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“Absolutely not.”

Hermione shuffles the papers in her hands against the top of her desk. Curls slip out of the bun carelessly placed at the top of her head - her wand is stowed away in her tresses, holding the mane together. Harry rounds her desk, exasperated. He opens his arms helplessly.

“But you haven’t even heard what I have to say yet!”

“I am not taking one of your pompous Aurors with me.” She moves away from him, pulling files from her cabinets and organizing her papers. “And that is final.”

He places his fists on her desk. “The group you’re investigating on poaching has been linked to Fenrir Greyback.”

“I am well aware of that, Harry.” Hermione glances at him, unimpressed, before returning to her work. “I can handle myself.”

“And I’m not saying you can’t,” Harry insists firmly. “But this runs deeper than…Conservation of Creature-Kind.”

Hermione pauses in her ministrations, flattening her lips. “C.O.C.K. will always be my top priority, Harry, and it requires meticulous handling. Bringing along a ham-fisted Auror – no offense – can be detrimental to this task. I refuse to hinder something as vital as the protection of unicorns for the sake of playing cops and robbers.”

Harry sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m not asking you, Mione.”

She freezes, turning to look at him slowly. Hermione analyzes his stance, his shoulders broad and arms crossed over his chest. He’s staring her down like a Professor from Hogwarts would whenever she challenged any of their statements. She frowns at him.

“You’re telling me.”

“I am.”

“And if I go to Shacklebolt?”

He shakes his head.

“Fuck.” Hermione sighs and pushes back her loose hair. “Who is it?”

“I ask you to keep an open mind about this – “

She crosses her arms, mimicking his stance. “Who, Harry?”

“It’s Malfoy.” He cringes as he says it. “I know that – “

“No.”

“– you’re going to say no, but he’s the best person for the job. He’s a reformed Death Eater with a fantastic skillset – “

“Harry Potter, how could you possibly even think to pair me up with someone like him?”

“I trust him with my life.”

He looks at her, his tired green eyes steely. The dark beard on his face punctuates the sternness of his sharp jawline. His lips are set in a thin line.

Hermione is surprised to recognize the grave expression on Harry’s face - the same determination he held throughout the war, that emotion that often kept them afloat for so long.  In the times when hope was impoverished, Harry was always there. He’d grown so much now, ten years after the war.

They all had.

There’s a soft knock on her door. Malfoy peeks his head into her office without awaiting a response, entirely uninvited. Hermione glares at him, as is customary. He puts a sheepish hand up in greeting, slowly stepping into the center of the tension in the room.

“Took the news well, I presume?”

Hermione’s lips turn down into a scowl. “What gave it away?”

“The fact that you look like you’re shitting out unicorns and rainbows.”

“Fantastic.”

“Excellent timing, Malfoy.” Harry shoots him with an admonishing glare. “We can start the debriefing.”

Hermione raises a finger. “I have yet to agree to this.”

“Hermione, please.” Harry’s eyes soften with a gentle glisten, wide and young. “For my peace of mind, at the very least.”

She felt her resolve crumble under his gaze. Her mind flashes back to all the lives that have been lost. It bonded them and made them all fiercely protective of each other. His fears are not unwarranted – they both knew how fleeting life could be.

Hermione’s heart tugs. “Fine, Harry.”

He smiles brightly at her. “Okay.”

Malfoy glances between the two, towering over them with his impressive height. Hermione turns to him, taking in the smart black vest, dark, pinstriped trousers, and slicked-back hair. A few loose strands curl on his forehead.

Overall, he’s frustratingly perfect.

“Make sure to dress more comfortably tomorrow.” Hermione eyes him up and down. “We’re going to be werewolf hunting starting at midnight.”

“This is my most comfortable attire, Granger.”

“Your most comfortable attire consists of the poshest pointed shoes in England?”

Malfoy is taken aback. “Now, I wouldn’t call them the poshest, but just because something is nice doesn’t mean they’re uncomfortable.”

“Tone it down a posh level, Malfoy.”

“You’d rather have me dressed in rags, wouldn’t you, Granger?”

“I’d much rather have you dressed in nothing at all.”

An uncomfortable silence settles over the room. Malfoy raises his eyebrows at her, then Harry coughs, and Hermione’s cheeks flush red.

“Obviously, I meant it as in I’d rather not have you wear anything for the mission because you wouldn’t be going – “

“The last sightings of Fenrir’s pack were outside Hogwarts, by the Forbidden Forest,” Harry intercepts. “That would be the first place you both have to start. If anything goes sideways, these portkeys will transport you straight to St. Mungo’s.”

Harry hands them a few strange objects. One of them is a pink bucket hat shaped like a frog that somehow ends up in Malfoy’s hands. All three of them stare at it.

“Surely you must take this monstrosity, Granger.”

“I’d rather not.” Hermione eyes her candy heart necklace. “What is with this theme, Harry?”

“The team must’ve decided to have some fun with the designs,” he coughs, covering up a laugh as Malfoy places the hat over his hand like a puppet.

“That goes on top of your head, Malfoy.”

He looks at her, stunned.

