A/N: This is a long one, at least for me it is. Sorry if the ending is unsatisfying, I know I'm terrible...just drawing out the inevitably exciting bits! Please excuse any spelling or grammatical errors, I was eager to get this up for all of you to read.

And on that note, thanks to everyone who's been keeping up, reading and/or reviewing!

Disclaimer: Not mine :( All J.K. Rowling!

At this point, pain was relative. He was sure some of the curses had cut him so deep it had severed his nerve endings. First, there was immense pain. So much that he thought he might blackout. But then, it stopped altogether. All that remained was a dull ache, the remnants of pain.

Everything had gone wrong at this point. He was a deadman no matter what he chose to do in this instant. He was a traitor, a murderer, a vile and pathetic excuse for a man. He looked the part, could play the part, but after everything he was just a shell of a man. This wasn't the way he imagined it would end. On his knees in this place, looking through the people before him. They were of little importance now. At one time, though, he thought otherwise.

They talked at him, but everything sounded far away. Their voices were muffled, like he were underwater. His hand crept to his charcoal grey trousers, dipping into the woolen pocket. He'd paid a fortune for these bloody clothes and now they were ruined. Oddly enough, that seemed more important than the threats his captors were spouting. Everything that was once insignificant in his life garnered a newfound importance. His calloused thumb pressed into the trinket in his pocket. A Time-Turner.

By now, he'd broken a significant number of Ministry laws. He was a wanted man, through and through. So this last act, and it quite literally might be his last if he didn't get medical attention soon, didn't worry him. They continued their self-righteous ranting and he pulled it from his pocket. If he could turn back time, maybe this could have played out differently.

And he could turn back time, so he was betting on this. He needed to change the future.

"What are you doing?" a shrill voice bit out at him.

"Sending you to a cozy cell at Azkaban where you can rot for all I care, you loony hag."

Before it all faded into indistinguishable shapes, blurring and moving in reverse, her enraged howl filled the ruined space. It all repaired itself, every bookshelf returning to its upright position. He dragged himself up off his knees, finding it increasingly difficult to maintain balance when everything seemed to spin around him. His hand came down to his side when he felt a warm sensation mingled with the biting sting. The shirt he wore, torn to ribbons, was stained with a fresh peal of blood.

When the library came into focus again, he closed his eyes, fighting off a wave of bile rising in his throat. He was sleep deprived, emotionally screwed up and bleeding profusely. All he did was close his eyes for a second, just to stop the spinning and the sick feeling. That was the last thing he could recall, except for the smell of warm, buttery leather and the biting scent of lavender invading the darkness.

* * * *

"Wake up."

Someone was roughly shoving him. He didn't need a clock to know it was too early for someone to be waking him up. The voice, though, was insistent and the prodding didn't seem to be stopping. He mumbled a few half-hearted threats and pawed at his mattress, searching for a pillow to throw over his own head and muffle the unwelcome sounds.

"MALFOY!"

"What?" he snarled, turning to the unlucky soul that was about to get the bulk his sunny morning disposition. "What? What is so blooding important? Could it not wait until breakfast?"

Blaise Zabini smirked, and he knew nothing good could come from that expression.

"No, it most certainly can not."

Seldom if ever was Draco Malfoy wary of anyone or anything, but the excitement and dishonest intent was almost tangible in the empty room. Everyone had gone down to the Great Hall already and, usually, he would take this time to sleep before catching the end of the breakfast before taking off for classes. His fellow Slytherins knew the price they paid for dabbling. He was not a morning person and his temper was even shorter before noon.

* * * *

Hermione had woken up oddly at ease and well-rested. That descended into a downward spiral by the time she entered the Great Hall, though. She shot a wary glance at the Slytherin table. Malfoy, or the younger Malfoy, was absolutely nowhere to be found. By no means could she let out a sigh of relief, though. She remembered what Dumbledore had said. They were to have a meeting at some point during their morning classes.

