Aug 19 1612 (Sunday)

It's so hot. Her nightgown had stuck to her sweaty skin, making her feel so uncomfortable. Hermione kicked away her blanket in her shallow sleep and tried to shift away from the source of heat, albeit a heavy weight pressed into her waist, hindering her from rolling around. Humming disapprovingly, she moved with more strength this time, but the pressure on the side of her body only tugged her even closer to the warmth. Her droopy eyes reluctantly squinted open to investigate what was going on.

The first thing came into sight was a piece of smooth white material forming a V-line attached with ruffles, displaying the pale skin underneath. His distinctive applewood scent rushed to her nose, enveloping her with a sense of security. Her tentative gaze darted upwards and wandered along his chiselled jawline to his pointy chin then to his face. His lids were shut, masking the stormy, mysterious silver orbs from the beams of sunlight. Her eyes lowered to her torso and found his arm on her waist, keeping her tightly against him, she could sense the heat radiating from his flesh and his strong heartbeat through their nightwears. She dismissed the idea of pushing him away as she's afraid of waking him up. He'd helped her a lot and he deserved a serene, pleasant sleep. Her cheeks heated up as she recalled that she'd pathetically squirmed towards to wizard last night. She's the reason why they're in this position.

She had utterly lost the urge to resume her sleep. Her eyes settled on his face again. It's the first time their faces were so close that there were only centimetres between them. His skin was pale as usual, faint shades of pink were exhibited at the high points of his cheeks. She surveyed his face from forehead to chin, discovering a few vague freckles here and there which were unnoticeable unless you got very, very close. She wondered if Draco Malfoy had freckles too. Then the thought of the infamous Hogwarts bully screaming like a baby girl while his father disowned him for "turning into a Weasley" made her almost burst out laughing.

Although she knew that the man before her was Ladon Malone, not Draco Malfoy, the physical resemblances between the two still intimidated her. Besides their appearances, their personalities were similar too. Both were spoiled, snobbish. They're frustratingly stubborn about their beliefs, but very quick-witted and competitive, especially in arguing; they'd just bend the truths and throw demeaning comments in order to win.

However, no matter how much they resembled each other since Draco Malfoy couldn't care less about her and wouldn't even get close to her, she's sure that she wouldn't mistake one for another if both of them were standing in front of her. They were two completely different individuals.

After the events that had taken place the previous day, she'd be lying if she didn't admit that she'd been getting attached to Malone, to someone from a different timeline. It wasn't a piece of good news at all. It's foolish of her to let her emotions take the lead, but she couldn't help it. Ladon Malone was the only person she could talk to when she's stuck in this timeline. Although they'd been forced to live together for a week, they didn't know much about each other. They only chatted about random magical trivia but nothing personal. She somehow had a peculiar feeling that while she's trying to keep a distance between them, Malone was doing the same too. He wouldn't pressure her to tell him anything she didn't want to and vice versa. Still, she trusted him while she couldn't imagine herself having faith in Draco Ferret Malfoy.

His long eyelashes fluttered as she's counting his almost invisible freckles before his grey eyes blinked at her in bewilderment, leading her heart to skip a beat. She spun around and got rid of his arm as she dramatically rolled aside towards the other end of the bed as if a child had got caught doing naughty things. Facing her back to him, she could feel his piercing stares burning holes into her back. It took him a few seconds to figured out the situation and give feedback.

"Honestly, Gran-tham"—there was a slight pause between the syllables of her pseudonym which she didn't notice—"you've been in my arms for the entire night. It's too late to put up an act like a shy teenage girl," he drawled, stifling a yawn.

Ignoring his unwelcomed teasing by submerging her flushed face into her pillow, she sensed his weight lifted off the mattress as he headed to the toilet. The favours Malone had done for her was disturbingly too much for an acquaintance, no matter what reasons he had. Her shoulders had already loaded with debts—he'd rescued her twice, he'd lent her his money, he'd healed her wounds, he'd comforted her. There's no way she could repay him.

Later, when they're having breakfast on the ground floor, they heard people talking about the upcoming witch trials at Lancaster Assizes in these two days; five suspects would be tried today and ten tomorrow. Hermione's heart sank at the news—if it wasn't Malone, she would be on a fatal trial along with her fellow prisoners in days. However, not everyone was as fortunate as she was, so many were charged with witchcraft when there wasn't an adequate proof; more ridiculously, some weren't even wizards. These poor people had to go through numerous torments before they were executed. She wished she could help them, but she couldn't.

Malone gracefully helped himself to the buttered buns, as if he didn't care about any of the news. But when Hermione looked closely, she caught the turmoil in his eyes. He's suppressing his anger as well. For the whole meal, they just ate in silence and listened to the conversation between Muggles.

