Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road

Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go

So make the best of this test, and don't ask why

It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time

January

"Blood traitor!"

Theo hears Goyle bark the insult at him when he passes. He honestly, truly, couldn't care less.

"You know, we didn't have to go public with our partnership." Hermione huffs through her teeth, books held tightly to her chest.

"Better than telling them that I'm courting you." He knew it was the right decision to confront his friends when he did, before someone saw too much. Before rumours spread without any basis to reel them in. Not that they haven't started already. Pansy in particular likes to poke him about it. Prying him for a juicy explanation for why he spends his precious time with a muggleborn Gryffindor, or rather the muggleborn Gryffindor. He's still undecided on whether it's an attempt to undermine him, or if she's only collecting blackmail.

Yes. For all intents and purposes, Theodore Nott is a blood traitor - how fitting.

"Do you really have to say it that way? It sounds, well, old. It is 1997," his girlfriend rolls her eyes. Old families, especially the Sacred -28, still held true to many of the traditions from the previous century. Particularly when it came to romantic proceedings.

"Going steady?" He offers instead, giving her that thousand galleon smile that always seemed to make her go weak in the knees.

"What are we? My parents?"

"Ok… I'm wooing you?"

"Eh."

Theo leans casually against the archway and continues, "How about 'I'm shagging you'?

Hermione wrinkles her nose in distaste. "You think you're funny?"

"Oh, my lovely Hermione, I think I'm adorable."

This will be—should be—the last time they need to sneak through the hidden passage found at the base of the Whomping Willow.

Over the past month, they have been researching how to create their own time turner. With their own modifications, of course. Now that the ministry had destroyed all—although Theo was positive it wasn't actually all—existing time turners, the pair agreed that it would be smart to have one in case a contingency plan is needed.

If whatever Dumbledore's planning happens to fall through.

"It was an intelligent catch, Theo, finding that last passage in your ancestor's notes. That it's actually black salt sand needed, instead of the white that we already have," Hermione beams as she ducks her head to miss another of the erratic branches. He in turn side-steps the one intent for his feet.

"We would have figured it out, eventually. When the thing broke." He bends down and kisses her forehead after they reach safety in the dark tunnel's entrance and away from prying eyes.

He's actually a very affectionate person, behind closed doors.

The Room of Requirement provides a rather intimate setting. Complete with a small velvet sofa, a matching armchair, and fireplace. The workbench in the middle, that they had to transfigure on their own.

In the beginning, there used to be a couple of empty book shelves as well. They, mostly Hermione, have since filled those cases with texts she'd been able to swipe from the library, and he, the journals from his family's personal collection.

"That was fast," Theo comments from over his runes work, accidentally splotching ink on his hand when he hears her enter the room.

"It's Friday, no one was around to hold me up," Hermione explains as she tosses her sweater over the armchair and settles down next to him. She enjoys the familiar scent of cedarwood subtly wafting around him as he casually rests his arm around her shoulders and places her a brief kiss to her chapped lips.

"So tonight? Nervous?"

"Not really. If it works, it's just one more thing to give us an advantage over Voldemort. If not? Well, at least no one else knew about it." She actually is feeling a little uneasy. But not enough to concern him with it, "And you. How are you feeling?"

"Honestly? Part of me really hopes the information found in my family's library turns out to be true. At least, then it would give me something to carry on."

She studies him carefully. She has spent enough time with him to know how deeply he loathes his father. Really, the whole Nott family has been tainted by evil in one form or another for centuries.

They fall into their well-rehearsed trance, working with and around each other. Theo's main job is to encase the runes into the parcel in combination with Hermione enchanting the sand with their modifications.

It takes nearly into mid Saturday morning before they seal the last gear to the edge. After a moment of them looking back and forth at each other - wondering if it had worked, the black sand glitters and sparks, turning from its Onyx colour to a creamy gold.

Theo silently and wandlessly hovers their small creation in the palm of his hand. It looks different than the one Hermione borrowed during their third year. Instead of gold metal, it's silver. Instead of a 2 sided hourglass, it's three - the modification is to give the user the choice of hours or days. The outer, additional ring, is to specify months.

"Do you suppose it works?" Hermione wonders aloud, yawning with half-lidded eyes.

"No idea. You suppose we should give it a go?" Theo lowers the turner to his palm and rubs his thumb over the encased sand.

She thinks for a moment. There wouldn't-shouldn't-be any harm in going back an hour or so - especially if there is the added advantage of sleeping, "We should give it a go. We've spent too much time making this thing not to."

Theo moves to put the turner's attached chain around his and Hermione's necks. Taking a moment to breathe in, he turns the knob that connects to the innermost ring. He's only able to turn it once before it locks up.

"Huh," he breathes, a furrow forming on his forehead. "That's odd."

Hermione cranes her neck to inspect the area to where his thumb and index finger are paused. Slowly, the silver chain vaporises. The metal and glass break apart to mix in with the sand that's slipping through Theo's fingers and onto the wood floor beneath their feet.

Hermione feels tears pricking out from the corners of her eyes. Theo gives a frustrated grunt before falling back into the sofa.

Defeat.

"I know I said that I wouldn't care if it worked or not… but," She murmurs as she crouches over the sparkly pile.

"Yeah, I get you. Me too," He mutters into the open air.

As if on cue, the pile starts spreading out. Softly hazing into a vibrant glow.

"That shouldn't be happening," Hermione snaps back up to stand. Her sudden movement causes Theo to pull his attention back to their failed turner.

"That's… what the hell?"

They watch as the glow turns to a white, almost burning, light, before snuffing itself out.

Hermione falls backwards. Theo almost misses catching her before her head slams into the armchair. Her heartbeat fails to stop its erratic beating. Theo holds tightly onto her as he stares at the thing, the person, that is now placed where their turner broke.

"Who is that?" Hermione wonders, untangling herself from her boyfriend's arms to get a better look at the person unconscious before them. They are curled up on their side, with a hand loosely clasped around their throat. Tears litter the otherwise posh shirt that wetly clings to their body. Bruises and small, bleeding, scratches are mixed in with their pale skin.

"I don't… wait," Theo vaguely remembers that same deep brown, wavy hair that tangles into a mess on the man's head. Those cheekbones were identifiable as well. He looks just like the old portrait of the late Regulus Black. The one Narcissa insists on keeping on display in the Malfoy Manor library. "It can't be. How is that possible?"

Hermione snaps her attention from the strange man to Theo and watches the prism of emotions wash over his face. "You know who this is?"

Hesitantly, Theo creeps forward and moves a lock of hair away from the man's face.

"Son of a bitch…" Theo feels the sudden urge to raid Draco's liquor stash.

The man's eyes snap open. Their hazy grey gaze looks up at Theo, the same time a content grin creeps on the edges of his lips.

"Son of a witch, actually."

So take the photographs and still frames in your mind

Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time

Tattoos of memories, and dead skin on trial

For what it's worth, it was worth all the while

Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) - Green Day