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Not My Malfoy by _Lady Marauder_

Format: Novella
Chapters: 3
Word Count: 8,922
Status: WIP

Rating: Mature
Warnings: Strong Language, Mild Violence, Scenes of a Sexual Nature, Sensitive Topic/Issue/Theme, Contains Spoilers

Genres: Drama, Romance, AU
Characters: Hermione, McGonagall, Draco, Scorpius, Albus, James (II), Lily (II), Hugo, Rose
Pairings: Hermione/OC, Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Draco/Hermione, Rose/Scorpius

First Published: 12/12/2009
Last Chapter: 03/14/2010
Last Updated: 03/14/2010

Jaw-dropping banner by Lucie Longhorn @TDA!

Hermione has an accident with the Timeturner given to her by McGonagall.  She is suddenly whisked to the Next Generation...and she has been sent there for a purpose...

Every time she sees Scorpius,she is reminded of Draco, who she was torn from just as they were getting serious.  Not to mention Rose, that little brat who is supposedly her own flesh and blood.  How will Hermione survive among the Next Generation?

Chapter 1: Through the Fabric of Time
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August 28, 1993

Dear Merlin, Ronald is such a dolt.  I don’t know why it has only now started to jump out at me, but it has.  Oh yes, it has.  I suppose tensions are high though…with that man Sirius Black on the loose from Azkaban.  Everyone is a little touchy these days; except, for some reason, Harry (of all people).  I’m not as naïve as I look.  I know that there is some connection between Sirius Black and Harry.  It’s written all over the faces of the adults who speak to him, Mr. Weasley especially.

            Anyways, tensions between Ronald and I are high, and I suppose it all started when I got my cat, Crookshanks.  Well of course, we have always bickered a bit, but Harry says now it’s worse than ever.  He won’t stop ragging on poor Crookshanks.  And all for his stupid, disgusting, fat rat Scabbers.  Oh, well.  If he wants to be in a huff, fine.  I however, am above petty grudges.  No way am I going to dwell on stupid Ronald and his stupid rat and his stupid attitude.  No.  I am so over it.  Even now, as I am sure you can tell, I am over it.  So over it that I am already a football field away, a trip around the moon away…alright fine.  So maybe I’m not really over it.  But I’m working on it.  People say that the mind can make you think anything.  I just hope it amends its thinking soon.  So much thought about Ronald cannot be healthy.  For anyone, but especially for me.

            And anyways, there is someone else.  When I think about him, it feels like I’m committing a sin so putting it into words will be virtually impossible.  Maybe I can give you hints and you can guess.  Who am I kidding?  I can say it.  After all, you are the only one who can hear me, and you came here for this story:






Oh bother, I just can’t do it.  Hints it is then:

Hint Number One:  Harry would hate me forever if he ever found out.  Or kill me.

Hint Number Two: Everyone else whom I love would hate me forever/kill me if they ever found out.

Hint Number Three:  He is supposed to be my worst enemy (any guesses now?)

Hint Number Four: Society would never let us be together.

Hint Number Five:  It’s not just me.  When I say that, I mean this isn’t a one-sided crush.  He likes me too—a lot.  He kissed me once last year, my first kiss ever.  That hint isn’t so much help with the guessing, but I had to write it down.  I suppose I am rather proud of it.

            Gods, I didn’t WANT to like Malfoy (eek!  I said the name!  Oh well, it is over with now so it must be some sort of sign).  It just happened.  Honestly, the way his hair flips back into his eyes, and the way his pale skin glows luminescent in the moonlight.  I have to stop thinking about that…or else…well, I’ll get carried away.

            As much as I adore Draco, he has one HUGE problem.  He is such a git.  He’s an arrogant toe rag, and he cannot help it, it’s just how it is.  But I like him still, and he’s trying to change.  I dunno if that will ever happen, but I can hope right?  A girl has to have something to hold onto.

            My friends and I have already gotten everything we needed at Diagon Alley, so now we wait in the Leaky Cauldron for the few days left in August to pass, and we can finally go back to Hogwarts.  Hogwarts means Draco, and Draco means…well I don’t know what it means exactly.  Oh, what if he doesn’t like me anymore?  What if he wants that pug-faced Parkinson, now?  I mustn’t think on it too long or I’ll go into a panic.  Best if I just sit tight and see what happens. 

September 2, 1993

            I have to remind myself to take deep soothing breaths.  If not, I might forget to breathe altogether and suffocate and die.  Something terrible has happened.  I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, it just did.  And it is absolutely mortifying.  You don’t understand.  I have to start at the beginning for that to happen.  The day we were supposed to be going back to Hogwarts.  We had just gotten into our compartment:

            “Everywhere else is full,” Harry said.  “Do you think he’s really asleep?”  He nodded at the ragged looking man in the compartment.

            “Seems to be,” Ron muttered. 

            “Good,” Harry whispered, entering and closing the door.  “I have something to tell you guys.”  Ronald and I sat, questioningly, as Harry began to tell us of the story Mr. Weasley had told him: that the escaped convict, Sirius Black, was after Harry, out to seek vengeance.  Surprisingly, Harry did not look scared, more incredulous than anything else.  Just as he was wrapping up his story, I saw a movement outside. 

            I glanced out through the glass to see Malfoy lounging against the wall.  My heart caught in my throat.  He looked up at me.  His eyes shifted down the aisle toward the direction of the bathroom.  Oh God, I thought.  Draco walked off in that direction.  I sat still for a moment, my heart pounding fiercely in my chest.  Now the boys were babbling about something stupid and mindless.  What did I have to lose?

            “I…err, have to go—you know,” I mumbled as I stood up.