Back to their room, Malone immediately seized the book on the couch. It was the book he's reading the previous night. She scanned the title curiously—How Magic Interferes Time—it's one of the books she'd added to the time-travel collection in her room at Flourish and Blotts. She'd almost forgotten that she'd asked him to bring some books for her from Diagon Alley, which was currently an unsettled region. She needed to know how the Wizarding World was doing. Once the rebellion was settled down, she must leave since she couldn't proceed with her study on time-travel when he's around.

"Diagon Alley, did anything happen?" she asked quietly, sitting on the bed across the couch he's on.

Without shooting her a spare glance, he answered mindlessly, "Not really. Most of the shops were closed though and the whole district was deserted."

"How about the goblins?"

"Gringotts was still running normally; the goblins didn't bite, didn't hex, but I could tell the number of them was less than normal, bet most of them went on strike and fought with wizards." He shrugged as he turned to the next page.

"I hope the rebellion can be settled soon, so I can go home."

Abruptly, Malone put down the book on his lap while his gaze roamed to her face. His brows were furrowed, and he inhaled deeply that his chest heaved before he let out a long sigh. "Grantham, can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"Do you—" he paused, considering whether he should continue his sentence. "Do you happen to be a time-traveller? I mean, are you from the future?"

The question was like a knife stabbed right into her heart; she gasped as her eyes widened in shock and horror. Oh Merlin, how did he know?

"Are you insane?" That's all she managed to say.

As though a carnivore observing its struggling, dying pray, he leaned forward and rubbed his chin with his long fingers, gazing at her. She dodged his observant eyes and bit her lip.

"Maybe I am. So now, tell me, where exactly is your home?" His tone was low but firm.

She stayed quiet as her sweaty hands clutched the sheets; her body began to fidget.

"See? You can't even tell me where your—"

"London," she interjected. It wasn't a lie, albeit it's the London in the year 1999.

One of his brows rose at her reply. "London? Is that so? I thought you're from somewhere far away?" he sneered. "Did you forget the fact that Diagon Alley is in London where you just happened to be a week ago."

"No—"

"Lincolnshire," he cut in roughly, causing Hermione to peek at him, "that should be your hometown if you're a better liar. You should be aware of the origins of names when you made up an identity."

The tension only heightened through time since both of them kept their mouth shut. Malone's lifted brow challenged her to rebut his statement, but Hermione didn't comply. She just returned his stare boldly, unwilling to be the first to break the eye-contact as it's a display of cowardice and loss.

"The books"—he finally broke the suffocating silence, still eyeing her with an indecipherable expression—"inside your room at Flourish and Blotts. There are at least thirty of them and they are all about time-travel. They can't be only for leisure purposes, I reckon?" Since she didn't reply, he proceeded, "You said you're from far far away and I wouldn't be able to help you no matter what; it confused me. But after seeing your books, I knew it. You're stuck in a different timeline and can't find the way back to your own."

Her mouth was agape as she searched for the best argument to refute his evidenceless surmise. Shortly, before she could say anything, he added, "I may be able to help." His hand shoved into the pocket of his breeches and drew out a golden chain which was linked to a palm-sized circular device. "I guess, you already know what this is. I made this. I know how to make a Time-Turner."

Hermione's eyes hooked on the shining object in his hand. Working at the Time Room for months, she was absolutely positive that it's a real Time-Turner. If everything he said was legitimate, then he should have a wide knowledge of time-travel, he might be able to help her.

Should I tell him the truth that I'm indeed from the future and ask for his help? He's helped me so many times and never done anything against me. He's a helpful man, but we've only known each other for a few weeks. Is he trustworthy enough for me to tell him my biggest secret? I'd be breaking tons of laws if I do that—just saying, it's not like I care about laws under desperate circumstances. I don't even need to worry about laws if I can't go back to my time anyway. The main point is—should I trust him?

Her hand was inserted into her gown pocket. She folded her fingers around her wand while examining Malone's face, making her final decision. I'll obliviate him. He won't remember any of this later. Yet, her grip on the wood stick loosened after several seconds. Her fingers dived further until they were in contact with something cool and solid. They gave the object a fierce pull and exposed it to the bright sunlight, to the surprised eyes of the wizard before her.

"You're right," she stated, showing one of her Time-Turners to him. "I'm indeed from the future."

Author's note:

Actually I didn't expect this to happen. I didn't expect this would happen so fast. But to keep Hermione around, Draco could only do this. It's quite a gamble for him as well as Hermione could just obliviate him instead of admitting that she's a time-traveller from the future. Although I didn't plan for this to happen so early, I feel great about the plot and I'm really excited to continue the story.

Thank you for all the encouraging comments. I'm so flattered and happy that you like my story.