A/N: All characters are property of J.K. Rowling. I am manipulating them for fun and will put them back when I am finished.







Hermione sat between Ron and Harry at the Gryffindor table, shoulders slumped and staring down at the food on her plate, unable to eat any of it. In truth, none of the student or teachers seemed to be partaking in their breakfast. Everyone was lost in their own dismal thoughts and, most likely, dreading the funeral they were all about to attend. It didn’t seem possible that Dumbledore could really be dead. He was such a big part of Hogwarts. No, he was Hogwarts! “How could this be?” Hermione wondered silently, and how could Draco have been a part of it?

She scanned the great hall and let her eyes rest on the Slytherin table. Quickly, she found Crabbe and Goyle. Though their sheer mass took up the space normally occupied by Draco, they looked lonely and lost without him. A loud sigh escaped Hermione’s lips. Ron leaned over, put his arm around her and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Though she appreciated the gesture more than she could say, Hermione knew that Ron thought her sigh was for Dumbledore alone. He had no idea that she was also mourning Draco and all that they had shared this past school year. Now no one would ever know. She would have to take this secret to her grave.

As though in a dream, Hermione got up from her seat with the rest of the Gryffindors and followed Professor McGonagall out of the great hall, through the entrance hall and out the castle doors. They descended the stone steps, followed by the other heads of houses and their charges, and headed solemnly in the direction of the lake. When they got closer, Hermione spotted hundreds of chairs set up in rows, all facing a marble table in the front. So many witches and wizards were already assembled; all of the members of The Order of the Phoenix, the Weasley’s naturally, even Cornelius Fudge, but not Draco. No, Draco would not be here today. Nor would Snape, for that matter.

It was shocking to know that her professor of six years had uttered the words that caused the death of their beloved headmaster. She had always known that Snape was petty and mean, of course, but she never imagined he could posses the evil necessary for Avada Kedavra to be successful in its purpose. She had always admired Snape’s brilliance and talent. Never did she imagine that he was a murderer.

Listening feebly as the merpeople began their beautiful, heart wrenching song, Hermione let her mind give way and lead her to reflect upon the thoughts that she had been trying desperately to repress these last few days. She couldn’t believe that Draco had actually gone through with the task Voldemort had set for him. Though from what Harry told her, Draco hadn’t been able to do more than disarm Dumbledore. In fact, in the end he had lowered his wand and looked as though he regretted what he surely knew was about to happen. But Draco had let the Death Eaters into the school. He had unleashed the mayhem that lead to Dumbledore’s demise, Bill Weasley’s werewolf bite, Neville’s injuries and the possible closing of Hogwarts.

“He couldn’t have done it!” Hermione’s thoughts rebelled. Not the same Draco she had come to know, and even love, the last half of this school year. But as she watched the white flames that surrounded Dumbledore’s body magically change into a white marble tomb, she knew that everything was true. Draco had aided the Death Eaters and now Albus Dumbledore was dead. She was a fool to think that Draco Malfoy, son of Death Eater Lucius Malfoy and nephew to the loathsome Bellatrix Lestrange, wouldn’t follow through with the task Voldemort set for him. It was in his blood…his pure-blood; Hermione’s mouth turned down at the thought. He couldn’t change, not even for her.



I hope you liked it. Special thanks to my fabulous beta Alonnet. Please leave some feedback here . Chapter 1 will be up soon and written from Draco's perspective.

Draco plunked down on a nearby, lopsided, three legged stool and ran his fingers through his platinum blond hair in a much less nonchalant style than usual. “I can’t do it!” He complained aloud to the vast, empty room. “It’s impossible.” Draco sighed. He rolled his head back and dropped his hands down to his shoulders to try and massage the knots out of his stiff neck.

He’d been working on this project for two solid months now. Surely, the Dark Lord must know that he wasn’t up to the task. But still, Draco knew he had to succeed…his life, and the lives of his parents, depended on it. He wearily looked back towards the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement. This enormous room, with its discarded books, broken furniture and collection of junk had become like a second home to Draco lately. He felt as though he spent every free moment in here. In fact, he did.

With a loud moan, Draco realized that he would have to contact that idiot Borgin again. The first two rounds of spells Mr. Borgin had given Draco to try had proven useless. Draco had threatened the man the last time he had visited Borgin and Burke’s. It was the same day he had purchased the matching vanishing cabinet. He had specifically told Borgin that this project was urgent and that any lack of cooperation would be reported to the Dark Lord himself. Borgin had promised all the help he could provide and swore allegiance to the Dark Lord, but so far, his ideas were proving fruitless.

To date, Draco had already tried a number of spells and anti-jinxes on the vanishing cabinet: Specialis Revelio, to reveal any enchantments that had been put on the cabinet; then when that didn’t work, Finite and Finite Incantatem to terminate any spells that were currently in operation. Deletruius was also something he tested to try and remove the effects of previous spells. At his wits end, Draco even attempt a backfiring jinx, which could have proven dangerous if in fact a jinx had been placed upon the currently useless old piece of furniture.

The possibilities of what could be broken, compounded with the combination of revelation charms to be used and the fixing spells that might correct the problem, were endless. Draco wasn’t sure if he should’ve choked with laughter or disgust when Borgin recommended Reparo. How thick did he think Draco was? Reparo was the first spell he had tried. It was something even a first year would know. “What next?” Draco wondered aloud. “Rictusempra? Does he want me to tickle the problem away?” He laughed half heartedly. But his punchy frustration soon gave way to despair.

Draco closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. He could feel tears forming behind his eyelids, but there was no way he was going to let them out. Not even in here; in the privacy of this lonesome and forgotten room. Taking a steadying breath, he got his emotions under control and forced his mind to take over. Well, there was nothing for it he concluded; he wasn’t going to get any further with this blasted, impossible task without new instructions. It was settled, then. Draco decided he would send Borgin an owl first thing tomorrow morning, before the Hogsmeade visit. He hadn’t planned on going into town. With most of the students gone, it seemed the perfect day to pursue his endeavors without the annoying Potter snooping around like a dog looking for a bone.

Potter knew that Draco was up to something, but Draco had one up on him because he knew that Potter knew. That’s why he had Crabbe and Goyle drink Polyjuice potion to appear as young Slytherin girls. There was no way Potter would figure that out. And it seemed as if his mud-blood mate Granger wasn’t being any help to him lately. She gave the impression of always being annoyed with him about something. Maybe it was because Potter had become so proficient in Potions recently. That was annoying; Draco had to admit, and listening to that excuse of a Slytherin, Slughorn, falling all over himself complimenting the ‘Chosen One’! He frowned in revulsion and suppressed the urge to vomit.

