Meet the Kids

Chapter 9

Not So Bad After All

Draco awoke earlier than desired the next morning, as it was a Monday and that meant classes for the twins and all the other students in the dormitory. Ian had practically hauled him out of bed upon seeing he had not even started getting dressed when the other boys were leaving the dormitory, and Dave and James seemed too stupefied by lack of sleep to explain his situation. He had, therefore, been prodded into getting ready for classes he did not take by Ian Thomas and marched downstairs to where Dave and James, with guilty looks on their faces, were waiting with a drowsy Lizzie and equally tired Hermione.

"You are insanely commanding," he snapped at Ian as the other boy peered at him sternly. He hadn't known nerds could be so imperious and get away with it, especially with a Malfoy. Of course, he was a sleep-deprived Malfoy who had spent half the night tossing and turning because of a certain unmentionable kiss with a certain Gryffindor he professed to dislike.

Draco's eyes widened in shock as this unmentionable thought, which had somehow managed to push itself to the back of his mind upon waking, even though it had treacherously refused to during the night, resurfaced with a vengeance. His eyes automatically flew to Hermione. Her gaze was also miraculously focused on him, and she practically jumped when she realized they were staring right at each other, looking away with flushed cheeks. Draco couldn't help but glance away as well, wondering with barely contained panic if maybe it had all been a dream. No, of course, it hadn't, but it couldn't hurt to hope.

Unfortunately, Lizzie, devilishly bright as she was, had noticed their odd reaction to each other and was eyeing them both curiously, her brain clearly working at great speed to figure out what was going on. Even more unluckily, her eyes seemed to light up, and a sly look worked itself onto her face, as if she had a solution to her suspicion that all was not right. Maybe that was his imagination, Draco thought wildly, stubbornly avoiding his daughter's acute gaze. He did feel a bit feverish, come to think of it. Maybe he would have to go spend the day in the Hospital Wing and not deal with any of this. Maybe Granger would forget about their kiss. He almost laughed. Yes, that thought proved there was a certain amount of delirium in his system, but somehow he didn't think it was due to any medical problem Madame Pomfrey (or whomever was the new nurse, if there was one) would accept.

"Breakfast," James said, stifling a yawn and climbing rather dejectedly out of the portrait hole. Draco followed immediately after, his movements jerky. He breathed a sigh of relief as Dave, not Lizzie or Hermione, immediately proceeded him. They walked in stiff silence to the Great Hall. He could almost feel Lizzie's desire to break the tension and demand what had happened as a palpable force that she was barely, but thankfully, managing to contain.

When they sat at Gryffindor, he again managed not to be next to Hermione, sandwiched between Sam and Sean, who succeeded in momentarily making him forget his predicament by somehow tipping over the pitcher of pumpkin juice before half the students had even sat down.

It wasn't to any great surprise that he saw Hermione preparing to go to classes with Lizzie after they'd eaten. He supposed that even in the future she would try to maintain academic excellence. And, Draco realized as the girls hurried ahead and he had no choice but to hang back with Dave and James, it was also a tactic of distancing herself from him. Sooner or later the twins would split up for their different classes, and they, too, would go separate ways. They wouldn't have to talk or even see each other, which was no doubt Hermione's intent, and Draco didn't know whether to be relieved or offended by that. No matter, Lizzie and Dave both had Transfiguration first, so they all ended up in the same classroom for their first lesson, anyhow. Professor McGonagall's eyebrows rose very high indeed when they entered the room amid the rest of the students, but she only feigned routine introduction and gave no indication that she had ever met them before.

Draco found it quite easy to move his thoughts onto other subjects once in class, in which he actually tried to pay attention, and did not make eye contact with Granger at all for the duration of the period. Next came Charms, which was still taught by tiny Professor Flitwick, who was practically radiating excitement as he beamed cheerfully at them and gave a small wave, obviously not trying for subtlety.

It was midway through this class, which was much more easy for thoughts to stray than in Transfiguration, that Draco realized Hermione was not actually staying with Lizzie as he had previously assumed. She was gravitating more towards Donna and Megan, though was keeping a careful, measured distance from them as well. In fact, she was very cool towards all three girls, especially her daughter, and spoke only when absolutely necessary in a tense, tight voice.

Draco had to rack his brain for an explanation, and remembered her anger of the night before when she discovered they had tricked her into using Veritaserum. Now that he thought about it, he realized, half amused that it was only occurring to him now, he had every prerogative to be mad, as well. Unfortunately, now that he had "opened" that particular line of thought, it was hard to stop, and his traitorous mind began replaying everything they'd said and done starting from the dance until the end of the night. It was bitterly ironic how unnerved he'd been by their slow dance, after he'd pretended to be her boyfriend, and how it was actually so trivial compared to what had happened later.

There was no doubt about it that the Truth and Dare setting had been premeditated, as the Veritaserum had been. A small part of him did wish to be angry, but he couldn't quite manage it. If Draco was honest with himself, he couldn't help but be a little bit proud that his Gryffindor children had enough Slytherin blood in them to use such dangerous Truth Potions at free will. Of course, Granger seemed to have a slightly different view of the matter . . .

He thought back to his first dare, and, as with the dance, had to wince at how traumatic it had been considered at the time and how little it meant now. Hermione's dare was another matter entirely. Draco was not quite sure, even to himself, why he had chosen to accept the dare, why he had insisted she turn him into a ferret. There was, of course, that by Slytherin rules it was required to do every dare, but he also had his pride to think about. Yet, didn't his pride also include not being transfigured into an already embarrassing animal? Had he wanted to prove something to Hermione? asked a very small voice in the back of his mind, one he usually ignored. If he had, he had succeeded, although he wasn't quite sure what. Perhaps she thought he was simply stupid, which was sort of what he was wondering himself that moment. Quite unwillingly, Draco found himself recounting it in his head in absolute detail as Flitwick's voice slowly faded to an echo. It was almost like being in a Pensieve, he could remember everything perfectly in his mind, exactly as it had been, starting from when he had first gotten up and moved in front of Granger . . .

Draco knew it was happening the instant she said the spell, yet he looked up and, as if time had frozen right before the transfiguration took place, caught her gaze. She looked tired and afraid, and was clearly worried, though her wand was raised and pointed directly at him.

Then the freeze in time vanished and Draco felt himself rapidly change. It was a brief transformation, lasting hardly more than a second, but he could remember almost every detail perfectly, as if it had been in slow motion. Suddenly, without any movement to bring him there, he was on all fours, and white fur had sprouted all over his torso and limbs. He felt the sleek yet bushy tail grow in that instant, and his whole perspective of the world changed from human to ferret without warning.

It was immeasurably strange to suddenly be smaller than everyone else and to have to look up to see them. The smell of mixed perfume, cologne, and sweat had increased tenfold, and if he tried hard he could even distinguish the exact scent of individuals. Hermione was the closest of course, and she reminded him of roses and ginger, and a mix of the manufactured smell of brand new books and the musty, warm smell of old ones. There was a certain familiarity to it, even though he hadn't actually pinpointed it before. She was very warm, and she was obviously trying hard to make him feel more comfortable. Draco couldn't help but shiver, partly from unsuppressed fear and partly from cold, but after a few minutes of petting, he did manage to calm down.

Once thus, he began to be consciously aware again of what was happening around him. It was Dave's turn but he wanted to choose Draco so they had to wait. After another minute (the seconds seemed to pass so slowly, it seemed much longer than just five) Draco remembered how Drake had acted in the Pensieve and what Hermione had said about ferrets being acrobatic. If that was true, it was good enough reason to show off a bit. Draco climbed up her arm, and discovered it was quite easy; claws were incredibly useful for that sort of thing. Perched on her shoulder gave him a more human view of the room, and if he could've, he would've stuck his tongue out at Jamie. As it were, ideas of revenge were already running through his head, as he stared at them imperiously, wishing he had a voice to command them all.

When Granger had yanked him so unceremoniously off her shoulder, he barely had time to register what was happening before hearing Lizzie's eager voice crying the counter spell. It was almost more disorienting than being turned into a ferret, to be transfigured back to normal. One second Granger was practically throttling him in her tight grip, and the next she was clutching his arms as he landed on the ground. An unknowing onlooker would've thought it a bizarre picture indeed. Draco felt a detached sort of indifference, and would've spaced out completely on the situation if Dave hadn't asked his incriminating question. After answering it, Draco wondered grimly what more embarrassment they could do that night, and it was for the fact that his and Hermione's pride had been compromised much earlier in the evening, not to mention natural, driving curiosity, that he asked about the Polyjuice Potion. From then on, Hermione's abrupt mood swings, from crying, to enraged, to- well- romantic, had mostly dictated his actions.

