Ginny sat on her own and thought for a long time. She couldn't let Hermione go, she couldn't.

Could she?

Hermione would be getting herself into such danger. Too much danger.

But Hermione had been in danger before. She'd dealt well with danger.

If Hermione could make it work…

Ginny had met Tom. She'd seen him for what he really was. Yes, he had tried to kill her, and Hermione. But he hadn't been all dark. He'd still been human, at the very least.

If Hermione could make it work, maybe the sacrifice would be worth it. They'd get Hermione back, wouldn't they? They'd be able to bring her back, of course they would.

But changing things in the past had to be risky, didn't it? Would it change the future, so that nobody would remember Hermione? Would it truly make Voldemort go forever and Harry lead a normal life? Would Sirius still be alive? What about her granddad? What about Harry's parents?

If Hermione thought she could do it, maybe Ginny would be foolish to step in her way. She'd be only stopping Hermione from doing what Hermione thought best. And Hermione was always right, wasn't she? She was always correct about stuff like this, and Ginny never was.

Hermione was smarter than Ginny too, better. Hermione wouldn't fall under Tom's charm, would she? She wouldn't let anybody get hurt.

There was a click by the door and Ginny looked up, hoping to see Hermione.

It was Harry.

There was something wrong with him. His eyes were duller than usual and he was pale, so pale.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

He seemed to only see her now. "Yeah," he grunted. "It's just been… a long day."

"Where have you been all night?"

"I was walking. I… I needed to think about stuff." For a brief second, Harry's blank mask changed into a troubled, exhausted face before he covered it over again.

He left then, grunting goodbye, and she was left alone to think yet again.

Harry had settled it then. If Hermione wanted to go, she could go. But Ginny wouldn't go with her – Ginny would step into Hermione's shoes here. She'd do as Hermione did, making sure the boys were okay, eating right, doing their homework, and not killing each other and/or somebody else.

Ginny nodded to herself once, and then went to bed.

Draco wasn't quite sure why he was meeting up with her, Granger, in the Room Of Requirement.

"Hello, Granger." She was in there, sitting on the table, swinging her legs, with a scowl on her face.

"You're late," she accused, standing up.

Purposely done, of course. "I know."

There was an awkward silence then. She didn't quite know what to say to him, when not in the form of an insult.

"Look Malfoy," she began after a bit in her know-it-all tone, "if you could just, say nothing about the plan to anybody for a couple of days, I would really, really, really appreciate it-"

"And why, pray tell, would I do a Mudblood like yourself any favours?"

She looked at him properly, for the first time then, and smirked. Her tone was suddenly lighter and so, so sure of herself. "Tell me, Malfoy, are you a supporter of the Dark Lord?"

"That-That is none of your nosey little business."

"Hm. Well, if you were, surely you would be announcing your support and loyalty to him right about now."

"As if I would to a snotty little Gryffindor who'd run off and tell Dumbledore and Potty immediately!"

"C'mon, Malfoy, don't play dumb with me. You know I couldn't – then they'd know I willingly met up with you."

He was silent, only because he knew she was right.

"Shall I tell you what I really think? I think you don't support the Dark Lord at all. Your father is pushing you into doing it, isn't he? You're a spiteful, spoilt, annoying little git, but you're not a Death Eater, are you? You aren't a murderer, aren't you not?"

The anger has been bubbling in his stomach for some time now. Stupid Granger, with her know-it-all tone, knowing everything, stuff she shouldn't know, stuff that could get him seriously in danger if certain people were listening. He had lost his temper, his hand curled into a fist and-

BANG!

It really was either the desk or her face.

His fist smarted from the impact with the wood. He enjoyed the fact that she was shocked. It shut her up for a second and gave him a second to think.

"Really, Malfoy-" she spluttered, but that was all she could articulate.

Why was he here, listening to Granger and her stupid, boring theories? Why was he here, hitting desks in fury, when he could be back at his Common Room, with his actual mates? It was a Saturday, after all, and they were precious in a Boarding school. He didn't have to listen to this nonsense about going back fifty years into the past. It had nothing to do with him, at all.

Except the fact that she was right, wasn't she? He didn't support Voldemort. He didn't want to follow in his father's footsteps. In one week, he was supposed to be getting the Dark Mark on his arm and, when he did, he'd never be able to run from it. He'd be trapped.

