Chapter Text
It was on cold nights that Hermione sat guard outside their tent when she resented Ron’s cowardice. Any feelings she had for him were long gone, left behind two stops ago. They were hungry, without any direction of where they needed to go next.
As she shifted in the bundle of blankets she was sitting in, there was a loud crash in the woods.
It was heavier than the crack of apparition, but still a new arrival. A deer skirted across the clearing, glancing in her direction in recognition that they weren’t alone. The doe followed a bunny in hurrying away. Hermione slowly stood, gripping the blankets in one hand and her wand in the other.
They had prepared for the eventuality that they would be discovered, but this was not the time nor the circumstances that Hermione had expected. Unless Harry had been speaking about You-Know-Who again — which she was suspecting was somehow triggering a summons to their location — then it was possibly Ron who had found them.
Or, unless all their plans and efforts to remain undetected had started falling to shit, the Death Eaters had happened upon them again.
Part of her knew better than to try looking out for this alone, but unless she screamed, she could summon Harry without breaking through the sound barrier charm.
She moved slowly to the edge of their wards, holding her breath as she waited for a sign of someone. There was a pained groaning, but it sounded like only one person. It carried on for a minute, with no shushing or whispers. Risking everything, she stepped a toe out of the ward line, waiting for a spell to aim for her, but none came.
She took another step. Then another, crossing the clearing to where someone was rolled over, dry heaving.
She saw the familiar blond hair and didn’t think before she shouted, “Petrificulus Totalus!”
She waited for retaliation on his accomplices, but she had been right — he was alone.
It was Draco Malfoy.
Except it wasn’t.
Well, Draco Malfoy was right there, but he was older, somehow.
Then, she saw the broken time-turner in his hand.
She stumbled forward in shock, lighting her wand to see the large gash in his chest. His eyes were wide, staring at her in recognition, but not fear.
It was reckless. It was stupid. It was risking their location to save a boy who had done nothing but threaten to kill them, but at the same time, this wasn’t him. Hermione levitated him inside their wards, then called, “Harry!”
She pulled her bag in front of her, calling for Harry again as she laid older Draco on the blankets she had left on the cold forest floor.
Harry stumbled from the tent, rubbing sleep from his eyes with his wand outstretched, pre-lit with the spell he had been thinking to cast. He stopped, staring down with wide eyes.
“Hermione, what—what the hell?”
Hermione’s hands shook slightly as she ripped open Draco’s shirt, confusion and shock lying behind her instinct to save him. “I don’t know. It’s not him, but he’s—“
“What did you do?” Harry exclaimed, approaching her quickly, wand raised in search of Draco’s accomplices.
“Nothing. He’s dying, Harry, I think. Help me! I need to—Accio Dittany‚” she said, unstoppering it for his chest. This was like deja vu. She administered two drops, hoping that it was enough. She didn’t know what the injury was, but suspected it might be a splinching from somehow going so far back in time. She ignored Harry’s panicked questions as he circled the clearing to make sure Draco was alone.
When she was done, she exhaled a deep breath, standing and stepping back, holding the broken time-turner in a cloth in her hand.
“Where did you find him?” Harry asked for the third time, growing frustrated with her continued silence.
“He appeared in the bush over there. He had this in his hand,” she showed him the time-turner, and he stopped his nervous pacing long enough to look it over. That’s when Harry really looked at Draco.
“How is this… he’s… he doesn’t look seventeen,” Harry said.
That was an understatement. The last time they’d seen Draco, he had been sickly, terrified and pale, running through the castle on the night that Professor Snape had killed Professor Dumbledore. As far as Hermione had ever noticed, Draco had never come close to growing any kind of facial hair, though she wasn’t sure what the trends were for young wizards these days. Beards, in general, seemed to be a sign of old age.
This Malfoy had stubble across his chin and upper lip, like he hadn’t seen a razor for at least a few days. His jaw had always been sharp, but there was a maturity to him now. The laugh lines around his eyes reflected a routine far brighter than what Hermione imagined faced him at Hogwarts or around the Death Eaters occupying his family home. He looked well-fed and healthy, too.