She was in every single class that Malfoy was. He always came second best to her in his studies, so it seemed he made a point this year to have the same schedule. He was taking the most difficult courses offered at Hogwarts, all in an attempt to rival her and eventually, surpass her. It was obvious to everyone. Every time they would get an assignment back, his expression would darken when he found out she beat him.

Of course, she was taking extra classes that no one knew about except for Harry, Ron and the professors. That was all possible due to her Time-Turner, the little magical trinket that had caused all these problems. Hermione shot another furtive glance across the long hall.

By the time she took her usual seat with the usual suspects, she was focussed on nothing else but the Slytherin table. Harry and Ron addressed her numerous times to no avail. She merely nodded and mumbled something about not sleeping.

Hermione realized this was how Harry must feel all the time. She was carrying this weight on her shoulders, this horrid secret she couldn't share with anyone else. Suddenly, she was wrapped up in this whirlwind of events she had no control over. Frankly, it was terrible. Her mind wandered, she couldn't collect her thoughts. Her friends looked at her with concern. Dumbledore was absent from the professors' table, as were several other staff members.

"I have to go," she said in a dreamlike state.

Her unfocussed gaze was at the front of the Great Hall. Four seats were empty. Dumbledore's, Madam Pomfrey's, Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall's.

"What?" Ron asked.

Harry's eyebrows disappeared beneath his unruly fringe. Everyone looked at her, confused and ill-informed. As soon as she sat down, she was distracted and every attempt by them to include her in conversation was fruitless. Her gaze wandered between the Slytherin table and the professors. Never once did she pay a bit of attention to them.

"Are you sick?" Harry asked.

"You haven't touched your food, Hermione," Ginny murmured.

She didn't answer them. Instead, she was on her feet and out of the Great Hall before she knew it. In the Entrance Hall, few students were rushing to breakfast before their first class, others were hurrying about. Hermione knew where she was going before she decided it.

Curiosity was a strange ailment. It brought trouble and nothing more. The number of times Harry and Ron had pulled her into trouble with the promise of mystery were countless. Her record was colourfully spotted thanks to them, but Hermione couldn't resist. It was an improbably romance, Hermione Granger and her curiosity.

"Going to the hospital wing, Granger?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat violently and she nearly missed the next step as she climbed the stairs. She knew it. The entrance to the Slytherin common room was clearly in the dungeons, but it came from the same spiraling stairway that lead to the Potions classrooms. Harry and Ron never did share that tidbit of information with her after the horrendous incident with the Polyjuice Potions.

Standing casually at the bottom of the stairs, complete with his hands in his pockets and the typical, arrogant air about him, was the last person she ever expected to see. Although she was usually on relatively good terms with him, he rarely addressed her outside of class. And it was only ever to do with schoolwork or assignments they shared.

Blaise looked the picture of ease, with the exception of the cocky smile playing on his lips. How could he have known? Throughout the entire ordeal the previous night, she hadn't run into anyone. Maybe someone had been in the library after all. Hermione felt ill, the same sort of feeling she got when she knew she was breaking a rule. Although it was well beyond her control, because she definitely did not tell him a thing, she felt like she had betrayed Dumbledore's trust.

Trying her damnedest best not to squirm she cleared her throat. "Of course not. I forgot my book bag in the library last night when I was studying."

At least she was telling the truth about that. It just occurred to her that she wasn't prepared for class because all of her books were at the same desk she abandoned last night.

"Where you found Malfoy, right?"

Her foot involuntarily slipped down a marble step and she lurched forward. Hermione had never been one to mask her emotions well. She couldn't lie and she rarely hid from everyone. To everyone that looked at her, she was an open book.

He knew. Somehow, he knew.

There was no point in lying, but she promised Dumbledore she wouldn't tell anyone. When in doubt: deny, deny, deny. Her blinked, trying to put in an expression of indifference and confusion, neither of which came naturally to her. But now, she looked more like a deer caught in the headlights, her brown eyes wide with shock.