Reflecting back on the actual experience, Draco had to admit it wasn't as bad as it could've been. It was certainly better than in fourth year. At least he had no bruises this time, and it had only been in front of a select group, many of whom he would cease to have a connection with once they got home. It lasted longer, true, and this time he had been able to get better acquainted with his new body. Being a ferret had been different to say the least. Last time he had barely been able to understand what was happening, let alone think about it, but last night Draco had been able to get a grip on the situation. It was true, he couldn't deny, that he had been terrified at first. Old feelings of fear, old memories, had assailed him immediately, and there was the added knowledge that Hermione, despite their beginnings of friendship, was still a former enemy. It had been hard work not running from her lap at first chance, making himself stay and reminding himself that she wasn't going to hurt him and could actually be trusted. It had helped immensely when she had started petting him and then whispered her incredibly silly, yet somehow soothing, "I won't bounce you" in his ear. Unfortunately, he still didn't have any clue as to why he had agreed to it in the first place.

The one thing he could be sure of was that he hadn't agreed to it in order to sit on Granger's lap. Although, that hadn't been altogether bad.

Draco idly replayed the next major event in his mind, hoping there wasn't any telltale sign of red on his face. He didn't know what had made him reach out and comfort Granger. She certainly hadn't seemed to want it, at least not in the beginning. And then . . .

What had possibly possessed him to kiss her? Although, granted, it hadn't been all his doing. Judging from the way she'd leaned forward, it had been perfectly mutual. Something strange, that he couldn't even begin to describe, had happened last night. He'd felt sorry for Granger at seeing how upset she was. It was impossible to be mad for long when she had wrongly accused him of not trying to warn her about the Veritaserum. And she had seemed so honestly upset about the cursed Polyjuice Potion (which he could still not think about without inwardly gaping at the audacity of Granger and her bumbling best friends, not to mention the fact that it was purely for the purpose of spying on him of all people!). Personally, Draco didn't think there was anything too embarrassing about having turned partially into a cat, especially since it was just in the bathroom. However, Hermione had undoubtedly been under a lot of stress the previous night, he allowed fairly, and it would've been more overwhelming to tell someone you didn't like an embarrassing story.

Draco frowned. Of course, she couldn't really claim to dislike him anymore considering she had kissed him. That brought up the obvious point that neither could he profess dislike, which was slightly more discerning. Did that mean he liked Granger? It should've felt different, Draco thought indignantly, ignoring the sudden quiet in the room as Flitwick assigned homework (not that he had to pay attention, since there was absolutely no way he was doing essays in the future). There should be a distinguishably different change in feeling so you would know for sure if you truly thought of someone differently. For the moment all Draco had to go on were his own thoughts, which weren't particularly helpful at the moment.

Trying to assess it systematically, he was positive on several things: he no longer felt any desire to be mean or spiteful to Hermione; it was very hard to deny that there wasn't a certain amount of attractiveness to her- come to think of it, her eyes were quite pretty today with the sun glancing in from the window- all right, that was an unnecessary thought that had to be blocked if Draco was ever to regain control of his wits; she was intelligent, pretty, charming, mature, witty, and sometimes funny; he didn't regret the kiss; last of all, he had liked the kiss.

Oh dear, this was bad indeed.

Draco gulped. It was back to the kiss again. Now that he was trying to recall it, it was a bit harder to picture exactly. He hadn't pulled her onto his lap on purpose, there simply weren't that many accessible couches in the room, and the armchair had been closest. The night before, whether it was because of all the night's challenges, or simply because they were alone and she was upset, he had known inexplicably that he really did care about her feelings. All his words had seemed automatic, but not in a bad way. He just didn't take the time to consider them or the consequences they might present, because he knew they were the right things to say. Well, and of course there had been the Veritaserum, too.

As for what had brought about the actual kiss, Draco could only hazard that it was a result of staring into her eyes and knowing suddenly that, incredibly, he liked her.

The kiss itself was sweet and soft, with a touch of uncertainty that was like a cherry on a sundae, an unnecessary addition that made it all the more pleasant. Draco had kissed a few other girls, but never even dreamed of kissing Hermione Granger, let alone liking it and having it be mutual. He wondered suddenly if Hermione had liked it. She hadn't given any indication, other than her starry eyes as she said good night, although that was the way he had acted, too, so it wasn't much to go by. Draco chanced another glance her way, and, for the first time since before breakfast, caught her staring at him.

She wasn't staring straight at him, per say, but definitely in his direction. Her eyes were slightly unfocused, and though her quill tip was on the paper, it was not moving. Draco tried to make eye contact, and at the same time wondered, panicked, why he was doing so. Her eyes focused abruptly, and they widened. Draco's heart seemed to thump louder and speed up, though he couldn't tell why. Suddenly it felt a bit hotter, harder to breathe. It certainly wasn't natural. This had never happened to him before. Draco had never had such a reaction to a girl. Granger's gaze didn't waver at all, and he gathered by her thoughtful, musing expression that she had been thinking about the same things he had. Draco tried to regain a neutral exposure, hoping his anxiety was not showing. This is bad, he thought fervently, struggling not to be the first to break eye contact. Why was Granger affecting him so badly? He struggled to comprehend the reason and at the same time tried feverishly to ignore it, but it was impossible.

Somehow, against all odds, despite everything he'd done to avoid it, Draco had fallen for Granger.

He was very, very screwed.

They looked away simultaneously, and as if on cue, Charms ended, and the class stood to leave. Draco panicked, nearly going into hyperventilation as he followed James and Dave. He looked straight ahead, not glancing to either side for fear of meeting her gaze again. They re-entered the Great Hall for lunch, though Draco felt anything but hunger. He stared resolutely at the table surface, extremely grateful when Dave sat on one side and Ian on the other. Loud, familiar voices chattering struck up on the other side of the table. Draco wondered if he dared look up, knowing without explanation that Granger was sitting there, watching him. She seemed to have realized how uncomfortable she was making him and was taking full advantage of it, Draco thought sourly, annoyed with himself for acting so visibly nervous, and annoyed with her for doing it in the first place.

He chanced a glance up and nearly swore. It was Lizzie, not Hermione sitting there. So much for his laudable intuition. Perhaps that was something only females had. Anyway, that was what they were always talking about in those female mystery novels. Ahem, strictly according to his female friends, of course . . .

Automatically he scanned the rest of the table, but didn't need to look far. Granger was sitting two seats down from Lizzie, next to a younger Gryffindor. She wasn't even watching him anymore. Much to his annoyance, Lizzie leaned forward, trying to hide a grin.

"It's like cat and mouse," she said quietly, but loud enough for him to hear over the other students' voices. "The way you two keep staring at each other." Her tone changed from teasing to serious. "What happened last night?"

"Nothing," Draco said forcefully, instantly. He was determined not to look away from her eyes, which were boring into his so hard he was almost surprised she couldn't read the truth telepathically. Looking away was a sure sign of lying, as was flushing. He was so grateful to the Malfoy bloodline that they did not flush easily. Not that Granger hadn't been able to make him do so easily enough lately, he remembered irritably.

Unfortunately, Lizzie was not so easily deterred. "You're lying," she said confidently, eyes dancing with glee. "You can't even look at her without flushing, and you've barely spoken a word the entire morning."

Damn Lizzie's keen sleuthing!

Maybe Pansy had been lending her some of her mysteries . . .

"If you're so sure something's going on," Draco said with a hint of sarcasm, trying to sound as dismissive as possible, "why don't you ask Granger?"

For the first time Lizzie appeared a bit disappointed. "She's not speaking to me."

This was hardly news to Draco. "Well, then examine her facial features," he suggested with a good deal of indifference. He held his breath, wondering if maybe Hermione had given something away to Lizzie accidentally, which she would then reveal now so he would know . . .

"She's been pinker than Valentine's Day all morning," Lizzie replied disdainfully. "Honestly, I don't know what's with all your blushing. Dave and I hardly ever turn red."

