A/N - Written as a birthday gift for my wonderful friend breathofthephoenix

All the alpha/beta love to In_Dreams, LauraArmada, and PotionChemist 3

Updates every Sunday

As Hermione followed the familiar path from the library back to her dorm, she heard a clatter followed by a strange hissing noise. Brow furrowing, she retrieved her wand and quietly stepped into the Transfiguration classroom through the open door.

A lanky person wearing robes that were one size too big slipped the lid off a jar on the desk across the room. The boy had dark orange hair and a myriad of freckles splattered across his face. Even though he was wearing Hufflepuff robes, Hermione knew she had never seen the boy before.

There was only one student who regularly donned disguises for mischief—something he had learned from his redheaded twin idols.

"Michael James Lupin!"

She put on her most authoritative voice as she stomped over to the desk with her hands on her hips.

Mike jumped and hid his hands behind his back, dropping the glass lid in the process. He flinched as it broke with a loud crack. "Hermi—I mean, who are you? I'm but a lowly first year and I'm...lost."

"Finite."

One by one, his freckles disappeared and his red hair faded into a sandy blond, the Hufflepuff patch shifted into a red emblem with a lion.

Hermione snorted inelegantly, flicking her wand once once. Alexandra Black emerged from her hiding place behind the tapestry at the back of the room, heels dragging as the spell pulled her towards the empty spot next to Mike.

"Honestly, it's always you two! You're in your fourth year now. You can't be pulling pranks like you did when you were small and cute. You'll get in actual trouble this year," she reprimanded, looking between the pair.

"Some of us are still small and cute," Alexandra added in a barely audible grumble, the toe of her shoe digging into the floor as she shifted in place. "And it's not a prank."

Rolling her eyes in disbelief, Hermione asked, "What? Fancy a midnight snack then? Couldn't make it to the kitchens and had to nick a biscuit from McGonagall?"

"We just wanted her to relax before the exam tomorrow!" Mike whined as Hermione mended the shattered glass lid and placed it back on the desk. "She always has one with her morning tea."

She paused, her eyes flicking from the biscuit jar to Mike's hidden hands to Alexandra's impish smile. With a quick tug of his arm, she pried his fingers apart and found he was holding a bunch of slightly off-colour biscuits.

His eyes fell downward in shame as Hermione took a biscuit and sniffed it. It smelled strangely familiar, almost like—

"Michael! Do these have catnip in them?!"

The grin on Alexandra's face grew even wider, a glint of mischief in her silver eyes.

Hermione confiscated the entire handful from Mike, crushing several in the process. "What in the world were you two thinking!"

"She's always so uptight and we have the biggest exam tomorrow," Alexandra reasoned with a small shrug. "We're doing her a favour, you see. My cat loves it."

"You cannot compare your professor to Bubbles!"

Alexandra huffed, "You just don't like her because Bubbles and Crookshanks had their row about who got to sit in the biggest box last Christmas and Bubbles won!"

"Oh my god." Hermione disposed of the crumpled biscuits with her wand and then turned to face the two students. "You two need to go back to Gryffindor Tower before I take away all the house points you have! Breaking curfew and trying to drug a professor, you should know better!"

"Drugs!" Mike exclaimed, looking from Alexandra to Hermione. "It's not even the good stuff, catnip doesn't count!"

"I'll owl your parents! Sure, your dads may think you're continuing the Marauder legacy but your mums—" Her threat was cut off by a pair of horrified gasps.

With a forceful pull, Alexandra led Mike to the doorway of the classroom. Their hurried steps were the only sound Hermione could hear as she called out, "If you want to do well in your exam, then go study!"

The rest of her walk was uneventful, and Hermione felt her feet dragging more with each step as she muttered ' Unitatis', the password to the head dorm, and stumbled through the portrait entrance. Suppressing a yawn with the back of her hand, she crossed the empty common room and made her way to the plush sofa, collapsing onto it and dropping her bag in the process.

It was barely a month into the new school year, and though she denied it to anyone who asked, she was already feeling overwhelmed with her schedule. She had taken as many N.E.W.T.-level classes as allowed, volunteered for several organisations, and had the added responsibility of her Head Girl duties.