As Draco pulled his exhausted body up from the rickety stool, he thought about tomorrow. Now that he had come to the conclusion that spending the day in this room would be pointless, he wondered if he should attend the Hogsmeade outing after all. It would be nice to have a spot of fun, get some fresh air and act like the teenager he was. Maybe a day away from all this rotting, dusty rubbish would help clear his mind. On the other hand, it had been ages since he’d had a good lie in. He hadn’t gotten much sleep in the past two months and he could do with some much needed rest. Not being able to make up his mind, Draco shook his head in disgust. His brain had been so addled lately; he didn’t even feel like himself. He would make the decision tomorrow he resolved, after a good night’s sleep.

Putting on the mask of self confidence that he always wore around Crabbe and Goyle, Draco sauntered toward the door, tidied his hair and smoothed his robes before exiting the room and rejoining his awaiting look-outs.

“Any progress?” The small, young girl that was actually Goyle asked, holding a set of scales, as Draco came through the now disappearing doorway.

“None of your business!” Draco snapped, unable to affect his usual blasé demeanor. “Let’s go.” He added with a quick jerk of his blond head.

Draco and his ‘female’ Slytherin companions carefully proceeded down the seventh floor hall, heading for the stairs that would lead them down to the dungeons and the Slytherin common room, where Draco secretly hoped that everyone would just leave him alone so he could go up to his dormitory and flop down on his comfortable, awaiting bed.



Thanks to my amazing beta, Alonnet, for all her help! Feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Draco awoke the next morning from a restless sleep to hear the hushed voices of his roommates complaining about the stormy weather outside. Draco wished he could just roll over and fall back to sleep, but he knew it was useless given all the annoying whispering going on. Everyone was excited about the first trip of the term to Hogsmeade. Lying in his bed, with the curtains still drawn, Draco immediately decided he wasn’t going to join the group heading into town. He had the perfect excuse actually. He was to serve his detention with McGonagall this afternoon.

He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone yet as he knew he could do both if he really wanted to, thanks to the time-turner Auntie Bella had procured for him. There were many advantages to being a Malfoy, and getting whatever one wanted, whenever they wanted it was definitely one of them. Auntie Bella didn’t have to apply for the time-turner or answer any questions about what it was to be used for. She had simply informed her contact at the ministry that she needed one and, just like that, a time-turner had been delivered to Malfoy Manor the very next day. She had informed Draco that it should only be used with regards to his service to the Dark Lord, but recently he had begun using it to gain extra time to cram some studying into his busy schedule. This seemingly impossible task of his was taking up all his time and he knew he was expected to keep his grades up as well as succeed in fixing the vanishing cabinet.

“Hi, Draco. Um, I wasn’t sure if I should wake you or not.” Goyle sprung to life as Draco opened his bed curtains and swung his legs to the floor. “You didn’t tell me if you were coming into town with us or not, so I didn’t know what to do. Did you want me to wake-?”

“No.” Draco interrupted Goyle as he grabbed his robe off its hook and headed out of their room, intending to have a nice, long soak in the prefect’s bath. “You didn’t need to wake me and I’m not going into Hogsmeade. I’m serving detention with McGonagall. Now bugger off!” He snapped.

Draco had been losing his patience much more often with his two dim-witted companions, if that was even possible. They had always been thick, but now they seemed to him downright stupid and immature. Neither Crabbe, nor Goyle, could grasp the importance of what Draco was trying to accomplish. He supposed it was due in part to the fact that they had no idea what his task was, but you would have thought their fathers would have explained the kind of gravity that servitude to the Dark Lord entailed.



Once Draco was certain that most of the students had left the castle, he emerged from the prefect’s bath with a slightly pink tinge to his usually pale skin. Wearing crisp new robes and with his hair freshly washed and perfectly combed, Draco descended the stairs, exited through a back door and walked out onto the deserted grounds of Hogwarts. He still had an hour until McGonagall’s detention and he knew exactly how he was going to use it.

It was an idea he had been toying with for some time. He would use the time-turner that was inconspicuously hidden under his precisely pressed, white shirt, to go back 6 hours or so and catch up on his sleep. Slumber; that was exactly what he needed and exactly what he was going to get, just as soon as he got this letter off to Borgin. Draco quickly climbed the steep, winding steps of the West Tower to the owlery at the very top, shielding himself from the howling wind and sleet. It had shaped up to be a brutally raw day.

After tying the threatening note to the leg of his trusted owl and giving it instructions on who the letter was to be delivered to, Draco beat a hasty retreat, wanting to get back to the castle and the warmth of his inviting bed. Everywhere he seemed to tread was wet and muddy. Trying in vain to avoid the puddles that were now forming at alarming rates, Draco took a quick step to the left and felt his feet slide out from under him.

“Blasted bloody-!” Burst from his lips as he automatically thrust his arms out in front of him to break his fall, but his mind quickly switched tracks and thought of his time-turner and what might happen if it began rotating on its own. With a seekers speed, he changed course and reached down, trying to grasp the chain beneath his damp, slippery robes. He would have succeeded too, if he hadn’t tripped over an empty butterbeer bottle, lying abandoned on the slick, icy grass.

The bottle, which was now beneath his left calf, began to emit a bluish glow. Before Draco realized what was happening, he felt a pulling sensation, not unlike traveling by portkey, and everything began to blur. Looking down, he noticed his time-turner poking out between his newly torn open shirt buttons. It was spinning of its own volition. Time was rapidly flashing before his eyes in reverse, then, suddenly, everything went black.



Draco felt the hard ground crash beneath him before he could catch his breath or focus his eyes. Blinking away the swirling darkness and looking around, the first thing he noticed was that it wasn’t sleeting. It was a mild, sunny day and from the looks of the budding trees above him, probably spring. Had he gone forward in time or back? That was the first questions that registered in Draco’s mind. The next was: where in Merlin’s name was he? He absolutely was not anywhere on the Hogwarts grounds. That much was obvious; no castle, no black lack, no forbidden forest. From his vantage point, lying on his back in the soft, green grass, he appeared to be in a public area of a quaint little town.