After thoroughly debriefing Hermione’s plans to salvage the unicorns from extinction single-handedly, Harry goes into depth with their concerns about the magical creatures’ link to a potential Death Eater resurgence - known as The Death Scare - the constant fear that Death Eaters will come back has been a yearly occurrence since the end of the war. Harry and his team, however, are sure it’s a legitimate concern this time.

The next day, Hermione is the first to arrive at the meeting spot outside of Hagrid’s Hut. Scents of cut grass and tended magical plants mingle in the air, enveloping her in a sensation that was all too nostalgic. She stares fondly at the beaten-down hut. It was late, and Hagrid was likely asleep, but she’ll make sure to visit him on the morrow. 

“Good evening, Granger.”

“Malfoy – “Hermione turns to face the pureblood Slytherin wearing a muggle bucket hat. “What in Godric’s good name is that?”

“My portkey, obviously.”

“Obviously.” She stares at him, and he returns the favor. “But why?”

“Why what?”

“Why the hell is it on your head?”

“Well, I’m not going to wear it on my arse.”

Taking a good look at him, his sleek, all-black attire makes him appear like a stagehand. The inky darkness of night does not help – he seems like a floating head with a garish pink hat.

“The real question is, what in Merlin’s good name are those?” He gestures to her face.

“Here, put these on.” Hermione pulls out another set of yellow glasses with smiling suns at the ends. “Luna designed these with me if you couldn’t tell.”

“What do they do?”

“They’re called Sun Glasses, and they enhance our vision so we can see our surroundings as if we were in bright daylight.”

“Impressive.” His eyes widen when he puts on the glasses. “Loony Lovegood is a genius.”

“Luna.”

 Malfoy frowns, bowing his head slightly. “Right, apologies. Old habits die hard.”

“Hmm.” She raises a skeptical brow at him.

Brandishing his wand, Malfoy casts a nonverbal spell on his feet, causing them to glow a soft white for a moment. Hermione watches as the light disappears.

“What was that?”

“A silencing spell for our feet.” He casts the same spell on her. “Created it myself.”

“Impressive.”

Hermione wonders if it is a tick of the light, but did Malfoy bask in her praise momentarily? 

He sobers quickly. 

Malfoy flourishes his hand elegantly towards the dense cluster of trees before them.

“Ladies first.”

“A gentleman.”

Casting a complex self-created spell meant to scan for specific magical creatures on her wand, Hermione steps into the thick abyss. The two walk in silence, led onwards by her wand. The only sounds are the natural noises of wildlife in the thrumming magic forest. Leaves shimmy in the chilly Scotland winds. Wrapping her jumper closer to herself, she takes in the honey-like scenery the Sun Glasses bring.

Being back in the forest felt strange - both relieving and frightening. She’s grateful to no longer be on the run in the middle of a war, instead exploring of her own volition this time. However, the old memories and high emotions pervaded as if it had all occurred just the other day.

She peeks at Malfoy.

The same emotions surface around him. Hermione feels like her twelve-year-old self around him, yet at the same time, she is highly aware of the fact that he is now a man and she is a woman. She is at a loss as to how to act. The most interaction they’d had with each other beyond Hogwarts could be summed up into three parts: his Hearing, Harry’s introducing him as an Auror and their occasional very awkward scrimmages at the Ministry’s dining hall.

“Granger,” Malfoy says suddenly, alert.

Hermione’s heart stops and she nearly trips over a vine.

She readies her wand. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t notice it earlier, but – “ He cringes at her. “Is that your… cat?”

“What are you on about –”

Hermione follows his line of sight, landing on her jumper. It was a pretty periwinkle with a sizable orange half-kneazle at the center of it. She had knit quite a lovely image of her beloved familiar, and she was proud of it, thank you very much.

“You idiot!” Hermione smacks his arm. “You scared me half to death. I knit it – it’s my Crookshanks.”

“What’s a Crookshanks? It sounds like a curse.” Malfoy continues to stare at her jumper. “It’s borderline demonic – if I came across it in the dark, I’d think it was a small dementor.”

“He’s my half-kneazle familiar, Malfoy, not a thrice damned dementor. You must be rather easy to frighten.”

“I’m not so easy. Rather, that thing’s hideous.” Malfoy narrows his eyes. “Also, why in Salazar’s icy tits did you choose that for werewolf hunting?”

“Clearly, it illustrates that I am quite adept with sharp objects.”

“Are they supposed to be intimidated by your skills in knitting?”

“I can stab silver knitting needles into their hearts with ease.” She starts to move again.

He follows her. “Well, that’s reassuring.”

There’s a soft twinkling noise in her ear. Turning her head to the side, it escapes to the opposite ear. Malfoy starts to go on about something or the other to do with Auror training and knitting, obscuring the odd sound.

“Shush.” Hermione pauses, suddenly holding her hand out to stop him. “Did you hear that?”

High-pitched buzzing sounds surround them in every direction. Malfoy already has his wand out at the ready, scanning the area for the source but unable to identify any. A small, insect-like creature appears in front of them. Hermione puts her hand atop his, pushing down his wand with a shake of her head.

“They’re fairies,” she says in wonder. “I’d never seen one so up close before.”