Draco tried not to show his enthusiasm at her words. So Hermione had been thinking about him and what had happened, not to mention it seemed to be affecting her in the same way. That was good. Unless . . . what if it was pure embarrassment that was causing her to blush? What if she was mortified at having kissed him, and considered it her worst mistake ever? In an effort not to gulp and give Lizzie more ammunition, a lump formed in his throat that would've made it hard to swallow if he'd even been eating.

Lizzie's eyes widened and then narrowed suspiciously. "Why do you care? I mean, I thought you and Mum were going to change the future when you got back to the past, so that you two never got married, because you simply hate each oth-"

"Shut up," Draco hissed fiercely, and quite abruptly, Lizzie did. He was not frantic for fear of someone overhearing; she had been speaking in barely more than a whisper. But if she finished her sentence, if someone else spoke the same thoughts that had been running through his head all morning, it would make it more real than anything in Draco's mind could.

Lizzie leaned back, practically purring from delight. "Am I to believe this?" she exclaimed, no longer hiding an amused, triumphant smile. "You care about her now? You no longer want to change the timeline?"

Draco stood, pushing the bench back and causing several other Gryffindors to collide with each other. He took no note of the odd reactions other students were giving him as he stormed out of the Great Hall. A few more long strides brought him to the front doors, at which he paused, breathing heavily. He wasn't going to put up with Lizzie's prodding any longer, and he sure wasn't going to any more classes, either. Blood pounded in his ears, until it became hard to hear his own thoughts. Perhaps that was good, though; his thoughts hadn't been much good lately. It'd be nice not to think for a while and send them all packing. When they came bath, maybe his feelings would've sorted themselves out already. Without further considering Draco pushed open the door and practically bounded outside.

It had snowed overnight, and his shoes sank into the two accumulated inches. Despite the fact that his socks were already beginning to dampen, Draco didn't turn around and kept on walking purposely away from the castle.

It was easier to think here, though, and not so much of a burden, far easier to regain control than inside the castle. Draco ran halfway to the Quidditch Pitch and doubled over, gasping for breath. He straightened and stared morosely around. He had no intention of going back inside, but nor was there anything in particular to do out here. However, the fresh air was already doing him some good, and he could feel some of the tenseness leaving. Without thinking Draco started walking mindlessly towards the Quidditch Pitch. It was a perfectly natural move, since it was one of his favorite places in Hogwarts. In fact, he was quite fond of the field and the six tall hoops, and he thought longingly of his Nimbus 2001 back in the present.

So; there were several important things to sort out now that he was finally able to admit his unfortunate new disposition to Granger.

Most important, the question that would require the most consideration, what was he to do about it? He couldn't possibly tell her. More likely than not she still fully disliked him and was looking forward to returning to the present and ending this whole sham of a relationship. Draco certainly didn't blame her, even if that was no longer what he himself quite wanted. He kicked at the snow, his mood foul. Why of all people did it have to be Granger? This whole sudden change of feeling wasn't even the most annoying factor about it- rather, it was the girl who had caused it. After six years of enmity, how could such loathing change to fancy after a single weekend? Why, when he could recount numerous annoying things about her, such as her tendency to be a know-it-all, her unexplainable love of Potter and Weasley, or her being a Gryffindor muggleborn in general, could he only think of her pretty smile and sweet, good-hearted nature? It was simply absurd, and yet it shouldn't surprise him so much considering Drake had fallen in love with her, too, albeit in much different circumstances.

A few snowflakes drifted slowly from the sky, as if they, like Draco, were weary of some heavy onus. He watched the white speckles for a moment and then opened his mouth so a few could fall on his tongue.

"Did you leave because you prefer snow to the House-Elves' food, or was there something else on your agenda?"

Draco started, whirling about in a very unseemly fashion to stare at the person he had somehow known would follow him.

Hermione picked her away among the snow toward him carefully, doing her best to step in his footprints so her shoes weren't as submerged. She shook her head, snowflakes flying off her bushy hair and swirling around her in a way that gave her an almost ethereal glow. Draco smiled faintly in greeting, his throat suddenly constricted again.

She was eyeing him nervously, hunched slightly against the light wind, hands in her pockets. Judging by her sudden blush, Draco knew she was thinking about last night again, just as he was. It was almost as if he were back in the armchair again and they were leaning towards-

No; it had been a mistake. It didn't matter that maybe, just maybe, he had liked it. Nothing had changed between them and nothing would. Instinctively, Draco knew that she hadn't come out here solely out of curiosity: she wanted to talk about last night.

"It was an accident," he said abruptly, turning away so he wouldn't see whatever appeared in her eyes, whether it was agreement or hurt; probably the former. He put his face up to the snow so it fell on his eyelids with little pricks of cold. He felt rather than saw Granger step closer until she fell into step behind him. Without communication they slowly started making their way to the Quidditch Pitch, following Draco's original route.

"Yes," Hermione said after some time, looking grimly ahead. "It- it was a mistake. That's all." Was it his imagination or was there a hint of regret and doubt in her tone, as if she didn't quite believe her own words? Draco dismissed the thought immediately. It would be a foolish thing to hope for.

"We won't tell anyone about it," Draco added, as if it weren't already obvious. "No one ever needs to find out."

Granger nodded silently. They reached one of the three hoops at their end, and she leaned against one, surveying him with a blank, unreadable expression. Draco found it increasingly uncomfortable to be gazed at so. Usually it was he who had the impenetrable face, not the other way round. He shivered, and told himself it was only the cold.

"I saw Mia before coming outside," Hermione said out of the blue. "She said that Dumbledore has alerted the Minister of Magic and he's due to arrive in the next few hours. We can meet with him then and he's supposedly bringing an expert who might be able to fully explain what happened. I don't think I'll be going to afternoon classes," she added unnecessarily, seeing as how they had already started. "If all goes well we should get home tomorrow evening at the latest."

Draco nodded, relieved that perhaps they were at last going to get back home. It would be easier there to forget what had happened than it was now, when he was in such close proximity with Granger all the time. At least in the present he would only have to see her face to face during Potions and Care of Magical Creatures.

"Who is the Minister?" he asked, for lack of anything better to say.

Hermione gave a half-hearted shrug. "I don't know." They were silent again, watching the snow.

Draco struggled for words, knowing they couldn't leave what had happened at simply "we'll pretend it was an accident." It was, but at the same time it wasn't, and they needed some sort of closure before his mind could be at rest with it. Evidently she was aware of this necessity as well for they spoke at the same time.

"What are we going to-"

"Why did you kiss me?"

Draco stared at her, unsure as to whether to feel insulted or not. "You kissed me, too!" he reminded her fiercely. This was a point he had to make sure she understood, that she had willingly partaken in it and thus the blame couldn't fall all on him.

For the first time Hermione blushed a deep red. "Well, yes," she said in a soft voice that could nonetheless be heard over the swirling snow and wind. "But I already know why I kissed you. I want to know why you kissed me."

Draco was at a loss for words. What was she implying? he asked himself furiously. Was she saying there was a greater reason than just accidentally getting caught up in the moment? Unfortunately his own thoughts couldn't provide the answer he needed.

"I-" he stuttered, his mind utterly and completely blank. He struggled to form a single thought that would not come out as gibberish. "Why did you kiss me?" he mustered in weak retaliation.

She was almost smirking, he thought rather indignantly. That was his expression. "I believe I asked first."

"Ladies first," he retorted politely, showing her the proper way to do it.

Hermione only smiled. "Not in this case."

She wasn't going to answer first, and they both knew it. Draco gave up, much quicker than normal. He gave a mock sigh of exasperation, and her smile widened. He was happy that he could make her smile like that and at the same time disgusted that it pleased him.

"I don't know," he said at last, after careful deliberation and several practiced expressions of deep consideration that had been well honed in front of a mirror for use in classes. "Is that good enough?"

She frowned, looking almost stern. Draco wouldn't have been surprised if she started tapping her foot against the snow.

"Of course not."

Draco sighed. "Didn't think it'd be." He thought for real this time, eyeing her while he did so. She looked extremely pretty against the backdrop of snow. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and her eyes seemed to sparkle. No matter how much she shook her hair, snowflakes still dotted it as if they were magnetically attracted. She looked a bit fairy-like and rather more passive than usual, as if she were a benign, quiet person instead of a fiery-hearted Gryffindor capable of becoming quite impassioned when it suited her.

Should he be honest and tell her he had started fancying her? Or lie and say it had been purely accidental, adding an insult for good measure?