Hermione hadn’t realised she’d noticed so much about Draco Malfoy before this moment. She wasn’t surprised that Harry had.
Hermione nodded. “I know. He looks…well, I’m not sure.”
“He’s from the future,” Harry summarised, eyes widening as the meaning of the words settled in. “He’s from the future!”
“Possibly,” Hermione agreed. “He arrived in that clearing, like he knew where to find us. I didn’t hear him Disapparate, either. And he was holding the time-turner, which seems to point to a clear explanation.”
“Clear? It’s mud, Hermione,” Harry replied. “How did he know we were here? How did he get a time-turner? Where…when…did he come from?”
Hermione dropped to her knees again, pilfering through his pockets before her conscience got the better of her. Harry looked as though he might stop her, but snapped his mouth shut the moment she confiscated Malfoy’s wand. There was nothing else on his body, but she didn’t think she could manage poking everywhere before she crossed too many boundaries.
“That’s fine,” Harry said, reaching for the wand.
“I’m going to unfreeze him. Ready?” she asked. Harry looked like he wanted to argue, but she pointed her wand at Malfoy, and he did the same. “Finite.”
Malfoy sat up, gasping, choking, rolling over to throw up.
“For fuck’s sake, was that necessary?” he said, his voice deeper than Hermione had ever heard.
Merlin, had he always sounded like this?
Hermione glanced at Harry. Neither responded. Malfoy pushed himself up, and Hermione saw a tattoo on his bicep through the shredded fabric in his dark shirt. At their silence, he glanced up at them, wide-eyed as he quickly looked between them. “Where am I?”
“Where do you think you are?” Hermione asked instead, keeping her voice level.
Malfoy looked at her, one hand moving over his chest as he studied her. She felt a chill go down her back at the strange familiarity in his searching gaze. Softly, with more familiarity, he replied, “I was trying to get to you, but something happened, didn’t it?”
“What makes you say that?” Harry asked. Malfoy looked at him, more surprised.
“Well, because the time I come from, you’re dead.”
Harry’s wand dropped a fraction. “What?”
“What did you give me, love?” Malfoy asked Hermione, looking down at his wound.
“What?” Harry repeated.
“What’s going on, Malfoy?” Hermione asked. He just looked up at her and grinned.
“That’s your name too, now, sweetheart,” he replied.
“What!”
“Potter, please, the grown-ups are talking,” Malfoy said with an embellished eye roll.
“Where did you get a time-turner? I thought we destroyed them all at the Ministry?” Hermione asked, ignoring Harry’s outbursts.
“Dumbledore told me where to find it,” Malfoy replied, pushing himself onto his hands and knees with a dramatic, and old, groan.
“Dumbledore’s dead,” Hermione replied while Harry sputtered nonsensically.
“Thanks for the reminder, love. He has a portrait he uses to advise us of the happenings at the Ministry. Quite talkative. You’ll learn that at the Battle of Hogwarts right before Voldemort kills you, Potter,” Malfoy said, managing to balance himself on his knees with great effort. He put another hand on his chest, looking winded. “Don’t happen to have any whiskey, have you? I’m not supposed to drink, but the misses isn’t here.”
He winked at Hermione, and she felt the urge to slap him, still unsure whether she believed his tale. His amusement grew, and he managed to grab her hand right as she stepped towards him. “Come on, you had to know that was coming. I know you, you don’t know me.”
“That’s right, Malfoy. You’re just a spineless rodent who’s supposed to be miles away at school or torturing babies or whatever sadistic thing Snape is teaching you!” Harry spat, fury rising in the way that always made Hermione wary. One glance at his eyes showed them to be perfectly green, but it was dangerous for his emotions to rise like this, regardless of whether Voldemort was influencing him.
“Sadistic? That’s a big word for you, eh, Potter?” Malfoy taunted smugly.