Malfoy puts his face closer to the small humanoid beast. “Aren’t these supposed to be mischievous little things?”

“You’re thinking of pixies.” Hermione carefully lifts her finger, tickling the fairy’s tummy. “They’re a symbol of good luck, if a bit vain. You’re pretty, aren’t you?”

The fairy giggles like the twinkle of a star, grabbing hold of Hermione’s finger – the fairy starts to pull her forward. She obliges, following the magical being. Hermione and Malfoy are led out to a clearing filled with beautiful, magical flowers and a field full of fairies. She stands before the vision, mouth agape.

Malfoy politely closes her mouth. “Take off the glasses, Granger.”

Hermione looks at him and sees he’s already done so himself. She slowly removes her Sun Glasses – the fairies are no longer tiny humanoids but rather multicolored lights. The lights dance like a moving rainbow all around them in the dark.

“Wow.”

They watch on in awed silence.

“You know the spell Fairy Cakes to Fairies? I wonder if there’s one in the reverse.”

Hermione side-eyes him. “That’s borderline cannibalistic.”

“Is it? Then what of Fairy Cakes to Fairies? Wouldn’t it be borderline cannibalistic to eat the fairy cake?”

“Shut up and enjoy the moment, Malfoy.”

“Just something to think about,” he whispers.

The lights start to close in around them, circling closer and closer in a rhythmic buzzing. Eventually, Hermione and Malfoy are pushed towards each other. They look at one another. Fairies pull at their opposite-facing hands, urging them to touch.

Hermione brushes back a strand of her hair with a laugh.

“I think they want us to dance with them.”

“Well then.” Malfoy grabs her hand in his large, warm one. “Let’s not keep the fairies waiting. Shall we?”

Hermione hesitantly places an arm on his broad shoulders. “I can’t believe this.”

“What?” He smiles at her with a broad, teasing grin.

Malfoy pulls her in, close enough that she can smell his minty breath and musk. He guides her with a hand against her lower back, the other leading with a gentle hold on her hand. They dance together to the scintillating buzzing of the fairies.

She laughs incredulously. “I’m dancing in a field of flowers and fae with Draco Malfoy.”

“Stranger things have happened.” Malfoy shrugs nonchalantly before twirling her.

Moving together under the moonlight, time passes them by without a care, and the fairies buzz gleefully as they watch over the pair. Malfoy pulls her closer to speak into her ear in a hushed tone—Hermione tenses at the proximity of his breath against her skin.

“What do you reckon they’re saying?”

“Who?” Hermione furrows her brow. “The fairies?”

“My guess? Only the filthiest of things.”

Hermione bursts out into chortles of laughter.

“Yes, and only the juiciest of goss.” She leans in closer conspiratorially. “In fact, right now, they’re talking about the prat in the pink hat.”

“More likely, they’re terrified of that beast on your jumper.” Malfoy raises the pitch of his voice, opening his eyes dramatically, “Is it a chimaera? A grindylow? Will it eat us?”

“A grindylow of all things, Malfoy, really?” Hermione pulls back slightly to get a good look at him. “I can’t tell if you’re taking the piss on my knitting or my familiar.”

“Did you make this entire jumper yourself?”

He pinches the fabric on her back between his fingers, sending a flight of tingles down her spine.

“Yes, I did.”

“That’s impressive.”

Hermione eyes him skeptically.

“What?”

“Are you taking the piss?”

“No, it’s quite a nice jumper.” Malfoy’s fingers fiddle with the periwinkle wool absentmindedly. “You should make me one someday.”

“Should I?” Hermione raises her eyebrows. “What shall I knit on it? Your face?”

“My likeness is much too sublime an image to capture, but I appreciate the thought.” He pauses, thinking. “Maybe a fairy.”

“A fairy?”

“Yes, a fairy, and have it hold a bluebell.”

“Hmm, it sounds interesting enough. If I do happen to make it, what color should it be?”

“My favorite is blue.”

“Really? Not green?” She’s genuinely surprised.

Malfoy chuckles. “Maybe if you’d asked me back in Hogwarts, I would’ve insisted it was.”

“Hmm.” Hermione debates with herself momentarily before finally asking, “How have you been? I mean, after everything?”

“Lately?” He looks up at the stars, twinkling merrily above them. “I’d say I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

The corners of Hermione’s lips turn up at him, and he looks at her, returning her gentle expression with one of his own. They stare at each other, the world standing still with them in time. Their eyes search one another’s, sparkling.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Granger.”

Her heart trembles.

“Yes?”

“About your cock project…”

“My what?”

“Has nobody told you?”

“Told me what?”

The fairies buzzing reaches fever pitch, reverberating throughout the flower field – the bluebells shake in fear, and suddenly, they’re plunged into darkness. Hermione and Malfoy look at each other with wide eyes. They scramble, quickly donning their Sun Glasses and pulling out their wands.

Hermione turns on her scanner. “We’re not alone.”

“Move!”

Malfoy leaps before Hermione, taking a yellow spell to the chest. She screams as he falls face-first into the field of bluebells, unmoving. Hermione turns in the direction of the spell, finding herself face-to-face with none other than the ugly mug of Fenrir Greyback. She strikes him with a Petrificus Totalus, and he dodges it easily with his werewolf speed. He starts after her on all fours.