            “Yeah, yeah, whatever Hermione,” Ron shook his hand at me.  God, sometimes that boy was insufferable.

            I left, rolling my eyes.  My annoyance soon vanished, as I walked toward the bathroom in which I presumed Draco was waiting for me.  My stomach formed a huge, complex knot, and I thought that I might never be able to figure out how to untangle it.  Ever.

            I stopped with my hand on the knob.  Here goes nothing, I thought.  No,  I corrected myself.  Here goes everything.  I twisted the knob in.  Before I could get my bearings, someone grabbed me by the front of my robes—which I had already changed into—and yanked me into the room.  I felt my front pressed up against a another body that was beginning to take on the muscles of a man, rather than a boy.  I looked up into Draco’s sparkling gray eyes.  I let out a breath that I hadn’t been realizing I’d held in.  He still wanted me after all.

            “What if that hadn’t been me?”  I asked disapprovingly.  “What if you had pulled a stranger into the room?”

            “I knew it was you,” he said frankly.  “I just knew.”

            “Oh.”  I didn’t really have anything else to say.

            “Hermione?”  He asked.  I looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.  “I really want to kiss you.”

            I blushed and looked down.  “You don’t have to ask, Draco.”

            “Don’t I?”

            I shook my head.  “No.  I’m—I’m kind of yours?  Right?”

            He smiled then.  He really smiled.  He didn’t do it often.  It was like a precious little gift that he saved just for me.  He leaned over to me.  I smelled his breath, a sweet cinnamon mixed with whatever candies and chocolate he had consumed on the train so far.  It was delicious; mouthwatering, in fact.  I feel so dirty saying that...or even thinking it!  But it’s only the truth so what am I supposed to do, censor it?  I don’t think that anyone listening to this will judge me, you're here for my real story after all, right?  But, back to the matter at hand:

            He leaned over but didn’t kiss me.  No, that special little moment was initiated by yours truly.  I couldn’t stand being that close to him without feeling the warm taste of him on my mouth.  It was meant to be soft and cautious.  He had only kissed me once, and that was a quick peck on the lips.  And we were quickly separated for three months after that happened.  On the other hand, maybe that’s why it ended up more than a little kiss this time.  I don't exactly know words to describe it.  Maybe...God, I can’t think of a word at all. Now, reflecting on it, I am distracted by the warm fuzzy feeling that still erupts in the pit of my stomach.

             Kissing really wasn’t as hard as I’d always imagined.  You’d think you would have no idea what to do, but when it happens, you just…do.  I felt like a flower opening up to take in the warm sun.  I didn’t have to think, my nature just led my actions.  I can’t describe it any better than that.  And I sound like a stupid love struck teenager, but I can’t help that either, because I think that’s what I am.

            Draco broke away from me, a little bit breathless, I was pleased to note.  “God, Granger.  The things you do to me.”  I glowed with pleasure that I could do anything to him at all.  Draco shook his head and smirked.  “Who would have thought that a mudblood would be the only person who could heat me up like that?”  He didn’t mean for that comment to be a finalist on the list of Worst Things to Say When You’re Making Out, but it definitely ruined the moment.  I stiffened under his hands and turned away my head.  Draco realized his mistake.  “Oh,” he mumbled.  “Damn it, I—I didn’t mean to, you know…be an arse.  It just came out.”  He smirked.  “Arse just comes too easily to me. Like second nature.”

            I wanted to nod and agree to that but I couldn’t bring myself to it.  “No,” I said instead.  “It’s fine.”  I turned to walk out.  “I’ll see you in the castle, Draco; where we go back to pretending to hate each other.”  I opened the door, but Draco reached out and stopped it with his hand.

            “Don’t leave mad,” he begged.  “Please, I didn’t mean it that way; it slipped out before I could think about it.”

I turned toward him.  Grabbing his chin, I pulled his face toward me.  When his lips were an inch from mine, I repeated:  “I said, don’t worry about it.”  I grabbed one of his lips between my own and pulled on it, drawing it out.  “I’m hard to break,” I whispered.  I had no idea where this crazy outgoing side of me emerged from.  Someplace deep in my personality that Draco stirred up and unleashed.  I am not that kind of person!  At least...I don't think I am.  Maybe deep down, I've always wanted to be a little rebellious.

            “Well that’s good news for me then,” he said smiling a mischievious smile.  “Because I would hate to break you."

            “Not now,” I said, shaking my head at his innuendo.  “I’ve got to get back.  They’ll wonder where I am.”  Draco nodded in compliance.  I laid my hand on the doorknob and gasped—this time for a very different reason.  I sank to the floor in a heap.  I looked up, barely keeping my wits about me, to see that Draco had also fallen and was whimpering a bit.

            This was the second thing that happened that day that is hard to describe.  I suddenly felt like nothing would ever be happy again, even though I had been having the best time of my life a few seconds ago.  In my distress, I could still remember reading about such symptoms:  dementors.  It made no sense though.  Why would they be on the train?  I don’t know what happened to me for a while, and I don’t know how long I just collapsed on the ground practically comatose, but I do remember that I could do nothing until that feeling had gone.

            In retrospect, I realized it must have only taken a few minutes.  I raised myself shakily, Draco getting to his feet behind me.  Touching his collar, I said, “Get back and see how everyone is doing.  I’m going to Harry and Ron.”  Draco nodded slowly, and walked out.  I gathered myself and walked toward my compartment.  The people in their own compartments looked shaken up, and puzzled.  Fortunately, no one was hurt. 

            I opened the door just as the older man was lifting Harry into a sitting position.  “Eat this,” he said, offering Harry something.  “It’s chocolate.  It helps, it really helps.”  Things went by in a blur.  I gathered that the presence of the dementors had made Harry pass out.  The man, Lupin he said, went to go talk to the conductor.  Neither of the boys asked me where I had been, thankfully.  I would have lied if they did, but it wouldn’t have been fun. 

