That night Draco stayed outside in the storm that had occurred before he had gotten back to his own time. It was a snowy winter night, and he bundled his winter coat closer to his body as he sat on the stairs leading into Hogwarts Castle. His mind raced with one thousand questions, and each one had an impossible amount of questions behind them.

How did Granger lose her memory? Why did he have to go back in time in the first place? Why didn't Potter remember? How come Granger was waiting for him really? How could he have been so stupid? Did he really do it? Did he change the course of time? Was it really his future self that had raped her? Well... his present self? But his past self had found her? Was this all some kind of wheel of madness? Why did Madam Pomfrey say it was rape if Granger enjoyed it? God... did he really rape her? What was going through his mind when he did it? WHY did he do it?

His stained mind couldn't have been more tainted with guilt and regret. In truth, Draco would not have regretted anything he'd done, but this... this seemed different. This was dishonest. Should he write to Blaise to tell him what happened? Should he... could he tell Granger? Hermione?

The wind nipped at his face as some soft snowflakes bit at his nose, and Draco only wanted this to all be a dream. The old Granger lusted him. The new Granger loved him. And all this time Draco had never thought of Granger as sexy or attractive until she was helpless and alone. And when she had been in the bathroom helpless, wrapped up in ropes, and scared, Draco had never wanted her more. He wasn't even thinking when he shoved her up against the wall. It was as if he HAD to do it... it was like his destiny. He was supposed to be the one to rape Granger, and then his old self would find her. Then the old Draco would go back in time to see who raped her and it would be an on-going circle forever.

Somehow, someway, Draco wished he could re-write what he had done. How could he ever walk down Hogwarts Castle knowing that he had forced someone into sex -and that someone was the very one he saved. He knew he hadn't re-written time. Granger was meant to be 'raped' by him - but why would fate be so cruel?

A hand touched his shoulder, making him jump slightly before someone said, "You best get inside, Mr. Malfoy, its dreadfully cold out here." It was Professor Trelawney, as odd and bug eyed as ever. "I see a great sadness in your realm, Draco. Is something wrong? Jupiter is aligned with Venus -chaos is in the air! Can you smell it?" Draco wanted to point out that just by looking at his face anyone could tell he was depressed, but thought better of it. He didn't want to wind up in detention over the holidays.

"Er... yeah. Loads of it." He lied.

"Mr. Malfoy, you are not acting of your normal state. -You're actually acting civil.- Do you wish to speak of it over some peanut brittle in my office?"

"No." Said Draco flatly. "I want to stay out here."

Trelawney sighed. "Very well. Catch a cold if you wish. I sense misery and pain to come." She bid him a cheery fare well (which made Draco want to vomit) and set off back into the Castle. Draco continued to stay outside.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there -but when he finally resided back into his dorm room everyone who had not gone to visit someone had already fallen fast asleep in their beds. Draco threw off his shirt and pants, pulled into some cotton pajama bottoms, and flopped into bed. He didn't care if he woke the others. With a hasty sigh he tugged the covers tight around his neck and closed his eyes. A part of him told him he should have taken a shower -but the other part told him if he took a shower this late at night he was bound to catch a cold. The other part argued that he had already probably caught a cold, and a shower would be in Draco's best interest. The tired side of him said well then there was no point in taking a shower this late at night because Draco would wake the others...

And his mind did not go to sleep.

He tried thinking about Quidditch, counting toads in his mind, running up and down his ABC's, and still nothing put him to sleep. Every time he thought about Quidditch and that reminded him of Potter. When he thought of toads he thought of Neville Longbottom, the stupid brute, and he was a Gryffindor -and Hermione was a Gryffindor. When he got to the letter H he gave up in the alphabet. One could guess why.

He had to see her.

'It wouldn't be in my best interest, though,' He told himself, 'She probably's figured it out by now and is dreading to ever see me again.' He knew he was lying, but what was a lie between yourself? 'I still don't understand how her memory got erased.' He sat up in bed, realizing he would not get back to sleep this night, and looked around. He found the potion page he had ripped out of the restricted section library book and brought it out. As he lit a candle, he skimmed through the words and instructions one by one. Nothing seemed out of order, except the MAKE SURE NEVER TO BE SEEN mark in instruction number eight. But it still didn't explain anything... until he read the top.

