"Draco, what's going on?" Hermione finally asked as they broke their second string of kisses.

"Merlin, Hermione, I can't believe you're here. You're really here."

"It's funny you should say that because I can't believe you're here. And it's you; you're the same. How?"

"Hermione, Dumbledore lied to you. I didn't die." Hermione felt like the floor was going to drop out from under her like in those muggle rides she always hated.

"I touched your dead body. It was cold and hard and… dead," Hermione continued, lost in the memory as she choked back a sob. Draco wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

"It wasn't me. Dumbledore knew my dead body was your boggart. He put the boggart in the casket and put a silencing charm over it so you wouldn't hear the boggart thrashing around."

"That's insane," Hermione said, more to have something to say than for Draco to respond. He seemed to understand, because he just stroked her hair as she thought through what he had just said. It would have worked; and Dumbledore had just seen her defeat the boggart earlier that day, so he must have been impatient to send her back. Earlier that day… how had she not guessed earlier? She had seen his body that same day. Unfortunately, she just had too much faith in Dumbledore. They all had.

Now that she knew what Dumbledore had done, she felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. She tried to reassure herself that she didn't cheat on Draco. After all, he hadn't even been born yet and more importantly, she thought he had died. But that wasn't what she was really guilty about. She could hear that even as Draco tried to stay calm to explain everything, he was shaken up and still furious at Dumbledore. But she couldn't bring herself to regret what had happened. Although challenging, and fleeting, what she had with Tom had been worth it.

"I believe you," Hermione mumbled finally.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come sooner; Snape had to brew a potion and it took ages, and that's only once I found out what happened. He told me you were on a mission at first."

"So how did you find out?"

"He died, Hermione. Snape told me."

Hermione nodded, processing. "He probably would have told you I died on the mission."

Draco's eyes widened in understanding. "Salazar, I bet you're right."

"Was it really bad now that Dumbledore's gone?"

Draco nodded slowly. "The war is essentially over."

"Well, I'm glad you came back then," Hermione said truthfully. She knew that Draco was stuck in this time now. At least he was safer here than in the future.

"I hope there are other reasons you're glad I'm back," Draco whispered in her ear.

She felt herself respond to his voice, but it wasn't fair. "Draco…"

"Hermione…"

"Draco, really. We should talk."

"Or we could talk later." He was breathing heavily against the shell of her ear as his fingers started to fondle her nipple outside of her shirt.

"Now," Hermione choked out. "We need to talk now."

Draco broke contact, looking up at her with a startled expression. "You've met someone."

"Yes."

"How did I not even…"

"Not even?"

Draco smiled awkwardly. "I didn't even think of it as a possibility, really. Does my being back change anything?"

"Well, we're not together, but…"

"So what's the problem?"

"I'm in love with him."

"Who?"

"Draco, you have to promise me that you won't get too upset."

"Hermione, are you in love with my grandfather?"

"Ew, no!" Hermione exclaimed, thinking of Abraxas's dead weight of a tongue. "Godric, Draco, it's—it's—" She was having a hard time finishing her sentence. She never thought she would have to justify this decision, after all. She had sort of slipped into it, and then Lyra had been so supportive. Of course, she didn't know what Tom would become. Draco was still staring at her intently as she fidgeted, but she looked him in the eye when she told him: "Tom Riddle."

Draco's hand was still on her hip where he had lazily been holding it. It reacted first, tightening into an almost a painful clasp. The news seemed to work its way up his body as he tensed his shoulders and sucked in a breath. Finally, his eyes widened, disbelieving and wild. "Say it again."

"Draco—"

"I need to know that I heard you correctly."

"Tom Riddle."

"You-Know-Who."

"Draco, he's not—"

"Say it. You're in love with the Dark Lord."

"I won't say it because he's not Voldemort. Not really."

"They are the same person, Hermione." Draco's deadly calm was quickly slipping into rage as he pulled back his hand from her as though she were on fire.

"They are not the same—"

"HERMIONE!"

Hermione watched him, wide-eyed and stunned. "Draco, I know it's a lot to take in, but I can't change how I feel. It's fifty-five years earlier. You're being overly judgmental."

"So, what, when you came back you thought, he's not You-Know-Who yet, I'll just go ahead and snog him?" Draco was still fuming, but he had lowered his voice at least.

