Fucking Granger. What the hell is her problem? Draco couldn't stop the furious thoughts rolling through him as he stalked into the the quarters that he would call his until they got back. If they got back. Slamming his door shut behind him Draco slumped into an armchair. He only sat still for a matter of moments before he kicked the coffee table in front of him.
"I mean, where the hell does she get off?" He burst out pushing himself up out of the chair. Running a hand through his hair, stalking back and forth across the room. "Talking to me like that. Filthy little mudblood. She's the reason we're in this mess. She should be thanking me that she's even alive. What does she do though? Goes off flirting with Godric Gryffindor! She wants to preach to me about changing history? Next thing we know they'll be reading about little half blood broods of his and hers."
Draco growled to himself, coming to stop in front of his washbin. Leaning over the sink, Draco looked up at himself in the mirror. His hair was longer than he liked for it to get and the stubble that he had been forced to let grow in was thicker than he would have ever liked for it to get. Running a hand over his face, Draco sighed. He needed to take care of this, then he would grab a long hot shower and stop thinking about Damn Granger. All she did was irritate him by the very thought of her.
With a practiced hand, steady, patient that suggested he had done it more than once, Draco began trimming back his hair carefully. In the end it was perhaps a little shorter than he would have liked but better. After a close shave and a shower almost hot enough to boil the skin on his back, Draco finally resembled his old self. That didn't stop the irritating thoughts about Hermione rolling through his mind though.
"How the hell am I going to get back?" Draco muttered to himself. He still had slightly gaunt cheeks and circles under his eyes. A few good nights of sleep would fix that though. How he was going to handle the next few weeks, hell maybe months, teaching brats and watching Granger moon over Godric, that Draco didn't know.
"Granger." Draco all but spat the word out. Gods did she get under his skin. Pulling off his tunic, Draco looked at the dark mark on his am. It had faded a while ago to almost nothing. No longer vivid and black, now only a faint pink, almost like an aging scar. "I'd take being stuck here with the Weasel over her." The images of Godric looking at Hermione as if she were the bright shining star in his sky. They made him sick.
Gazing at the desk, looking at the rolls of parchment, quills, ink, and books laying there ready for him Draco knew he needed to be making lesson plans. That's what Godric's precious Hermione would be doing. He wouldn't be surprised if the whole year was mapped out for her already. Looking down at it all, Draco found all he wanted to do was pass out for twelves hours and forget he was trapped thousands of years in the past with Hermione Granger. So, that's what Draco did.
Hermione had also taken a long shower, sighing over the warm water. She hadn't been able to have a proper bath in days. With a full stomach and the knowledge that she had gotten the last word with Draco, Hermione felt content. Her long curls wrapped up to try and keep them more tame, Hermione looked at herself. Pink cheeked, a little flushed, happy.
Hermione felt a little guilty that she was happy. They were supposed to be finding a way back. She was supposed to be finding a way back. Instead here she was, enjoying the comforts of Hogwarts once again and enjoying it. Looking at the roll of parchment she had labeled 'Lesson Plans' earlier Hermione chewed on her lip.
"I mean, while we are here I should play the part." Hermione rationalized to herself out loud. "It's not like I'm going to find the answer to us getting back here, tonight anyway." She added sitting down at the desk. An hour later Hermione felt the pull of her bed, it was lulling her name promising a better night sleep than she had, had in days. Hermione was deep in lesson planning. She already had three weeks planned out but Hermione wanted at least four before she turned in.
Hermione hadn't given a second thought to Draco after getting in the shower. He hadn't gotten under her skin. Hermione still felt a little smug about how she had fired back at him. With a content sigh Hermione finished her fourth week, stood up proud of her work and went to bed. She had a feeling the next few weeks, if they had went anything like the day had, that they would be eventful. Hermione couldn't help but look forward to them.
After Abby had repeated the story of what happened to Harry they had moved quickly. Harry had Abby take him to the summer home in Bulgaria. Much to his frustration Harry hadn't any better luck at finding clue as to what had happened. Abby wasn't a blubbering mess like Dobby would have been, for that Harry was thankful. She had the same resilience and determination though and a part of Harry ached when he looked at her.
"Mr. Harry Potter sir, Abby is thinking we should be getting back sir. Your wife, Miss Ginny, she is very clever. She may be able to help us. Unless you know someone else." Abby suggested timidly. He had poured through the few books and potion ingredients that had survived the blast for the last two days.