"Like I said, it was an accident," Draco said abruptly, tendrils of guilt stirring in him even as he chose the easy way out. "That is what we agreed, isn't it?"

It took Hermione a second more than needed to nod. "Of course," she said briskly. She gave him a very straight-forward look. "I still dislike you, and you me."

This did not comfort him as much as it ordinarily would've. Hermione shivered, and Draco in turn realized how very chilly it had become. The snow was falling heavier.

"We should go back to the castle," he suggested, stepping closer and telling himself it was only to share body heat.

Hermione nodded, her teeth almost chattering. Neither of them were wearing heavy robes made for outside weather. Draco pulled out his wand and began blasting snow out of the way as they walked slowly the way they had come. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and caught her looking at him, too.

"It's a shame we dislike each other," Granger said presently. "Otherwise it would've been-" She paused, as if steeling herself to speak. "Quite a nice kiss."

Draco almost broke stride in surprise. What was she doing? He still couldn't surmise anything from her face. "Yes, it would've been," he agreed, remembering the sweet touch of her lips. He stole a sideways look at her again, evaluating her build. He imagined she would fit perfectly in his arms if they deigned to hug.

"It was rather short, though," he added, abandoning all pretense and gazing at her avidly.

"Yes it was. I wonder what a longer one would be like," she said blandly and shot him a sly, surreptitious glance. "Probably terrible; I'm sure it was in reality a bad kiss, I just didn't have time to fully evaluate it."

Draco's thoughts were momentarily halted at her odd turn in conversation. He watched her suspiciously, and a hidden smile played about her mouth. "Yes, I'm sure it would be horrible," he agreed blankly, still unsure as to what she meant.

"Undoubtedly, you have very bad breath," Hermione continued as if he'd never spoken.

Draco stopped walking and turned to her in indignation. "Excuse me? I don't have bad breath!" Her nerve! His breath was beautiful, unlike hers probably.

"That is an absolute lie," he snapped. "And furthermore-"

"Not to mention you seem rather weak at the whole kissing business," Hermione interrupted, still ignoring him. She gave no indication of having heard at all, and was supremely disdainful. "Really, no energy. Limp as a- as a dead asparagus."

Draco practically had an apoplectic fit. Never in his life had he been accused of resembling a vegetable! And for her to place him in the same category as a dead one? That was simply inexcusable.

He gritted his teeth in anger. "Seeing as how it lasted for five seconds at most, Granger, I don't see how you could have such a detailed analysis. And to a better point, none of that is true."

Granger gave a loud, exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes. "Well, you're not one to comment, seeing as how you've never kissed yourself.

Draco let out a cry of outrage. "You-" Her eyes were bright with laughter and dancing around. Suddenly he understood. Without pausing to consider the implications of this revelation, he instantly changed from enraged to cocky, as was the Malfoy talent.

"At least you didn't have huge teeth bumping against you," he shot back.

For a few beautiful seconds she looked shocked before regaining control. "Baseless, Malfoy," she almost purred. "In case you hadn't noticed- and I'm sure you didn't, being the self-centered prat you are- they're much smaller." She flashed him a dazzling smile that made it hard for him to swallow. It was true. Somehow they had gotten smaller. Buggered if he knew how, though.

"And you're terribly awkward about the whole matter," he said, turning up his nose in perfect Slytherin style. "You obviously have no idea where to put your hands or anything."

That seemed to irritate her a little. Draco couldn't help but smirk a little. Despite the fact that he now fancied her, it was still fun to annoy her.

"Your chest seemed to work out well last time," she retorted, and then flushed.

Draco did not reply, (partly due to the fact that he was trying with all his might not to redden) waiting to see what would happen next. It felt as if the matter was out of their hands now, that they had orchestrated the set but whatever followed was no longer up to them.

"Strange how we both seemed to like it, though," Hermione breathed in barely more than a whisper. Draco noticed how close they had moved. He wasn't cold at all anymore, and though the castle doors were only a few yards away, there was no inclination to go inside. In fact, he liked it out here, just the way they were.

"Yeah." It was the only word that came to mind. Draco felt rather dizzy, staring into her eyes, which were suddenly the deepest, prettiest pools of brown he had ever seen. Where a moment ago he had thought them impenetrable they no longer were. He could read her intention clearly in them and the hesitation. He also saw trust. Draco hoped she could read the same in his eyes.

"I guess we really need to find out," Draco said matter-of-factly.

There was, of course, only one way to do that.

He leaned forward and kissed her.

It turned out that, yes, she did fit quite comfortably in his arms. She was just the right height, too, so he didn't have to bend down and she wasn't standing on her tiptoes.

If Draco had thought he was dizzy before it was nothing to the ecstasy he felt now. He hadn't realized how eager he was to kiss her again until the moment he did. When last night had been tentative, now Draco didn't ever want to stop kissing her, and for the next few minutes they simply stood in the snow, interlocked in embrace.

At long last their lips parted, but he didn't let her go. Hermione's breath was heavy in his ear, and both her arms were around his neck, lazily tickling him. He pulled her tighter into his embrace.

"Does your opinion still stand?" he whispered into her hair, and he felt her shake slightly with laughter.

She paused in pretend consideration. "No." She pulled away to look up at him. "That was a very good kiss."

"And none of your accusations are true?"

"No."

"Good. Neither are mine."

"I was terribly worried." She tried to mask the sarcasm in her statement and failed. The look on her face quickly turned to one of seriousness. "Draco, it wasn't an accident."

"That one? No, of course it wasn't, we were trying to prove some things."

She gave him a reproachful look. "I meant last night's."

"I know."

Hermione paused, obviously wanted him to expatiate but he didn't. She had brought it up, Draco thought self-righteously. She should talk first.

"I kissed you last night because-" Her voice faltered. "Well, besides being caught up in the moment, which we undoubtedly were, I- I think I might, maybe . . . fancy you a little bit." Despite the fact that they had just had a fairly romantic kiss and he was still, by definition, holding her, she turned an even deeper shade of rose, and it was not just from the cold.

For a moment Draco couldn't say anything. She looked at him straight in the face, not even blinking, waiting for a reaction. He tried to regulate his breathing.

"I like you, too," he said in a strangled voice. "In that way," he added quickly, lest she think he meant only in friendship. She gave a short nod, relieved.

Without having to deliberate it, they both let go and began walking to the castle again, albeit very slowly.

"It's probably just short-term, though," Hermione said, her tone more than a little hesitant. She had shoved both her hands in her pockets, and Draco found himself wising a bit longingly that she hadn't, so he could hold one.

"Of course," he agreed hastily, and inwardly frowned. "It'll go away as soon as we get home."

"It's just because of Mia and Drake's influence," Hermione continued, a pained expression on her face.

"Yes, we're not meant for each other at all," Draco added, beginning to warm to the subject. In all honesty, it would be easier to not like Hermione. It would make life a lot less complicated if they could simply go back to peacefully ignoring each other. Did he really want a lasting relationship with her?

Of course not, Draco told himself firmly. And the part of you that's disagreeing is only doing so to be obstinate.

They had reached the castle door. There were faint indentations of footprints in the snow and long, continuous lines that looked as if they could be from a carriage.

"Perhaps the Minister has arrived," Hermione said hopefully, her thoughts momentarily straying. She glanced at him, and bit her lip.

As they glanced at each other one last time, Draco felt a sharp pain in his heart. No matter how much he told himself it was a passing fancy, his conscience knew it was not going to be that easy. She was so pretty, clever, and, unfortunately for him, completely unforgettable. He wouldn't be able to look at her anymore without wanting to be near her again.

If Hermione thought the same, she gave no indication of it.

She smiled nervously. "We don't tell anyone, right?"

Draco shook his head. "Of course not. Least of all the twins. We don't want them getting their hopes up," he joked feebly. Hermione took a deep breath and pushed open the door. In an act that was pure spontaneity, Draco reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her back. He couldn't resist planting a small, quick kiss on her lips.

Her eyes widened in surprise as he pulled her inside. She instinctively yanked away.

"Er, sorry," he murmured, wincing at meeting her tart gaze. He waited for her reprieve.

Hermione raised an eyebrow contemplatively. "Well," she said ponderously. "I suppose one every now and then couldn't hurt."

For a few seconds he was too surprised, but he hastened to agree lest she change her mind. "Of course not." His heart already felt a bit lighter. He ignored the sensible half of his brain that was screaming this was a bad idea. It was an old habit.