The move from Gryffindor Prefect to Head Girl had been a harder transition than she had anticipated. Her duties took more than triple the amount of time she had originally allocated in her schedule. Random incidents sprouted up everywhere, from Prefect disputes to first years needing extra comfort for homesickness. Even the professors requested her time to lead detention or to help them devise a strategy to handle problem students.

However, the biggest surprise of seventh year had been that she didn't mind living with the Head Boy, Draco Malfoy.

For the first few years of their Hogwarts education, Draco had spent his days teasing Hermione and her friends at every given opportunity. He mocked her hair, her teeth, her intellect, her upbringing—nothing was off limits. The relentless provocation continued well into their fifth year and then suddenly stopped. As far as Hermione knew, nothing had happened to trigger his change of heart but she was grateful for it nevertheless.

By the middle of sixth year, their interactions were neutral and almost friendly. They communicated very little outside of the occasional Prefect patrol, excluding the one time they were paired together for a Potions assignment. Together, they scored a Outstanding on their brew of Felix Felicis which, according to Snape, had never been accomplished by students before.

"It would appear that we make a good team, Granger," Draco had said with his signature smirk.

Apparently the Headmaster agreed, because just a few months later, she received her Head Girl badge in the post and saw Draco's name listed alongside hers.

With a soft grunt, she stretched her arms above her head and lolled her neck from side to side. Her gaze caught on the cluttered table in front of the fireplace. In the last month of living together, Draco had been nothing but impeccably tidy, though Hermione had reason to suspect he had the house-elves clean up while they were in class.

After spending several minutes unsuccessfully ignoring the mess, she decided she would rather clean first and yell at Draco second. She hooked her bag around her shoulder and cleared the table, inspecting each item carefully before adding it to the growing stack in her arms. The pile included several books—none of which were standard textbooks—quills, an ink pot, a handful of parchment, and a bracelet.

She looked down at the dainty gold and emerald bracelet laced between her fingers, wondering who the recipient of his gift would be.

For some reason, the thought made her stomach twist in an uncomfortable manner.

She hadn't seen anyone sneaking in or out of his room but she had heard rumours of his dating life; they spread like wildfire whenever he spoke to a single witch. It seemed everyone was interested in who he would court after Hogwarts, an apparent Pureblood tradition. She tried to shrug off the question as she added the jewellery to her already full arms.

The overloaded bag began to slip down her shoulder as she walked to the desk on the opposite side of the common room. Wiggling uncomfortably, Hermione attempted to shift the strap back up her shoulder to its rightful position. The bag slipped down further, catching on the crook of her arm forcefully and causing her to drop everything she was carrying. All at once, the pile of Draco's supplies and the contents of Hermione's bag dumped all over the floor in a mixed disaster.

"Oh my god," Hermione muttered under her breath. Kneeling on the cold stone floor, she began to separate their items back into two distinct piles.

After shoving her quill, parchment, and books back into her bag, Hermione hooked the strap over the back of the seat next to the Head Girl desk. She walked back over to the remainder of Draco's supplies on the floor, gathering them in her arms with a huff.

The door to the Head Boy's room swung open, and the handle slammed against the railing with a loud clang.

"Merlin's balls, Granger, I really don't need this tonight. Why do you insist on doing schoolwork at the most ridiculous hour? Are you allergic to sleep?" he sounded exasperated, and possibly a bit amused.

"Well, if you didn't leave your supplies laying about the room, I wouldn't have had to clean up after you," Hermione fumed as she pushed her stray curls out of her face with her free hand before stacking another book into the crook of her arm. "Contrary to what you obviously believe, I am not your house-elf! "

As she rose to her full height, she looked up at Draco. He descended the stairs from his room, meeting her at the base between the two desks. His lips curled up into a devilish smirk and her mouth went dry as she took in his appearance; his hair was wet and hung in strands over his eyes, his chest was bare and he wore a pair of sleep bottoms which hung low on his hips.