            It certainly was a mystery.  People said they had been searching the train for Sirius Black.  I suppose that’s true, but I can’t imagine that he would ever be on the train in the first place.  Come one, he escaped from Azkaban; the man isn’t stupid enough to bum a train ride off of the Hogwarts Express!  Honestly.

            The remainder of the ride was uneventful (except for the fact that my stomach wouldn’t settle down and I desperately craved the taste of Draco on my lips).  We rode the horseless carriages to the castle, and Professor McGonagall took me and Harry aside.  I didn’t know what she wanted him for, but I knew why she wanted to speak to me. 

            After Harry left, I walked into her office.  “Hello, Professor,” I said, smiling at her.  I loved McGonagall.  She was a strict, no-nonsense teacher, but deep down, she was such a softie.

            She smiled at me and nodded to the seat across from her.  I sat down.  “Are you very sure you want to do this, Ms. Granger?”  She asked.  “Even though it is a huge responsibility, I want you to know I have the utmost trust in you.  I would trust none of the students more, even the older ones,” she continued sincerely.  It warmed my heart that she thought so well of me.

            “Absolutely sure, Professor.  If I fall behind, or have too much work, I promise I will drop some classes so I can take all the ones I want in a regular day.  As it is, I cannot choose.  They all sound so wonderful.”

            McGonagall smiled.  “Well, I certainly cannot reprimand you for wanting to learn, dear.”  She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a funny looking hourglass thing.

            I gasped.  “Is that it?”

            She nodded. “We had to get it especially for you, from the Ministry.”  She held it out to me, and I grabbed it by the long gold chain.  “In spite of my trust for you, I cannot caution you enough, Ms. Granger.  Time is such a dangerous thing.  Many a bright witch or wizard has perished at its unforgiving hand.”  She pursed her lips.  “I think I should give you a quick lesson before I set you free with it.”  She walked up to me, and slung the chain around my neck and hers.  She gingerly took the device—the Timeturner.  “Turn it in this fashion,” she said, touching the bulb.  “Each turn is an hour, so count carefully.  If you mess up, it could be catastrophic.  Today, we’re only going one hour back.”  She turned it once.  For a moment, everything spun.  Then, we were back in her office, everything exactly the same as it had been the moment before.  Except for the fact that McGonagall was standing next to me—and sitting at her own desk.

            My mouth dropped to the floor.  Desk-McGonagall looked up.  “Hello, Hermione, dear,” she said.  “I wasn’t expecting to see you for another hour, but it is a welcome surprise.”  She nodded to Future-McGonagall, and went back to her papers.

            “H-hi, Professor,” I stuttered. 

            Future-McGonagall took my shoulder.  “The students are just entering the castle,” she said.  “Be sure not to run into yourself.  You would think you’d have gone crazy.  And make sure no one sees both of you at the same time.  That also, would be bad.”  She extracted herself from the necklace and stepped back.  “Scurry on now, Ms. Granger.  And good luck with all of your classes.”

            I nodded, too stunned to say anything, and walked out.  Coming toward the Entrance Hall, I heard a commotion of voices.  I peeked around the corner, and saw everyone entering the Great Hall.  Draco saw me, and nonchalantly walked toward me. 

            “Hey,” he said, slinging his arms around my waist.  I shivered at his touch.  He frowned.  “Cold?”

            I shook my head.  “Nope, it’s just you.”  He smiled at my bold words, and leaned forward to get access to my mouth.  I let him (of course).  He kissed me, and my legs went weak.  I pulled back from him, aand put my hand over my lips.  "They tingle," I told him.

             He smirked.  "That's what they're supposed to do," he said with a crooked smile.  "Granger?"  He asked.  I looked up at him, questioningly.  He shook his head amiably.  "You talk to much."

             "Yeah," I said, embarrassed.  "So I've heard.  What can I say?  I like to talk."  I looked up at him boldly.  "But I think I've found something better than talking."

             "What?"  He asked, playing along.

             "You," I answered with a little smile lighting my lips.  I leaned forward again, and he met me half way.

            I swear I was being good.  Very, very good, considering the circumstances.  But still, I couldn’t help it when a little moan escaped from my lips into his mouth.  Draco broke away, and cleared his throat, embarrassed.  I looked up, surprised to see that he was red, and his hands were shaking a little.  I shook my head to clear it.  “Sorry,” I said.  “I just—I’m sorry.”

            He waved his hand.  “No, don’t be.  It’s just, if you make noises like…that, I’m going to get carried away.  I’m not going to be able to—restrain myself.  I’m going to give in and do things that I—we, shouldn’t be doing.  Not now.”

            I nodded, nervous.  What did he mean he wouldn't be able to restrain himself?  I realize full well that I should be frightened of Draco.  Honestly, I am a little frightened of Draco.  But I also cannot seem to stop wanting him.  It was like a sicknesss I suppose.  When he said those words, and when I thought that about him, my pulse sped up considerably, and it had been going pretty fast to begin with.  That’s what happens when you’re making out with a golden angel.

            But when he kissed me lightly again, I didn’t really care about anything besides the fact that I almost wished our lips would get super-glued together so that they never had to part.  I raised my hand to his face and ran it through his shimmering hair.  I thought I felt him shudder, but I was shuddering myself so I couldn’t be sure.  We had ceased kissing, but it was hard for me to catch my breath because of the fizzy feeling in my stomach and the craving I had for Draco, which was what I imagined being addicted felt like.

            “We should get back to the feast,” I said.  He nodded, but didn’t make a move to go.  “We shouldn’t be so out in the open.  Anyone could have come across us here.”