That was why he was here.

"Okay," he took a deep breathe and continued, "you know what, Granger? You're right. You're right, okay? I don't want to follow Voldemort, at least not just yet. That's why I am going to help you. Because you're screwed without me and because I need to do something to try get away from him."

"How am I screwed without you?" she argued.

"Granger, you have to act as a Pureblood, right? What were you going to say was your last name?"

"Er… Granger?"

"Right, and where are your Pureblood roots originated from? What's your history? What are your family's beliefs on the pressures to mix bloods and how have you taken precautions not to do so?"

Her mouth was a little open, her expression blank.

"Stop looking at me like a goldfish, Granger. This is the kind of stuff he's going to ask. You can't just be a Granger! You have to be of a family that's well known, respected. Whose history he already knows, so you won't have to make up any stories. If you really are going to do this, Granger, you have to remember that you're dealing with Voldemort here!"

She nodded reluctantly and then asked, in a somewhat sulky voice, "Are you coming with me then?"

"Into the past? Back fifty years?"

"Yes, Malfoy," she said impatiently, "I'm not talking about tea, am I?"

He was silent.

"It would be an extremely convenient way to disappear for a while," she prompted. "Your father would never be able to find you."

He hated that she knew so much about him. He hated that she was always right.

And what did he really have here, anyway?

If he could stop Voldemort, he'd have done something so brilliant, so important –

He'd have done something Potter hadn't been fully able to do.

"Yeah, I think I will. Me and you, Granger. In the past."

He couldn't help smirk at the dawning uncertainty on her face as he swept by her, leaving the Room of Requirement, leaving her to worry for a very, very, very long time. Or so he imagined, smirking to himself.

Hermione returned to the Common Room late, having been in the Room Of Requirement, worrying for a very, very, very long time, after Malfoy had left.

"Draco...!" Pansy always seemed so surprised when Draco pushed her off him. He wondered why, because he always did. He think he'd only let her have her way with him once or twice, in his extremely weakened moments.

She wasn't even ugly. Yes, her pug nose was unfortunate, but Pansy's hair was long and blonde and straight unlike –

Unlike Granger's dark, bushy mess.

He shook his head. He'd done enough thinking about that Mudblood for one night.

"Okay, fine, Pansy. Fine. But only for tonight."

It was only on Sunday night that Draco began to worry she had bottled out. She hadn't made any communication and he didn't have that much time, after all. He had to be out of here in a week or he was wasting his time.

He scowled and realised what he had to do.

Granger,

Are you going to make any effort to do something any time soon? You know I have limited time. I hope you're not cowering out – you are, after all, supposed to be a Gryffindor. This is your plan, and I expect you to finish what you've started now.

Or else I'm going to tell Dumbledore what you had planned.

Remember, I have to teach you to behave properly and, judging by your previous behaviour, that is going to take substantial time.

D.M

He scowled once more, cursed her name, then called his owl to deliver the letter to her. She better not take long with her reply, he thought angrily, I do have better things to be doing.

Merely two minutes later, his owl screeched by his window, with a piece of white parchment tied to his foot.

Malfoy,

Stop bothering me. I'm trying to think.

Hermione Granger

Well! That was extremely ignorant. Draco was in half a mind to send her back a Howler, until another owl came into the window, almost immediatelty, as if by second thought.

Malfoy,

Okay, fine. Room of Requirement, after Potions.

See you then.

Don't hurt my owl!

Hermione Granger

Draco found himself laughing.

She needn't sound so reluctant. As if she had anything better do. She was hardly a social butterfly, was she? And what was this nonsense about hurting her owl! What did she think he would do, chop it up and send it back piece by piece with a ransom note demanding more owls to chop?

Granger really was one peculiar girl, he thought to himself.

He stroked the owl once, he wasn't sure why, and sent it back with his reply.

Granger,

Don't we have Charms then?

D.M

She was longer replying this time and Draco got bored waiting. He was just about to go asleep when her owl came back.

Malfoy,

We can miss it. This is important, after all. Just like you said.

Hermione Granger

Jesus, Granger must be taking this seriously, he thought, if she wants to miss class for it.

Somewhat happy that he was in control right now, he smirked and went to sleep.

He had a dream about her that night, but, in the morning, he didn't remember.