CHAPTER ONE: THE UNFORTUNATELY NECESSARY STORY SET-UP CHAPTER

"I beg your pardon, but I'm not quite sure I understand…" the young witch seemed to choose her words with the utmost care as she said them. One slender eyebrow arched upwards on her heart-shaped face and she shifted uncomfortably, small hands folded in her lap and ankles crossed beneath the chair.

"You want me to do what?" the fair-haired wizard's voice was indignant, dropping his characteristic condescending drawl in favor of complete and total disbelief. "Listen, when I agreed to help you lot years ago, it was not so I could be put into ridiculous situations like this. The war has been over for over three years, you won, so why must you keep dredging up dodgy little excuses to drag me back into your little club?"

"I realize it seems far-fetched but the evidence is becoming increasingly incontrovertible," the worn-down wizard sitting across from her frowned, rubbing the back of his head as he leaned forward and took one of her hands in his. "I know this is a lot to ask, but it seems as though there's absolutely no alternative."

"If I do this," he said, drawl returning and thickening his tongue. Long fingers slipped in his hair as he slouched down into his chair, turning his nose upward and looking very much like a little boy despite his age. Lanky legs bent at the knee and sprawled out before him.

"If I do this," he began once more for emphasis, "you and your silly little Order will leave me alone?"

"Indubitably," the older man agreed, steepling his fingers, elbows resting on the desk at which he was seated. The enormous fire behind him in tandem with the bright read of his hair gave his head the appearance of being aflame. This mirage was far more amusing than it should have been to the young man he was addressing. "Complete this task successfully and consider your debt to the Order repaid. We will never again seek your assistance in any matters."

"Well, that" the young man said with a cheeky smile, pulling himself up in his chair and tucking one of his long legs over the other, "sounds like a cause I can rally behind…"

"And there's nobody else who can accompany me? It has to be him?" the brunette asked, her expression pained as she turned her eyes away from the older gentleman who was kindly holding her hand in reassurance. Her teeth gently gnawed on her bottom lip, expression akin to one who was about to undergo a very unpleasant root canal, sans-anesthesia.

"Unfortunately so," her companion's frown deepened in understanding of her discomfort, "from what we've uncovered it absolutely must be the two of you, and things must transpire as they did before. Time's iffy, but if this is the way things were always supposed to happen, then it shouldn't be too difficult for you to follow the same path successfully as you did before, even with such a teammate…"

"I know, Remus, I understand my duty. It's just that he's so difficult to work with! He's arrogant, brutish, an insufferable snob-"

"-a goody-two-shoes, and a damned unbearable know-it-all!" the young wizard's temper was beginning to get the better of him, and he'd even raised a bit out of his chair, tapping the large oak desk currently occupied by one Arthur Weasley in order to accentuate each accusation. "Isn't there any other way?"

"I'm afraid not, Draco. You two will just have to put away your differences in order to focus on the task at hand. I know it's cliché, but the fate of the world very well may rest in both of your hands." Arthur slid his glasses off, rubbing the bridge of his nose gingerly. It seemed a daunting truth, and one that he didn't care to admit to. It seemed impossible that this had already happened. Surely they'd made a mistake, for as he explained the situation to the younger wizard it seemed even more unlikely that two people who bickered so often and so violently could hold the key to the Order's victory within their teamwork.

But it was highly unlikely that they'd made a mistake in their research. They'd spent over a year trying to figure it all out. Why the students of Hogwarts remembered the presence of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger. Why they had led as Head Boy and Girl for a final year of school that neither could recall completing. And, ultimately why the duplicate versions of themselves had never stepped forward and explained. It all seemed farfetched and confusing, but when, three years into Reconstruction after the war, Remus Lupin and the rest of the wizarding world began to feel uncomfortable and unexplainable shifts in the air around them, it was clear that there was something to the story.

"Fine," Draco huffed, throwing himself back in his seat and crossing his arms like a child rather than the twenty-one-year-old man that he was. "Just tell me once more, clearly, what it is I must do."