            “Yeah, anyone at all,” he paused.  His voice sounded strained.  “I don’t much like this secret.  I want to be with you.  And I don’t want to keep it a secret, like some coward.  I’ve been a coward for too damn long.  I want to tell people.  I want to stand up in the Great Hall and scream out to everyone that I have just spent the last half an hour kissing the most intoxicating person on the face of the planet.  I want to walk up to you in front of everyone, grab your hand, and carry your books to class.”

            I was impressed by his little speech.  I smiled.  “I agree,” I said simply.  “Harry and Ron won’t be happy, but they’ll just have to deal.  I get to do whatever the hell I want and they can’t stop me.”  I looked up into his gorgeous silver eyes.  “And you are what I want.”

            Draco beamed at me happily.  “Tomorrow then,” he said, kissing me again.

            “Tomorrow,” I agreed.  He kissed me once more, swiftly and left for the hall.  I decided to wait a few more minutes until he was settled before I entered.

            I took out the Timeturner the Professor had given me.  It was a curious little thing.  I looked around.  The corridor was totally deserted.  Nobody would see if I gave it a whirl.  I wanted to try it out by myself.  Besides, the castle would be awesome when nobody was in it yet.  It would be like a learning experience.

            I turned the bulb a few times, my hands shaking from anticipation.  Wait, how long did I want to go back?  Three hours?  How many times had I turned it already? Was that two or three?  Or had it even been one?  Well, I’ll just give it another, what could it hurt?  Okay, that was three, right?  Or maybe it was just two after all…

            Soon, I was hopelessly lost.  I had already messed up on McGonagall’s advice: “Count carefully; if you mess up, it could be catastrophic.” Oh no…

            In my haste, I lost my grip and it tumbled to the floor.  Frightened, I picked it back up, hoping it was still intact.  It was, but it was spinning rapidly in the opposite direction. I tried to stop it but was futile.  The world around me began to morph.  And it didn’t stop after just a second, as it had before.  I backed myself against the wall, and tucked my head into my lap, rocking myself, and trying to wake up from this nightmare.

            When I reopened my eyes, everything was still.  I was in the same corridor, just as deserted as before.  I heaved a sigh of relief.  Maybe it had short-circuited and ceased to function.  I leaned my head against the wall.

            “Excuse me!”  I recognized that sharp voice.  Professor McGonagall.  Oh, thank heavens; it was a fluke after all.  I turned around to her and gasped.  It was her alright but she was…old.  Professor McGonagall wasn’t the youngest woman on the face of the planet, but she was really, really old.  She had many more wrinkles, and her hair was now pure white (though still in the severe bun).  “What are you doing here, child?  Everyone is just finishing up supper; you should be in the Great Hall!  The Welcoming Feast doesn’t wait you know!”  She approached me and stopped dead.  I saw her hands begin to shake.  “Dear Merlin,” she paused.  “You look exactly like…I—I don’t recognize…” She stopped dead and ran a hand over her face.

            “Professor,” I said.  “What’s going on?  Why are you--?  I was j-just trying it out, I don’t know what happened.”  I held up the Timeturner.

            This seemed to make her more distressed.  “Ms. Granger?”  She asked hesitantly.  I nodded.  “Oh dear me!”  She clutched her heart.  I hoped I hadn’t given her a heart attack.  But McGonagall was much stronger than that.  She perked up at the sound of footsteps.  She ran over and grabbed my arm.  “Hermione, listen to me.  I don’t have time to explain right now, but you just have to accept that, alright?  There is someone coming around the corner that will give you quite a shock.  Take it in stride, my dear.  Take everything in stride.  You are the smartest witch I know, dear.”  She paused, apparently searching her brain.  “Okay, you are a third year whose parents have been doing missionary work in India.  You have been homeschooled, but when they were killed in an accident last summer, you came back to England, and are here at Hogwarts on a full scholarship.  That is your story, dear.  Remember it.  Stick to it.”  She looked over my shoulder.  “Here they come.  Meet me in my office first thing tomorrow morning.”  With no other word, she left quickly as a flash.

            Breath was coming in a difficult manner.  I didn’t exactly know what was going on, but from what I gathered, I had (like an idiot) managed to transport myself to the future.  I didn’t usually swear, but all I could think was, Oh, shit.

            I turned around at the sound of voices.  I heard a boy: “Not on your life, Scorpius.”  Laughing.  “Not even if I was the last woman on Earth and you were the last man, and the continuation of our race depended on it.”  More laughing, this time sounding more forced.  I looked up at the people, and almost ran into one of them.  I looked up into silver eyes framed by the pale angel hair that I so loved to run my hands through.

            “Draco!”  I exclaimed.  “Dear Merlin, what are you doing here?”  He looked at me like I was off my rocker.

            “How do you know my father?”  He asked.

            My eyes widened.  When I looked closer, I could tell this was certainly not Draco, though he looked almost exactly the same.  Another boy spoke.  “Do you know this person, Scorpius?”  I looked at him.  This cannot be happening, I thought as I turned my head and gaped at the Harry-look-alike.  Had I really just landed myself amongst the children of my generation?  I was so totally screwed…

A/N: How was this for a start?  I'd like to your hear your thoughts on this chapter in a review! Thanks for reading!

Chapter 2: Meet the...CHILDREN!?!
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

A/N:  Here goes chapter two!  Thanks to all you who have read and favorited!  I am so happy you all seem to like it!There is a variation on a quote from a comedy movie in this chapter!  Who can find it?  Whoever IDs the quote, and tells me which movie its from first will get a shoutout in the next chapter!

