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.

There had been something very different about Draco's embrace. His actions were precise, as if he had lived through them several times before, yet there was a barely contained desperation in his touch. Every caress seemed to have a sad note to it, each kiss suggesting something akin to mourning. It was completely unlike her previous encounters with him, which were often hot and heavy. He was so affected by her presence that she almost felt like she were drowning in his grief, and desperate to comfort his sorrow, couldn't push him away. She finally let herself succumb to him completely.

It wasn't until the pair were in that post-coital haze, with Draco dozing beside her, that Hermione realised what the difference had been. She twisted under the duvet to face him, moving her hand up to trace the outline of his jaw. He stirred, sleepy eyes opening to focus on her, and smiled. 'Hey,' he offered.

'What happened?' She asked in a whisper. He sighed, manoeuvring his arm to pull her body against his. He needed full reassurance of her presence before revisiting his past and she acquiesced, pressing her face against his chest.

'You died at Hogwarts.' He admitted. 'The dark lord had Potter's body brought up to the school, expecting that the students would surrender.' Draco paused and Hermione felt his breath catch beneath her. 'You just ran out to attack him. Bellatrix got you first, I think.'

'And everyone else?'

'They burnt the school to the ground.' Her heart seized, imagining the destruction, but she couldn't leave her questions there. She bit her lip, worried about his next response.

'What about my parents?'

'I don't know,' he sighed. 'The regime requires all muggles to be in servitude. There was some resistance in Europe, but most countries fell to the dark lord.'

Her mind flitted back to everyone she'd ever met: her parents, her grandparents, the mailman... where were they all now? Tears began to prick at her eyes and she chastised herself for being silly. After all, this reality wasn't real... was it? Draco had a plan to go back to their own, where her friends were alive and her parents holidaying in Australia.

'What happened to Ginny?'

'Dead.' Draco replied matter-of-factly.

'Ron?'

'Dead. He ran out after you.'

'Neville?' She felt Draco shift position and saw him looking down at her with a pitying expression. She gave him a pained smile. 'I guess they're all dead. I'm dead.' It was a strange thing to admit. 'Why not?'

His arm moved more tightly around her and she tried to relax in his grip, trying to forget the situation outside her window. It was a surprisingly easy thing to do in his arms.

'Are you happy?' She asked, curious. He didn't respond. 'Draco?'

'I wished that I had died at the battle. I try and save you in my dreams, but every time I fail.'

Heartbroken, Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled into his chest.

Draco had made enquiries with the house-elves in the kitchen before apparating to London. He had almost expected the Ministry of Magic to have moved location to the valley. Seemingly, in this reality, his family possessed a lot of power - no one dared stop him in the Ministry, or prevent his exploration and theft of a time turner from the department of mysteries. However, he had noticed the change in fashion, and been required to steal a black robe to blend in. Seemingly Voldemort had added dress-dictator to his CV, alongside racist despot.

He had apparated back to Malfoy Manor several hours later. Exhausted, he headed up to Hermione's room, expecting that she would have taken refuge there from his now reunited family.

There was no way he could have predicted what he found on his return. After he'd overcome the shock, he realised that perhaps he should have considered the possibility. Why would there not be another Draco Malfoy, who had lived through the changed future, present in the house?

Although why a semi-naked Hermione was draped over him, he had no idea.

Grimacing, he leant forward over the bed, prodding the sleeping Hermione in the shoulder. She pushed herself up from his doppelganger's chest slowly and blinked at him. She quickly realised her predicament and pulled the duvet up to cover herself, blushing. Draco didn't know how to feel about this turn of events. He folded his arms. 'Granger, did you sleep with me?'

Hermione nodded, pouting at him.

Unbelievable, Draco thought to himself. All the effort he'd gone through to try and win her heart, even if his results were often poor, and she gave in to a him that wasn't him? How was a rational person meant to deal with a situation like this? Nobody had prepared him for the moment when the love of his life cheated on him with himself.

'... Was I any good?' Hermione didn't answer but her face broke out into a grin, appreciating the ridiculousness of the situation.

'If it helps, I didn't realise.' She shrugged. Draco rolled his eyes,

'That's exactly what you said the last time,' he replied, referring back to the incident with mirror-Draco. 'You think you'd have learnt by now to recognise the real me.'

'Did you find a time-turner?'

Draco reached into the black robes and extracted a gold chain, the pendant turner hanging down. He knew it was ridiculous to be jealous of himself, but if he woke up in the next few minutes... well, he might just punch himself in the face.

'I think it's time to go,' he suggested, 'before you take advantage of me again.'