"That's the problem Abby. The person I would normally go to about these problems is Hermione." Harry ran his hands through his hair frustrated. "The only other people I can think of I can't talk to."
"Why sir? Why can't you be talking to them sir?" Abby asked. She hadn't been good for much, but asking Harry these questions had seemed to help. At least Abby thought so. She was there for him to bounce his own ideas off of.
"Well, because they are both gone. Dead. Nott died yesterday morning before even making it to Azkaban. Not that he would have been helpful I'm betting and the other man. Well he died." Harry stopped, his eyes widening as a thought dawned on him. "There may still be a way to speak with him though yeah?" Harry looked excited for the first time in 48 hours.
"How is that? You is not able to talk to the dead sir." Harry might have been excited but Abby just looked more worried.
"No, no, I can't talk to the dead Abby but I can talk to a painting." Harry looked exceptionally pleased with himself. "Come on back to my house." Harry disapparated without further notice, a half crazed look in his eye.
"What do you mean sir?" Abby asked as she popped back into Harry's living room with him. "Talk to a painting?" The hour was quite late but both Ginny, and Ron to Harry's surprise, were still awake. Ron jumped up to his feet at the sight of them. He looked relieved, worried, and angry all at the same time.
"What's this about a painting?"
"Harry! Why didn't you tell me about Hermione?" Ron and Ginny had spoken at the same time though Harry acknowledged neither and instead rushed to his fireplace. It had died down to embers though a pinch of Floo Powder made it roar to life in bright green as Harry plunged his head in.
"What in the blood hell is going on here? What is he doing?" Ginny asked throwing her hands up in the air. Though she didn't make a moved to pull him out.
"He is talking to a painting Miss." Abby's words only served to perplex Ginny and Ron further.
"Talking to a painting. Why? Who?" Ron's furrowed brow only knitted closer together in confusion.
"Abby does not know sir. Mr. Harry Potter did not explain to Abby, he simply came here. Abby is thinking we must wait." So, together the three sat quietly, listening to Harry's muted conversation he was having with the mystery painting. The listened for the better part of an hour, catching a few words here and there the prevailing ones being Nott, Time, Draco, and Hermione.
"His knees have got to be killing him." Ginny mumbled, Ron nodded in agreement. Hunched over their fireplace on his knees? Oh Ginny didn't doubt he'd be sore.
"Perhaps we should have some biscuits maybe pumpkin juice ready for when we is finished?" Abby suggested hopping off the sofa. "Mr. Potter has not eaten all day. He will be hungry Abby thinks."
"He hasn't eaten? Yeah, yeah he's definitely going to be hungry." Ginny moved to stand, ready to take care of her husband. Abby held out a hand to stop her.
"Please Miss, This is how Abby can help. It is what House Elves do." Popping into the kitchen making quiet noise Abby soon had the small flat smelling of bread, treacle tart, and biscuits. Ron shook his head grumbling.
"I'd love to have an Elf around. If I hadn't said that to Hermione. Well. You know." Ginny arched a brown at her brother. "I would have thrown Lucius out on his face! She wouldn't even be in this mess." For the past twelve hours Ginny had heard similar rantings and was quite sick of it. As he continued to rave, Ginny threw him an icy glare to rival their mothers.
"Well. It's true." Ron added moodily, sitting back against the sofa. A tense twenty minutes passed before Abby rushed into the living area, a tray over her head full of food and icy pumpkin juice. Setting it down, they almost missed that Harry had pulled his head out of the fire. No one said anything for a moment, they simply watched as he winced, rubbed his knees and pulled himself into a chair.
"Mr. Harry Potter sir." Abby said quietly, pushing a plate full of room and a large glass of pumpkin juice at him. His eyes were still bright though his face was tired. He drank deeply, silently, ate a biscuit and sighed before finally speaking.
"I've just finished talking with Dumbledore and he thinks he might be able to help us."
A/N Thank you everyone for your wonderful comments! I hope that you are all enjoying the different aspects of HP lore that I have pulled in. I would also just like to say that while the main characters are Hermione and Draco this will be a long fic and a slow burner. Things won't happen automatically for them. Be patient and I know you'll love it. I've got oodles in store for you!