September 3, err…I still don’t know what year it is…

            For some reason, all of my stuff is here with me, in the future.  Professor McGonagall, when I went to speak to her this morning, said that it must have been Dumbledore’s doing.  She also says that I cannot go back to the past.  We tried once and it didn’t work.  She said I must be here for a reason, and we cannot fight fate.  There is one other thing, something that made me cry for a good three hours after I got back from my meeting with McGonagall.  She is the Headmistress.  I am happy for her, but that means…you know, that Dumbledore isn’t the Headmaster.  He would never just resign from his post.  Something must have happened.  I will explain how I found out about all of this, but I am going to start with where I left off: running into those kids.

            I looked at the boy who had spoken.  He was a perfect replica of Harry.  If I hadn’t known that I was in the future, I would have thought it might have been him.  He had the same messy hair, and he had Lily’s eyes, just like Harry did.  “No, he doesn’t know me,” I said.  “Sorry.  I just transferred in here.  I’m still, er—getting my bearings.”

            The frown lines smoothed out of the boys’ faces.  However, the girl with them was still scowling, and had her arms folded and her hip pushed out to the side.  She was certainly not happy to see me.  She had been the first one that I heard talking.  She smirked at me.  “Oh, I can tell,” she spat.  “Walking around like a lunatic with your head in the clouds, running into people who are trying to use these corridors to walk in.”

            My temper flared.  “Who do you think you are?” I asked defensively.  The boys weren’t saying anything, but were standing awkwardly as if they were used to this type of behavior from her.

            “You are asking who I am.”  She didn’t ask it as a question, but as an incredulous statement.  She stared at me, and flipped her hair over her shoulder.  It was only then that I realized it was thick, long and red.  Weasley red.

            “Ron?”  I whispered.  Ron had helped make this?

            She hadn’t heard me, thankfully.  “I’m Rose,” she said primly.  “Weasley.”

            I raised my eyebrow.  “Oh, aren’t you special then?”  I asked sarcastically.

            Draco—er, Scorpius—burst out laughing at that statement.  It made me glow warm.  “You’re okay,” he said to me.  “Ignore her; she has a perpetual bug up her arse.”  Rose shot him a glare that could kill.  “What’s your name?”

            “Hermione,” I said without thinking. 

            Scorpius’ mouth fell open, as did the Harry-look-alike’s.  Rose just pushed her lips into a tight line and glared at me harder.  “Whoa, she has the same name as your mom, Rose!  Weird, because it’s kind of an unusual name…”

            I think I had a heart attack at that moment.  Scorpius was Draco’s kid.  The Harry-look-alike was obviously Harry’s kid.  Rose’s father was Ron and her mother’s name was Hermione.  I am the only Hermione.  That means that I gave birth to Rose.  She is my child.  Mine and Ron’s.  Ew, I procreated with RON!?!  No wonder McGonagall said that the people around the corner would give me quite a shock!  But unless I played it cool, things could get very ugly.  I could cry about it all later.

            “How great for me,” Rose said sarcastically.

            The Harry-look-alike shook his head.  “Excuse my unbelievably rude cousin,” he started.  Cousin?  I had no siblings, so that must mean that Harry married one of Ron’s siblings.  And unless Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had another daughter I didn’t know about, that sibling was Ginny.  That made me proud.  She finally won over Harry.  “My name is Albus Potter,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulders.  “So what House are you in Hermione?”

            I paused.  McGonagall hadn’t mentioned what House I was supposed to be in, but I figured it had to be the same one.  “Gryffindor,” I answered strongly.

            His face lit up.  “Awesome, that is my House too!  We were just heading up there.  Want to come?”  I nodded.  We began to walk, Scorpius and Rose whispering heatedly behind our backs.  “So what year are you in?  You’re obviously not a first year, so why haven’t we seen you around?”

            Time to put my fake-life story into practice: “My parents did missionary work in India, so they homeschooled me there.”  I tried to make my voice tremble.  “But they died last summer in an accident.  So I moved back to Britain so I could attend Hogwarts.  I’m a third year.”

            Albus looked shocked.  “I’m so sorry,” he said sincerely.  “That is awful.  I know a little bit about death too, though I’ve never seen it in action really.  My father was in the Second Wizarding War, and he makes sure I don’t take death lightly.”

            I nodded.  I was finding out things about the future that I had no business knowing.  There was a war.  Harry lived through it and had a child, which must mean he beat Voldemort somehow.  “It’s fine,” I said.  “I’m managing.”

            Albus was silent for a moment.  “I’m a third year too, as are Scorpius and Rose.”  He waited.  “That means you get to share a dormitory with her.”  I looked up at Albus, panicked.  He smiled at my expression.  “She’s harmless really.  She just gets touchy when Scorpius pays attention to people who aren’t herself.”

            “Oh,” I said disappointed.  Maybe Rose isn’t that different from me after all—falling for a Malfoy.  “Are Rose and Scorpius together?  I thought she said—”

            “They aren’t officially together.  But it’s only a matter of time, and everyone knows it.  Rose gets really possessive of him because of that.  Since they aren’t ‘together’ together, I think she imagines that he could leave her…as if.” 

            Just then, Scorpius ran to catch up with the two of us.  “Hey don’t hog the new girl,” he teased, removing Albus’ arm, which I had not noticed still hung around my shoulder.  “So, new kid, are you excited about sharing a room with Rose?”  He rolled his eyes.  “Just to warn you: she has thorns, and they’re fatal.  In case you hadn’t already figured that out.”

            “I had, thanks,” I answered.  It seemed like Rose’s temper was a running joke around here.  I started, remembering something.  “Er, aren’t we going to the Common Rooms?”  Albus nodded.  “Do they allow other Houses into the Gryffindor Common Room these days?”