Hermione uncorks a potion of quickness she had prepared and drinks it, casting spells at Fenrir in startling succession until one finally hits him. He lets out a pained whine, falling forward as he nurses one of his paws. Fenrir growls at her.

Suddenly, a portal opens between them, numbers swirling in golden writing outside of the yellow vortex. He hops into it and disappears—Hermione curses, reaching the portal just as it pops out of existence.

“What in Merlin’s name?”

There’s a groan behind her.

Having completely forgotten about Malfoy, Hermione turns and rushes to his side. There’s something off about his appearance. He looks smaller, his hair slicked back in his old, ponce fashion. Hermione turns him over, and she gasps.

Malfoy looks like a bloody firstie!

He sits up, placing a hand on his head. “What just happened?”

“Malfoy?” She starts hesitantly.

He stares at her for a moment in silence.

“Who – Granger? Or is it her muggle mother?” He glances around quickly, panicked. “Where is this?”

“The Forbidden Forest in the year 2007.”

“What? That’s impossible!” He pulls out his wand, pointing it at her. “Have you cursed me, mudblood?!”

She stares at him with a bored expression. Malfoy looks and sounds like the equivalent of an annoying, yapping chihuahua. His haughty expression as he glares up at her looks both irritating and cute. Hermione holds back a chortle.

“What are you laughing at?! I demand you take me back to where I came from, or my father will hear about this!”

Hermione can’t hold it back anymore, and she starts laughing full-on at him and his old antics. As frustrating as it was back then, it was just adorable now. She wipes a joyful tear from her eye.

“Are you quite done?” His arms are crossed over his chest, pouty. “I’d like to go home now.”

“Yes, I’m done.” She lets out a few stray giggles. “We do need to change you back, though. I want my Malfoy back.”

“Your Malfoy?” He cringes at her. “Malfoys belong to no one! Especially not a mudblood.”

“Okay, brat.” Malfoy looks at her in absolute shock. “It was cute at first, but if you’re going to keep shouting slurs at me, I’ll leave you out here all on your own.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” His big eyes widen. “W-would you?”

“Oh, I would.” She nods, bluffing. “So, shush. We need to focus and look for Greyback if we’re going to get things back to normal.”

“Greyback? He’s behind all this?”

“Yes.” She turns on the scanner in her wand. “So, let’s go do some werewolf hunting.”

He follows her despite himself. “W-werewolves? Are you mad? Why not just call an Auror?”

“You were the Auror.”

“I’m an Auror?” Malfoy looks down at himself, wearing his firstie uniform. “Well, I’m not one now, so call another.”

“Honestly, I didn’t even need you to accompany me, Malfoy.” Hermione navigates the forest carefully. “I have this handled.”

“As if a mud- “Hermione glares at him, he slams his mouth shut. “As if you could handle something like Fenrir on your own. But an Auror? I never thought that I’d…”

She notices a change in his tone and pauses. “Is something wrong?”

Malfoy stops, his eyes glistening, his bottom lip jutting out. “I just – is he proud of me?”

Her face softens at his expression. “Who?”

“Father.”

“Malfoy,” Hermione sighs and kneels to his level, taking his small hands in hers. “I know you look up to your father right now – but trust me when I say you’ll grow into a better man than your father could ever hope to be.”

His lip trembles. “But my father is the best man I know.”

“That’ll change.” She squeezes his hands gently. “But it’s not a bad thing. No matter what, know that everything will turn out okay in the end, alright, Malfoy?”

He sniffles, wiping away his wet cheeks. “Okay.”

Hermione gives him a soft smile, and she’s surprised when he gives her a small kiss on the cheek. She puts a hand on the spot he kissed, and Malfoy blushes.

“I’m just going to assume this is a dream.” He shakes his head. “You’re far too cool to be Granger. Well, except for those ridiculous glasses.”

Hermione giggles, holding his tiny hand as she guides him through the trees. They talk about silly things as they go, like theories on fairies and fairy cakes or what the muggles say it's like on the moon. They walk on, laughing about one thing or another.

When he grows quiet, and his hand disappears from hers, she glances down.

He’s not there.

“Malfoy?!”

Hermione panics, glancing around for Firstie Malfoy. Suddenly, she feels herself getting choked, falling backward into a hard, sturdy body. Letting out a strangled gasp, she grips the chain placed around her neck. Her heart bursts out of her chest.

“Where am I and who are – “ Malfoy’s low, familiar voice reverberates in her ear. “Granger?”

“Yes.” She says with a stifled voice. “Let me go, you git!”

He releases her, and she whips around with her wand in her hand, the other holding her bruised neck. She freezes when she gets a good look at him. Malfoy looks worryingly pale, his usually well-trimmed blond hair hanging shaggily over his eyes down past his jawline. The dark circles under his eyes provide an even higher contrast to his white face. She looks down at the manacles around his wrists. 

The difference between him and the first Malfoy was nothing less than jarring and depressing.

“You’ve looked better.” He gives her a deadpan look. “Malfoy from Azkaban?”

