing with, he was stronger than should be humanly possible for any wizard alive. The fact that he was sitting in Draco's room and the Dark Lord hadn't burst in yet was proof enough.
"Why should I join you?" Draco whispered.
"I thought that was obvious?" the man said, raising an eyebrow. "You're not a Death Eater, Draco. Not really. You were forced into this. You've regretted joining every day since you got your mark."
Draco's marked arm twitched, feeling burnt by the truth of the words.
"Why me?" Draco hissed. "How do you know I won't betray you?"
The man smiled again, and Draco felt inadequate, though he couldn't explain why.
"Because it's your destiny," the man said simply.
Draco frowned. "That makes no sense," he complained.
"Let's say Harry Potter isn't the only one who's had a prophecy made over," the man shrugged. "It was foretold that you would help me. It took me a while to figure out that the prophecy meant you specifically, but the more I watched you, the surer I became. It's you and me, Draco. We have to take the first step towards ending this war." The look on the man's face was earnest now, and he was getting to his feet and was slowly approaching Draco, a pleading look in his eyes. "Come on," he urged, holding out his hand for Draco to take. "We both know you want to."
Draco was still staring at him, conflicted. Everything inside of him was screaming that this was insane, that he should alert the Dark Lord or his parents for help and have this intruder dealt with.
But…
It sounded so tempting. A way out. It was what Draco wanted more than anything else in the world. To just disappear and start over again. To be useful. To make up for past mistakes.
He stared at the man's hand, still outstretched.
"Tell me who you are," he demanded. "I can't go with you if I don't know your name."
The man looked unsure for the first time, but he nodded, determination returning to his eyes as he answered.
"Fair enough," he agreed. "Just… Keep an open mind?"
Draco frowned, and blurted out: "You're not Potter on Polyjuice, are you?!"
"Not quite," the man snorted, cracking a smile. "No. I have been called many names, but… the most commonly known would be Merlin."
Draco blinked. And stared. And then he laughed, unable to help himself.
"Yeah," he scoffed. "Right."
The man raised his eyebrows pointedly. "Told you you wouldn't believe me."
"You seriously want me to believe that you're the legendary Merlin? Most powerful wizard of all time? Magic Incarnate? Please! Merlin died centuries ago," Draco pointed out.
"Did he?" the man challenged, smiling ever so slightly. "Can anyone prove that?"
"Well, no, but - you don't exactly look a thousand years old," Draco argued. "Nicolas Flames almost fell apart by the seams at age - what was it, 400? You don't look a day over 30!"
"Well, being Magic Incarnate has its perks," the man shrugged. "Such as infusions of youth to my immortal body whenever I want them."
Draco stared, wavering in his incredulity.
"It's impossible," he whispered, but even as he said it, he couldn't help but think, hope that maybe, it wasn't. "You can't be Merlin."
"I'm afraid I am," the man said apologetically. "Now, are you going to join me on my quest to destroy Lord Voldemort, or do I have to make you forget we ever met?"
His hand was still outstretched expectantly, and after a beat of silence, Draco found himself taking it, quite without consciously deciding to. He tried desperately to swallow down the panic and guilt he felt thinking about leaving his parents behind, his hand shaking as he clung on.
The man - Merlin - beamed at him, squeezing his palm, and Draco's heart was beating so fast it felt like it would break out of his chest.