Though time traveling potions are illegal in several parts of Europe and South Africa, they serve many purposes that the Ministry Of Magic fails to realize. The ultimate backfire of such a potion, however, could relate in being seen, causing a time rupture or mental disability for the said person who saw someone from the future. While many theories on the potion...

"Hold the owl," Draco said, re-reading the line that made sense over and over, "Oh shit. Why didn't I see that? -'The ultimate backfire of such a potion, however, could relate in being seen, causing a time rupture' blah blah 'or mental disability for the said person who saw someone from the future.'" It all made an eerie sense to him. Since he had let Granger and Potter see him, they each had a mental disability -Granger's worse than Potter (probably from physical contact, Draco thought). They had lost their memory through the potion.

"Draco..." Tim Hardy, one of the fellow Slytherins, said from his bed next to Draco's, "Shut up and shove it."

"Go to Hell, Hardy." Draco mumbled. Suddenly the name Hardy clicked in his mind. "Hey... what's your dad do?"

Tim groaned. "He works for St. Mungos- checks in on mental patients to see if they're bad enough to go to St. Mungos... why?"

"You have the same name as him." Draco realized at last.

Tim sounded very annoyed as he said, "Yeah, I'm Tim Waldon Hardy the Third. Dad's the seconds -Grandad's the first."

"Hey Tim Waldon Hardy the third?"

"Yes Draco Lucius Malfoy The Whatever?"

"Tell your dad I want a word with him as soon as possible - Now go shove it up your ass and go back to sleep."

"At least I don't shove dildos up my arse, Draco."

"Excuse me?" Draco coughed.

"Well I found one underneath your bunk..." They both looked up to the bunk above Draco's. Inside was a small homely looking boy with dark skin and light hair.

"I think I want a new bed tomorrow." Draco grumbled, feeling a major headache coming on.

The next day didn't go all too well for Draco. He dropped his wand three times, the shower water was ice cold then burning hot, he did not get down for breakfast in time, and on top of everything else he got a letter summoning him to the Hospital wing as quick as possible. If something could have gone worse -it did. When he arrived in the Hospital wing at 10:30 a.m. and sixteen seconds, Hermione was sleeping on one of the available hospital wing beds. He was just figuring things could have gone TERRIBLE and she could have woken up when Madam Pomfrey coughed and ushered Draco into her office. "Mr. Malfoy, please have a seat," She said, pushing him into a seat in front of her desk. It was scattered with medical files and potions. "I want a word with you."

"Well, you've got it." Draco sneered slightly, crossing his arms.

"Draco," She said, her tone a little less harsh as she sat down in her seat across from him, "I want you to be aware of some things that are... happening with Ms. Granger."

Draco blinked. "Why tell me? I don't give a - er... flip."

"Because she's been asking for you," Madam Pomfrey sighed, "Ms. Granger is running a very high fever. Yesterday it was one hundred and one, and today its going up to one hundred and three degrees Fahrenheit. -I have her on antibiotics, but not one thing I see can tell me what's wrong with her. -And I fear this might be some new muggle illness us wizards aren't used to."

"Are you saying it could be contagious?" Draco sounded horrified.

"I didn't say that, so don't go getting your underwear in a knot." Madam Pomfrey snapped. "Do you know anything of what could have caused this? You were around her the most -did she have any allergies?"

"No -and I don't like you giving me the third degree about it," Draco sneered harshly. He had a feeling the potion had a great deal to do with it. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with some much needed R and R. Rest and Revenge." He stood up to go but just as he did someone knocked lightly on the door.

"Come in." Madam Pomfrey called. Inside spilled Author Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Fred, George, and Harry Potter. Only Harry was being held up by Fred and George. Potter looked as if he hadn't eaten in days -his face was ashy pale and his eyes were very dark and red. "Oh my - what happened?" Pomfrey shouted, just as Harry almost collapsed to the floor. It took Fred, George, and Ron to keep him up.

"We don't know." Mrs. Weasley said quickly, "One minute he was fine, the next he nearly passed out at the table and started vomiting! We haven't been able to keep anything down him all night."

"Not to mention he's running-" Started Fred.

"-A fever." Finished George.

"Oh dear... Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear," Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Quickly, get him on a bed!"

Draco's day went from bad -to worse.

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