Her mouth parted in shock as she stared at him—he had never walked around the common room wearing so little clothing before and her mind stuttered at the sight.

His lean torso had the faint outline of abdominal muscles and her eyes drifted down to the V above his waistband, the thin fabric clinging to his still-damp skin. She swallowed hard, turning back towards her task, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

"Forget how to dress yourself without your servants, Malfoy?" Her voice felt unsteady and her eyes were trained on the floor. Beneath her skin, her pulse quickened.

She could hear the smirk in his voice as he drawled, "You interrupted my peaceful shower stomping around like a herd of slighted Hippogriffs. You should be grateful I'm even wearing bottoms. This is more than I sleep in."

The flush on her face grew.

He bent over and took the stack of books from her arms, his fingers brushing along the soft skin of her hand, and her eyes flew up to meet his. His gaze flicked down to her lips, and she watched his throat dip as her breathing grew shallow.

"That's...hardly appropriate, Malfoy." Her throat grew tighter as she tried to speak the words.

Part of his hair had fallen to the wrong side, and she had the sudden urge to reach up and fix it for him.

"Appropriate?" He arched a single brow, his voice lowering to a deep baritone. "Oh, the things I'd do to you, Granger…" His smirk pulled his lips to the side as he wrapped a single curl around his finger, winding it slowly. "I can assure you, are most certainly not appropriate. "

His words turned into liquid heat, pooling low in her stomach.

"I just want to see how far down your pretty blush goes." He moved closer, his lips just at the shell of her ear. "You look tense. If you need some... release , you're always welcome to join me in the shower."

In the past six years, he had never spoken to her like that before, never flirted with her before. She had seen him flirt with other witches in their year relentlessly, always around her, but he had never directed his attention at her.

It was as if someone had used Polyjuice and taken the place of Draco Malfoy.

He was mocking her, he had to be mocking her.

She half choked on her inhale, nearly dropping the remaining items as she jumped to a standing position and shifted away from him. "You are insufferable !" Irritation grew into rage as she imagined him laughing with Theo and Blaise about this tomorrow. "Ugh! What did I ever do to deserve being stuck with you as Head Boy? You're arrogant, inconsiderate, and I absolutely will not—"

"—I know, I know, you absolutely will not lower your standards to the likes of me. I'd be better off finding some pathetic Slytherin with the personality of stale bread to woo because that's all that I'll ever attract. I've heard it all before. Oh, and don't bother cleaning up, just leave it there. It doesn't matter anyway." The sparkle of mischief in his eyes had dulled as he glanced down at the textbooks in his arms before tossing them onto the desk haphazardly, his jaw clenching and relaxing. "None of it matters."

Hermione's lips curved down as she wondered when she had become so predictable. He had practically read her mind.

"Well, Malfoy, it might not matter to you, but I like having a tidy living space. I don't want to wake up to a mess."

Draco ran a hand down his face and an almost manic laugh burst from his lips. "You don't have to worry about that, Granger. I can absolutely guarantee you that it won't be there tomorrow. Just go to bed."

He retreated into his room, slamming the door behind him. The whiplash of their conversation left her completely off-kilter. She stared slack-jawed at the closed door for several moments before she shook her head and continued her task of fixing up the room.

It was nearly impossible to push the intoxicating— no, definitely not intoxicating , she corrected her thoughts—the infuriating image of him half-dressed from her mind. With a huff, she unloaded his items onto his desk with an unceremonious thud. Straightening the heap of books and parchment, she brushed the spines curiously, skimming the titles.

With a cock of her head, she took in the various tomes, quickly identifying a theme. They were all variations on the study of time. There was nothing in the Hogwarts curriculum about time, she would know, she had volunteered to register students for classes across all years. It was a relatively unknown subject in the Wizarding World, but in the Department of Mysteries, there was an entire floor designated to the Department of Time and in order to be trained in the subject, you had to attend a specialised program after thorough vetting.

She made her way back over to her desk, opposite Draco's, and pulled out a blank sheet of parchment. Dipping her quill into the spare pot of ink, she began her Ancient Runes essay. After about a half hour, she rubbed her stinging eyes, checking the time as she stifled a yawn.