Getting to his feet and rubbing his sore backside, he took in his surroundings. In front of him was what seemed to be a town hall, to his right was a stone church with an adjacent cemetery. Turning around, Draco glimpsed a rather large two-storied, brick building with an expansive lawn directly across the road from where he was standing. To his immense chagrin, Draco realized he was in a muggle town. There was no doubt about it once he heard the loud shrill of a bell and saw multitudes of filthy muggle children pouring out of the two-storied brick building, which was obviously a school. They were like insects, he thought, crawling over themselves and each other in their joy of being released for the day. “Simple minded vermin!” He thought and winced in disgust.

“Of all the rotten luck.” Draco muttered to himself. The butterbeer bottle must have been a portkey. It was the only explanation, but why would it have been lying there and who was it intended for. He pondered that question for a fraction of a second before realizing that he couldn’t care less, and spun back around, swiping the bottle up in one fluid motion. It was no longer glowing and that meant that it was no longer activated. It was useless. Draco pocked it just the same. One never knew when they might come across a wizard who had the capability to perform the Portus charm. It was far-fetched, he knew, but he wasn’t taking any chances.

By this time, the school children were ambling down the walk and headed his way. Draco grabbed hold of his time turner and began spinning the dial. Nothing happened. The inner mechanism was stuck. He considered smacking it with his hand, then thought better of it as he saw the children approaching, and swiftly tucked it back under his shirt. That’s when Draco fully comprehended his predicament. He was stuck in a muggle town, not knowing what day or even year it was, with no obvious way of getting back to Hogwarts, and wearing robes to boot.

Before he had a chance to remove his conspicuous mode of dress, he felt someone by his side, tugging at his robes. Draco looked down to find a small ten or eleven year old girl with inquisitive, chocolate brown eyes and bushy brown hair staring up at him. He had finally caught his breath and in that instant he lost it again. No, it couldn’t be! This little girl could not be…but she was… Hermione Granger!


As always, thanks to Alykat (Alonnet) for her amazing beta skills! A special thank you to harryjpotter for his help with the time line of HBP. Without him, I would have had to reread half the book before posting this chapter. Kindly leave any feedback here .

Draco Malfoy was sure he must be dreaming. He was stuck in a muggle town, with a broken time-turner and useless portkey, and now he was standing in front of a little girl who was none other than Hermione Granger. “Of all the annoying mud-bloods to run into, it had to be her.” He grumbled under his breath. With a sigh of exasperation, Draco snatched his robes from her grip, spun around and strode away, heading he knew not where. He would just pretend he hadn’t noticed Granger. As his legs were much longer than hers, he knew he could get away quickly and hopefully undetected by anyone else.

Although Draco usually couldn’t care less about playing by the rules, he understood the importance of time-turner laws and intended to follow them to the letter. He fully comprehended that the future could be easily changed by one false move on his part and he would be damned if his unfortunate misstep on a stupid butterbeer bottle was going to interfere with the life he had planned for himself. Turning the corner past the little, stone church, he stopped short. Directly in front of him stood the pint sized mud-blood Granger. He wondered how she had caught up to him. She was panting, but still looking up at him eagerly. “She must have run through the cemetery.” Draco thought. “Clever mud-blood.” He conceded silently.

“My, you walk fast. I thought I’d never catch you.” Hermione wheezed and then extended her hand. “Hello. I’m Hermione Granger.” When Draco looked down his nose at her pro-offered hand, she immediately contracted it but continued on in a rush. “Oh you needn’t be worried; I’m a witch. I just got my letter from Hogwarts two weeks ago. I could tell that you were a wizard by your robes.” She finished, smiling from ear to ear, obviously pleased with herself and her ability to spot magical folk.

Draco was beyond irritated now. Not only did he run into his least favorite mud-blood, but she had already received her letter and therefore knew he was a wizard. Things had gone from terrible to horrible in the blink of an eye. He had to get rid of her. “Listen, you snot nosed little brat,” Draco spat with a sneer fast forming on his face. “I don’t have time for your nonsense! Now leave me alone!” He pivoted around, intending to walk in the opposite direction, but was pulled back by a sharp jerk at his neck. Coughing, nearly choking, he wrenched his head around to find Hermione holding his time-turner tightly in her small hand, as the attached chain dug further into his neck. He felt like a dog on a leash.

“Let go of that, you filthy-” Draco fumed, his words drifting off into a loud grunt as he swatted Hermione’s hand and pulled at his precious time-turner.

Clearly frightened by Draco’s sudden fit of rage, Hermione let go instantly and backed away, staring wide eyed as the mixture of gravity and her lack of hold on the time-turner caused Draco to fall backwards. He landed with a loud thud on his backside. The glare he shot at her was terrifying. It should have caused her to run away in fear, but instead, Draco watched as she took a deep, steadying breath and reached out her tiny hand to help him up.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to make you fall, it’s just…I was interested in that device you have around your neck. I’ve never seen anything quite like it before.” Hermione spoke very rapidly. “I’ve read ‘Hogwarts: A History’ from cover to cover and never came across anything of that nature. What exactly is it?”

Again, Draco stared at the hand she was offering and refused her help, getting up on his own. He had planned on getting away from her without the use of magic; he figured she would be easy to shake. Now he realized just how wrong he was. Draco nonchalantly felt for the wand that was tucked into his robe pocket. He would have to resort to magic, just as soon as the school children, who seemed to be everywhere at the moment, dispersed. In the meantime, he would just deny everything and be as nasty to her as she deserved. He opened his mouth, intending to deliver a torrent of insults, when Hermione spoke again.

“I know you’re a wizard, so there’s no use denying it.” She stated rather boldly for one so young. “But honestly, you needn’t worry; I won’t tell anyone.” Hermione reassured. “I understand why witches and wizards have to be kept a secret from muggles. I’ve done loads of reading since I got my letter. Like I said, I’ve read ‘Hogwarts: A History’ and it’s proven immensely helpful!” Hermione finished with a self satisfied look on her face.

Draco’s chest deflated. All the air he had just inhaled in preparation for his tirade rushed out in one long sigh. He felt defeated. Draco knew his lack of sleep, the events of the day, and his current inability to use his wand were catching up with him when he caught himself staring intently at Granger, his lips slightly parted and admitting the truth with a disgruntled groan. “Yes, I’m a wizard.”

“I knew it!” Hermione shrieked with glee, before bombarding him with questions. “Do you go to Hogwarts? What house are you in? Have you seen your house ghost? What about-?”