“That’s where I just was, yes.” Malfoy takes in his surroundings. “Are we in the Forbidden Forest again?”

“Again?”

“Yeah, this is the third time I see you dressed in…that.” Malfoy eyes her up and down.

“Okay, first of all, what is that supposed to mean?” Hermione glares at him. “Secondly, this is the third time? So, do you remember every time you’ve been transported into the future? Why the hell didn’t you say anything before we left for this mission?”

“Cool it with the third-degree, Granger.” His chains clank as he rubs at the back of his neck. “How the hell should I know what future me is thinking?”

“Well, he’s you, and you’re him.” She purses her lips in thought. “You’re only about five years apart.”

“Yeah, and I’m in Azkaban while he’s an Auror.”

“Right, well, why did you never tell me about the first two times?”

“Just when exactly would that have been?” Malfoy spits out bitterly. “Before or during my working for the Dark Lord? Besides, I thought I was dreaming the first two times.”

“And what makes you think you’re not dreaming now?”

“Twice is a coincidence – three times is a pattern.”

“Fair enough.” Hermione looks down at her scanner. “Yes, you seemed to have taken a hit for me from Fenrir Greyback that was mixed with time magic of some sort. Nothing I can readily identify, which is concerning.”

“Death Eaters and time magic?” Malfoy scoffs. “That screams trouble.”

“Yes, it does. That’s why we must get to the bottom of this as soon as possible, and you’ll help me.”

“Surprised you’re even willing to work with someone like me, Granger.”

Hermione’s face turns red, recalling how Harry had to talk her into it the first time.

“You’re not entirely intolerable.”

“Tell me, was it willingly?”

“That is neither here nor there, Malfoy.” Hermione focuses on her scanner. “We have more important things to worry about.”

He laughs cruelly. “Figures, for all you lot preach about shit like love, acceptance, tolerance – you don’t practice it yourself.”

She stops walking, huffing. “Well, can you blame me, Malfoy? We hadn’t spoken much since our brief interaction at your trial. And before that, we had a staunch history of hostility.”

Malfoy scowls. “So, I went as far as becoming an Auror, and you still weren’t willing to even give me a chance?”

“I- “Hermione’s shoulders drop. “I’m sorry. You’re right – I’ve enjoyed spending time with you a lot more than I thought I would, to be honest. It’s been pleasant working with you, and you even took a hit for me, not knowing what the spell was. So, thank you, Malfoy. I wish I had given you a chance sooner.”

When she’s met by silence, she turns around. Malfoy’s eyes are wide, his cheeks pink with a soft, vulnerable expression. He clears his throat when their eyes meet, looking down at his hands. She follows his gaze. Hermione walks up to him, gently taking his hands in hers.

“What –“

She casts an Alohomora with her wand, releasing him from his shackles.

“There, now you can better help me skin this werewolf.” She gives him a coy smile and wink.

Malfoy rubs at his wrists, his eyes crinkling as he lets out a bright, light laugh. “You’re something else, Granger. Thank you.”

They set their sights on her scanner, focusing on their search for Fenrir Greyback. Hermione tells him about the strange portal he hopped into, and Malfoy theorizes he jumped through time, which she immediately shoots down. She’s traveled through time herself – she says – her theory is that it’s a transportation spell that has him using dimensional travel like a portkey.

“In that case, how can you be so sure he’s still in this forest?”

“Because I have the heartbeat of every unicorn on this monitor, and they’re all still very much steadily beating.” Hermione smirks at his impressed expression. “Either he’s given up on his plot to grab another unicorn, which I doubt, or he’s still here. I reckon he transported to escape my executing him.”

Malfoy trips over himself. “You – Hermione Granger – were planning to kill someone?”

“If I have to, I will, yes.”

“And here I thought you were Little Miss Perfect.”

“Me? You must not know me, Malfoy. I’m no angel.” She laughs at his surprised face. “I’ve gone through a few questionable means to receive my desired end.”

“Such as?”

“Hmm. Remember Rita Skeeter?”

Hermione jumps at an alert on her wand, a red dot popping up on her scanner and getting close to them – fast. She twists her body around in its direction. Malfoy raises his fists, and Hermione looks at him for a moment, amused by his muggle tactics when he lacks his wand. He meets her gaze.

“I’ve seen Fight Club.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, quite a few muggle films, to be honest.”

“The Notebook?”

He looks away sheepishly. “Yes.”

“What do you rate it?”

“What?”

“From one to ten, what do you rate it?”

“Is this really the time – “

“It’s important.”

“Honestly? An eight.”

She narrows her eyes. “We will have words later, Malfoy.”

“For fuck’s sake, Granger.” He shakes his head. “I can’t wait to get out of Azkaban and – “

Malfoy never got to finish his sentence. Fenrir tackles him to the ground from behind, both sliding painfully against the forest floor. Hermione screams, throwing a stunning spell at Fenrir’s back. A flash of blinding light hits her, and she shuts her eyes. She feels something entirely unpleasant and gooey on her body.