"They don't mean anything."

"Nothing at all."

They eyed each other. Draco felt rather giddy. Hermione was smiling.

"Hermione! Malfoy!" Potter's voice echoed faintly in the Entrance Hall as the wizard himself ran down the stairs.

Draco frowned. Trust it to Potter to ruin a special moment.

Potter slowed as he approached, his brows knitting in mixed confusion and suspicion as he took in their close proximity and numerous snowflakes spattering them.

"What have you been doing out there all this time?" he demanded, staring particularly hard at Hermione. Draco supposed it would be easier for him to guess her thoughts, seeing as how they were best friends.

"We were just walking in the snow," Hermione said in a neutral voice that Draco became instantly envious of. She wasn't even lying, he thought appreciatively. And she sounded so calm and collected Potter would never be able to guess she'd just been snogging his nemesis. Or his former nemesis, anyway. Despite what he and Drake claimed, Draco had a very sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach that they didn't detest each other quite as much as they pretended.

"Of course you were," Potter said sarcastically, and Hermione flushed. Draco remained impassive, surveying Potter with dislike and half-hoping that if he glared hard enough, his feelings of enmity would somehow magically transfer to Drake as well. Not incredibly likely but still . . .

"The Minister of Magic is here," he continued, beckoning them towards the stairs.

"He's waiting for us in Dumbledore's office."

Hermione eagerly sped towards the stairs, and Draco followed at a more sedate pace, lagging purposely behind Potter.

When they reached the door to Dumbledore's office, they could hear faint voices coming from inside. They entered to see the Headmaster, Mia, Drake, Weasley, Ginny, another elderly man, and the least likeliest person Draco would've thought he'd see.

His jaw dropped for the second time in two days, and though he knew it was not dignified at all, he couldn't help it.

There was something dreadfully wrong in the future, more wrong than even Drake and Mia's marriage. The water supply had to be contaminated or something, because the person he was staring at in such stupefaction was the last person on the planet Draco would've thought suitable for Minister of Magic material.

Well, ok, it wasn't Crabbe or Goyle, but still . . .

Neville Longbottom was Minister of Magic.

There was a very bad taste in Draco's mouth, and he felt an intense urge to step on something or be otherwise violent. Since when did Longbottom, of all people, become suitable for the highest government job in the Ministry of Magic? Since when did Longbottom even do well enough to graduate Hogwarts for that matter?

Unfortunately, Hermione did not seem to share his opinion.

"Neville?" she squeaked, staring wide-eyed at the cheerful, round-faced man. He looked mostly the same as he did in the present, except older, obviously, and a bit wiser, if Draco had thought that possible. It was easy to tell immediately who it was, although that didn't stop Draco from hoping for a split second that maybe he had mixed Longbottom up with someone else entirely.

The man's face broke into a huge grin. "Hermione!"

Draco felt like he had swallowed a box of nails without chewing. Now they were clanking around in his stomach and pinching him from the inside. Oh, how cruel the world that Neville Longbottom should be Minister of Magic!

"And Draco! What a pleasure to see you, too." Longbottom's beam faded a bit, and took on the plastered look of one who is only doing so because of the nice necessities. At the moment, Draco had sort of forgotten what those were.

"Well, you've learned acting skills," Draco said dryly, not trying to hide his glare of dislike. "It's a pleasure to see me- fancy that!" He was pretty sure Drake, Potter, and Weasley all muttered laughs, but it was a bit hard to tell over all the coughs that suddenly erupted.

"Yes, it's my job to be friendly," Longbottom explained, seeming to smirk a little. "Even to you rude, obnoxious Slytherins like yourself, Malfoy."

Ouch. Someone had grown a backbone over the years. Mia and Hermione joined the chorus of suppressed amusement while Drake sulked slightly.

"Had me worried there for a moment, Longbottom," Draco said easily. Though he was unused to receiving insults from Longbottom, that didn't mean he wasn't still instantly ready to retaliate. "It's already traumatizing enough to know Drake's friends with Potter and Weasley- I may have to kill myself if he's best buddies with you, too."

There were protests of outrage on all sides.

"We are not friends," Potter exclaimed furiously, and Weasley nodded in vigorous agreement, too appalled for words.

"We've just . . . adapted," Drake said almost petulantly, crossing his arms and frowning reproachfully at Mia, who was biting back another giggle.

Ginny snorted, looking disparagingly at the men, and sighed. "Honestly."

"Erm, Neville, what's going to be done about the missing Time-Turner?" Hermione asked worriedly. "How are we going to go back 25 years when a normal one only goes in intervals of an hour?"

"Speaking of which, why did Lizzie's go back 25 years in the first place?" Ginny added. "Hermione- that is, Mia, thinks it might've broken somehow."

Longbottom indicated the elderly man in the corner of the room, who had so far not spoken. He was of small stature and had a veiled face that was unnaturally pale. Others might've called him shifty, but Draco suspected he acted mysterious for reasons other than foul play; perhaps he was an Unspeakable.

"This is Erps," Longbottom introduced, and the man shuffled a few more steps forward, his eyes darting suspiciously around the room. Malfoy couldn't help but feel sympathetic for him- what kind of surname was 'Erps?'

"He is our leading expert on Time Travel," Longbottom continued, giving no indication as to whether or not that meant he was in the Department of Mysteries. Draco doubted he'd get a straight answer even if he asked; after all, they were very secret people.

Erps, who looked even more wizened in the light, as if he were Father Time instead of merely a scholar of it, nodded to them all gravely before speaking in a creaky voice. "As far as we can surmise, Mrs. Malfoy's-"

At this Hermione gave a ferocious cough that was so fake anyone could've understood it. Erps didn't.

"-hypothesis is correct." Hermione glared at them all, and Mia looked as if she wanted to protest, too, but was reluctant at interrupting the obviously oblivious man.

"Over the years we have discovered that Time-Turners can be broken by several different occurrences. Sometimes spells done on Time-Turners can go awry with nasty results. For instance, decades ago, when we were still discovering their uses, one Ministry worker cast a polishing spell on the Time-Turner. Something went awry with the spell and the next time she used it the unfortunate woman got blasted back into a completely different part of the timeline." He shook his head sadly. "We never saw her again." He eyed them all sternly for a moment, as if they secrets had Time-Turners stuffed down their shirts. "That is why you should always polish the hourglasses with cloth instead of magic."

Draco was starting to get the impression that Erps had perhaps gone off the bend a while ago, and no one had had the heart to tell him so yet.

"One of the most undetectable forms of breakage, however, is if a Time-Turner falls particularly hard. Strangely, if there is no chip in the metal in the metal, it often means the Time-Turner is broken, whereas if there are discernable discrepancies in its appearance, it is generally still in good working condition."

"But what happens when a Time-Turner is broken, exactly?" Draco cut in impatiently. He earned a reproving glance from Hermione, who was enraptured with what Erps was saying.

"Is the time interval changed?" Hermione asked, her voice hushed and eyes wide.

Erps studied her gravely and nodded solemnly. "What an intelligent- and correct- guess, my dear. You show the same aptitude of knowledge as Mrs. Malfoy does."

Hermione kept her surprise and disgust to a minimum, and Draco looked more at closely at Erps. Clearly, he had failed to realize that they were the same person. Hadn't Longbottom and the others notified him of the situation before he'd come?

"He's a bit forgetful," Weasley whispered, leaning closer with a pained expression. Hermione nodded sympathetically. Draco would've too if he hadn't been silently ordering Weasley to go away.

"Sometimes the change is insignificant, and only results in a minute or two difference. In other cases, as you no doubt understand from the predicament your young friends seem to be in, the change is greater."

"Still, changing from one hour to 25 years seems an awful big jump," Draco commented.

Erps peered sternly at him. "Young man, do not underestimate the mysteries of time. In the grand scheme of life, wizards know truly only a small facet of it. Even the Time-Turners themselves work in ways we still do not fully understand."

Yes, there was no denying it. Unfortunately named or not, Erps was a loony.

"If you say so," Draco muttered under his breath.

"So how do we get back to our time period and get Cissa and Lauren?" Hermione asked, once again looking worried. "Breaking a Time-Turner wouldn't do any good because it could take us to any time!"

Erps nodded and gave a small, wheezing cough. "Yes, and we have to be mighty careful in the whole operation since, of course, we cannot change history."