“Listen!” Draco interrupted. “I’m a wizard, okay? You’re right! Are you satisfied now? I have important things to do. I…I have to get back…to where I’m from. So if you’ll just leave me alone…”

“Are you going to disapparate? Not to Hogwarts, I hope, because it’s not possible to apparate into or dissaparate out of the school or its grounds.” Hermione stated matter-of-factly, all the while staring up at Draco with all the eagerness and interest of a little girl who has just discovered a whole new world.

“For the love of Merlin!” Draco shouted over the top of her head. “How did she know so much about wizarding life?” He wondered to himself. She just received her letter mere weeks ago, had only read a few books, and already she was lecturing him on the dos and don’ts of Hogwarts. Was she really that bright? Suddenly, a new thought entered Draco’s mind. If she was in fact that clever, then maybe she could help him out of this situation. She might even know of where the nearest wizarding town was. He needn’t break time-turner laws, just bend them slightly. He’d tell her as little as possible and get as much information out of her as she had stored underneath all that bushy hair. He looked down at her and found she was still gazing up at him intently.

“Oh, where are my manners?” Draco drawled, doing a pretty good impersonation of his father. “I’m Draco Mal…um…cee-us.” He quickly corrected his faux pas.

“Hello, Draco Malumcius. I’m Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you.” She beamed, happy to finally have a proper introduction. “Does your surname have Latin origins?” Draco just shrugged. “Sounds like it to me.” Hermione replied, sounding very official.

“Anyway, like I said, I am a wizard, and I’ve lost my way a bit. Maybe you could be of some assistance.” Draco went on to ask her all manner of questions regarding the closest wizarding enclave, and witches or wizards who might live in the area. Unfortunately, Hermione couldn’t be of any help. Finally, at his wit’s end, Draco pulled his time-turner from under his now crumpled, white shirt and told her the truth.

The look on Hermione’s face, once the truth about the time-turner and the portkey had been divulged, was a mixture of pure awe and curiosity to know more. But all of a sudden her expression changed. She scrunched up her face in determined concentration, obviously trying to work something out. Just as the outlines of a furrow began to crease her brow, she announced, “I know what we can do! We’ll bring your time-turner home to my dad. He spends most of his free time tinkering with antique watches. He’s a genius at it! He has lots of little tools, being a dentist and all. I’m sure he can fix it!”

“What’s a dentist?” Was Draco’s only response.

Hermione patiently, and very thoroughly, explained the mechanics of dentistry. Draco’s expression went from slightly interested to repulsed almost instantly and grew more pained by the minute. Finally, he sneered and drawled, “Things are much less barbaric in the wizarding world.”

As Hermione gabbed on about the merits of dentistry, Draco silently weighed his options. He could wander about looking for some magical help; Merlin knew if or where he’d find any. He could hope that Snape would notice he was missing and start a search for him, or he could go home with Hermione Granger, of all people, and possibly get his time-turner fixed. He hated to admit that the last option seemed to him the best.

If her father could indeed repair his time-turner, Draco could get back to his own time and worry about getting back to Hogwarts later. At least he’d be in the right year. Draco was reasonably sure that he could calculate the exact amount of turns needed, based on Hermione’s current age, to bring him back to the correct day. Refocusing on the conversation at hand, Draco heard Hermione inviting him for home for dinner. Just the thought of what sort of rubbish a muggle might serve for dinner caused Draco to roll his eyes. He stifled a grunt before muttering, “Fine. I’ll come meet your parents.”

Hermione’s enthusiasm was evident. “They’ll be rather excited to meet a real live wizard!” She exclaimed, as she took off down the road leading the way to her home, pulling a dejected Draco behind her.



A big thank you to my beta Aly for her help.
I love feedback !

Draco looked around the lounge he was currently sitting in. It was rather roomy and very tidy. The walls were a soft, warm yellow and were lined with overflowing bookshelves on the far side. The furniture was mostly clustered around the unlit fireplace, except for a cozy looking, chintz covered, wing backed chair in one corner and, abutting the front window, two straight backed chairs and a game table, where a chess board was set up. The Granger household wasn’t as bad as Draco had first feared. At least these muggles had books and chess!

When the eleven year old version of Hermione initially swung open the front gate and lead him through her flower laden garden and up the path to her front door, the only thought meandering through Draco’s mind was, “how ordinary”. There was nothing about the brick front house with its green painted door and wooden shutters to make it stand out from any of the other homes on the winding, suburban muggle street. Even the flowers in the garden and the window boxes were not noteworthy; just a regular grouping of average looking plants. This house made Malfoy Manner look more like a castle than a mansion.

“If these muggles caught site of my home, their jaws would drop in astonishment at the splendor of the place.” Draco snorted arrogantly to himself as he sat in one of the two matching chairs placed opposite the sofa. Hermione was presently setting the table for dinner; while her mother cooked Merlin knew what! Mr. Granger was out in his workshop, gathering up his tool collection, with the misguided notion that Draco cared to see it. Hermione had been right. Her parents were excited to meet a wizard. It seemed they had always known that there was something different about their daughter, but the Hogwarts letter had caught them by surprise. They had come around to the idea that their daughter was a witch rather quickly, but were a bit nervous about wizardry in general and expressed to Draco the wish that he would teach them everything they needed to know over tonight’s dinner. As if he could teach these muggles anything about magic at all. Their minds wouldn’t be able to handle such advanced knowledge.

“Are you hungry?” Hermione’s bushy head popped into the room.

Draco sighed. “Sure.” He grunted. Resigned to the fact that he was actually going to eat food prepared by a muggle, he rose from his chair and sauntered along behind Hermione into the dining room.

The sight that met his eyes truly surprised him. The dining room was very formal and it was obvious that Granger had gone to the trouble of setting the table with the best china and crystal that her parent’s house held. Mrs. Granger had just brought a perfectly cooked roast into the room and placed it in the center of the table. Glancing around, Draco spotted whipped potatoes, roasted potatoes, glazed carrots, and green beans spread out around the roast. The aroma made his mouth water. “It’s only because I’m so hungry.” He assured himself silently.

Once Mr. Granger came in, they were all seated and Hermione began passing Draco plates of food, starting with a basket of piping hot rolls and ending with heaping bowls of vegetables, as though she knew he hadn’t eaten since last night. Draco swiftly devoured everything on his plate and only when he found himself accepting thirds from Mrs. Granger, did he finally admit to himself that muggle cooking was much better than he had originally anticipated. That was also the point at which he remembered that he should probably thank the Grangers for inviting him to dinner. “But why bother?” He thought with a sneer. “They should be thanking me for gracing them with my presence!”