Opening her eyes, she sees that Fenrir exploded into tiny red chunks, parts of his body spread across the trees and – disgustingly – on her. She holds back her vomit as she casts an Evanesco and a Scourgify. From the carcass and gore that used to be Fenrir Greyback rises a blond man with a scruffy beard, rolling his bloodied sleeves back to his elbows.

“I’ve been waiting years to do that.” He smiles at her broadly, a familiar glint behind his grey eyes.

“Malfoy?!”

“Hello, Granger.”

Hermione stares at the pronounced veins in his hands and forearms, tracing them to his broad, muscular arms and shoulders. Her eyes nearly pop out of their head like a cartoon when she takes in the rest of his fit body. When her gaze reaches his face, he has a smug smirk on his lips. She politely closes her mouth, realizing she had it open the entire time.

“Um.” She looks around at their bloodied surroundings. “What did you do to him?”

“Bombarda Maxima.”

“Ouch.” Hermione looks him up and down for the sake of…analysis. “Future Malfoy?”

He uses Evanesco on himself, and Hermione notices he’s wearing the same Auror uniform from the other day. He must’ve been in the middle of work when he was transported.

“Impressive deduction, Granger.”

“Ha. Yes.” She rolls her eyes. “How far into the future?”

“About ten years, I’d say.”

 A ring glints from his left hand as he crosses his arm, catching Hermione’s eye.

“You got married?”

“Yes.” He smiles, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“Who’s the lucky Missus?”

“You.”

Hermione laughs heartily, her cheeks turning red.

“But really, who is it?”

Malfoy’s smile drops, looking stern. “Do I look like I’m taking the piss?”

Her heart skips a beat.

“You must be.”

Hermione’s neck suddenly feels extremely hot around the collar. She tugs at her jumper, regretting choosing such a thick material for her knitting project. Her hands are slimy with sweat. Every step forward he takes toward her, she takes back. He takes a firm hold of her shoulders, finally grabbing her and stopping their ridiculous back-and-forth dance. Hermione cringes when she places her soaking wet hands on his nice shirt.

He presses her against a non-Fenrir-infested tree.

“You’re my wife, Hermione, and I’ve fucked you in this jumper more than once.” He glides a finger slowly across her jawline, lifting her face gently by her chin. “How does that make you feel?”

Hermione’s stomach flips, and she inhales the sweet, oaky scent of his expensive cologne—the butterflies in her solar plexus dive straight between her legs. A pleasant tingle shivers down from her apex to her knees, weakening her. She buckles, but he’s there to catch her. With his arm wrapped around her waist, her front presses warmly against his firm abdomen. He removes her Sun Glasses, leaving her only the moon's low light.

“I- “She starts breathlessly, unable to form an intelligible sentence.

Just the idea that he’d seen her naked – been inside of her – set her blood on fire.

Malfoy chuckles lowly. “Have I left Hermione Granger-Malfoy speechless?”

Hermione meets his gaze with wide eyes, face flushed, lips parted slightly.

“You look delectable, love.” His eyes darken as he brushes his thumb against her lower lip. “May I steal a kiss?”

Electricity crackles in the air between them, their eyes entranced by each other’s mouths. Hermione looks between his lustful eyes and lips. She tucks her lower lip in between her teeth, nodding.

“Fuck.” He hisses as he watches her bite her lip. “Let me do that for you.”

Malfoy grabs her by the back of her head and pulls her in for a kiss. Their lips crash into each other, and Hermione sees stars behind her eyelids. She lets out a sigh, melting into him. Wrapping her arms around his neck languidly, she allows her chest to press against his.

He breathes her in, turning his head to the side – he tucks her lower lip gently between his. Malfoy bites her lip softly, pulling on it and letting go rhythmically. Massaging their mouths gently against each other, they fall into a dance of give and take, tangling their tongues together in harmony as if they’d been kissing each other for a thousand years. She feels his heat pressing against her through his trousers.

Slowly sliding a hand up the side of her body and leaving flames in his quake, he stops near her breast.

Pulling away, he softly asks her, “May I?”

Hermione nods, pressing her lips back to his passionately. He returns the kiss with fervor, grabbing her breast in his large hand, he massages it gingerly. She moans into his mouth quietly. Pinching her nipple, he twists it between his fingers through her bra.

“Oh.”

Malfoy trails kisses slowly down her neck, setting her skin alight. She inhales sharply when he kisses her under her ear. His left hand grabs her by the bum, pressing her deliciously against his bulge while his right works her other breast. Hermione tangles her fingers in his platinum hair, groaning as he suckles down her neck to her clavicles. He lightly licks the notch on her chest.

She arches her back, grinding herself against him. Malfoy pulls away to lift her jumper past her breasts and lowers her bra, attaching himself to her nipple. Hermione trembles as he holds the weight of her on her tongue, only to pull away with a loud suck and flick his tongue gently around her most sensitive point. Wrapping his lips around her other breast, he makes sure to give it the same treatment.

While he lavishes her breasts with attention from his mouth, his hands are working on her trousers. Malfoy slowly drops them around her thighs, giving her a chance to refuse. She presses her hips against his heat encouragingly. He trails his fingers across her thighs before passing them over their apex, sending thrilling shivers throughout her body. His touch slowly becomes firmer, pressing his fingers against the wet spot on her underwear.