"No, that's not what happened."

"Was this Dumbledore's plan? For you two to fall in love? Is that why he sent you back?"

Hermione furrowed her brow and looked at her previous boyfriend. "Why would Dumbledore want us to fall in love? Not knowing love was Tom's weakness; Dumbledore wouldn't want to make him stronger."

"I was just guessing. That prophecy was such a fucking jumble."

"Prophecy?"

"Why am I not surprised by your confusion? Something about you and Tom. I don't remember the wording. It doesn't matter, anyway," Draco added bitterly.

"Yes, it does. Draco, tell me what you remember."

"You really think you can boss me around right now, Hermione?"

"I think you could calm down a second and talk to me."

Draco didn't respond for a while; she waited. "Fine. I really don't remember much. Something about you and Tom."

"Yes, you said that. Anything else?"

Draco scrunched up his nose, thinking. "It was regarding him not making Horcruxes anymore."

"And that's all you remember?"

"Yes, Hermione. That's all I remember," Draco snapped.

"Damn," she whispered, trying to think about what that might mean. The most obvious explanation would be that she would kill Tom, and thus he wouldn't make any more Horcruxes. But the explicit mention of Horcruxes made her think that perhaps there was another way… It seems that all those Horcrux books would be coming in handy, after all.

Knock, knock, knock. "Go away, Mother. I'm asleep." Draco rolled over, trying to shut out the sound of pounding with his pillow, but was largely unsuccessful in the attempt. A couple minutes later, he heard the door creak open.

"Mr. Malfoy, I presume." The voice penetrated Draco's consciousness because it was one he hadn't heard since he had debated whether or not he should kill the wizard.

"Dumbledore?" Draco mumbled, rolling over and surveying the wizard. The last day came back to him slowly, forced into the forefront of his mind by the youthful appearance of the man he remembered as old, fading, and eventually, deceased. For his comfort, the Room of Requirement looked exactly like his old room at the Manor, which had made him feel initially disoriented.

"I mean, er, Professor Dumbledore. How did you access the Room?"

"Let's just say that I have my ways," Dumbledore responded, his blue eyes twinkling and his laugh lines pronounced with a slight smile. Despite the anger Draco had harbored toward him in the past few months, he felt the strangest urge to hug him. Something about seeing the formidable wizard alive inspired hope, and he needed that after the previous night. "I was wondering if you might come with me, Mr. Malfoy. We have matters to discuss, and I would prefer to do them in my office. Perhaps if you had conjured up a desk, but no matter."

Draco nodded numbly. Since he had just slept in his clothes, he simply smoothed them out and followed the wizard through the hallways. As he followed, he started to panic slightly. Did Dumbledore know that he wasn't Abraxas? He said "Mr. Malfoy, I presume?". If he thought Draco were his grandfather, surely he wouldn't have needed to add the presumption?

He didn't solve the puzzle by the time they settled into the somewhat cramped office, too filled with objects for its size. Dumbledore offered him a candy which he declined wordlessly.

"What is your first name, Mr. Malfoy? Although I refer to students by their last name, I find it odd to think of them as such."

"Er—you know my first name, sir. Abraxas."

Dumbledore smiled in a way that reminded Draco of his future self; it was mostly tinged with sadness. Although it was clearly forced, it still conveyed a quiet kindness. "No, I meant your real name."

"That is my real name," Draco half-heartedly insisted.

"I know it is not, as I have just seen Abraxas. I have one time traveler here; given your remarkable similarity to Mr. Malfoy and the lack of any living relatives in this time period, I have to presume you are a descendant?"

Draco hesitated, adjusting his green and silver tie that was slightly different in this time; rather than even lines, the tie was predominantly green with silver pinstripes. "Yes, sir. I still would rather not give you my name, though. Isn't secrecy important for the timeline, or something like that?"

"I'm afraid it's a bit late for that, Mr. Malfoy."

"What do you mean, Professor?"

"We can discuss it after introductions, I think."

"It's Draco."

"Pleasure to meet you, although from your greeting, it seems we may already know each other."

"Well, I—"

"Apologies for interrupting, but I think the circumstances surrounding our acquaintance are best left unsaid." Draco nodded, still tired. "I think it's also probably best if I don't know exactly how you are related to Abraxas Malfoy."