"The students who attended Hogwarts in what should have been your final year all attest to the presence of both you and Mr. Malfoy as acting Heads of the school. I believe that the recent uncanny events could be the consequence of your lingering in this time, and not having returned yet to the beginning of your seventh year, four years ago. Should you and Draco not return to fulfill this timeline, then there's really no telling what will happen. An entirely new alternate timeline could take over in which Voldemort wins and the world burns. There's really no way to tell, nor any way to tell why you were sent back in the first place. All we know is that in the timeline existing now, you and Draco travel back in time and take your position at school."

It was Hermione's turn to frown, and she turned her eyes back up to look into those of her former teacher. "So you're saying that unless I go back into time with that brat and act as Head Girl, for whatever reason it is ultimately that we were sent back, this timeline could be drastically altered?"

Remus nodded gravely, "exactly. It's difficult to tell what may happen, but it could be a number of things really. In that alternate timeline, I could be dead! Or Tonks! Or Fred! Or maybe even Hedwig!"

Hermione shook her head, smiling slightly to the old werewolf. She could tell Remus was trying to cheer her up, but the thought brought a tinge of sadness to her features. "Well that would all be horrible and needless indeed. And I can't imagine what point there would be in any of those deaths, besides bringing pain into all of our hearts…"

"Right," Malfoy said, standing up and cracking his knuckles uncouthly. "Well, I s'pose I'd better go start packing so I can finally wash your little boy scout troop out of my hair."

"Very well," Arthur replied, tactfully ignoring his insults as the rest of the group had learned to do in the years that they'd known him. "Be in the first floor sitting room packed and ready to go at seven o'clock tomorrow morning."

"Seven?" Draco whined, huffing once again like a ten-year-old boy. Since the war was over and he'd become an adult, to use the word loosely, and something of a wealthy playboy he had kept a very erratic and rather irresponsible sleep schedule. Seven A.M. was an hour he hadn't seen since his school days, and it was a reunion he was not looking forward to. But Arthur gave him an exasperated but firm father-type look and Draco, waving his hands in resignation, left and made his way out onto the landing of Grimmauld Place and making his way down the stairs and for the front door as swiftly as possible. He desperately needed to be rid of Potter's blissful little marital den, headquarters still of the repulsive and archaic Order of the Phoenix.

"Seven," Hermione repeated to herself, looking down at her wristwatch. It was three in the afternoon, which lent her very little time to pack, but she'd gone on worse time in emergencies. Especially in the very year to which she was returning. Thinking of that time was painful, and it was difficult to believe that she was voluntarily going back to the most strenuous year of her life, but it might not be so bad. After all, she wouldn't be travelling the countryside in ramshackle tents searching for Horcruxes this time; she'd be at Hogwarts, where she had a warm bed and regular meals. And it might not be so bad to actually get to finish up her tenure at school.

"I know it's tough, Mione," Remus said, standing up and helping her from her seat. As he led her to the door he tucked her arm through his, patting her hand tenderly. "But we all appreciate your dedication and sacrifice. I don't know how things went in this past of yours, but from the way the fabric of time itself has been moving lately, I imagine it's extremely important. I have the utmost faith in you and-"

Lupin paused for a moment, screwing up his face as he tugged open the door. Changing his mind, he patted her hand once again, smiling and laughing bashfully. "Well, I have the utmost faith in you."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. She hugged her old friend, stepping out onto the landing and making her way down the steps for the front door of Grimmauld Place. The heat from the dog days of summer was still resonating painfully throughout all England, and she braced herself for the wave of heat as she pulled open the heavy door.

What she had not braced herself for, however, was the form of a very tall and recognizable blonde-haired man standing right before her, smoke from his Madame Bathilda's Premium Wizarding Cigarette curling up around his handsome face. Hermione couldn't help but grimace.

