It was still dark in the room, but Draco's body knew it was morning and the time for getting out of bed and starting the day was fast approaching. He fought the instinct by curling centimeters closer to Hermione's body. As far as he could tell, she was still dead to the world, lightly snoring nearly face first in the pillow. It was a blessing she seemed to sleep so well. Most nights he slept an hour or two at a time before the nightmares woke him. When that happened, his usual routine was to get out of bed, order chamomile tea from the kitchens, and do school work until his eyes felt heavy again. If the nightmares were intense for a few nights together, he would take dreamless sleep potion so he could function the next day. He knew it was habit forming and did his best to stave off addiction by making a tincture from the stock potion; it was diluted enough that he quickly fell asleep but could waken readily if need be.

While the potion did what it said on the tin, it didn't guarantee that he would wake feeling well-rested. There were many mornings when he awoke awash in sweat and limbs cramped, proof that while his nightmares were suppressed his body continued to experience the symptoms. He snuggled fractionally closer to Hermione to chase the thought away in favor of feeling the pleasant heaviness in his limbs. Up to this point, he'd never shared a bed with anyone. Sleeping next to her, curled around each other, far surpassed any potion. There were no dreams, and to the best of his knowledge he hadn't thrashed or cried out. All he felt was calm, in spite of the day they would face.

Hermione began to squirm in his arms as she came to consciousness. Loosening his hold a bit, she turned to face him. Her eyes remained closed and she snuggled closer so her head rested near his collar bone with her arms tucked in between them. She took two deep breaths before whispering, "morning."

"Good morning," he whispered back.

"How much time do we have?"

"Not too much, maybe an hour before breakfast begins."

"I wish I still had the time turner. We could go back to my room and sleep for a few more hours."

"Time turner?" he questioned. "You used a time turner?" He didn't mean to sound so shocked, but they were rare objects. Who would give a student one? Even the brightest witch of the age was still a teenager.

"Mmm hmmm," she mumbled, nuzzling her cheek against his chest. "Third year. I took nearly double the normal class load and needed more hours in the day to attend class and complete the course work. It was also useful for catching extra sleep."

At this revelation it became difficult to remain calm and still. Draco wriggled his body further down the bed so they were face to face. At his abrupt change in position, Hermione pulled back slightly to look at him, her face scrunched with confusion.

"Who on Earth gave you a time turner to take extra classes?" She barely opened her lips when he interjected. "Don't tell me. It must have been McGonagall."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall gave me a special dispensation for the time turner, but she didn't give it to me lightly. I had to take a special class over the summer at the Ministry about proper use and the side effects of using and misusing it."

"You do realize that no one, not even Severus, would ever give that kind of special treatment to any Slytherin." He practically spat the words at her as they came out of his mouth.

"Well of course not!" She countered. "No one would risk that kind of object being passed to Voldemort. Beyond that, the likelihood of a Slytherin using the time turner only for taking extra classes is miniscule." As their argument intensified, Draco noticed that they were both sitting now and facing each other with the blankets pooled around their laps. He took a moment to notice how fierce Hermione looked with her hair bushed everywhere, her bare chest puffed high, and her eyes filled with determined righteousness. She was an Amazon.

"Oh really? And you're going to sit here and tell me that you only used the time turner for extra classes?" She immediately became flustered when he called her out.

"I would have but"

"Bollocks!" he shouted, cutting her off. "Even as you tell me that you were treated specially because you're a Gryffindor, because you're the brightest bloody witch of the age, you still broke the rules."

"There were lives at stake! I had to damnit and I was under orders from Dumbledore. It's not like I could say to him 'I'm sorry Sir, but I can't use this object for anything but my classes.' When you're given orders by a superior, you do them. You well know that." He did know that. The cost of disobeying any orders he received was high, and when the time came that his duplicity was revealed, it was likely he would pay it.

"Fine, you were under orders. Still, it's not right that you and your lot are treated as though you can do no wrong, and members of my house are treated like murderers." Even as they left his mouth, he knew the words were debatable. After all, given half a chance and vague orders to do so, at least a third of his housemates would murder another person. Still, there were a lot of people like Blaise who wanted to keep out of the entire thing, and most of them covered well by at least minimally participating in the "would-be death eater" talk that happened in the common room.

"Really? You're going to support your argument with that?" To punctuate the question, her eyebrows nearly touched her hairline.

"My point is that no other student, in fact no other house would have been given a time turner."

"Be that as it may, the fact of the matter is I did use a time turner. And maybe there's something to what you're saying about other students or houses, but did it ever occur to you the I'm consistently singled out for this kind of thing because the faculty have complete confidence in me? And, that confidence allows me access to information among other things that are crucial to the Order." She extricated herself from the sheet and slid off the bed. He caught her slight shiver when her feet touched the stone floor. She foraged for her clothes, piling them in her arms one piece at a time. She marched through the bedroom and back to the lounge. Draco followed her, unsure of what she was going to do.