            Albus looked puzzled.  “Uh, no…”

            I turned to Scorpius, confused.  “Then why are you here?”  I asked matter-of-factly.  “Shouldn’t you be heading to the Slytherin Commons?”

            Scorpius and Albus just stared at me blankly for a second.  Then, at the same time, they burst into raucous laughter.  I blushed.  What was so funny? 

            “I’m…not…in…Slytherin!”  Scorpius gasped though his laughter.  He tried wiping the tears out of his eyes, but was interrupted by more laughter.  I was mortified.  I had assumed he would be in that House because all the Malfoys’ had been, but I should have known better.  After all, apparently that murderer Sirius Black had been in Gryffindor, even though his whole family had been Slytherins.

            “I’m so sorry!”  I said.  “I didn’t mean to assume, I just thought that—“

            “You thought that since I was obviously a Malfoy, I would be in Slytherin like the rest of them,” he said happily, getting his laughter under control.  “Don’t sweat it, it happens all the time.”  He went on walking as if that extremely awkward situation had not just occurred.  I followed silently with Albus, because I certainly was not going to reopen that discussion.  Rose trailed us, sulking.  I shook my head.  I would say that that girl’s parents ought to slap some manners into her, but, oh yeah, that parent would be me.  How did I let that happen?  It seems ridiculous.

            We got the Portrait of the Fat Lady, which looked exactly the same.  “Password?”  She asked regally.

            Rose stepped forward imperiously.  “Lemon Tart,” she said matter-of-factly, smugly proud of her knowledge of the password.

            I was shocked at the password.  What happened to the old style of password?  Albus saw my face and laughed.  “My father made that same face when he first heard that all of our passwords were named after sweets.  Apparently, in his day they were much different.  I asked McGonagall about it once, and she said that the change in password style is in remembrance of the late Headmaster Dumbledore.  This was his House when he was a student, you know.”

            I felt tears prick in my eyes.  So he had died then.  I wanted to know how, but I would never ask.  I shouldn’t get too inquisitive about the future.  It would only end in disaster.  We entered the Common Room, and I saw that everything was exactly as it had been the last time I was there—which was technically dozens of years ago.  Albus walked in and plopped down in the exact same chair that Harry always sat in.  Rose huffed off in the direction of the dormitories, and I sat carefully on the chair I had always occupied. 

            “Better watch out,” Albus said playfully.  “If Rose comes down and sees you in her chair, she might eat your brains out while you sleep.”

            I laughed nervously.  I hoped that was a joke.  “Aw, don’t get up Hermione,” pleaded Scorpius, stretching his catlike frame (so similar to Draco’s) out on the couch.  “About time someone stuck it to her.  I swear, Rose is wound so tight that if you shoved a piece of coal up her arse in the morning, it would’ve become a diamond by the afternoon.”  He smiled at me, inviting me to share his joke.  His smile was infectious, and soon it was mirrored on my own face.  “That’s more like it,” he said warmly.

            I settled back against the couch.  Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.  It was almost like hanging out with Harry and Ron except instead of Ron being an arrogant toe rag; he was a sweetie who looked exactly like my secret boyfriend.  Not bad at all…

            I fell asleep for a while, and I woke up to a hand on my shoulder.  I opened my eyes and saw Draco.  A lazy smile lit my face.  “Oh Draco,” I said touching his face.  “I just had the weirdest dream.”  Draco looked at me strangely for a moment, and slowly reality came back to me.  “Oh God,” I moaned.

            “Why do you keep calling me that?”  Scorpius asked, looking at me uncertainly.  “It’s kind of creepy that you know my dad.”

            “I don’t,” I insisted. 

            He shook his head.  “Whatever,” he whispered.  “Listen it’s really late, and for some reason, the House Elves won’t come in to clean with us here.”

            I turned my bleary eyes over the other chair, where Albus was snoring like a lumberjack.  “What about Har—Albus?” 

            Scorpius shrugged.  “I was more focused on you,” he said frankly.  “Do you need help up?”  I shook my head, and burrowed farther into the puffy chair.  “Oi, girls will be the death of me,” I heard him mumble.  I felt an arm slither behind my back and under the crook of my knees, and suddenly I was in the air. 

“What’s going on?”

            “I’m carrying you to bed,” he told me.  “You don’t even know who I am and you sound like a crazy person, so no way can you make it up all these stairs.”

            I let my arms wind around his neck, and I relaxed into his strong grip.  “Okay,” I mumbled.  I leaned my head down onto his shoulder, barely awake.

            I vaguely remember him lowering me into my bed, and pulling my blankets over me.  I wasn’t with it enough to wonder how he got up to the girls dormitory in the first place.  I also vaguely remember something else.  I remember him standing in the doorway for an indefinite period of time.  Then he walked back over to me, still on the bed.  I think he thought I was sleeping. 

            I felt his cool fingers brush the hair off of my forehead.  “Goodnight,” he whispered.  I felt him press his lips against my forehead, but I must have fallen asleep right after that, because that is all I remember.

            When I woke up I felt refreshed, almost as if none of it had happened.  That thought was soon banished when I looked over, and instead of seeing Lavender in the adjacent bed, I saw the red hair that must mean Rose Weasley.  I looked outside to see the sun fairly high in the sky.  It was Sunday, so no one would have to go to classes, but I had to get to Professor McGonagall. 

            The Common Room was also deserted, so I made my way through with no encounters.  I began to walk toward the office for the Transfiguration teacher before I realized that they must have a new one by now.  McGonagall had been Deputy Headmistress, so after Dumbledore’s death, she probably took up the position of Headmistress.  I wondered who the new Transfiguration teacher was.