Malfoy rubs up and down her cunt, tracing her entrance with a finger.

“Ah, Malfoy.” She throws her head back against the tree, grinding herself against his hand. “Please.”

“Say my name.”

He presses a centimeter of his finger teasingly inside her entrance with her underwear.

“Draco,” She moans out his name, saying it for the first time. “Draco, please.”

“Fuck.” Malfoy frantically pulls aside her pants, dipping two fingers halfway into her warmth. “You wish this were my cock in you, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Malfoy moves the rest of his fingers inside of her, pushing his family signet ring and wedding band past her tightness. She shivers, creasing her eyebrows together. He groans and places his thumb over her clit, rubbing it gently as he fucks her with his fingers. Hermione feels Malfoy watching her every facial expression, and it causes her to flush an even deeper red.

“You want me to fuck you?”

She nods.

“Say it.”

Hermione’s eyes snap open, making eye contact with him for the first time since he put his fingers inside her. His pupils are blown so wide his eyes look black. His face is flushed like hers – neck muscles so tense she can see his jugular. Malfoy wants her as much as she wants him.

“Fuck me, Draco.”

Malfoy presses a third finger into her while his thumb circles her clit. He presses his lips against her breasts, worshiping them and marring her skin with bites. Hermione tightens her grip on his hair. She trembles, overwhelmed by the pure ecstasy attacking her from all directions. 

“I’d fuck you every single day for the rest of my life, Hermione.”

His tongue circles her nipple in the same way he circles her clit, and she feels herself being wound in both directions steadily as firmly as a tightrope. When suddenly, she finally feels herself snap. Her legs shake as she comes, her lips forming a small ‘o’ as she falls apart on his fingers. Malfoy draws out her orgasm, working her clit slowly as she comes down.

Hermione melts peacefully into his embrace, and he holds her. She looks at him and they exchange smiles. She giggles and hides her face on his shoulder, embarrassed with herself. Malfoy tangles his fingers in her hair, scratching her scalp lovingly.

“Feeling shy after all that, Granger?”

“Do you mean it?”

“I mean everything I ever say to you, Hermione.” He pulls her away from his shoulder and smiles at her warmly. “I love you.”

Her eyes widen, and her heart spasms, wanting to feel full but afraid to do so.

“But you’re not for me.” Malfoy brushes a piece of her hair behind her ear. “You belong to another Draco, in another time, just like I belong to another Hermione.”

“But I don’t think my Draco feels the same way you do.”

“Don’t you have one last Draco to get through?”

“Huh?” Hermione raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“The time spell,” Malfoy lovingly redresses her, recovering her modesty. “It has one more jump to go through before your Draco returns and stays back.”

“Oh, I guess so?” She pauses. “Wait, did you just technically cheat on me, with…me?”

“Time travel semantics.” Malfoy shrugs, then eyes her with a smug smirk. “I know the future you never minded it. Current me, though…Maybe don’t tell him just yet.”

“This is headache-inducing.” Hermione rubs her forehead. “Part of me wishes this were over already.”

Malfoy holds her face in his hands. “And the other?”

She smiles at him shyly. “The other wants you to stay.”

He kisses her softly.

“Your Draco is me – just give him some time.”

“Okay.”

Slowly, his body is alight with a plethora of colors, like a rainbow. And like a rainbow, it disappears shortly after it appears. The older Malfoy is gone, and in his place is a much younger version of him, eyes lost and frantic. The dark circles and youth on his face tell her it isn’t yet her Malfoy.

“Granger?” He looks down at her, unbelieving. “Is this a dream?”

Hermione remembers Azkaban Malfoy telling her he thought he was dreaming twice, and figuring it was easier to claim than explain their situation, she nods. His shoulders relax, the tension leaving his body. She tilts her head at him, trying to figure out what time he’s from.

Judging by the uniform, he must be from some point in Hogwarts.

“This must be a dream if you’re wearing that hideous jumper again.”

She scoffs at him, deciding she already doesn’t like him. “You’ve told me before that this is quite a nice jumper, actually.”

“You could do much better, Granger.”

That catches her attention. “Could I?”

“Much better than the ugly, oversized ginger things you seem so attached to.”

“Are you on about Ron and my half-kneazle?!” Hermione scoffs. “How dare you!”

“Why do you cling to him?” He gets up in her face, demanding. “What does he have that I don’t?”

“What?” Hermione blinks at him. “You mean Ron?”

“Who else? Who else do I envy, night and day, to the point of feeling disgust with myself? Who else do I watch, speaking to you, touching you, doing all the things I wish I could but know I never can? Who else is the bane of my fucking existence, hovering over your shoulder every second of the day?”

Hermione’s eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets.

“Um, Malfoy – “

“If only you knew how deeply I could – “ His voice cracks and he grabs her face desperately. “How deeply I can love you, Granger. How I brush your hair away from your face when you fall asleep in the library, how crazy you drive me whenever you do that thing with your lip, how I dream of just getting a chance to even hold you like this.”

