Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

To be honest, I've always wanted to read a story like this, where Hermione and Draco go back in time... So I guess that's probably why I wrote it - for people like me who've been searching for something like this! I'm a little hesitant to tackle a long story, but I think I'm up to the challenge... So enjoy!

EDIT [5/16/15]: I'm going to be going through and making minor edits before I post the next chapter! Thanks for you patience, guys :)





Hermione Granger, who was sixteen and currently very annoyed at a certain Slytherin, growled in frustration. "Git."

"Mudblood." Draco Malfoy drawled back. While Hermione's face had gone red with rage, Draco looked relatively unaffected by their battle of wits.

"I loathe you with a passion that I can't put into words," Hermione hissed, angrily snatching up the list of Potions ingredients they were supposed to be sorting out.

"You don't need to. I know precisely what you're talking about because the feeling's mutual," Draco retorted.

"You know, it would help if you'd actually do something, seeing as it's your fault I have to be stuck in a room with you for two entire hours."

Draco, who was sitting lazily on a chair, his legs propped against the table, idly watched Hermione as she repeatedly walked from one end of the table to the other. "Didn't you tell me I was too disoriented to tell left from right? I couldn't even sort those out if I tried." He smirked at his own cleverness.

"Yes, well, I'm organizing. You're supposed to be making the potion!" she exclaimed.

"Oh, so you're begging me to help you then?"

"In your dreams, I just want to get out of here as quickly as possible." She gave an unbecoming scowl. "Your presence is sickening."

Draco rolled his eyes as he got up and reached for his wand. "Fine then, seeing as I, for once, agree with you, I'll make the stupid potion."

"Good," she huffed.

There was a moment of blissful silence, then-

"What am I supposed to be making, again?"

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed carefully before mustering out as calmly as she could without bursting with fury, "You're making the Draught of Reenactment."

His customary smirk reappeared at her frustration. "Will do."

Hermione glared at him from over her list, as he carelessly threw in ingredients and played with the fire beneath the cauldron. He was rather adept at provoking her like that - it was no wonder Slughorn gave them detention for shouting out in class. But Merlin, her first detention ever... she sighed. Harry and Ron had said a detention was good for her health, but even thinking about the fact that she was in trouble made the pit of her stomach feel sick.

Although that might have been just from being in the same room as Malfoy.

She picked up the last jar of bat eyes and placed them on the shelf. "There," she murmured, glad to be finished with her job. Turning around, she was about to ask Malfoy if he was done yet, when she noticed the ingredient he was about to put in - boomslang skin.

There was something very wrong with that, she thought as she watched him chop the skin with care. Boomslang skin wasn't part of the recipe.

"Malfoy," she said hurriedly, "you might not want to put that in."

He either hadn't heard her or was ignoring her. He held a handful of boomslang skin over the cauldron.

"Malfoy," she called urgently. "Don't-"


Apparently he had not heard her, because a sudden blue glow erupted from the cauldron and enveloped both the Gryffindor and the Slytherin. And when the light disappeared seconds later, there was no trace of either of them but the echoes of Hermione's scream.

Far from the Potions dungeons, in his office, Albus Dumbledore sat up with a start. Perhaps it was his imagination, but...

He stood from his seat and walked to a drawer next to Fawkes's perch. It was small - barely the width of a textbook - and it was made out of a black material that was smooth and cold beneath his fingers. He had long forgotten when and where the box had come from, but he did remember that in all his years at Hogwarts, it had never opened, even under the influence of magic.

Now, he placed a cautious finger on the drawer handle. He had pulled this in vain almost too many times to count. But this time, the drawer opened with just a twitch of his finger.

Inside was a single letter. He carefully took it out and undid the seal, which was of the Hogwarts insignia. The yellowed parchment glowed under the moonlight, and he instantly recognized the careless, spidery handwriting as his own.

Albus Dumbledore began to read.

"Ouch," Hermione muttered as she slowly regained consciousness. There was something on her. Something warm and really heavy. Hermione reached to push it off, whatever it was, and her fingers met with something soft and silky. Perhaps it was Crookshanks that was on her? She couldn't think properly, and her head was pounding violently. What was the last thing that had happened again?