"What are you on about, Zabini?"

He took a couple steps toward her, lowering his voice for her benefit. He knew just as well as her that this situation came with consequences. No one was supposed to know.

"Come off it, Granger. I was in the hospital wing last night. I was supposed to be sleeping, but with all the racket you made dragging Malfoy in, you could've woken the dead."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I told Malfoy. I mean, the one we both know."

"What?" she hissed, glaring at him. Her poorly composed stoicism had gone out the window at this point. She looked around hastily, making sure that no one was around. "Have you gone mad? He can't know. I'm sure you know as well as I do that Time-Turners can be a dangerous magic to fool around with. Malfoy can't know that his future self just popped into the present, certainly not one that showed up slashed to pieces and dying. He could do something stupid and—"

"Oi, slow down there Granger," he said, holding up his hands and bringing her to a full stop mid-sentence. "You think he believed me? He thinks I belong in a nuthouse."

"He's not far off," she grumbled, crossing her arms. "Did you tell me just to antagonize me? Or is there a purpose to this conversation. I'm going to be late for class."

"No purpose. I just wanted to ruffle a few feathers," he smirked. "You must know by now that no one in Slytherin does something with honorable intentions."

He turned on his heel and laughed his way to the Great Hall. The sound echoed, bouncing off the high ceilings.

"Git," she snapped, continuing her way to the library.

* * * *

Double Potions was barely tolerable under the best circumstances. Now, it was inhumane. Across the isle, paired with Pansy Parkinson was Malfoy. If Blaise had told him, he didn't seem to take it all seriously. He looked as unbothered and placid as he did every other day.

"Uh, Hermione."

Was he really so ignorant that he would cast off such information from his best friend? He really was a self-involved prat.

"Hermione!"

"What?" she snapped, facing Neville impatiently.

Eyes wide, nervous, he pointed to the cutting board. She had been chopping up the root for their elixir to induce euphoria. That seeming oddly inappropriate considering her deteriorating mental state and the anger bubbling up inside of her. Rather than cutting up the appropriate amount, she'd diced her entire store of it.

"Oh," she said, a pink blush staining her cheeks. "Sorry Neville, I must have dozed off for a bit."

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, yes. Just a bit tired."

"Alright," he said slowly, skeptically.

Hermione watched as he tossed some in the cauldron before referring back to their textbook. Although she could do this with her eyes closed, she hoped that letting Neville take the reigns would boost his self confidence. It was a relatively easy position. The new potions master was a huge step down from Snape. Not only where they allowed to pick their own partners (Harry and Ron were arguing over the potion, trying to find out where they'd gone wrong), but the work was decidedly easier.

She glanced at Malfoy. He looked bored, telling Pansy what to do and exactly how to do it.

* * * *

If she looked over at him one more time, he was going to lose it. The familiar sensation of someone boring a hole through his shoulders, shooting daggers at him, made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It was unsettling.

What was worse was that now he knew.

He knew exactly why she was looking at him so intently, studying his every move. When Blaise had told him what he'd seen, he was sure Weasley's fiery little sister had scrambled his brains. He actually laughed, a genuine, joyful sound spilling from between his lips. Blaise had looked furious and threw him a rude hand gesture before leaving him to his sleep.

Draco was debating whether or not he would go down to breakfast. He wasn't worried about the truth to Blaise's ridiculous story, but just wondered whether or not he should sleep a bit more before classes. It wasn't a good idea, though, not eating until lunch. He had Double Potions in the morning and without sustenance, he wouldn't have enough patience to deal with Pansy and her constant fondling, flirting and general lack of intelligence.

He took the stairs up to the Entrance Hall two at a time, realizing he had only a few moments before classes begun. It would be just enough time for some pumpkin juice and a piece of toast. The hushed voices stopped him at the top, especially when he heard his name.