As Hermione and her mother began clearing the table, Mr. Granger brought out his tool collection. “So, Draco, let’s see this time piece of yours.” Hermione’s father said jovially, as he opened up his battered tool box and started piling tiny instruments on the dining room table, appearing very excited about the challenge that lay ahead of him. Draco must have looked as scared as he felt, because Mr. Granger stopped midway, and added, “Don’t worry, son, if it’s too complicated, I won’t tinker with it. But let me have a look, won’t you?”

Draco timidly pulled his broken time-turner from beneath his shirt and gingerly handed it to Mr. Granger. Before Hermione had come back with dessert, her father had figured out the problem. “It’s a common predicament, actually. I see it all the time with antique pocket watches. You see, the winding wheel is bent. When you fell, you may have landed on the stem, but the real damage happens inside the watch, or what have you, because the impact on the stem would have caused pressure on the inner workings. The first inner working that the stem comes in contact with is the winding wheel, here.” Mr. Granger pointed happily at the miniscule wheel which he claimed was the cause of all the trouble.

“Now, there could be something else wrong as well.” Mr. Granger went on, discussing in detail every last working part of a muggle watch. “I’ll check it out more thoroughly in my workshop…except for the core; I don’t think I should fiddle with that swirly stuff in the center. That must be the magical portion, but the rest is just like this one watch I once worked on…”

Draco listened as patiently as was possible under the circumstances. This man may be able to fix his time-turner, but did her really need to go on and on about it? Apparently, he did. Mr. Granger pulled out a small drawer in his tool box and emptied it onto the table, searching through tiny pieces of what looked like junk. With a disappointed look on his face, he sighed and admitted that he didn’t have the correct size wheel, but he would pick it up tomorrow, after installing a crown. Draco was rather impressed. He had no idea that the Granger’s knew royalty!

He heaved a sigh of relief when Mrs. Granger and Hermione came back, bearing a chocolate cake and dessert plates. Mrs. Granger sliced him a very large piece, placed it in front of him, along with a napkin and a friendly smile, and then prodded very pleasantly, “Now, dear, tell us all about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”




After transfiguring his robes into a pair of light-weight, black pajamas, Draco settled himself onto the pillow-laden guest bed that the Granger’s had offered him for the night and exhaled noisily. Now that he had drawn the curtains and gotten away from all that dreadful questioning regarding the Hogwarts’ curriculum and that tedious watch repair talk, he could finally unwind. He laid back and closed his eyes, but instead of relaxation, he experienced a queasy, churning feeling in the pit of his stomach. How could he even thing of relaxing, when he was stuck here and precious time was ticking away? Time that should be spent on completing his task for the Dark Lord.

Draco threw off the covers, sprung from the bed and began pacing the room. His uncertainty about Mr. Granger’s abilities to fix his time-turner and his unease regarding all the time he was losing with the vanishing cabinet began to turn into panic. His heart was racing and his breathing was becoming too shallow and rapid. The soft knock at the door startled him to such a degree that he nearly jumped out of his own skin.

“It’s me.” Hermione’s high pitched whisper came from the other side of the door. “May I come in?”

“If you must. It is your house after all.” Draco’s annoyance was obvious and flowed from every syllable.

When the door opened, it revealed the pint sized Hermione in a frilly pink dressing gown, holding a fluffy blanket in her left hand and a cup of hot cocoa in her right. “I thought you might have trouble sleeping, being anxious about your time-turner and all. Here’s something to help you relax.” She informed him as she handed over the steaming mug.

Draco accepted it, without so much as a nod of thanks, placed it on the nightstand and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I also brought you an extra blanket. It can get chilly at night.” Hermione blushed a little as she placed the blanket at the foot of the bed. “So, tell me…” She began hesitantly. “How does one go about getting a time-turner? And what about a portkey? What year are you in at Hogwarts, anyway? Do you think we’ll meet again…in the future?” Hermione was picking up speed and it seemed like there was no end to the amount of questions she had in store for him.

“Listen, if you wouldn’t mind,” Draco inclined his head towards the door. “I’m rather tired.” The look of disappointment on Hermione’s young face wasn’t lost on him. Seeing as she and her father were his only hope of getting back to his own time, and he certainly didn’t want to jeopardize that, he added, “There are rules. Remember I told you that? I can’t divulge anything about the future.”

“Oh, alright. We can talk some more tomorrow, when you’re rested. About magic that is, not the future.” Hermione proclaimed, rather stubbornly, before turning around and exiting the room with a grace that reminded him slightly of her older self.

Once the door clicked shut, Draco reached out for the mug of hot cocoa. After a few gulps, he turned out the light and pulled the covers up to his chin. He fell asleep quickly and effortlessly to the sound of soft rain hitting the window pane, and slept a deep, dreamless slumber like he hadn’t experienced in a very long time.



Sorry, this chapter is a little slow, but I needed it to get the story to it's next point. Romance is just a few chapters away...I promise!
As always, hugs and thanks to my wonderful beta Aly!
Feedback goes here!

Draco woke gently to the sound of pouring rain. Last night’s hypnotic drizzle had turned into what sounded like a monsoon. Water was beating ceaselessly against the glass of the window pane and the wind was howling and shrieking like a wolf. He languidly opened his eyes, surveyed the dim swatches of light peeping through the sides of the window shades and proceeded to stretch; a long, feline stretch that started at his toes and ended with his arms raised above his head, accompanied by a tremendous yawn.

As Draco slowly woke up, he pushed back the covers and swung his feet to the floor. Not bothering to make the bed, he got up and assessed himself in the dresser mirror. “Not bad at all.” Draco murmured to himself. The shadows under his eyes had diminished perceptibly and he looked somewhat healthier, better rested and well fed than he had in months. He felt more like himself too. It was if he had gone on holiday and come back refreshed and rejuvenated. This might turn out to be a good day after all, he thought optimistically. With any luck, Mr. Granger would have his time-turner fixed and he could get back to his own time and back to work on his project. Just the mental reminder of that made his shoulders slump though.

He hated the thought of once again trying, and then failing, to fix the vanishing cabinet. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the memory of the other task he had been assigned caused him to breakout in an uncomfortable, cold sweat. Trying to push that thought from his mind, Draco transfigured his pajamas back into his Hogwarts robes with the wand that he had slept with under his pillow all night. He stopped short when he opened the bedroom door and found Granger standing right in front of him, her small hand raised and balled into a fist. Immediately, Draco raised his wand and shouted, “Protego”!