"Granger, if you stroke my head one more time, I'll curse you to oblivion."

Hermione snapped her eyes open, and looked down at her hand. She screamed then pushed Malfoy off of her. "What - why were you on me?!" she shrieked, standing up and brushing off her robes.

"As if I chose to be," he replied groggily, sitting up and holding his head. Evidently his head was faring as bad as hers.

She glared at him. "I told you not to put it in, I told you, but would you listen? No!" she muttered.

"You never told me not to."

Hermione pursed her lips, too disoriented to think up of a comeback. "At least nothing happened. Just - just go finish - go finish..." She blinked and stared at the place where the cauldron was. Rather, had been. "So you've managed to melt the cauldron away, as well."

"Er. Are you alright?"

She stared at Malfoy for a moment, the gears in her brain turning aimlessly. Her mind must have been pretty damaged, because she was sure she was hearing things. Not only did he just ask her if she was alright, but his voice had changed pitch by about an octave.

She continued to gape at him for a moment before she snapped to her senses. Realizing that Malfoy had neither opened his mouth nor had the voice come from his direction, she noticed that Malfoy was in fact staring into a space behind her, his face pale.

Hermione turned around and nearly fainted again.

They were at the front of the Potions classroom, precisely where they had been standing before Malfoy's moment of idiocy. The difference was that twenty students now sat in the classroom seats. They were staring curiously at Hermione and Malfoy and whispering to themselves.

She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked around. Had they been knocked out for that long? She sighed in relief when she saw Professor Slughorn and realized he'd been the one to ask them if they were okay.

"Oh, Professor Slughorn, Malfoy and I were just about finished with our detention, but he accidentally added the wrong ingredient to the potion. Everything's fine, although I think the cauldron - I think the cauldron..." She trailed off weakly as she noticed something strange. Something that didn't quite add up.

Professor Slughorn looked unsure at being so directly addressed by her. He looked very startled. And, Hermione noticed, very young. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I don't comprehend, Miss.. Miss..."

"Granger," Hermione supplied quickly. She glanced at the classroom out of the corner of her eye. "I'm in your sixth year class?"

Slughorn cocked his head at her. "There must be a mistake, Miss Granger. This is my sixth year class, and unless you two are new students, I believe you have the wrong classroom."

Hermione whipped around. Her heart was suddenly beating very fast, as if it understood something that she didn't. As she scanned the students' faces, she realized didn't recognize anyone, except Harry, who was sitting it the back. But where was Ron?

She stared at Harry questioningly and opened her mouth to call out to him. But before she could get the words out, Harry gave her a wink and nudged the boy sitting next to him, who Hermione had never before seen in her life because she thought she'd remember his long black locks -

And then it hit her and her head at last caught up with her heart. She wildly scanned the room again, and this time, Hermione's gaze landed on a girl sitting in the front row with red hair and green eyes. A Gryffindor tie was around her neck and she watched Hermione curiously.

Hermione slowly turned back to Malfoy, who apparently did not find it noteworthy that he didn't recognize any of his supposed classmates. "Malfoy." Her voice shook with the panicked and angry force behind it. "What did you do?"

He raised his eyebrows at her tone. "Nothing."

Hermione glanced once more at the Harry look-alike and the girl sitting at the front. Surely this was a dream; it was just Malfoy's potion fiasco that was making her imagine it, because this simply could not be happening.

She wildly spun to Professor Slughorn and said in one breath, "If you don't mind me asking, what year is it?"

He looked mildly surprised but nevertheless said, "Why, it's 1976."

The room spun before her eyes. Slughorn's voice resonated in her ears. 1976, 1976, 1976. Malfoy had brought them to 1976.

This time, Hermione really did faint.

Okay, I wrote all this in one day, so I really hope that there's no errors or anything.. And I kind of had writer's block at the end of this, so it has a slightly rushed ending, in my opinion. Please review, I'd really appreciate that! Thanks :)