"Oh, feck," Draco let slip, rolling his eyes and turning away from the door. That's what he got for pausing to have a smoke break right in front of the house filled with the people he despised most in the world. It was his own bloody fault. With a groan he pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes tightly as if fending off a dreadful headache.

"Listen, Granger, despite agreeing to one of the stupidest missions I've sacrificed my happiness for in the past few years I was having a pretty decent day, so do you mind moving along and not sullying it with your harpy-ish voice?" There, now that got his point across quite nicely.

When he re-opened his eyes Hermione looked absolutely appalled. At first sight, she had planned on just ignoring him and moving along with little more than a "Oh, hello there, you obnoxious prick", but this was inexcusable. Draco tried very hard not to giggle, as her expression really rather resembled that of some sort of ridiculous codfish.

"Why, you insolent little weasel!" she cried out, voice raising to the unbearable level that Malfoy had warned her against.

"Ah," he said, wincing and turning his pinky in his ear as though she'd damaged his eardrums, "there it is."

It was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes, and she threw her hair over her shoulder, jutting her hip out to the side and crossing her leg. In spite of himself Draco noticed just how pleasant her hair looked today, a mass of natural-looking curls framing her face rather nicely. Or maybe that was just the heat fucking with his head. Yeah, that was vastly more likely. He also couldn't help but take note of the fact that she wasn't wearing makeup, and that she was wearing a t-shirt and jean shorts. Had she no class at all? How difficult was it to throw on a nice little sundress?

"Look, Malfoy," she spat acid out with his name, "I realize we abhor each other's presence-"

"There are no words strong enough." Malfoy reaffirmed her, nodding his head in agreement. At least they could agree on something.

"-but it is gravely important that we work together for this mission. So if you could manage not to be an audacious ass the entire time that would be just grand with me." Hermione finished with a self-satisfactory nod, attempting to cross her arms to make her point but upon realizing they were already crossed simply moving them a bit and nodding firmly.

"An audacious ass? Moi?" Malfoy attempted to act hurt, but was really more amused with her impressive and flamboyant use of alliteration. And she called him audacious. He inhaled deeply on his cigarette, feeling the magical smoke, this one gingerbread flavored, fill his lungs before blowing the long stream of it into Granger's face.

"Yes," Hermione said, screwing her face up and fanning her hand in to rid herself of the offending smoke, "vous."

"Must we draw out this interaction?" Draco asked with a smirk, glancing once at Hermione before turning his gaze to the Muggle flats across from them. "If we're going to be spending the next, well Merlin knows how long amount of time together, I'm going to need some time to steel myself for that torture."

Hermione's eyes boggled at that, and paired with her round face and her curly mane it made her look rathermuch like a very small and hilarious woodland creature. As Malfoy turned his attention back to her he couldn't help but snort, stifling his laughter with the heel of his hand and starting to choke on the cigarette smoke he'd just inhaled. Hermione cried out, incensed, throwing her hands up and stomping off for the alleyway they used as an Apparition point.

Draco's obnoxious mix of hacking and guffawing didn't wane until he heard the pop! of her Disapparation, and as the dying bits of laughter fell from his lips he threw his cigarette butt onto the ground, as it had begun to glow purple to warn him it was time to say goodbye. Stamping it out with the toe of his far-too-expensive dragon leather shoe, Draco wiped the small collection of tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes, sighing and smiling to himself before shaking his head lightly in a mix of emotions. He was a fucking loon to have agreed to this, and he knew it. More likely than not the Order would have eventually backed down and let him have his peace, but for reasons unbeknownst to him Draco felt it pertinent to accept this assignment. Maybe it was the egotistical truth that the fate of the world currently rest in his hands. Draco enjoyed any opportunity to stroke his ever-growing ego.

Did it matter why he'd accepted the assignment? The truth of the matter was, at seven a.m. (ugh) tomorrow morning he was taking off on a blast to the past with Potty's go-to girl and the bane of his existence. For an unknown period of time. Potentially lasting up to four years…

…

Fuck.