Draco and Hermione exchanged a glance, though her face was more perturbed than his. Changing the timeline was exactly what they were planning on doing. The same thing seemed to be running through the adults' minds for they all exchanged simultaneously worried glances.

"Since Time-Turners are man-made, however," Erps continued. "We believe there is a chance of constructing one which will be set for the appropriate amount of time. Other experts such as myself are working on it at this very moment and it should be prepared by tomorrow afternoon. Let's see now . . . how long have you been here?" He consulted his watch briefly, as if it had a calendar tracking their jumps through time.

"Since Friday afternoon," Hermione said immediately. "We arrived at around four o'clock. It was about 7:15 in the evening our time when we left. So the time difference is about 25 years and, say, three and a quarter hours?"

Erps nodded. "Not including, of course, the actual number of days, but that is a fairly accurate estimate for the time being. Our experts can figure out the exact time and create a Time-Turner. All we need to do is set a specific time of using it tomorrow." He glanced to the adults for opinions.

"What about 7:10 pm so the exact minutes don't create a problem?" Mia suggested, and murmured agreements followed.

"Does that sound all right, Professor?" Longbottom inquired of Dumbledore, who gave a small nod, eyes twinkling.

Erps gave a small bow. "If that is the preferred time, I'll be in contact with my colleagues immediately. Someone will Apparate in Hogsmeade with it as soon as it is ready and it can be used tomorrow evening as planned." He exited the office slowly, giving them all dire looks as they left.

"Why don't we just go back 25 years?" Draco asked. "Then we don't need to worry about the minute details."

Mia sighed regretfully. "If we do that Cissa, Lauren, and Ken will have had four days on their own in the past to do whatever they like. They're all smart, but they could change something accidentally."

Draco considered her words and then nodded reluctantly. It made sense, even if the alternative required exact precision. Wait . . .

"Did you say Ken?" Hermione blurted out just as Draco opened his mouth to say the same. "What's he doing there?"

Weasley sighed wearily, and Ginny gave him a reassuring hug. "He's not here either. None of the other second year Gryffindor boys have seen him since Friday after classes. He must have gone with Narcissa and Lauren."

"They are inseparable," Drake muttered.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fabulous. More missing kids."

Hermione groaned. "This is so confusing. If we're here now, and this is our fourth day, it means technically that they've been in the past four days as well. But when we go back in time, they'll have only been in the past for five minutes at most when we arrive. It doesn't make any sense."

Mia nodded sympathetically. "That's what Mr. Erps meant when he said time travel was still a mystery. We understand parts of it, but not all. Those three might experience the four days now, but when we find them, they'll only have been there for a few minutes."

"So they could be changing the timeline right now?"

Mia blinked. "Well . . . no. We're going to get them in time before they do."

"But you just said they're living the days right now like we are," Hermione argued.

Her double sighed in exasperation. "Like I said, we don't know, and mixed future and past traveling is even stranger. Normal rules, such as making sure no one sees you, don't apply. The kids have traveled so far back that no one will recognize them, and you are so far in the future that you have to talk to someone."

"Besides," Potter broke in, taking Mia's shoulders gently. She stopped, taking several long, deep breaths. "They're all intelligent. If they do have these four days, then they'll probably go to the past Dumbledore and he'll know what to do. If they don't have these four days, since in the past, we'll be arriving seconds after you two originally left, which I personally think is the more likely of the two, then there's nothing to worry about."

"Easy for you to say," Drake muttered. "None of your children are trapped in the past."

"I only have one," Potter snapped. "And I care for Cissa and Ken just as much as a real uncle would. And Lauren, too" he added hastily after a moment and a nudge from his wife.

"So these four days- or five, if you count tomorrow- that we're experiencing are sort of like extra days?" Hermione clarified, sounding a bit calmer now that she was starting to understand.

Mia nodded, also looking less frazzled. "Yes, something like that."

Hermione let out a long exhale, smiling slightly. "It actually makes sense."

"Good, then explain it to me," Draco muttered, only half joking. In a weird way, it did make sense, and subconsciously he knew he knew the answer, but it hurt his brain to think about it directly.

"This explains why you and Drake never went to the future when you were in your seventh year," Hermione said slowly, addressing Mia. "I was wondering about that, since technically, if you're us, you would've had to experience this, too.

"But you wouldn't necessarily have if the Time-Turner always broke in different ways and the changed time intervals were never the same. For instance, if Cissa were to exist 25 years from the past and the Time-Turner gets broken again, she could only get sent back a few minutes, or it might not even break at all."

"But how did she get her hands on it in the first place?" Drake mused.

Weasley shifted, looking thoughtful. "Mia, didn't you say that Dave had said it fell out of his pocket? It could've broken when it fell and then maybe Cissa and the others stumbled on it by accident."

"They are mischievous sometimes," Mia said disparagingly, shooting her husband a stern glance. "Cissa and the twins get that from Draco."

Drake looked the very picture of a proud parent.

"Cissa would've recognized the Time-Turner as Lizzie's and turned it over for fun, thinking it would only send them an hour back," Mia continued.

"Neville," Hermione said suddenly, so loudly that half the adults looked startled. "Mia and Drake said we might need to get our memories modified. That's not going to happen, right?" She sounded very positive, only wavering on her surety a little.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Draco was pleased to see Longbottom reddening and fiddling anxiously with his tie and cloak fastenings.

"Er, well, Hermione, it's- we're not supposed to, erm . . ." Draco was reminded forcibly of the teenage Neville Longbottom he knew. It was quite enjoyable watching the Minister of Magic squirm in such angst.

Hermione seemed to grow taller as she glared at him. "Neville!" She sounded almost like a reprimanding mother. Draco could tell having his first name being used on him was having an effect on Longbottom. He looked to Mia and her two deplorable sidekicks for help, not unlike how he normally did in Potions.

"Please don't be mad," Mia said quickly, using the placating voice she had employed the first time they'd discussed this. "It's just, if you change the-"

"What if we don't want to marry each other?" Hermione burst out furiously. "It's not fair that you're going to decide our lives by making sure we don't have a say!"

There was another nasty silence. Mia looked so close to crying from guilt Draco almost felt sorry for her. Drake was impassive, but his eyes were flicking from his wife to the teens with trouble in them. Dumbledore stood watching off to the side, as if he were a spectator behind a glass wall that might jump in at any moment to meditate. As for Potter and Weasel . . .

"I have a story for you," Potter said, conjuring a stool with his wand and sitting on it comfortable. He conjured several other chairs and gestured for them to sit down. Hermione looked suspiciously at him.

"What?"

"Please, Hermione?" Potter wheedled. Hermione sighed and reluctantly sat, gazing at Potter expectantly. Draco scowled.

"Once there was a boy who defeated the most powerful dark wizard in the world when he was seventeen. He did it at school, when the wizard and his supporters attacked in June." Potter paused, as if struggling for words. Hermione looked as if she wanted to speak but refrained, showing a hint of interest.

"He couldn't have done it without his friends, though. And his teachers. He had a wonderful guide who did a lot of the fighting in the beginning. This person is the only reason the boy even lived to even reach age seventeen. He had wonderful teachers and many friends who were all passionate about saving the wizard world from domination. But he also had two best friends, the best ones in the world, who had always been there for him, since he was eleven."

If Draco tried really hard, he could pretend this story wasn't about Potter and actually enjoy it.

"Earlier in their seventh year, though, one of his best friends, the girl, had fallen in love with someone her two best friends did not like at all. In fact, they really resented each other, and for a while the two boys and the girl fought a lot. They still loved each other dearly, though." At this point, Draco did not know whether he meant the trio of Mia and Drake. Perhaps he was referring to both relationships.

"All that matters, though, is that they did hang onto their friendship. And strangely enough, at the end, the girl's relationship did become important. Over the months friendly relations between all the different students had begun to grow. When the evil wizard and his supporters showed up, the students who might once have joined the bad guys, didn't and stayed out of the fighting. The boy and his friends fought that night, and a few people died." Potter's voice was hoarse. "But they had to believe that somehow it all worth it, because in the end, the bad guy was destroyed. However, if the girl and her boyfriend hadn't been in love, more students probably would've died from each other's hands." It was a mark of how serious Potter was that there was no trace of grimace at all on his face as he spoke of Mia and Drake.

"In the end it all turned out all right. I don't think the three boys even dislike each other quite so much anymore, either, and I know the girl is certainly happy."

