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The Lost Time	By : kate0404 Category: Harry Potter > Round Robins > Round Robins Views: 13264 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: All works published herein make no claims on the ownership of the characters of Harry Potter, which is the rightful intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, Paramount, Scholastic and Bloomsbury.

Chapter List
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When she felt his body relax and his arms come round her shoulders, she panicked. Why had she kissed him? Sure, he had a cute bum and was unbelievably attractive�much too good-looking for someone with his sour disposition�and he had looked so vulnerable just now, worrying about his mum. Who was she to deny comfort to another human being in need?
As she pondered this, his hands began to wander. One skimmed up her back, into her hair to clasp her neck. The other traversed down her back in the region of her derri�re. His chin rested on her head. Her heart galloped as she realized the sheer maleness of him. He smelled nice, his body was warm; his height, coupled with his embrace, made her feel safe.
�I hope you�re right, Hermione. I hope we can fix the Time-Turner, because I have a bad feeling about all of this.�
Swaying slightly while he kneaded her neck, he continued, �We need to find somewhere to work�somewhere we can be sure no one will discover us. Do you have any ideas?� He continued his ministrations, his fingers light yet firm. She began to formulate a premise about Draco Malfoy: He was a collection of contradictions.
�Granger? Have you fallen back to sleep?� He gripped her shoulders tightly and stepped back to hold her at arms length, frowning down into her face.
�Of course not!� she snapped. �I�m thinking.� About your naked arse. Her cheeks burned at the thought, and she averted her eyes from the grin that pulled at the corner of his lips.
�How long since you�ve enjoyed a man�s attention, Hermione?�
Shaking out of his grip, she scowled. �What does that have to do with our predicament? Let�s just focus on the problem at hand.� She straightened her skirt and smoothed her curls back from her temples.
Draco narrowed his eyes, as if studying her, as if reading her mind. �Well, it may have everything to do with �the problem at hand.� If you�re in need of a good shagging, we�d better get the deed done so you can stop fantasizing about me and start thinking of a way back to the past. And since we can�t be seen by anyone, I�m the only man for the job.�
Hermione�s jaw dropped. �You�re absolutely pathetic. Do you really think I would shag you? Even if we�re lost in the future forever and you�re the only man I could show myself to, I would never sleep with you.�
Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest. �Never say never��
�Ugh! Just�just don�t talk to me.� Crossing the room, she plopped down next to the book she�d been reading and her many sheets of parchment with notes, Arithmancy equations, star charts and intricate solar calendars.
�My goodness me, you�ve been busy. What is all this?� Draco knelt down beside her, picking up the long scroll of Arithmancy calculations.
Hermione sneaked a quick peek at him before quipping, �Are you sure you can focus? This work is quite intense�you may not be able to concentrate, not having had a good shag for, what, twelve hours now?�
�Touch�.� He studied her symbols in silence for a few moments.
�This is fascinating, Hermione. You�ve based your Time Ribbons Theory and its relation to the Circadian Time Stream on the Mayans understanding of Time.�
�Yes, the Maya people had a superior understanding of Time, better than any other civilization before or since.� Hermione glanced at his profile. �Don�t tell me you�ve read my dissertation.�
Draco flashed a dazzling grin. �It may have come across my desk a while back.�
Damn him and his ruddy drop dead sexy smile. �Is that so?�
�Yes. What�you think I�m just a hired wand? We Aurors do our research. In fact, we have to keep current in every branch of magic, not just a secret specialty.�
�Now you�re patronizing me.� Damn his toffee-nosed personality.
�No. I just like to watch your eyes when you get mad at me. I swear they turn black, Granger. Do you have Metamorphmagus in your lineage?�
�Draco, I thought we had dropped the last name bit?�
A loud crack outside the door made them both jump. Hermione instantly drew her wand but Draco held up his hand.