Hermione paused in front of the fireplace clearly contemplating reaching for the floo powder to make a hasty exit. Instead she made a deep sigh and turned back to him. She was quite a sight as she stood naked but covered by the heap of clothes she had mashed between her arms. "Look," she began, "I don't want to fight with you, but maybe we need this. Today we have to go back out there and pretend like this weekend never happened. We have to go back out there and show everyone that the status quo hasn't changed. You hate me, and I dislike you. So I'm going to hang onto to that for as long as I can, if only because it helps us stay alive longer." Without giving him an opportunity to respond, she whirled around, grabbed the powder, and transported back to the Head Girl's Room in a blaze of green flames.

"Fuck."

It was really the only thing to say. He shouldn't have jumped at her first thing in the morning, but he had been genuinely shocked by her casual admission that she'd used a time turner. A fucking time turner! In third year, no less! There was nothing to do but take a quick shower (he wasn't getting caught by Pansy again!) and head for breakfast.

Hermione didn't hesitate as she stepped through into her own room. She flung the clothes to the floor inches from the hearth and stomped toward that bathroom. "Arrogant arse!" she shouted. "Who does he think he is suddenly acting so high and mighty? As though he's experienced an ounce of discrimination in his bloody life." The spray from the shower nozzle pelted her with hot water. Though she tried to maintain her anger, stoking its fire with as many bad memories of Draco taunting her as she could summon, the soothing water did its job. Just fifteen minutes later she stepped out of the shower stall, silently accioed a towel, and trudged back to her bedroom. Flopping heavily on the side of the still-made bed, she wrung the hem of the red towel wrapped around her body. "Fuck." How was she supposed to get through the day if she couldn't last even a half hour?

As she slowly toweled her body dry, she tried to come up with a solution. By the time she was dressed, the best she could do was avoidance. Her daily schedule was packed like kippers in a jar. There was breakfast at 7, potions from 8 until 12, then lunch—though that would mostly be taken up by meeting with Professor McGonagall—and then of course it was transfiguration from 2 to 5. Just thinking of the day's tasks ahead made her feel exhausted. Class with Professor Snape was always challenging. Even when she felt she adequately prepared for the lesson, there was never a spare moment for her mind to wander. She'd be lucky to eat during lunch break as she'd be the one to organize the trek from the Great Hall to Professor McGonagall's office. Although she was over-prepared for transfiguration class, she wouldn't spend the class period daydreaming; no, she'd be working on her arithmancy calculations to prepare for the meeting with Professor Vector on Tuesday. The fun never stopped. Once more she made the mental note to ask Draco about revealing his new status to Vector.

Choosing to walk down to breakfast rather than floo, she made her way out of Gryffindor tower. There was still plenty of time to eat something substantial and slowly glided down the hallway. Her housemates didn't seem to have her sense of leisure as they rushed past her, robes hastily draped over their forearms and shirt collars unbuttoned with ties yawning wide around their necks. Last Monday she looked much the same—frazzled completely as she'd spent almost all of Sunday night with the calculations. This morning's walk was the only down time she was likely to get all day, and she decided to make the most of it with measured steps.

Descending the final stairs, the entryway was filled with students trying to get into the Great Hall. From her vantage, they reminded her of a small swarm of ants, the black robed figures jostling together in organized chaos as they merged into distinct swiftly moving queues. Taking the final step onto the landing, she joined the throng and was summarily swept along into the hall. She went directly to her usual spot at the Gryffindor table. Just as she was about to sit down, it occurred to her that she would be facing the Slytherin table and that wouldn't do at all. Doubling back a dozen steps, Hermione sat near Colin Creevey. As she ladled porridge into the empty bowl in front of her, she remembered how Colin had hounded Harry and always with his camera in hand. Like so many of her classmates, he was never the same after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The camera that was perpetually in his grasp seemed to disappear after the event. Just another small example of how the war had taken its toll on them all.

The marmalade she had plopped into the center of the piping mush melted and bled toward the outer edges. It was mesmerizing. "You look like hell, and not in the good way." Ginny's voice snapped her back to the moment like a sudden static shock.

"Am I really that bad?"

"Well you're staring at your oatmeal with this vacant expression like you've just been kissed by a Dementor." With this description, she immediately straightened herself and attempted to smooth any wrinkles that had formed around her eyes. "Rough night?" Ginny queried, quirking an eyebrow.

"No not really. I was thinking about the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"And what in the bloody hell do you want to do that for? The day hasn't even started yet and already you're piling on the misery. Honestly." In the time it took her to rebuff Hermione, Ginny had filled a plate with scrambled eggs, back bacon, and a few bangers. It was a mini mountain of breakfast foods.

"Well it's not like I explicitly thought to myself, 'oh I know, I should think about the tournament, that'll perk me right up."

"Are you sure there isn't something else on your mind adding to your sour mood this morning?" The tiny nod toward the Slytherin table was enough to confirm the subtextual subject of the question.

"No," she lied. It was one thing to have the relative privacy of the common room and a good muffliato spell, but the Great Hall was out of the question. "It's just going to be a very long day."