Potter's voice fade, and his eyes moved from Mia, to Weasley, and finally to Drake. Mia looked teary-eyed and was smiling, Weasley had a reminiscent expression of solemnity on his face, and Drake was smiling slightly. Potter's voice was cracking as he spoke the end of his story.

"And they all lived happily ever after."

A third, long silence stretched out. No one in the office moved or spoke. Draco didn't know what to think. Glancing at Hermione, he saw her eyes were glimmering slightly with tears, as well. He felt almost guilty for not showing some kind of feeling as the others all were.

If Potter hadn't been telling such a touching story (or one without such meaning) he would've considered it condescending to be told in such a manner. In this occasion, however, even Draco had to admit that Potter's short narrative had been profound. So that explained what Dave had meant when he'd said "if you and Mum hadn't trusted each other." It made sense, in a way, that in an alternate universe where Draco and Hermione hadn't ended up together, the Slytherins would've joined their parents and sided against the other students. However, Draco did have a fair amount of influence in his House, and if friendships and truces really had started developing before the Dark- well, Voldemort's attack, perhaps the Slytherins, instead of siding against their parents, had remained neutral. It did make sense in the strangest sort of way, just like the Time-Turners and the time travel theory did, only a bit simpler.

That also meant that there was another important aspect to Drake and Mia's relationship than just their love, although there was no doubt in his mind which was the more important of the two to them.

"So," said Mia softly, her eyes still a bit watery. "Do you see why it's so vital that you don't change the past? Not just for us, but for other lives as well?"

"But the Slytherins and other Houses could become friends even if we don't start dating," Hermione struggled to protest, though she was very half-hearted about it.

"But we have no guarantee," Weasley said. He seemed the most genuinely sympathetic of the adults, probably because he and Drake were the furthest apart, but he, too, was firm.

To think that Draco would live to see the day when Weasley was telling him he had to end up with Granger.

"A Slytherin probably saved my life," Longbottom broke in, his voice unusually quiet. "I was attacked by a Death Eater and was lying bleeding on the floor. He was about to finish me off, and Theodore Nott stunned him from behind. He didn't directly hurt the Death Eater, but at least stopped him from killing me."

Draco tried to picture Theodore saving Longbottom's life. Surprisingly, it wasn't that hard. He was probably the gentlest of the Slytherins in their year, and was a bit reclusive, even for one of their House.

"Do you really still hate each other after all you've learned over these past few days?" Drake hadn't spoken in a while, and his voice sounded distant and oddly familiar. Despite the age difference, he sounded just like Draco, and for a second Draco half expected everyone to look at him, thinking he had spoken.

As was the question, everyone turned to look at him and Hermione, anyway.

She eyed them all almost stubbornly, and for once didn't blush. There was a long pause before she answered. "No." She sent him a fleeting glance before turning away and letting her bushy hair fall in front of her face so he couldn't see her.

"No," Draco repeated, his own voice foreign as well. He sounded just like Drake.

"We didn't really think so," Mia said quietly. And that was it. No more was said on that matter. As if by cue, the adults stood and stretched from their various seats. Dumbledore's eyes still had the maddeningly twinkling glow, as if the world around him never ceased to amuse him. It was a quality Draco despised and admired at the same time, that the man should never let troublesome circumstances bring him down.

"The twins should be getting out of classes anytime now," Mia said, walking to the door. "We'll walk with you back to Gryffindor."

Draco and Hermione followed her back to the tower, Drake bringing up the rear. At the portrait Mia turned around and took a deep breath, as if she regretted whatever she was about to say.

"There is, obviously, a slight chance that the past will somehow be changed anyway, even if your memories are modified. Time works like that. So . . . there's still chance you may not . . ." Her voice trailed off and she looked significantly at Drake, her eyes showing worry. Drake took a step toward his wife and then hesitated, looking at the kids.

"We'll go inside," Hermione said quickly, and before Draco could protest, she had grabbed hold of him and yanked him into Gryffindor with more force than she usually showed. Draco walked into the common room and expected her to do the same. However, she had knelt beneath the portrait hole and, to his amazement, had opened it a crack so she could see out. Hermione was spying on the adults.

Draco opened his mouth to object or in the very least exclaim in surprise, but Hermione motioned for him to be quiet. For a second he was uneasy with the thought of watching Mia and Drake- not because of his conscience, which he liked to think of as permanently on vacation, but because the adults were obviously going to show unnerving amounts of affection. Curiosity won, though, and he scrambled to join Granger in front of the portrait.

Drake was standing with his arms around Mia, her head tucked under his chin. It was not unlike how he and Granger had been standing in the snow. Drake was murmuring something in her ear, but Mia's voice broke thought his attempts at soothing her.

"What if they don't, Draco? What if when we get back after we bring them home we don't even know each other anymore because they changed the past?"

"They'll end up together," Drake said confidently and gently kissed her temple. "They're us."

"Yes, but . . . I'm afraid of losing what we have!"

Drake seemed to hold her tighter, as she buried her face completely into his chest. Draco began to get a bit hot around the collar again, and he tried to subtly inch away from Hermione. It was almost impossible, though, considering he had to stay close enough to see through the portrait hole, too. She wasn't paying any attention to him, however, her eyes focused unblinkingly on the pair in front of them.

"I love you, Hermione. Nothing is going to change that," Drake said firmly.

"I lo-" Mia began, but Drake didn't give her time to finish. Their kiss was enough to put Draco and Hermione's to shame, and after a few seconds Draco had to look away. Hermione was still watching, though without so much avid interest, and there was a rising blush on her cheeks.

"Mum! Dad!" The appalled voice coming from the stairs was easily recognizable as Lizzie's. Draco pulled Hermione away from the portrait hole, and rose quickly, backing away so that if it were opened suddenly, their actions wouldn't be obvious.

Draco pushed the portrait open, feigning a look of surprise as he saw the twins. Mia and Drake's kiss ended rather abruptly as they sprang apart with looks of shock at their kids. Lizzie was speechless and, quite plainly, horrified. Dave had a hand halfway toward his face as if to cover his eyes. James was politely looking the other way, wincing.

"We are being scarred! We'll all end up like Harry!" Lizzie cried shrilly. "As I speak, we are being psychologically damaged beyond repair by witnessing such- such-" But apparently her parents' crime was too heinous for words for she fell silent, simply glaring.

"You mean you weren't already psychologically damaged to begin with?" Draco muttered.

"You approve of this?" Lizzie demanded, looking squeamish.

"Of course not," he said uncomfortably, and was significantly aware of the fact that it was a complete lie. For the first time since they had arrived and learned about the future, Draco understood the truth as he hadn't before:

Mia and Drake were truly in love.

It wasn't just a game that was going to end when they went back to the past, but perhaps part of him had always sub-consciously assumed it was so. No matter what happened, even if their memories were erased, Draco suddenly understood the true meaning of what the adults had been trying to explain all along. They loved each other, and nothing he and Hermione did now could change that. And he suspected, his heart beginning to beat a little faster, that nothing they could do once they returned to the past would change that either. Drake and Mia were meant for each other.

And Draco would never be able to forgive himself if he ruined that for them, if he took them away from each other. But that meant he had to end up with Granger . . .

It wouldn't be so bad, though, dating her. He wanted to at least keep the little friendship they had acquired.

"Lizzie, stop complaining," Mia ordered, and for once Lizzie listened, though she glared grouchily at her parents nonetheless.

"How was your dance?" Drake asked.

"Great," Dave said enthusiastically.

"Yeah, loved the Father-Daughter dance," Lizzie said, still scowling.

Drake raised an eyebrow, surprised. "What do you- oh, you meant that father. I was with your mother last night." He looked amused as he indicated Draco.

Lizzie gave an outright gag.

"In a perfectly innocent situation," Mia added with a sigh upon seeing her children' stricken faces. "We were with Harry, Ron, and Ginny."

"Oh, that's just plain wrong!" Lizzie exclaimed in mock horror.

Draco didn't find her jokes at all funny. Nor did anyone else.

"Ron's going to be having a talk with Pansy about the dress Jamie was wearing," Mia said, frowning at Lizzie. "Harry actually had to keep him from falling down the stairs last night when we saw her walking back to Slytherin."

The twins exchanged soft snickers, and even Draco had to smile as he imagined the look of horror on Weasley's face when he saw his daughter's appearance.

"Hermione and Draco will be going home tomorrow," Mia continued. "Drake and I are taking them home."