“How old are you?” Hermione asked, silencing Harry with a warning look where he’d stepped forward.
“I’m 24. You?” Malfoy asked, eyeing her over in a way that felt too intimate.
“I’m 18,” Hermione replied.
He narrowed his eyes assessingly, “Freshly 18 or 17-about-to-be-18?”
“What? That’s the same thing?” Harry protested.
“No, it matters. Which is it?” he said, finally managing to get up to his feet.
“The first,” Hermione said slowly. “Why?”
“Because, sweetheart, that’s less of an age gap, and I feel less guilty for doing this.” Malfoy stepped forward, capturing her face in his strong hands decorated with metal rings as he leaned down and hungrily pressed his lips to hers.
Harry protested, wand slashing in the air with threats, but Hermione started to drown him out. She wasn’t sure if she was kissing Malfoy back, but she knew that she wasn’t not kissing him back.
When he pulled away, she swayed a little, and he grinned.
“Still got that effect on you, eh?” he said, taking her hand. He looked like he wanted to lean back in. “I forgot how devastatingly beautiful you were at nineteen. How am I going to survive this twice?
“If you don’t unhand her right now, you won’t!” Harry warned, but was silenced as Malfoy turned sharply to him.
“Listen, Potter. I almost died just then. But my wife—in three years, granted,” he said, seemingly for Hermione, who was still holding fingers to her tingling lips in appreciation of that kiss. “Just saved my life. Now, I am tired, I am hungry, and I am pretty sure I know how to fix this time-turner so I can get home.”
Hermione felt like she was hearing things through a long tunnel until he got to the end of his sentence, and she snapped to attention.
“You can’t go in the future. time-turners only go backwards because time isn’t set in stone,” Hermione said quickly. Her third year had taught her a lot about time travel and the complicated science behind the devices used to travel.
Malfoy smiled like he’d expected her to say that. “You have to rebalance the gravity lineation in the hourglass.”
Her eyes widened as she considered that. Her knowledge on the topic was vastly underutilised in the last five years, but that made sense.
“Why did you come back?” Hermione asked, feeling like this was a terrible interrogation.
Malfoy looked from her to Harry. “Because this idiot walked into the forbidden forest with snake venom in his system. He died twice, fulfilling the prophecy, but in the wrong way. The world falls to shit when You-Know-Who wins, so the Order sent me back to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Hermione turned to Harry so fast he nearly jumped.
“I didn’t do it yet, Hermione!” he protested, hands raised.
“I knew you would do something stupid like sacrifice yourself! I just knew it, Harry!” she said, stepping from Malfoy’s side to swat at her best friend.
Harry held his hands out, pushing her off.
“That’s enough. You can’t kill him now because I don’t have another time-turner,” Malfoy said, sounding like he’d rather watch Hermione have another go at Harry, but pulled her back to his side.
She stared down at where his bare hands were holding onto her wrist, remembering all of the slurs he’d called her over the years, or how he’d jumped back like she was ill with something contagious when she passed too close to him in the corridors. His grip was far too familiar, and it unnerved her.
“Hang on a minute,” Harry said. “But what if keeping me alive somehow messes with the butterfly effect and, after surviving the war, I decide to confess that I’ve been in love with her for half a decade and want to be with her forever? Or, what if having two of you in this time messes with the balance of the universe and it implodes or something? You can’t guarantee that she’ll love you if she knows you.”
Malfoy and Hermione both turned to him in the same, exaggerated slow movement, and Harry recoiled slightly. Malfoy might have been offended by the question, but Hermione was surprised that he knew what the butterfly effect was.
“Are you in love with her, Potter?” Malfoy asked, sounding both curious and threatening.
“No, but…I could be?” Harry said, shooting her a fleeting glance like the thought made him slightly uncomfortable. Hermione nearly laughed. He spent far too much time watching Ginny’s name on the Maurauder’s Map of Hogwarts for Hermione to ever suspect she might be the true object of his affections.