Standing on the grand marble staircase was Granger and Blaise. He could hear every word exchanged between the two thanks to the remarkable acoustics of the room. He couldn't see Blaise, but there was no mistaking his friend's serious tone. It was the same one he had been woken up with only an hour ago. Granger on the other hand looked ill. Her face was pale and her hair a total mess, even more unruly than usual. From what he could see, she looked worried. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes frantic.

Blaise would never go to such an extreme to fool him. And Granger, of all people, would never be in on such a scam. She took everything so seriously, he didn't even know if she was capable of having fun. It made everything they said that much more compelling.

Hospital wing? His future self? Time-Turner?

None of it made any sense to him. But if Blaise was telling the truth, he wouldn't be heading down to breakfast. There was only one place he was going before class started.

If they were playing some messed up game, both of them would have hell to pay.

So he made his way toward the hospital wing when the coast was clear. Although he knew he would be ravenous by the time lunch rolled around, his appetite, for the time being, had been sated. He was walking so fast his hair was ruffled by the breeze he kicked up. This had to be a joke. He didn't even own a Time-Turner. Rounding the corner, he stopped abruptly.

There was a lineup of students outside the doors of the hospital wing. The heavy wooden doors were pulled shut, for what seemed to be the first time in Hogwarts history or at least the past six years. Madam Pomfrey was always there. The hospital wing couldn't be closed. He looked to the closest student, a first year he didn't recognize.

"You," he snapped. "What's going on?"

The kid turned around, almost wincing at the sight of him. "Um....uh, I don't know. We're all supposed to go to...er, see Professor Sprout if we need any draughts or anything, er...sir?"

"Spineless," he huffed, turning back down the corridor he had come. He had no tolerance for first years. They were good at nothing but doing his bidding. Most of them were incapable when it came to that.

All that he could do was go to class. As soon as the hospital wing opened up again, Madam Pomfrey was going to get an earful.

* * * *

"Professor?"

The wiry woman at the front of the class looked up. At the same time, the rest of the class shuffled and turned in their seats. Rarely were classes interrupted, especially by other professors. Tight-lipped, Professor McGonagall stood waiting acknowledgment from the potions master.

"Yes?"

"The Headmaster needs to speak to Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy immediately, concerning their Prefect duties," she said, her voice sharp and insistent.

Aside from Snape, if there was a professor students feared, it was the carefully composed McGonagall. She always stood ramrod straight and her facial expression never seemed to change. Even now, when Hermione's heart sank, she knew that McGonagall had been informed. But still, it didn't show in her face. Nothing did.

Harry and Ron, and the entire class but two other students, saw no faults in this. But Malfoy shot a look at Blaise who merely smirked and shook his head. Hermione didn't spare a look at Malfoy. She didn't know if her stomach could handle it.

"Oh, certainly. Yes, of course."

Hermione hastily gathered up her belongings. Her hands trembled violently, but as long as she kept her hands moving, no one would notice. Malfoy did the same as the class carried on, the mull of conversation filling the dungeon classroom again. First out of the classroom, she didn't look back at Malfoy. She didn't say anything. She just kept her eyes forward and following McGonagall to Professor Dumbledore's office.

* * * *

The awkward silence was suffocating in the office. Dumbledore sat at his desk, his hands folded casually in front of him, an amused expression on his face. Off to the side of the room, Madam Pomfrey (to Malfoy's extreme anger), Snape and McGonagall all stood silently. Hermione hadn't moved since she sat down, perched on the very edge of her seat.

After what felt like eons, Malfoy inhaled a large breath, "Listen here, old man, I want to know what the bleeding hell is going on!"

"Mister Malfoy," Snape drawled. There was a line, only so much Snape could take, and clearly Malfoy had crossed it. His voice was testy and he glared at the young man before him.

The twinkle of amusement in Dumbledore's eyes never left. He looked at Hermione, "Would you care to explain, Miss Granger, or shall I?"

"If this is about that nonsense about a Time-Turner—"

"Silence!" Snape snapped, his voice crisp and teetering on livid. The hard edge was enough to stop Malfoy's mindless babble, but not enough to keep him from glaring at Hermione.