"We want to come," Dave said immediately, and Lizzie nodded in vigorous agreement.

"No," Drake said sternly. "It's dangerous enough as it is, what with the time difference, and the fact that we have three missing kids to bring home. Weasley's already trying to come as well."

"Do Seamus and Luna even know their daughter's missing?" Hermione demanded.

Drake actually turned a bit pink. "Well, no, not exactly. Dumbledore is going to inform them if we don't get Lauren back by tomorrow evening. Her sister Donna is doing enough worrying as it is."

"You can't let us not go!" Lizzie cried, and Draco could almost picture her petulantly stamping her foot. He wouldn't put it past her.

"Elizabeth, you're not coming," Mia said sternly. Lizzie glared at her mother for a moment, seething, before whirling around and stomping between Draco and Hermione to the portrait. It banged shut behind her, and Draco winced. James appeared torn between disapproving of her attitude and wanting to go comfort her anyway because she was his girlfriend. Dave also looked mad, but only scowled pointedly at his parents and thankfully forewent the theatrics as he entered the tower.

Mia sighed, and Drake rubbed her hand affectionately. "She's so headstrong."

"Remind you of anyone?" Draco whispered to Hermione and she frowned, evoking a smirk.

"We'll see you later tonight," Drake said, turning towards the stairs. "See if you can calm down the twins, would you?"
Draco nodded automatically, though Hermione looked rather doubtful. She opened her mouth but hesitated before speaking. He looked at her curiously.

"What?"

She shook her head, a strange look on her face. "I wanted to ask Mia something, but- never mind, it's not important."

Draco wanted to press for more details, but she had already climbed back through the portrait.

"Why is it always so hard for you guys to choose in or out?" the girl in the painting called irritably after them as it swung closed.

Hermione glanced back at it, amused. "I can hardly believe that's the same Fat Lady in the present. She said some third years destroyed her painting a few years ago?" she added, looking to the twins, who were seated in armchairs, sour expressions on their faces.

Lizzie's lifted momentarily. "Oh, yeah," she said reminiscently. "I remember that. We used one of Fred and George's fireworks for that, didn't we, Dave?"

Her twin nodded, and Hermione choked. Funnily enough, Draco wasn't that surprised.

"She was so bossy," Lizzie explained, seeing the appalled look on Hermione's face. "Just because we complained about the passwords a few times! And we'd gotten a brand new fireworks kit for a joint birthday present, so we decided to try one out."

Draco patted Hermione's back absent-mindedly while she continued to cough and splutter, and had to remember to remove his hand when she had managed to take several deep breaths. It felt right putting his arm around her, like it was meant to be there.

"I can't believe they're not letting us go," Lizzie said angrily, crossing her arms and glaring at no one in particular.

"Just because they said that doesn't mean we can't necessarily go, though," Dave said grimly, eyes screwed up in thought.

"The Time-Turner's supposed to be around your neck, though, and I don't see how we can pull off slipping under it, too," Lizzie complained. She glanced doubtfully at Draco and Hermione. "You're going to need an awfully long chain.

"Maybe it's work if we just hold hands or something," Draco said absent-mindedly. "Although there is no way in the world I'm touching Potter or Weasley."

"Hey," James said irritably. He scowled at Draco, offended. "That's my father!"

Simultaneously, they all turned to stare at him. He looked upset, for the first time since they'd arrived, as if the jibes had finally gotten to be too much.

"It's mutual, in case you'd failed to notice," Draco retorted, stung. He'd thought James was easygoing, probably the friendliest, most likeable out of all the future teens.

"Well, it's stupid," James said angrily. "My dad and Drake manage to get along all right now. And he had a lot more reason to dislike you than you did him!"

"Er, James," Lizzie interrupted, looking unsure. "You are talking about my dad."

"He's insulting mine!"

"Relax, James," Draco said, exasperated. "It was supposed to be a joke. If it's that bloody important to you I won't insult out loud."

James still glared at him suspiciously but didn't reply.

"Truce?" Draco offered, unable to believe he was proffering such a thing to a Potter. It was unthinkable, yet at the same time he really did respect James and perhaps he couldn't quite blame the boy for wanting to defend his father. After all, Draco defended his parents all the time.

"Fine," James snapped at last.

On the bright side, that minor interlude had managed to make Lizzie and Dave forget their complaint, and they were no longer voicing grievances.

"We can hide in the dungeons where they'll use the Time-Turner and then spring out at the last minute and grab hold," Lizzie schemed, eyes lighting up.

Dave nodded. "But you can't tell them," he added sternly to Hermione and Draco.

Hermione frowned. "Mia and Drake are right, though. It is really dangerous for you to be traveling back so far, and think how mad your parents will be."

"They'll get over it," Lizzie said dismissively. "They always do."

Hermione didn't laugh. "You can't mess around with time travel. It's too risky."

"Just swear you won't tell," Dave said, beginning to sound annoyed again. "Let us figure it out. Believe me, we've pulled stunts like this before."

For a minute Draco thought Hermione was going to refuse, but then, with a pained expression, she nodded.

"The only reason I'm not telling is because they'll have guessed you'll try something anyway," she warned, tight-lipped.

Dave turned to Draco.

He shrugged. "I won't say anything, although I agree with Hermione about them probably knowing."

"Just because they know doesn't mean they'll stop us," Lizzie said sweetly, and with a genuine (albeit wicked) smile, she headed for the girls' dormitory. "We're going to the past! This is going to be so much fun!"

"We think Dumbledore finally started becoming senile when he appointed Lizzie as Head Girl," James said, finally showing traces of a smile again, as they all watched the blonde disappear from sight.

* * *

The night was spent playing cards with Sean, Sam, the twins, and all the other gamblers once more. Draco was the proud winner, with Sean and Lizzie tying for a close second, and even Hermione reluctantly played a bit when Sam convinced her to be on his team, and was unable to resist from smiling when she bluffed particularly well and won three chocolate frogs, eighteen Bertie Bott's, seven knuts, and two sickles in a single round.

"I'm almost going to miss this place," Draco said, glancing around the common room affectionately, after the trinkets they had gambled were returned to their rightful owners and students were beginning to go the dormitories. Soon the two of them were the only ones left at their table (the twins had long since disappeared to plot some more).

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Not the tower," he assured her. "I still fully dislike Gryffindor. I meant the future."

She looked amused and glanced around fondly as well. "Yeah. After tonight, we'll probably never see Lizzie and Dave again." She didn't have to add 'unless,' but the unspoken implication hung in the air anyway.

"You've made up, then?"

She sighed. "No . . . she's sort of avoiding me."

"Well, you did give her the silent treatment all day," Draco reminded her rather sanctimoniously.

"Well, I'll miss her anyway, even if she is . . . mischievous."

There was a short silence. Hermione stared drowsily at the fire while Draco brooded.

"Do you think it'll happen?" he asked at last, unable to contain the question any longer. "If they do Obliviate our memories, we can't stop it. That means we end up together." It was blunt, but Draco didn't have the time or energy to skirt the point.

Hermione nodded, her expression unreadable. "I don't want to forget. We've made friends here." She paused. "And not just with the twins and their friends."

She met his gaze. "We're friends, now, aren't we."

It wasn't a question, but Draco nodded anyway. "Yes."

Hermione traced a finger on the table. She took a deep breath. "If we did end up together." She looked up and locked eyes with him. "I don't think I'd mind it all that much anymore."

Draco's mind felt numb. Should he reply? Voice the same opinion, the one that had been going through his head all day but he was scared to admit?

She stood after an agonizing moment. Was it his imagination or did she look disappointed? It was impossible to tell how strong the blush on her cheeks was, since the firelight was also reflected there. "Good night."

Draco knew he had to say something, that her feelings were hurt by his silence.

"Wait," he called suddenly, standing quickly. Hermione paused by the steps and glanced back. He stopped just short of her, and she gazed up expectantly, waiting.

"I forgot something," Draco said simply, and without waiting, gave her a light kiss on the forehead, touching her hand gently with his.

She definitely blushed this time. "Night," Hermione murmured again and hurried up the stairs before Draco could speak.

"Good night," Draco said quietly, knowing she couldn't hear him. He was pleased and relieved. She had understood his thoughts plain as if he'd said it aloud.

And, still smiling, Draco went upstairs to the boys' dormitory, barely able to wait for tomorrow.