"That sounds fine. What did you want to discuss, Professor?"

"You may have heard about an incident that occurred hear last year where a young girl was killed."

Confused by the unexpected turn of the conversation, Draco paused before responding. "Yes, I am familiar with the circumstances."

"Then you may or may not know that the Ministry has made a very real threat to close this school if any other students die from unnatural causes."

"I didn't, but that makes sense," Draco replied, stopping himself midsentence from telling Dumbledore that the same thing happened in his time when the Chamber of Secrets was opened.

"Well, despite my best efforts to contain the student that I believe responsible, I believe he has struck again."

Draco felt the life drain from his face as he shakily leaned back in his chair. You-Know-Who killed again? This didn't happen in my timeline... that I know of, at least. "What happened, Professor?"

"The injuries make it difficult to ascertain that. I believe the perpetrator tried to make it look like the vampires killed the student, but I have friends in the forest that notified me early enough to see that there was also dark magic involved. Unfortunately, the vampire-related injuries make it most likely that an official inquiry would blame those creatures."

Dumbledore did not have to tell Draco what "vampire-related injuries" were; he had seen enough of them before he broke with the Dark Lord, and it would make perfect sense that he would give a victim over to the creatures even now. "So what are you going to do, Professor? About the school closing down, I mean."

"Well, I had hoped you might help me with that."

"How?"

"Before I tell you how, I must tell you who. I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, Draco, but the student I am discussing is your grandfather."

Draco sucked in a deep breath, suppressing tears. He felt such an immediate and instinctual sense of loss that he would not have expected, as his grandfather had passed away when he was very young, and he had only seen him a handful of times, always at large parties where he was lost among the crowd. But the knowledge that he died at this young age, and with him his father who would never be born, and even his future self… it was a lot to take in. And then, as his thoughts moved in that direction, he blurted out: "Sir, how am I still here?"

Dumbledore studied him sympathetically, but it was tinged with a hint of suspicion as well. "I thought you might know the answer to that, Mr. Malfoy. I am not an expert in time travel, but it is my belief that had you come back with a time turner, you would have disappeared, but instead it seems that somehow you are completely disconnected from the effects of time."

Draco swallowed nervously, knowing that Dumbledore would not approve of the potion that had delivered him here, since Snape himself had described it as a subset of the dark arts. But then, his nervousness disappeared as he realized that for once, he held the power over this man that had taken everything from him. "I believe this discussion is over, Professor. I do not wish to share with you how I have come to this time, and I do not believe you are in a position to ask questions as you apparently need my help in preventing the school from closing." Draco's voice was cool and commanding, and he couldn't help but realize that he sounded just like his father.

Dumbledore's face hardened almost immediately, but he didn't press. "Let us turn to the matter at hand, then. I propose that we have a private burial for your grandfather. As I have already stated, he has no family and does not seem to be particularly close to anyone. And then, I think you should take his place. I need to avoid a Ministry inquiry, and you need a new identity. You are a Malfoy, after all. It seems only fitting that you should inherit Abraxas's name and gold."

Draco's mouth hung upon for a moment. Whatever he expected, that was not it. It was such a classic Dumbledore plan: odd, completely unexpected, but admittedly brilliant. "That will be agreeable to me, but I want Abraxas buried at the Manor."

"I know you probably don't think about such creatures, Mr. Malfoy, but I am concerned the house elves might talk."

"They will automatically pass to me, as I am his only descendant. I will take care of it."

"Very well. I think it's best if we do so today."

"I agree. I am going to discuss the matter with Hermione; I want to bring her." Draco waited for Dumbledore's response even as he told himself that he wasn't asking for permission. His former headmaster nodded wearily. Draco couldn't really process why he wanted Hermione there; he was still extremely angry with her. But she was more than a lover; she was his best friend. Probably the only real friend he had ever had, and he wanted her there while they buried his grandfather, even if her boyfriend had been the one to kill him.

"Please return with her as soon as possible. We should leave soon. And Mr. Malfoy—I'll need to teach you a spell to transfigure your eyes. It's effective, but only lasts twenty-four hours, so you must remember to perform it daily."

Draco considered this for a moment and agreed. "Thank you, Professor. When would be convenient for you?"

"I think tonight would be best, when we get back from the Manor."

Draco had no objections, and so went off to find Hermione.