“What on Earth are you doing?” Hermione questioned in a shocked but insistent voice, as she took a step backward away from the threshold of the door.

“What are you doing?” Draco shot back maliciously.

“I was about to knock on your door, obviously!” Hermione’s screwed-up face plainly showed her displeasure and he thought he may have even caught a flicker of hurt. She brought down her raised hand and crossed both her arms in a pose of annoyance. Her hair was wet, probably fresh from a bath, and pulled back in a loose plait that left her head looking a lot less like shrubbery. With an exaggerated sigh and a roll of her eyes, she gestured for him to move out of the way so she could enter the room.

Repositioning himself to let her pass, Draco watched as Granger stepped into the guest room, gave it a quick, inspecting glance and immediately went to work tidying it up. Making the bed and fluffing the pillows as though she were a house elf, Hermione asked, “What shall we do today? I had planned on taking you to the zoo. We have a lovely zoo here, but-” Hermione stopped short at Draco’s groan. “You don’t like the zoo?”

“I’m not very keen on animals.” Draco stated in a surly voice.

“Well, it’s raining, so it’s not a very nice day for it anyway.” Hermione paused. “And there was that incident just this week down in Surrey. A Brazilian Boa Constrictor got loose from its cage. Scared some poor boy nearly to death!”

“Why can’t we just go watch your father do that crowning?”

“Why on Earth would you want to watch that? Besides, I highly doubt Mrs. Winslow would want you to watch while my dad puts a crown in her mouth.”

Draco stared incredulously. “He’s putting it in her mouth?”

“Oh, dear!” Hermione sighed, plunked down on the bed and began to explain what a dental crown was and how it differed a great deal from an actual coronation.

Once Draco had been sufficiently educated in yet another form of dental torture, Granger started in on why his Hogwarts robes wouldn’t be considered an inconspicuous mode of dress if they were to venture out. After begrudgingly transfiguring his robes into something Hermione described as jeans and a tee shirt, Draco followed her down to the kitchen where Mrs. Granger had left him a hearty breakfast. As he helped himself to some orange juice, the strangely un-bushy head of Hermione Granger popped up from the newspaper she had begun reading to announce that she knew exactly how they could spend the day.



“Did you like the movie?” Hermione asked eagerly as they exited the theatre and she quickly pushed open the large, plaid umbrella that her mother had given her before they left the house to prevent them from being soaked. It was still down pouring and the wind had picked up its pace, whipping up discarded pieces of newspaper here and dropping them down there.

“It was fine.” Draco answered flatly. “Don’t know what all the fuss was about. That Robin guy was a prat.” Then, more thoughtfully, he added, “I did like that Sherriff bloke, though. He really knew how to handle that riffraff…knew how to get what he wanted. Shame he had to go and die; he was the best part of the bloody movie!”

Before Hermione could argue that the Sheriff of Nottingham was not the intended hero of the movie, the wind that had been tugging at her umbrella finally won its battle and pulled the umbrella inside out. The hard, driving rain hit them both square in the face. Draco felt for his wand inside the pocket of the rain jacket that Granger had told him was what muggles wore in this type of weather. If there weren’t so many of the blasted muggles around at the moment, he would have repaired the umbrella in an instant. But in the span of time it took him to locate his wand, he realized it wasn’t necessary. He was no longer being pelted in the face by the cold rain, nor was his platinum hair being blown back at top speed. Even though it was still pouring, and every other person in the vicinity was getting soaked, he and Hermione were perfectly dry and unaffected. It was if there was a shield between them and the rain.

Draco stared down at Hermione in confusion.

In answer to his bewildered look, Hermione instructed in a whisper that only he could hear, “Just hunch your body against the weather and pretend you’re uncomfortable. If not, others will notice that we’re not getting wet. Mom hates it when I do this.” Hermione admitted.

“Have you made us impervious to the rain? How did you do that without a wand?” Draco asked, not being able to keep the amazement out of his voice.

Hermione scrunched up her face in thought for a moment. “I’m really not sure how I do it. It’s something I’ve been able to accomplish for quite some time. I think weather may be my specialty. Now if only I could bottle heat and keep us warm, then I’d really be pleased.”

“You will.” Draco grumbled, remembering all the cold days in the Hogwarts’ courtyard when Granger, Weasel and The Chosen One all huddled around Hermione’s bottle blue flames and kept warm.

It seemed as though Hermione took this remark as a compliment; a vote of confidence in her abilities as a witch. It also seemed as if that particular statement gave her the courage to resume their conversation on the subject of magic that Draco had shied away from the previous evening.

“So, regarding that portkey you tripped over,” She began abruptly, catching him slightly off guard. “Who do you think it was meant for? It had to be someone of significance and authority to be able to get a portkey inside the Hogwarts’ grounds. They’re limited, you know.” She informed him as though she knew everything about the school she had yet to attend.

Draco simply shrugged his shoulders, showing a blatant lack of interest. Abashed, Hermione continued. “Don’t you even care? That person obviously had something very important they needed to do. They might even be very upset with you, having used their portkey and all!”

“Well, that’s their problem, isn’t it?” Draco answered in his usual carefree drawl.

“But, don’t you understand?” Hermione’s brow scrunched up in both agitation as well as concern. The little furrow was beginning to form between her eyebrows and she was biting the corner of her lower lip. “Whoever it was, they were trying to get to my home town.” She insisted forcefully.

That thought hadn’t even crossed Draco’s mind. Why was someone trying to get here, of all places? The question was intriguing, he had to admit it. But the last thing he wanted to do right now was brainstorm with the young Hermione Granger as to the reasons someone would have to come to a muggle town; this one in particular. So he played it off as if it was an everyday occurrence.

“Look, wizards travel to all sorts of places all the time. It’s no big deal, and if the portkey was so important to them, they shouldn’t have left it lying about, should they? If they had been more careful, I wouldn’t be in this predicament, now would I?” He questioned with assured superiority.

“Erm…no, I suppose not. Speaking of your predicament, how will you get back to Hogwarts, once my father fixes your time-turner that is?”

“I’ll find a way. As long as I get back to the right time, I’ll figure something out.”

“You could take a train.” Hermione suggested. “I have money.”

Draco scoffed. The last thing he was going to do was accept money from an eleven year old mud-blood and ride on a train packed with stinking muggles. Still, he supposed it was nice that she offered. “I’ll be fine. Wizards have many options available to them.”