It was nearly midnight, and her blinks became slower and lazier by the minute. Her eyes drifted shut. From behind her closed lids she saw a burst of purple light and—

When Hermione's eyes opened, she felt completely disoriented. Sitting up in her bed, she rested her head in her hands, trying to block out the light from her window. She felt almost hungover, but she hadn't had any alcohol the night before. Dropping her hands, she squinted at her clock and her pulse skipped a beat.

"Shit!" she swore under her breath, hopping out of bed and quickly changing from her pyjamas into a fresh uniform.

After shrugging on her robes and sloppily pinning the Head Girl badge to the outermost robe, she jogged out of her room and down the stairs into the main area of the common room. Draco was nowhere to be seen. If she had a considerate dormmate, he might have given her a courtesy knock to wake her up. At this rate, Hermione would have to skip breakfast to make it to class on time.

She hurried down the corridor in the direction of the large moving stairs, annoyed that she would have to attend double Potions on an empty stomach.

A familiar flash of red hair caught her eye as she rounded the corner.

"Hermione!" Harry called, waving her over to him from across the corridor.

Ron and Harry were standing at the edge of the walkway, waiting for the next set of stairs to transition.

She felt the tension leave her shoulders as she sighed in relief and made her way over to her best friends. "I completely overslept today, missed breakfast, and was almost late for class," she lamented, watching as the descending staircase aligned with their path.

As she turned to step onto the topmost step, Ron pulled at her forearm, dragging her backwards. "Wow," Ron's brows shot up into his messy fringe. "You need to get more sleep, 'Mione. Did you forget the way to Ancient Runes already?"

"Ancient Runes?"

"Yes—Ancient Runes, if we don't hurry, we're going to be late and Professor Babbling is going to give me detention for being late twice in one month," Harry grumbled as an ascending staircase came to a creaking stop in front of them.

One by one, they entered the staircase, she stood between the boys and glanced between them. Hermione picked at her nails, a nervous habit, as she fidgeted side to side while the stairs rotated and began moving upward. "But we just had Ancient Runes—"

"—Yes, and we have it again," Ron spoke slowly before muttering, "You are not a morning person when you haven't had your tea."

Biting back her retort, she noticed a group of Hufflepuffs from their year follow the path to class. She felt dizzy, as if nothing made sense.

The trio arrived at the classroom just in time for the lesson to begin. Hermione sat in her usual seat between Harry and Ron in the front row, a strange feeling settling in her chest. She attributed it to oversleeping—it must have thrown off her entire schedule for the day. She had been so sure that today began with double Potions.

Professor Babbling's cloak swayed behind her with a flourish as she navigated through the desks to the front of the room. "Good morning, class," she greeted with a bright smile, her grey hair tucked and pinned into a tight bun as it had been the day before. "Welcome to another magical day at Hogwarts."

"I am assigning a two-foot essay on the ancient rune for the number seven, due at the start of class on October twenty-third." Professor Babbling paused for effect, waving a hand as the students in the class groaned. "Yes, yes, I'm aware of your love of essays. You are welcome for this gift of knowledge. I implore you, do not procrastinate—this is worth a quarter of your overall term grade. I will be available for questions each day after class if need be."

Hermione frowned. The unsettled feeling in her chest grew as she scanned the classroom for her peers' reaction. This was the essay she had started the night before; it had already been assigned.

"The essay may contain anything you deem relevant to your studies on the magical qualities of the number seven, as long as you evaluate the rune properly and give historic context as to its purpose."

Babbling waved her wand and rows of details appeared on the board behind her while she spoke, "As you may remember from your studies of Arithmancy, seven is the most powerful magical number. It was Arithmancer Bridget Wenlock whose theorem exposed the magical properties of this number. Her discovery altered the way we view the world, but this ground-breaking theorem was originally written on the back of a sugar packet using invisible ink."

