Tea and No Sympathy

Chapter 10

Draco snaps awake and his first thought is Harry – and Harry, of course, is not there.

What is there is his desk, and the time-turner, and his bedroom, and Draco feels a bit like putting his fist through the wall, but that won't solve anything, so he keeps his temper. He feels grubby, waking up alone and nude, having abandoned Potter and broken his promise – even though he hasn't technically broken it, because Harry won't remember anything about it. He'll have woken up this morning alone in his own bed and thought nothing of it.

Thinking that makes Draco feel sad and lonely, and it's not even the idea that there's no possibility now of a morning wank against Harry's warm, willing body that upsets him – it's so much more than that. Fuck's sake; he really does love Harry. He's such an idiot.

And . . . he feels bizarrely guilty for getting into Harry's pants without even buying him dinner first. Without making it crystal clear that their liaison was not casual - not in any way, shape or form.

But, angsting about Harry isn't productive, and today Draco is determined to be productive. So he showers quickly, dresses in a set of casual turquoise-blue robes, and goes down to talk to his mother.

At first, she doesn't believe him when he tells her about the time-turner and the time loop. He supposes it does sound a bit ridiculous. But her disbelief turns into alarm when he takes her to his bedroom and shows her the evidence. It's harder for her to explain it away when she can see it with her own eyes, casting a now glaring light out into the room.

She is not impressed, and neither is his father. But . . . Draco can't help but relax, now he's turned the problem over to them. It's not exactly true that his parents have never let him down, but he feels confident they can fix this for him. His father, in particular, has dozens of contacts, and there must be at least one of them who has knowledge of the dark arts in relation to time travel.

Draco feels sure that by this time tomorrow, things will be sorted.

By this time tomorrow, though, he's feeling a bit less optimistic. The first time he told his parents, they contacted dozens of people – and dozens of people came to the manor to examine the time-turner and pull sour faces.

Dozens of people left without helping.

The second time, he suggests that his father contact the Ministry and the Unspeakables, see what they have to say.

What they say is not entirely helpful: they claim they do no experiments with time, have no knowledge. But they manage, with great effort, to Levitate Draco's desk away and out of the magically-enlarged window, and the time-turner goes with it. But . . . Draco now doesn't think it will be so easy as all that.

He's proved right the next day, when he snaps awake and the desk is back – along with its unpleasant burden. He starts to panic, and this time he and his parents owl scores of foreign specialists in curse-breaking. This does no good either; everything they try either reflects off the time-turner or is simply absorbed by it.

The next day, the Malfoy family spend the day in the library, flipping through book after book to find something – anything – that might help. Nothing does though. Draco's parents might be willing enough to help, after their initial shock each day, but Draco soon realises that despite their efforts, they just can't. He is, once again, on his own again – and now more stuck than ever.

He begins to panic. And . . . he misses Harry. He misses him so much. So the next time that time resets, he tempts him away from the unity event – he can do it easily now, he's had that much practice – and they board a riverboat from Westminster Pier, taking the leisurely cruise down the river to Kew Gardens, where they spend the day pleasantly, strolling through the grounds and popping in and out of hothouses.