"Then you better eat up. You know we're not going to get lunch today. Better get your strength while you can." Hermione agreed and prodded her porridge with the spoon that had remained poised to scoop the first bite. The plus side was that through her unpleasant memories and Ginny's interruption, it was optimal eating temperature. They ate in companionable silence for a few moments, and she enjoyed the bitter tang the marmalade offered to the relatively blank taste of the oats.

Soon enough their dishes were empty. Ginny took a second helping while Hermione opted for an apple and banana which had appeared in a mixed bowl of hand fruit. One for now and one for later. She weighed the fruits in her hands, quickly thinking of the relative benefits one might possess over the other. Deciding the apple would be messier to eat on the go, she stuffed the banana into her school bag and bit through the resistant red flesh instead. "So you'll never guess who I ran into by the kitchens last night."

"Do I want to guess? Seriously your late night rendezvous are no business of mine."

"This definitely was not one of those." Intrigued, Hermione crooked her head closer to the youngest Weasley, who was offering a look that was nothing short of conspiratorial. Her eyes flashed from side to side, taking in the quick assessment of their privacy. Satisfied that no one seemed to be paying attention to them, she drifted a bit closer and carefully mouthed "Blaise Zabini."

Hermione maintained her body's composure but used her eyes to offer the question that would make Ginny confirm her silent admission. She did so with a sharp nod. Well that was interesting. "Clearly we need to carve out some time during the lunch break to debrief," she said. Almost immediately Hermione shook her head and smacked her lips. "Listen to me talking about debriefing each other. Bloody ridiculous. When did we get to the point that even simple conversations are as much about exchanging information as maintaining our friendship?"

"Do you want me to answer that?" Ginny countered.

"Please don't."

And with that, the breakfast meal was over and the students resumed their swarming in effort to escape the Great Hall and find their way to the respective classes. Hermione and Ginny lost each other in the shuffle but that didn't matter as they were going to classes on either end of the castle. Initially the descent to the dungeons was clogged with other students but quickly thinned to only Slytherins or other Gryffindors headed for potions class. As she took note of who was around her, it struck her that she hadn't seen Harry nor Ron all morning. It didn't bode well, but she would worry about it if she made it to the classroom and they didn't materialize there.

Just as she turned a corner that lead to the last hallway to the potions room, she felt her legs go heavy and stop as though she was incased in muggle cement and couldn't move another step. It took half a second for her wand to come out but it was already too late. She was being magically pulled into a darkened alcove that was covered by a tapestry. The space was a well-known snogging spot, and she'd rousted a number of lusty couples from it during her many rounds.

The tapestry fluttered away from the wall just enough to give her admission to the tiny space. The movement let just enough light filter in that she was able to make out who was summoning her. Draco. Annoyance flared sharply in her chest. This was not helpful to her tenuous plans for avoidance.

She came to rest pressed closely to his body. Only a small sliver of light forced its way into the crevice, and it was hardly enough to see him clearly. She felt him flick his wand and whisper "Sileo" enacting the charm that would give them the chance to speak in their normal voices effectively making the alcove sound proof. They started at the same time.

"Look, I know this isn't the best way…"

"What the bloody hell are you thinking?"

Fingers, four of them—soft, warm, and smelling vaguely of verbena—lightly covered her mouth. "Me first," he gently intoned, though he had no need to speak so quietly. "I know this isn't the best way to get your attention. In fact it's overly risky, but I didn't want to just leave things from this morning." He hesitated a moment. She heard the catch in his voice that indicated there was more to say but it was being reserved, considered. Still, he didn't move his hand. The silence stretched for a long moment and their proximity, the intense smell of him, threatened to overtake her common sense. Perhaps this was not a moment for words. Rather she drifted closer and slowly rose to balance on her tiptoes.

His fingers slid, gently at first, across her cheek. The touch was so delicate, so careful her skin heated at the slight pressure. When his fingertips traced the shell of her ear, she heard the hum of static. They were two magnets pushing and pulling against each other with invisible yet potent force. When they reached her hair the touch became slightly harder, more insistent. Her lips hovered before his, the same tingling sensation buzzed between them. Waiting.

Knotting his hand into the loose bun that her hair had been twisted into that morning, Draco's nails made touch with her scalp. An exquisite jolt surged down her neck and spine. And still their lips did not touch. Hermione could feel her lips and chin bathed in soft moisture as their combined breaths, now escaping in rapid soundless sighs, mingled between them. From the moment he pulled her into the space, their bodies had been in contact but now as the seconds ticked by every slight rustle of fabric and twitches of muscles held too long in one position magnified the intimacy of their touch. Heat pooled in her chest and the familiar ache that came with longing made itself known.

A second more and her body swayed closer to his in anticipation of the kiss that had been suspended between them.

The hand that had been fisted in her curls released its grip. The lips that had remained so tantalizingly close vanished. The body that had been pressed so tightly to hers separated company. She was dazed, unsure of what had just happened between them. He chuckled softly. "See you in class. Finite Incantatum." And then he was gone. The whole thing lasted no more than a minute or two.

"Sonofabitch!"