Hermione’s face relaxed a bit. They continued on through the busy streets, passing folks dashing about in the rain doing their Saturday shopping despite the weather, and headed in the direction of Hermione’s home. Draco wasn’t sure why, but he was starting to feel at ease with the young version of Granger. He couldn’t remember at the moment why he had found her so obnoxious all those years ago when he first bumped into her on the Hogwarts Express. He had always thought of her as a know-it-all, a showoff even, but really she was simply a clever and curious girl who enjoyed learning new things. Sure, she was a bit too chatty for his liking, but she really wasn’t half bad…for a mud-blood.

As if on cue, Hermione asked, “Draco, how does one go about getting a time-turner? I think I’d like one eventually.”

“It’s not difficult. You just need to apply to the ministry.” Draco answered nonchalantly. “You’ll get one in your third year…um…I mean, you probably will. Bigger course load and all.” He quickly tried to recover his misstep, but she was too quick for him.

“You sounded as if you knew for sure that I’d get a time-turner in my third year! And before, when you said that I would be able to bottle heat; it was if you knew that too! Do we actually know each other in the future?” Hermione asked, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

“I can’t tell you anything about the future!” Draco snapped. “Don’t you remember? I told you that twice yesterday. And here I thought you were clever.” His chastisement of her was harsh and he knew it. Really, he was angry at himself for feeling so comfortable that he let his guard down and slipped up. He knew better than that and he had to be more careful. “Sor-” He began but couldn’t finish. The word felt awkward in his mouth. To Draco’s recollection, he had never uttered that word before. “I can tell you a few things about Hogwarts, though. What do you want to know most?” He offered instead.

The conversation continued easy enough as they made their way back to Hermione’s house, with Draco explaining the first year’s trip across the black lake and class schedules, as well as Quidditch rules and a few stories of his magnificent flying thrown in. Removing their damp shoes at the door, they proceeded into the lounge and made themselves comfortable in the two chairs set on either side of the unlit fireplace. Hermione got up and made to grab a match, seeming to want to ignite the logs in the grate, probably to drive the chill from of the room.

“Get out of the way. I’ll do it.” Draco announced, overcome by the urge to show off. Pointing his wand at the darkened hearth and enunciating, “Incendio!” the dry logs crackled to life with bright, cheery flames, warming the room and astonishing Hermione in the process.

Judging from the look on her face, Draco’s ability to start fire with one word had impressed her a great deal. She stared at him with something like awe and then blushed a little. “What else can you do?” She asked demurely, her head tilted down slightly, but still possessing that inquisitive look in her eye. He showed her Lumos and Nox, followed by Aguamenti. Draco made sure to teach her that exact pronunciation was essential for a spell to have its desired effect. He was trying to think of something a little more spectacular when they both heard the click of the front door and Mr. Granger’s excited voice calling throughout the house, “Muffin, are you home? It’s all fixed. I’m pretty sure I’ve done it. I can’t wait to see if it actually works!”

Draco bolted out of his chair and was in the hallway instantly to meet Mr. Granger and retrieve his precious time-turner. In his haste and excitement, he failed to notice the disappointment etched in Hermione’s young face as she watched him leave the room.



Once again, an enormous than you to my beta, Alonnet, for all her help and her quick turnaround. You're the best! For anyone who's interested, the movie Hermione and Draco saw was "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves", with the fabulous Alan Rickman as the Sheriff of Nottingham. I loved the irony of adding it in and when I looked into the specifics, I found that the movie was released in 1991! Perfect timing! If you feel so inclined, please leave feedback here .

Everything was a blur. Draco was up and in the Granger’s hallway so quickly, he nearly knocked Mr. Granger off his feet. Being excited to get back to sixth year, and also apprehensive regarding the actual success of the repairs, he thoughtlessly snatched the time-turner from Mr. Granger’s hands and reached down immediately, intent upon winding it. Luckily, before he could coax the mechanism into motion, a mature hand covered his, stopping him.

“Son, from what you’ve told us about all things magical,” Mr. Granger cautioned, “maybe you should take things slow. Examine the timepiece, make sure it looks up to snuff. Then, I suggest we take it outside before you start winding away.”

Seeing the wisdom in Mr. Granger’s advice, Draco nodded slowly and turned for the back door that he knew lead to the garden behind the house and, beyond that, Hermione’s father’s workshop. He proceeded down the hall, through the kitchen where Mrs. Granger was already starting dinner, straight out the door and then settled himself on the iron bench under the kitchen window. As he was meticulously scrutinizing his time-turner, Hermione joined him on the bench, sitting a bit too close for his comfort.

“How does it look?” Hermione asked. She seemed hesitant rather than insistent.

“Very good, surprisingly. Would you mind shoving over? Give me space to breathe.” Draco answered absentmindedly.

“Fine!” Sliding over as far away from Draco as she could possibly go without falling off the bench all together, Hermione began negotiating. “Now that’s settled, shall we have some dinner? Once you’ve had pudding and I’ve helped Mum with the washing up, you can have a test run with your time turner. I suggest you try going forward an hour or so. Then if all goes well, you can go back to your time tomorrow, after lunch.”

“Are you mad?” Draco shot back with such vehemence that Hermione did nearly fall off her precarious perch. “I’m going back right now! I can’t wait to be shot of this place!” As an afterthought, he added with a grimace, “No offense.”

Hermione bit her lower lip as her brows drew together. The tears that were threatening to spill over here cheeks went unnoticed by Draco. Anxious to be going, Draco gave Mr. Granger a quick and almost believable thank you and charged Hermione with making his excuses to her mother. Getting up and heading towards the workshop, without even looking back at Hermione, Draco asked to be left alone, explaining that he was fairly sure muggles shouldn’t witness him performing magic. Hermione’s father gave her shoulder a quick squeeze as he stepped back into his home, saying some nice parting words to Draco’s back as he went.

Despite being dismissed, Hermione remained where she was for a long moment. Looking miserable, but resigned, she followed Draco to the farthest section of the garden. In an imploring voice, she asked him to find out about the portkey.

“That again? Why are you so concerned about that?” Draco asked, rather irritated. He was anxious to be off.

“Because, who ever that portkey was intended for, they meant to be coming here, to my hometown. Please!” She scrunched her face up in despair.

Hermione’s plea made Draco pause and he turned to face her. “Alright, I’ll check into it.” He promised half-heartedly, thinking of all the other things he had to do that were much more important.