            So instead, I began to walk toward the stone gargoyle that marked the Headmasters office.  I paused outside of it, wondering what the password was.  It turned out that I didn’t need one, because the staircase began to move itself.  I quickly hopped on, so I wouldn’t get left behind.  On the stairs, I felt something brush against my leg.  I looked down to see an old tabby.  She looked up at me with wise eyes with spectacle markings around them.

            I smiled.  “Hello, Professor,” I said respectfully.  “Or, Headmistress, rather.”  If I hadn’t known a cat could not smile, I would have sworn she just did.  The stairs stopped, and McGonagall pranced out, turning back into the woman I knew as she did so.

            “I do so enjoy walking about the school as a cat,” she said, smiling.  “It helps me get to know the students.  Whenever my human self walks by, they get all proper and uptight.”  She smiled again.  “So, I take it you’ve met them all?”  I nodded.  “And what have you figured out about their…lineage?”

            “I deduced that Albus is Harry and Ginny’s son.  Scorpius is Draco’s son.  And Rose’s parents are Ron and…me,” I flushed and looked down embarrassed.

McGonagall nodded.  “You’ve gathered a lot I see.  There are a few others, as you will come to see.  I may as well tell them to you before you are surprised.  Ronald’s brother Bill married a half-veela named Fleur, and they had a daughter names Victoire, a seventh year; Dominique, a fifth year; and Louis, a first year.  Harry has two more children, Lily, who is a first year, and his oldest son, James, who is currently a fifth year.  Also, you and Ronald have one other child named Hugo, a first year.  And last, George Weasley and Angelina Johnson have two children, Fred, a fourth year; and Roxanne, a second year.”  When she stopped talking, I was amazed.  We had certainly been busy, hadn’t we?

“What about Fred?”  I asked.  “He doesn’t have any children yet?  Well, is he married?”

McGonagall looked down at her interlocked hands.  “Many things have changed since your third year, Hermione.  Not all of them are good.”

My breath caught in my throat.  “What do you mean?”  I asked her, my voice trembling.  “What does that have to do with…Fred?”

She looked at me softly.  “I believe you know, dear.”

I shook my head, tears coming into my eyes.  “No,” I choked out, shaking my head harder.  “Fred…no, it can’t be.  No.  Just no!”  I shouted at her.  I shouted at a professor.  Actually, it was worse than that: I shouted at the Headmistress!  I buried my head into my hands.  “I can’t…believe it,” I whispered pathetically.  I knew I was being petty.  There was a Wizarding War, of course there must have been casualties.  But Fred?  Fred who laughed and joked and never hurt a fly?  Fred who pushed peoples’ buttons but still managed to make them love him?  I had never thought of Fred as vulnerable to mortality.  I had never thought of anyone I knew as such.  How many more had died?

McGonagall watched me throw my fit with her hands crossed in front of her.  “If you are quite through?”  She asked.  I nodded apologetically.  “I expected your grief when you came into this room Ms. Granger.  But once you leave it, you mustn’t let it peek out its head.  There is more at stake than what happened in the past.”

“What do you mean?”

She shook her head.  “Frankly I do not know,” she admitted.  “But I know that you wouldn’t be trapped here if there wasn’t something for you to do.”  She looked up at the portrait of Dumbledore, snoozing in his frame.  “Albus would not have sent you and your things if he didn’t have a reason for it.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore sent me here?”  I asked incredulously.  My breath caught in my throat as I saw him in his portrait.  He was right there. I could ask him everything I needed to know.

“It is only a hypothesis,” she said calmly.  “It is my guess that he cast some sort of spell over you—Confundus or Imperius—as you were turning the Time Turner.  And then he somehow managed to send your things along.”  She smiled.  “There are many things, secret things and hidden knowledge, which nobody will ever know about Dumbledore.  I am sure that he is ten times more brilliant than anyone thought he was, and considering what we did think he was, that is saying something.”  I looked up at his portrait, and could have sworn I saw the corners of his mouth move upwards.

“What am I supposed to do?”  I asked her.

She pondered for a second.  “One way or another, you will figure it out, Ms. Granger.  Destiny is destiny, and what is destined will come about no matter what we do.  I suggest you simply live for now.  Live in this time period, as one of the students.  Be as inconspicuous as possible.  I don’t know how long it will take to accomplish your mission.  It is better to establish yourself now rather than figure out you should have at a later date.”

I nodded.  “What is the year, professor?”

“2019,” she said without hesitation.

“Merlin’s beard!  That means that I’m—”

“Thirty-nine years old.”

I sunk my head into my hands.  “I cannot believe it.  I can hardly believe any of this, professor.”

She smiled at me.  “Nor I, as a matter of fact.  It is a grand mystery indeed, my dear.”  I nodded and began to leave.  “And Hermione?”  She asked.  “No Time Turner.  One class per hour, if you please.”  Flushing a little bit, I gave her my assurances and left.

A/N: Well, hope everyone liked! (anyone find the movie quote?) Please leave a review, and thanks so much for reading!

Chapter 3: An Unexpected Meeting
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A/N:  I have to thank and give credit to one of my readers Lirael Wood for the idea about what goes down in Binns' class :D

September 5, 2019

It’s hard to admit, but after my conversation with McGonagall, I went to an unused classroom and cried.  Doesn’t that make perfect sense?  After all that had been suddenly sprung on me, I think anyone would have cried.  So I am not weak.  I had, however, figured out why people were never meant to know that future.  Besides the fact that it was downright depressing, what was I supposed to do when I got back to my time period? Was I supposed to tell Dumbledore that he was murdered?  How could I not tell Harry that he murdered the Dark Lord? How was I supposed to even look at Ronald Weasley without dying of embarrassment? How was I supposed to hear Fred’s name without bursting into tears?  I don’t know what I am going to do after I get home.  I really don’t.