A strange sense of deja-vu swept over Hermione, making the hairs on her arms and neck stand up. This was the same content from class yesterday; Babbling had talked to her about the details she'd found in Hogwarts: A History. Bathilda Bagshot mentioned the design of the castle included this magical property— seven years in a Hogwarts education, seven floors in the castle, and seven core classes. The founders incorporated seven into the school to strengthen the core magic at the heart of Hogwarts.

Babbling continued with her melodic drawl, "It was almost lost forever when she mistakenly believed the theorem was on an envelope instead of the sugar packet! Just imagine how the world we know would be changed without this information—"

Hermione raised her hand, interrupting Babbling's thought.

With a kind smile, Babbling turned to Hermione and gestured for her to speak. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Sorry for the interjection, Professor, but didn't we cover this yesterday? I vividly recall that we talked about Bridget Wenlock's theorem already. You told us about the irony of her name, seven letters in her first and last names—as if foreshadowing her future contributions to magical society."

Wrinkles formed in Babbling's forehead. "We did not have class yesterday, Miss Granger. Perhaps you read ahead on the material and are misremembering?"

The class snickered at Hermione's expense as she flushed in embarrassment.

Harry leaned over his desk towards her and whispered, "You're already Head Girl, Hermione, I think you can relax on the study habits this year."

Blood rushed in her ears, filling them with white noise as her mortification grew, blurring out the words of those around her.

Everyone was staring.

"Yes…I must be confused. Too many late nights, I suppose," she chuckled weakly, looking down at her empty parchment.

After the attention shifted back to Babbling, Hermione felt the distinct prickle of someone's eyes on her. Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted Draco Malfoy watching her with an intense stare. He was not laughing with the rest of the class. In fact, he looked paler than usual and had an air of panic around him.

Recalling the way he had talked to her the night before, she briefly wondered if he was regretting his mocking proposition. She turned back to face the front of the room, her eyes fixed on Professor Babbling as she lectured.

The rest of the class continued as it had the day before. Babbling spoke of the significance of the seven letters in Bridget Wenlock's first and last name—looking to Hermione with a glint in her eye.

Hermione shrunk down in her seat, wishing she had Harry's Invisibility Cloak and could disappear.

It made no sense that she could start an essay before it was even assigned; she didn't believe in Divination and certainly was not a Seer. She stilled, she had forgotten about the essay itself!

Reaching into her bag, she shuffled through her carefully organized parchment, searching for the paper she had begun the night before.

Her heart fell into her stomach. It was gone. She had lost nearly a foot of work, and she never lost her schoolwork. Counting her inhales and exhales, Hermione tried to calm herself before she devolved into a full blown panic attack.

Before she knew it, Babbling dismissed the class.

"I'm posting the Gryffindor Quidditch tryout results this weekend," Harry mentioned as they packed up their bags and followed their classmates out of the room. "Honestly, Hermione, I know you don't like Quidditch but you should've come to watch tryouts. We had a fantastic turnout! The Chasers especially—there were so many talented Chasers applying this year. It was a tough decision."

"It wouldn't have done any good to have me there." She gave him a look, scrunching her nose as they turned a corner. "You are going to be a fantastic captain. I'm sure you're perfectly capable of selecting the best Chaser."

"…but I'm definitely going to be Keeper again this year, right?" Ron lengthened his strides to catch up to the pair.

Harry shrugged off his bag and opened it just enough to tease the top of the list before snapping it shut with a teasing wiggle of his brows. "You'll have to wait until the posting goes up, just like everyone else."

"That's not fair, I'm your best mate! Doesn't that entitle me to a sneak preview?" Ron asked, his voice growing desperate. "You don't even have to say anything, just blink twice if I'm on the team."

Jogging forward, Ron cut Harry off to a dead stop.

With a scowl, Harry intentionally opened his eyes wider.

"Harry…" Ron waved a hand in front of his face, whispering, "Blink twice…"

Narrowing his eyes, Harry shook his head, refusing to give in to the urge.

"Harry. Blink. Twice."

Harry's eyes watered as he struggled to keep them open.

Finally, he caved and blinked twice in rapid succession, rolling his eyes as Ron donned a proud grin, slapping his hands together in excitement. " I knew it ! We are going to win the Quidditch Cup this year—I just feel it!"