Hastily, Draco opened the door to Mr. Granger’s workshop and stepped in. Looking over his shoulder, he made Hermione promise to never tell anyone that he was there. He impressed upon her how important it was to follow time-turner rules, before reaching out, patting her on the head, saying a rushed goodbye and closing the door behind him, failing to see the lone tear that had escaped Hermione’s control and was rolling slowly down her cheek.

Finally by himself, his heart beating against his ribs, his head a little dizzy and his hands shaking, Draco pulled his time-turner up to his face. Taking a deep breath, he began winding the stem backward the necessary amount of revolutions to get back to the day of the first Hogsmeade outing, October 1996. As soon as he stopped, time began whizzing by his eyes. Everything was moving so fast, all Draco could make out was a colorful blur. Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped.

Looking around hesitantly, Draco found that he was indeed still in Mr. Granger’s workshop. He peered through the tiny window that looked out into the back garden. The scenery had changed though. It was no longer a cool, spring evening. It was a frigid autumn night. Draco’s stomach clenched and unclenched. Had he done it then? He was in a different time and it seemed by the season that it was indeed the correct time. There really was only one way to find out; he needed to get back to school, or Hogsmeade at the very least. Malfoy manner was too dangerous. He couldn’t run the risk of his Aunt Bella finding out that he had gone missing for two whole days, and even worse, that he had taken refuge with mud-bloods!

He wracked his brain. How was he supposed to get back to Hogwarts? Draco wished he had taken Hermione’s offer of train fare. He considered apparating, even though he hadn’t yet taken formal classes and therefore wasn’t officially allowed to apparate. He felt sure that Auntie Bella would be able to get any repercussions swept under the rug, but again, he didn’t want to run the risk of any Death Eater finding out that he had botched such an important task.

Draco was breathing too fast again. The air in the tiny shed felt too close and he wrenched the door open, bolted outside and bent over, his hands braced against his knees for support. After a few steadying breaths, he arose and ran his hands roughly through his smooth, platinum hair. Spinning around, Draco met a sight that nearly made him cry in relief. There, resting beside the shed, in the shadows of a nearby tree, stood a broom. To an untrained eye, it would appear to be just a regular broom, albeit with a strange contraption attached to its center. But Draco knew better. He was staring at an old, battered Cleansweep Five. It was not his broom of choice, but it would certainly do. Draco found that he was amazed Hermione even owned a broom. It was rather a well known secret that Granger was a disaster of a flyer, he thought with a snort.

Grabbing the broom in one, fluid swipe, he straddled it, kicked off and began his long journey northward. The cool night air whipped past his robes and nipped at his face. Draco felt the exhilaration he always experienced when flying, but he felt something else as well. It might have been pure solace. He had never been in a situation like that before; one in which he felt like he had no control and one that his father or the Malfoy name couldn’t get him out of. Draco was grateful for the first time in his sixteen and a half years. He now knew how it felt to be on his own, without the power and protection he was accustomed to, and was delighted to be getting back to the wizarding world.

Still, the experience wasn’t as awful as it could have been, he though as he flew over the village of Hogsmeade. The Granger’s were decent, even if they were muggles. At least the wife could cook and Mr. Granger did fix his time-turner, after all. Then there was Granger. She was definitely a pest, but she did try to be helpful. Draco remembered how her face scrunched up in concentration when she was thinking up a solution to a nagging problem. He thought about the crease that would begin to form between her brows and suddenly he was smirking. Before he could give much thought to his strange reaction to the memory of eleven year old Hermione Granger, Draco had flown over the Hogwarts’ gates and needed to find a place to land.

He chose a soft patch of grass not far from the spot where he had attended his first flying lesson. Not that he had needed it.

Draco arrived on the Hogwarts grounds just as the sun was rising over the castle. It was a breathtaking sight that wasn’t lost on him. For the first time ever, Draco Malfoy felt relieved to be back at school; he felt…safe. Dismounting Hermione’s broom, he stashed it at the very edge of the forbidden forest, promising himself that he would find a way to get it back to her before she returned home for Christmas holiday. As he mounted the front steps, he surreptitiously glanced around. It appeared he was the only one awake at this hour. Entering the front hall, he found it deserted, except for a lone house elf scurrying to finish cleaning the banister of the main staircase. In keeping with house elf etiquette, it merely went on polishing and pretended not to notice the rouge student sneaking about the castle’s empty corridors. Draco silently descended the stairs that led to the dungeons, passed through the Slytherin common room and kept on until he reached his dormitory. There, he noiselessly undressed and climbed into his familiar, four poster bed, drew the curtains shut and fell into a self satisfied sleep.





Seventeen year old Hermione Granger awoke with a start. Her eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright in her bed. She looked around nervously, to see if anyone had noticed, and was thankful that her curtains were drawn tight. Hermione had just woken from the strangest dream…about Draco Malfoy. It must have been caused by all of Harry’s talk about Draco being involved in Katie’s accident with the cursed opal necklace yesterday. But still.

It was the oddest, yet most vivid dream she had ever had. She envisioned a chance meeting with Draco in her hometown. He was the same age as he currently was, but she had been a child. She further dreamt that he had been at her home, that he had eaten with her family, and additionally, and most surprisingly…that she had taken him to a muggle movie! “What a preposterous thing to dream about!” She remarked to herself as she drew open her curtains and climbed out of bed.

Hermione brushed her teeth, dressed quickly and pulled her hair back into a neat braid before heading down to the common room. The room was packed to bursting and all the talk was about Katie Bell and the cursed Opal necklace. She joined Harry, Ron, Ginny and Neville, who were seated by the fire. Harry was holding court, telling Ginny and Neville about what they had witnessed the prior day. He was of course insisting that Draco was the one who had given Katie the cursed necklace.

They took every word he said as if it were a proven fact. Only Ron appeared a little skeptical. “Harry, you have no proof!” Hermione burst out before she even took a seat beside Ginny.

The other four stared up at her in confusion. Blushing furiously and folding her arms across her chest, she continued. “Well…it’s true, isn’t it? You didn’t actually see Malfoy do anything!”

The looks on her friend’s faces clearly stated that they wanted to know why Hermione was suddenly defending Draco Malfoy. What they failed to realize was that she was wondering the same thing herself.



My continued thanks to Aly; the best beta I could ask for. Kindly leave feedback here. Thanks for reading and huge hugs.