But, for the moment, that is insignificant.  Because it seems that here and now, more and more things are happening to jeopardize my secret.  It started when the new Transfiguration teacher asked me my last name, since no one had told it to her.  How was I supposed to say Granger when the daughter of Hermione Granger was sitting off some distance to my left?  It escaped my mind, and I had already said “Gra—” before changing it abruptly to “Grayson.”  Smooth.  I never thought I would say it, but I need to be more conscious of my surroundings.

The others had been surprised to learn my first name, they had even commented on the fact that it was the same as that of Rose’s mom.  I was starting to wonder how stupid these people really were.  I was sure that I would have figured it out, had I been the student and someone else related to me time traveled and landed in my era…especially if they committed the same stupid errors that I had been committing.

Yesterday, we had had History of Magic in the morning and Herbology in the afternoon.  I made my way to Binns’ classroom alongside Scorpius, Rose and Albus.  It seemed that I was now part of their little passé, even if it was a fact that Rose accepted with more than a little—and might I add obvious—chagrin. 

We entered the room and sat down, closer to the front than the back (at my persuasion, of course).  I immediately got out my note taking equipment, and set it all out on my desk.  I glanced sideways, and noticed that Rose was doing the exact same thing, a fact which made me irrationally angry.  She was my child, but she was a little brat, so how dare she be so similar to me?

I was surprisingly glad to see that the Malfoy and Potter genes in the two boys were hard at work, as they were both gazing absently around the classroom, as if put into a stupor by the mere atmosphere of the room.

Binns began his lecture, and everything was dead silent but for the scratching of two quills.  Care to guess whose?  It wasn’t until halfway through the lecture that Binns ventured out of his soporific monologue to ask a question to the class.  I, of course, knew the answer.  I glace at Rose made me positive that she did not know it.

I smirked, and raised my hand before speaking.  “1219, Professor.”  It was the right date, I knew it even before his response.

“Yes, very good,” Binns paused, and looked out over the crowd to my face.  Suddenly, a very large, very unlike Binns smile captured his face, and spread over his features.  “I can always count on you, Ms. Granger.  You always were the only one who could keep up with the intellectual requirements of this course.”  He turned back around to the blackboard, and his lecture began again, leaving me sitting in my seat flabbergasted.

He couldn’t even ever get my name right when I was actually a student, why did he have to get it right now?  I turned slowly around to the others, attempting to put a nonchalant expression on my features.  Albus was trying to hold back giggled, Scorpius was watching me with the same look on his face as when I had accidently called him Draco, and Rose was watching me with poisonous eyes.

“He never knows anybodies name,” I said with a shrug.  Thank God that much was true.  At least, they all seemed to accept it.  But it was a close call, and my heart was racing like I had just run a marathon.

After that nerve-wracking occurrence, we headed down to the Great Hall to scrounge up a little something for lunch.  I was halfway through my meal when a little ickle came up to me, looking a bit nervous.

“Are you Hermione?”

“Yes,” I answered kindly.  “What’s the matter?”

“The Professor wants to see you in the greenhouses.”

“Professor who?”

The boy paused, looking uncomfortable.  “He…said not to say his name.”

I looked at the first year incredulously, then sighed and turned to the others.  “Guess I’d better go.  Probably just wanted to catch me up on what we’re doing.  You know, make sure I’m up to snuff.”

I left them sitting there, and walked with all of my things out to the greenhouses.  I entered the designated one for third years, and saw a man with his back turned to me, bent over a pot of some kind.

“Professor?”  I asked hesitantly.

He straightened up like he had been branded with a hot poker, and slowly turned around to face me.  I took in the gangly figure, the large teeth, the sticking-out ears.  All of my belongings crashed to the floor, and I think my jaw might have hit the ground.

“N-Neville?”  I asked haltingly.  Was that Neville bloody Longbottom?

His eyes got wider as he heard my voice with clarity.  “Good God,” he said quietly.  His voice was different: deeper and grainier, but it was still distinctly Neville.  He sighed incredulously.  “Minerva said that…but I didn’t believe her.  Couldn’t believe her.  Not until I had…not until I’d…not.”  He was babbling on nonsensical words but it didn’t make any difference to me, because I was seeing the grownup Neville.

I stood there, with my mouth gaping idiotically and a flabbergasted look on my visage, and he stood there, looking at me like he was seeing a ghost.  Suddenly, he began to laugh.  And because he was laughing in such a lighthearted, Neville-ish way, I started laughing too.

Oh the irony. 

“I…can’t…believe…it,” he gasped.  I suppose it was unbelievable.

“Neville,” I said happily.  “You’re a professor! The Herbology professor! I am so happy for you!”

He nodded, still smiling.  “And Head of Gryffindor House,” he conceded.  He shook his head, and continued to look dumbstruck.  “I can’t believe this has happened.”  He smirked.  “I always knew you weren’t really as responsible as you appeared.”

I scoffed in indignation at that point but I knew he was right.  I was obviously…well…kind of stupid. 

He smiled at me kindly.  “Headmistress McGonagall spoke to me.  I know why you’re here.  Or at least, I know as much as you and her do.”

“I don’t understand,” I confided in him.  “I’m thirteen.  I don’t know why I am here at all.  What can I do that my adult self can’t do?”

Neville shook his head.  “I don’t know Hermione, honestly.”  He looked up at me seriously.  “But whatever it is, you can bet that it will more important than we can fathom.  This is Dumbledore that we’re talking about.  Get ready for the storm.”

A/N: Nobody found the movie quote in the last chapter! I'll give you all a hint, it is from Ferris Bueller's Day Off!~~Chelsea