The Harry Potter universe and its characters are the sole property of J. K. Rowling. By using them below, I am in no way claiming them as my own.

Draco had dragged her down the steps at a worrying pace, his grip on her wrist beginning to hurt. The dungeons were also different, although she barely had time to notice at the pace she was pulled along. She noted the presence of at least two prisoners in one cell, with another reaching out to grab her as she passed. Thankfully, he was not quick enough, and from his shadow Hermione wasn't sure the creature was altogether human.

He released his grip at the store room, hesitating in front of the door. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the latch. The room was practically unchanged, with the exception of lit wall sconces. Draco seemed to relax and stepped into the room, Hermione trailing after. He seemed abnormally focused on the vanishing cabinet before turning his attention to her.

'Do you understand what's going on?'

'Not really.' She rubbed her wrist, wondering whether it would bruise. 'Why didn't your father recognise me?'

Draco stared back at her, incredulous. 'Seriously, that's your problem here? Not the fact that he's dead.'

'Like an inferi?' She queried, confused. She had been vaguely aware of reports of Lucius Malfoy's death a few years ago, but in order to distance herself from her past, she had tried to not pay attention to these things.

'That is not what an inferi looks like!' The sudden change in tone surprised Hermione. Draco was shaking, pacing in front of her. He ran his hands through his hair roughly, trying to figure things out. She tried to think of an explanation for the situation they had found themselves in, but what could possibly have happened in the brief time they were asleep? Her head began to ache and she grimaced at him.

'I don't know what's going on,' she cried, frustrated. He stopped in his pacing and stared at her.

'The demon was set to kill Harry and aid you-know-who's ascent to power.'

'You mean Vol...' Draco reached out, placing a finger against her lips to silence her.

'Not here. It's not safe.'

'Draco, you're scaring me.'

'The demon didn't go for modern-day Harry because you-know-who was already dead.' He watched Hermione's lack of comprehension. 'Look around you, Hermione. Why is my father alive, the house back to its original self, surrounded by some city which is only vaguely familiar?' She was still confused. 'It's not London outside this house, Hermione.'

'I don't know,' she sobbed. Everything was a huge mess.

He grabbed the top of her arms, forcing her to sober up and look at him.

'The demon went back in the past to kill Harry. It's the only way you-know-who could survive.'

'You mean...' Hermione couldn't believe it. 'We've changed the past.'

'And now we're stuck in a different future.'

'Susan,' Hermione exclaimed, her hands moving up to her mouth in horror. What had happened to her oblivious friend?

'She won't be here,' Draco pulled her hands down, cradling them in his own. 'She might not be a photographer in this future, she might not work for the Daily Prophet, hell, she might not even be alive.'

'Is that why your father didn't recognise me?' She frowned at him. 'Draco, am I dead in this reality?'

'I don't know.' He looked away from her eyes, uncomfortable. 'You might be locked up somewhere, and he hasn't seen you since Hogwarts.'

'Well how can we fix it?'

'I don't know.'

'You need to know!' She shouted, pushing him away. 'If Harry's dead, then... then... oh my god.' She felt herself moving into full-panic mode.

'Hermione, you know how we can go into the past to change things back?' He already knew the answer, thinking back to the strange things he had seen in third year.

'There were time-turners, but they were all destroyed by the ministry...' Draco smiled,

'They were destroyed by the ministry in a past that doesn't exist any more. But you know how to use them?'

'Do you think you could get one?' He paused, thinking out a plan, then shrugged.

'What choice do we have?'

Draco had left the house, moving out into a world that Hermione no longer recognised. Buildings she associated with modern London had instead been built here, in the valley. The countryside around Malfoy Manor was been prime real-estate for urbanisation, a gift from Lord Voldemort to one of his most trusted death-eaters. Lucius had made a fortune from the surrounding industry and enslavement of magical creatures. The reality where Harry had failed, letting Lord Voldemort ascend to magical overlord, was a bleak one.

Hermione was thankful for the quick lie about her past, now being able to roam the house freely as a distant Malfoy cousin. However, she felt so embarrassed and horrified by her mistake that all she could think about was returning to the guest suite. She managed the journey without running into Malfoy's immediate family and climbed back into the bed. The mattress was still warm to the touch where herself and Malfoy had lain, innocent to the change in their stars. She wrapped the duvet around her tightly, cocooning herself from the world, and waited for Draco's return.

'Hello?' The door to her room opened and closed, waking Hermione from her slumber. She pushed herself up from the soft mound and winced at the light which poured in through the window and onto her face.

Draco stood by the door, but had changed his clothes from earlier. Now he was wearing a strange black robe, the right breast embellished by a dark velvet 'LV' monogram. His hair was different as well, the style more refined and shorter than she had ever seen on him before. His expression confused her, one of horror and joy.

He ran to her, leaping onto the bed. She was pinned underneath him, the duvet squashed between their bodies as he plastered her face with kisses. No skin was left untouched, and Hermione was in too much of a daze from her sleep to protest. He pulled back, his hands moving down from her face to rest on her shoulders and smiled at her. Hermione managed to wrangle an arm free from her cushioned prison to touch her face, and found it damp. He had been crying.

'You're alive,' he exclaimed. 'I can't believe it. You're alive.'

'I...' Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but he leant forward, pressing his lips against hers. The gesture was familiar yet strange to her, although she wasn't sure why. Within a few seconds of his caress, she didn't really care why either.