"So you know?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly.

"I know that it's a load of rubbish."

"I take is Mr. Zabini was present in the hospital wing last night?" he addressed this question to Hermione.

She shifted uncomfortably before clearing her throat. "Yes, sir."

"Ah. Well, I will have to speak to him about this...predicament. Rest assured that he won't breathe a word of this to any of your classmates, Mr. Malfoy, as you of all people did not believe him easily. I'm sure he won't be telling his story to anyone else."

"I'm not worried!" he yelled, losing what little patience he had left. "I don't know what you're all on about!"

"It's difficult to articulate, Mr. Malfoy. But, as it would seem, you've come back to the present."

"I've what?" he asked.

"Come back to Hogwarts from an unspecified time. Miss Granger here was studying in the library last night and she came across your person."

Malfoy let out a snort of amusement when the headmaster mentioned Granger in the library. Hermione turned on him, "Funny is it, Malfoy? I dragged you out the mess I found you in. If I hadn't, your future would have been looking pretty bleak right about now!"

"Yes, Miss Granger and Professor Snape escorted your future self to the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey was waiting. As it stands, you are recovering remarkably well. Not to worry, though. I'm sure you've learned that the hospital wing has been closed off for privacy."

"You're serious about all this?" Malfoy asked, the little colour in his face gone. The smirk he maintained throughout the 'ridiculous' story had vanished as well. "I don't even have a Time-Turner! This is absolute nonsense. You wait until my father hears about this, he'll have you fired once and for all."

"It's mine," Hermione said.

Malfoy looked at her as though she'd grown three extra heads. "What?" he seethed.

"The Time-Turner, Malfoy. The one you had in your hand. It's mine."

Hermione reached into her pocked and pulled out two identical Time-Turners. The only differences were small, they could only be seen upon close inspection. Little chips in the glass and the gold. And the flecks of dried blood in the chain. Strangely enough, he grabbed the same Time-Turner he had arrived with, his hands shaking, almost imperceptibly.

"How?" He looked sick now.

"And herein lies the mystery, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore excused them from the office under several conditions. Naturally, they were sworn to secrecy. They were excused from classes for the rest of the day. The Ministry would not be notified until they had discussed it with the older Draco Malfoy.

Hermione darted out of the office, hurrying away from the confined space in the hopes of leaving all of her worries, all of it, there. But of course, the biggest problem of all kept pace with her. Malfoy.

"You bint, you absolute useless Mudblood," he snarled. "Look at what you've done."

"How do you know it's my fault?" she asked, turning on him. Her sounded shrill to her. She was quickly losing her grip. "You were the one with my Time-Turner!"

He ignored her. Hermione had never seen him look so conflicted. He was terrified, angry, furious even. He looked vulnerable in this state, unable to maintain the Malfoy aura he'd worked so hard to create over the years. For an instant, he looked human. "Do you know what they'll do to me?" he snarled angrily, hurling the Time-Turning down the corridor.

"DO YOU?"

She was thankful everyone was in class. This would be a scene worthy of that foul Skeeter woman. It would certainly create a string of gossip, have every student in the school asking questions.

"Who?" Hermione demanded. "Your family?"

"No," he laughed bitterly. "My problems are bigger than that."

"Voldemort?"

"Shut up," he breathed as soon as the last syllable had spilled from her mouth. "Just shut up. Don't ever say that name again." He looked so tired to her, so worn down. Much older than his sixteen year old self. Hermione could see the resemblance between him and his other self.

He wouldn't tell her all his woes. There was no way she would get him to say anything more. Even as she turned to pick up the Time-Turner, she could see him falling back behind the carefully built walls he had created for himself. She held it out to him, meeting his gaze.

"If you want to know, there's only one person you can talk to."

Malfoy took the Time-Turner from her, careful not to touch her hand.

Can you say "OMG"?