Her face flushes, eyes downcast. “Malfoy – “

He swallows. “The stolen glances and everything that I do to get a fraction of your attention, none of it is enough. Yet, I could spend the rest of my life wanting you and seeing your smile, hearing your laugh, your voice – it fills my heart so fully that it feels like I could live off your joy alone. You are all that gets me through my day, the only good in my abysmal existence.”

Hermione feels her heart swell, never realizing Malfoy was so passionate since he was young. She smiles at the troubled boy softly, touching his cheeks. Hermione rubs at his dark circles with her thumbs, wishing she could have them erased. She leans her forehead against his and closes her eyes.

“Keep fighting for me. For us.” Goosebumps rise on her skin as she realizes how much what she’s about to say will affect the future. “Do what you must to survive this war, then become an Auror and right your wrongs. Find me. I’ll give us a chance, I promise.”

Hogwarts Malfoy whimpers and crushes his lips against hers with none of the tact of Future Malfoy but all the raw, unfiltered passion. She lets him kiss her, feeling his hands trembling on the sides of her face. He deepens their kiss, letting himself melt into her.

“Swear to me,” He whispers against her lips, kissing her repeatedly. “I don’t care that you’re just a dream – swear to me that you’ll give us a chance, and I’ll do as you ask.”

“I swear it, Draco.”

He presses her mouth into hers one last time and she feels him disappear underneath her fingertips. Hermione opens her eyes, facing her Malfoy at last.

“Granger!” Malfoy looks around frantically, panicking until he sees her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.”

“What in Salazar’s frozen ballsack just happened?”

Hermione watches him, the impact of the night hitting her all at once. All the Malfoys she met tonight converge into one prat in a hat. Her eyes glimmer wetly as she smiles at him.

“Fenrir’s dead.”

“What?”

“No thanks to you, you git.” She gestures to the juicy red bits surrounding them. “That’s what’s left of him.”

Malfoy cringes at the sight. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Why are you crying?” Malfoy rushes to her side, fussing over her like a hen. “Are you hurt?”

“No, you idiot.” Hermione smacks him gently on the chest, letting her hand slide down lamely. “You disappeared all night.”

“I did?” His brow furrows for a few seconds – and then his eyes widen in understanding. “Oh. So…you know?”

Malfoy’s voice falls flat at the end of his sentence. She looks at him, perplexed. Hermione searches his eyes, noticing they’re blanker than ever before. She’d have questioned everything she had just learned in the past few hours if it weren’t for Future Malfoy’s visit, practically guaranteeing her they’d end up together.

And yet, the future is always capable of changing.

Her heart races in her chest.

She can’t lose him.

“Know what?” Hermione wants to slap herself.

“My feelings.”

“Oh, yes.” She clears her throat. “You have made your feelings on my jumper known, several times, in fact.”

Hermione’s hands were shaking.

What’s wrong with her?

“You know that’s not what I mean, Granger.”

Hermione keeps her gaze averted from his, unable to meet his eyes. She places her cold hands on her cheeks to cool down her burning red skin. Taking in a deep breath, she shuts her eyes. Hermione tries to focus on controlling her rapid breathing.

“It’s okay, Granger,” Malfoy smirks bitterly. “I know a rejection when I see one. Let’s go home.”

“What? No!” Hermione panics when he glances at her. “Our mission isn’t over yet. We haven’t even figured out how Fenrir has been jumping dimensionally and using time magic.”

Malfoy scans the gore with his Sun Glasses. He points at a shiny object with numbers surrounding it, a rotating sphere at the center. Hermione stares at it.

“Oh.”

“Mystery solved.”

 Malfoy casts a spell she had never heard of before – likely used by Aurors for cursed, unstable items – and carefully levitates the object in a white, swirling sphere. He starts to walk away with the sphere floating beside him. Once he notices she’s not following, he stops and turns.

“Granger?”

“Do you –“ Hermione gulps, holding her hands to control their shaking. “Do you still love me?”

For a moment, there’s a shimmer of life behind his eyes.

He nods.

“After all this time?”

The first sign of raindrops fell between them.

“Always, Granger.” His voice drops to a whisper as he shuts his eyes tightly, pained. “Always.”

Hermione feels her heart spring wings, and her lips broaden into a smile. She steps forward, and an unappealing, squelching noise is produced from one of Fenrir’s eyeballs under her foot. When Malfoy opens his eyes, he looks at her smile in confusion, a tentative hope blooming in his expression.

The rain starts to come down on them, pelting against their skin.

“I swore it, didn’t I?”

His eyes widen, a plethora of emotions swirling back to life in them. Hermione runs towards him and cusses, nearly slipping on the wet mud. She leaps instead, jumping on him. He laughs, supporting her from under her thighs as her arms and legs wrap around him. Malfoy turns in circles with her in his arms as they share their mad laughter underneath the sound of the roaring rain.

They lean in at the same time, their lips fitting together perfectly like the pieces of a puzzle. Malfoy presses her against a tree, drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. Hermione tangles her fingers in his hair, gripping him tightly as she embraces him, fully accepting him into her heart. Their movements become frantic, touching and feeling each other desperately. 

His pink hat slips off his head and drifts to the ground – beside it falls her Crookshanks jumper. 

Together, they make up for lost time.