"It's going to be our best team yet," Harry replied with a matching grin as they started back down the corridor.

"Draco, I didn't see you at the Quidditch pitch this morning. Are you feeling okay?" Hermione heard Blaise Zabini ask, his voice full of concern.

With a quick look, she was surprised to see Draco was just a few steps away from her, walking next to Blaise. She tuned out Harry and Ron's excited chatter about the team placements and tried to listen in on the conversation behind her.

"I'm fine," Draco mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and avoiding her eye contact. "Just not feeling up for Quidditch today."

Blaise stopped mid-step, his hand reaching out to catch Draco in the chest and stop. "Not feeling up for Quidditch? That doesn't sound fine to me. You've been insufferably obsessed with flying since you received your first toy broom when we were five, and suddenly you're 'not feeling up for Quidditch'?"

Draco looked incredibly uncomfortable, his hands gripped the clasp of his bag until his knuckles turned white. Their conversation faded as Hermione walked further away, following Harry and Ron's lead.

"Yeah well, over the summer I've been practicing the Double Eight Loop; I feel like it'll really give us an edge over Ravenclaw this year." Ron puffed his chest out.

"The Double Eight Loop's primary benefit comes when there is only one Chaser," Hermione interrupted, her attention now back with them. "Ravenclaw's strategy is to move in numbers, that won't work against them. Perhaps Hufflepuff," she added thoughtfully. "They tend to divide and conquer with their Chasers, you're statistically more likely to block their Quaffles using the Double Eight Loop."

Harry looked wildly at Hermione, as if she suddenly sprouted wings.

"What?" she asked with a slight bounce to her step before tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "I've been listening to you two go on about this stuff for nearly seven years, you think I wasn't listening? That being said, if you're stuck between Chasers, you should give a spot to Ginny; she's particularly agile compared to some of the men on the team and she has perfected the Porskoff Ploy which works brilliantly against Slytherin's main defence."

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, the tips of his ears pinkened. "Mate, she's not wrong."

"When am I ever wrong, Ronald?"

Stepping over the threshold of the common room entrance, Hermione saw a head of platinum blond hair pacing across the room. Draco stopped mid-stride at the sight of her.

"Granger, finally . How long does it take to walk back from the fifth floor? I know your legs are short but surely your steps can't be that tiny."

Rolling her eyes, she brushed past him. "I take perfectly normal sized steps, thank you very much. What was so important you couldn't wait? I've already done the postings for the Prefect rounds this week."

His hand tugged through his hair, tussling it. "It's not about the Prefect rounds. I needed to tell you that you're right, Granger."

"Did you get hit on the head?" Her eyes scanned his untucked shirt and loosened tie with concern. "Do you know where you are right now? My name is Her-Mi-O-Ne."

"I get it, I know you don't trust me. You think I'm a prat or that I'm lying. Can we skip over that bit for now? You've got to listen to me, just give me one minute without interrupting," he pleaded, a touch of desperation in his voice.

She faltered before nodding for him to continue.

"Granger, you are right . We had that lesson yesterday."

"Stop," she huffed, crossing her arms in front of her chest defensively. "I know you think you're being clever but it's not funny and I don't appreciate it. Everyone already laughed at me during class; you should've joined in then when you had a captive audience."

"That wasn't a minute," he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, today is October second. It's the same day it was yesterday and the day before tha. It's the same day it will be tomorrow. I've lost track but by my estimate it's been October second for nearly three weeks."

Hermione blinked, frozen in place, her brain trying to decipher his words. She hesitated, for the first time really taking in his frantic demeanor. He was always so calm and collected, even when they were having a row. She had never seen him look like this before.

"What?" was all she could think to ask.

"Granger, look at me." Draco walked up to her, his silver eyes searching hers. "We are stuck in a time loop, all of us. I don't know how long it's been happening, but it's been going for weeks and I'm the only one who has been outside the loop. I'm the only one who has remembered anything from one day to the next, that is before now—before you."

His throat bobbed with a harsh swallow. "Please, I need your help."