They tiptoed to the door and peeked into the hallway. An ancient, shriveled house-elf with huge amber eyes, skulked about.
�Draco!� Hermione hissed in his ear, �We�re not supposed to be seen.�
�Shh. It�s Laertes, my favorite house-elf and he�s talking to himself.�
Laertes cocked his wrinkled head toward some dusty old portraits, blinking his enormous ocher eyes. �Master and Mistress are suspicious.� He mumbled to himself. �Mistress is distressing and insisting something is afoot. My mistress is perceptive. She is wanting the Manor searched.�
�I wonder why Mother is so upset?� Draco whispered to Hermione.
They strained to hear the little elf�s ramblings. �My mistress is grieving.�
Draco looked at Hermione. �I need to ask Laertes what exactly is troubling my mum.� He made to open the door fully.
�Rubbish!� Hermione grabbed his arm, effectively stopping him. �You�ll listen no more and ask him nothing, do you hear me? Nothing. We should leave directly. If you could get us some food and clothing� and a few blankets, we could be gone within the hour.� She retreated further into the room looking round as she spoke.
�But earlier, I saw my mother crying. I need to know what has happened! She�s not one to snivel on about things.�
Hermione whirled round to face him, wild eyed and trembling. �Draco, we mustn�t know of any future events. You can�t know why your mum is grieving because when we go back you�ll take a piece of the future with you; and when we go back, this future won�t have happened yet� oh, don�t you understand? It could be disastrous. You could go mad!�
Draco was upon her in two strides. Grabbing her arms, he nearly lifted her off the ground. �You�d better start explaining just what you know about future time travel.�
�Get your hands off me! You brute!�
He only gripped more tightly. �This is serious shit. I�m not letting you go until you spill it�all of it. Now.� Fire sparked in his clear grey eyes, heaving air expelled from his nose as he tried to control his anger. Quite a formidable sight. And it enraged her.
Hermione gritted her teeth. She hated being manhandled. She wasn�t some renegade dark wizard. She was Hermione Granger, Unspeakable, Order of Merlin First Class.
�Speak!� he growled.
The nerve of him. �First, let me go.�
�Fine!� He released her.
She shot him a searing glare. �Time-Turners were only intended to go backwards.�
He snorted. �Yes. I know. For Merlin�s sake, Goyle could have told me that much. That�s established. What are your findings concerning the implications of future time travel?�
Ignoring his cheek she continued, �There�s risk involved with future time travel. The danger of going forward in time is that there are so many different possible futures, you can never be sure which one you are going forward in.�
�And��
�And, there are different rules to follow, so as not to disturb the past which has already occurred.�
�What rules?�
�Well, I haven�t actually established an absolute set of rules at this point in time.�
Draco fisted his hair and made a terrible growling noise that made Hermione squint her eyes shut.
�You�re playing with fire, you are, Missy!� He stormed up to her stopping short. �And now we�re getting burned! Damn you, Granger! Do you have any idea how to get us back? What we should be doing?�
She was shaking. The fury of his rage was awful. �I mean, we can�t be seen by anyone who�d know us. And we defiantly can�t see our future selves, and we must not know what path our future selves have taken.�
�We�ve got to fix that blasted Time-Turner!� Draco raked a hand through his too long fringe. �Let�s prepare to leave. We need to take as much as possible. Who knows how long we�ll be stuck.� He glared pointedly at her.
Hermione ignored him, or gave the appearance of ignoring him. She didn�t blame him for being upset; she was, too. And she was truly sorry this had happened. Reluctantly, she listened as Draco instructed her on where to gather supplies, necessities, provisions and the like for however long they were to be stuck in the future.
�How do you suppose we�re going to carry all of that with us?� she inquired, cynically.
Now he was the one ignoring her.
Feeling as if his chiding remarks and blatant disregard had dismissed her, she left the room and roamed down the ivy-plagued hallway. It smelled organic; much like Professor Sprout�s greenhouses on the Hogwarts campus. The old carpeting was spongy under her shoes. She longed for her London flat, her pretty sitting room, her soaking tub filled with fragrant bubbles. The comforts of home seemed so far away. It was nearly too much to bear.
As a knee-jerk reaction, her mind sought distraction from those uncomfortable feelings and began to churn with possible solutions for the Time-Turner. Without realizing, she entered another room, a bedroom, which must have been splendid in its day. She noticed the ivy had not completely taken over here; only a small portion of the north wall was infested.
The distraction of calculating and figuring had only worked so long, and her overactive mind rebelled, causing her to over-think all her decisions and her ability to get herself and Draco safely back to the past, as it were. Rubbing her temples, Hermione sat on the bed in the once grand boudoir of Elizabeth Malfoy. She glanced hopelessly round the room, her vision veiled by stubborn tears she could no longer hold back.
Thinking of all the books and materials she needed to take to wherever they went, she cried aloud, �How are we going to do this?� As if in answer, her gaze fell to the picture on the nightstand. The young image of Draco�s great-great grandmother winked and blew a kiss, again and again. Hermione reached out, taking the gilded frame, studying woman�s clothing. The rolled down stockings, fancy cloche cap, the beaded bag. Beaded bag!
She tossed the frame down, hurrying to the cupboard. Rummaging through the built-in drawers, she found many items a wealthy 1920s woman would have; fine satin scarves, silk stockings, garters, elbow length gloves, long strings of crystal beads and beaded clutches. Beaded clutches� similar to the one she enchanted for the Horcrux hunt.
�This will do nicely.� She selected a champagne colored silk bag with a platinum clasp and clear crystal beading. Before she could close the drawer, something else caught her eye, a bound volume with fading gold lettering. Hermione pushed aside a satiny red slip to get to the book. It was old, but well cared for. The pages were yellowed, somewhat brittle, and the once deep green ink had faded a bit. But the spells were still legible. Elfin spell work. Most intriguing.
She quickly enchanted the beaded bag and dropped the spell book into the vast emptiness. She then returned to her and Draco�s room to let him know they could take anything they liked. And she knew just the place.