“Right,” Malfoy said after staring for a moment. He moved on. “Sleep, food, find the time-turner, don’t let Potter die, make my wife fall in love with me, go back to the future. Easy.”
“No, not easy. We don’t believe you,” Harry said, pronouncing for him and Hermione without checking with her.
Malfoy looked between them, then sighed with irritation. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“How about what happened to send you back?” Harry asked after a beat of silence.
Hermione didn’t know what to ask either. Even if he was a good kisser, this wasn’t exactly something that she knew how to handle. Trolls, unicorns, talking paintings, sure. That all fell within the realm of magical newness that she could digest.
A man who was presently her enemy and somehow eventually became her husband, travelling back in time to save her best friend, was nuts. It was the plot of a book her father would love.
“You two are hunting Horcruxes, which You-Know-Who made 7 of because he wants to live forever. I don’t know where you are with that,” he said, leaving a pause for them to fill. Hermione and Harry were too shocked already to find the words to explain.
Malfoy snorted. “Right. Judging by the fact that I’m still standing here, I take it Weasley has already abandoned you. I should tell you that he comes back at some point using the thing Dumbledore left him in the will. Can’t tell you when because I try not to think about Weasley. Once you have the Horcruxes destroyed, You-Know-Who arrives at Hogwarts for a showdown where Potter gets bitten by the snake, then takes a stroll through the Forbidden Forest in a hallucinogenic haze and dies for good. The world falls to shit, I fall in love with Hermione, and we end up where I left things; Dumbledore tells me where to find a time-turner so I can fix things.”
If possible, Hermione and Harry were even more stunned now than before.
“Hermione,” Harry croaked. “Can I see you in my office?”
Hermione frowned at him in confusion, staring at the wedding ring on Malfoy’s hand.
Harry took her arm, guiding her a few steps away, then spun her around. His ‘office’ was just them facing the other direction, backs to Malfoy.
“That sounds legit, right? I mean, he might know some of that from—“
“Ron,” Hermione interrupted, finally snapping back to her senses. “Maybe he has Ron somewhere, and they tortured the information out of him!”
Harry barely paused out of concern. “You know I love Ron most days, but he would rather die than give up all of that information. Not when his family was at stake.”
Hermione wasn’t convinced, but Harry looked ready to move on.
“Malfoy’s obviously from the future. He knows that stuff about us, and he looks—“
“Good,” Hermione interrupted, speaking without thought.
“Cheers, darling!” Malfoy called from behind them.
Harry blinked. “He has to go.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Malfoy insisted, taking a step forward.
“Get out of my office,” Harry demanded.
Malfoy raised his hands, then took a step back from the non-existent space. “Look, I came back to this time somewhat by accident. But I am here to bring peace, not add more drama to your already unbelievable life.”
“And save Harry,” Hermione added.
“Right, duh. Of course,” he said, popping his hand on his forehead like he was an idiot. “Save Potter, and bring world peace.”
Hermione looked down at the time-turner in her hand. It had been crushed when Malfoy landed, but the glass could be repaired easily, and if she knew the reinforcement spells — which would require acquiring a book or two — she could make it fit to withstand the journey back.
“We need to wet gravity sand to rebalance the hourglass, right?” she asked, mind racing. That was as much as she knew. That could possibly be found, but the magic to power the time-turner was something only the Unspeakables knew.
“That’s why I love you, darling, your brilliant mind. That and you delicious cun—“
Malfoy fell to the floor in a slump as Harry stood at Hermione’s side, shaking out his hand.
She turned slowly, unsure whether to chastise him or thank him.
Harry had the same strange expression. “This is mad, right?”
Hermione looked down at unconscious Malfoy, the scar on his chest already healing, and a gold wedding band on his left hand. He could be lying, of course, but he was an incredible kisser, and the light facial hair was too specifically attractive to be anything but her type.
Then, in the tearing of his shirt sleeve on his right arm, she saw the tattoo of her initials in a thinline heart.
“Mad,” she agreed.