�So you�re telling me all those books, blankets and non-perishables we gathered are in that tiny handbag?� Draco was impressed with Hermione�s spell work. If he hadn�t seen her shove two bags of gold, an entire library of books� along with everything else they could think of�into the bag, he wouldn�t have believed it.
She only slanted a glance at him, sniffing with superiority. Swotty little nymph. Truth be told, he had read her dissertation on Time Ribbons and how they correlate to the Circadian Time Stream. And it was brilliant.
When he had received Harry�s alert to apparate to the Department of Mysteries, he was surprised to hear that Hermione Granger was the culprit. He knew she was an Unspeakable. He was also familiar with the line of research she�d been working on, Time Methodology, though he had hardly ever caught sight of her.
Unspeakables generally kept odd working hours. But the few recent glimpses he�d had of her were worth remembering. She, in her sensible skirt and crisp white lab coat�was put together in every way, save one. That hair of hers. It was a riot�a literal riot of curls. She had great legs and a pert little arse. He�d fantasized about popping the buttons off that lab coat, hiking up her skirt and bending her over his desk. He smirked now with the recollection. He�d reach for those corkscrew curls; give them a little tug with every thrust of his hips�
�All ready?� Her query broke through his lurid flights of imagination.
�Er� right,� Draco replied.
�Take hold of my arm.�
�Just a bit bossy now, aren�t you?� Draco asked. �Side-along? You just can�t wait to get close to me, yeah?�
Amused, she raised her brows. �Just take hold of my arm; that is, if you can do so without leaving bruises.�
�Are you always this pleasant or is it just for my benefit?�
�Shut it and hold tight,� she replied sweetly, holding out her hand.
To her great surprise, he grabbed her, yanking her into his embrace. �Holding tight. Off we go, then?� He smirked.
With a tiny pop, they were gone.

Draco found being pressed impossibly close to Miss Hermione Granger was not the worst thing in the world. Her feminine curves were soft in all the right places. Even in those fleeting seconds, he could tell she felt very nice, indeed. The place to which she had Apparated them, however, was not so very nice.
�Where are we?� He took in the small, dilapidated shanty. Cobwebs graced every corner; a profuse layer of dust covered everything, so much so that their steps left footprints. Broken windows, broken furniture, and threadbare rugs and draperies completed the shabby ensemble.
�We�re inside the Shrieking Shack. Near Hogsmead, remember?�
�Yeah. This place is ghastly.� His expression looked as if he�d been squirted with flobberworm pus.
�True. But it�s impossible to break into from the outside, unless you�re an Unspeakable. This place virtually guarantees our privacy.�
Pervy thoughts surfaced in Draco�s mind, but he shook his head, effectively clearing them.
�I suppose it will do then, with a few major improvements.� With a flick of his wand and swish of his wrist, he wordlessly transfigured the sagging, old, ramshackle settee into a comfortable leather sofa. He restored the rugs and drapes beyond their former glory, creating an inviting and warm sitting room. He chanced a glance at Hermione, appreciating her shocked expression.
�Nicely done, Draco. I didn�t know your transfiguring skills reached such levels of expertise.�
�Anything worth doing is worth doing well. Wouldn�t you agree?�
He noticed her tongue dart out to wet her lips. Now dewy, they parted, and her wide doe eyes blinked rapidly. �Absolutely.� The breathiness in her reply exposed her interest in his magical ability. Maybe he could coax her into taking notice of his other abilities as well.

They didn�t talk much the next few hours. Draco had made himself comfortable in the sitting room, while Hermione had arranged her makeshift library using the books they�d nicked from Malfoy Manor. Hermione was dying to delve into one volume in particular. Entitled, �Time-Turner: An Alchemy of Time�, the book was very old and appeared to be written in congruence with the creation of the first Time-Turner.
She�d deduced as much by recalling the information from McGonagall�s crash course on Time-Turners back in third year. Prior to receiving the Ministry device, Minerva had enlightened her on these magical marvels; how they worked and the dangers of misuse, but her professor told her not much else was known. She was hopeful this book held information to help her not only fix the broken Time-Turner, but to further her research, as well.
Hermione snuck a peek out into the sitting room. Draco was sprawled on the sofa, sleeping like a baby. She smiled. Good. He�ll be out of my hair for a while. She settled down into a comfy chaise, planning to read �An Alchemy of Time� from cover to cover.
She�d spent the early evening and most of the night reading. The book was absorbing, to be sure. The Arithmancy symbol charts were amazing, and she�d spent the wee hours applying newly-learned algorithms to her existing data.
�Well, aren�t you a sight to behold?� Draco�s low timber came out of nowhere.
Hermione jumped a mile. �Don�t sneak up on me like that!� Her voice was hoarse from disuse. She�d been in her zone, where time and place were nonexistent. It was only herself and her work. The thoughts flowed, carried her like a current; she enjoyed a feeling of energized focus and full involvement. Draco�s asinine comment had broken her concentration.
�Can�t you see I�m working!?� She glared at him.
�Have you slept?� He was looking at her with odd amusement.
�No. But I will shortly, since you�ve disrupted my train of thought. What time is it?�
He glanced out the east window; the sun was just peeking above the hills in the distance. �Our time, or past time,� he joked. From the pained expression on her face, Hermione clearly didn�t think that was funny. �I reckon it�s nearly seven. Will you have breakfast first? Before you rest?�
�I could eat.� The mention of food made her stomach growl.
�Have you seen yourself?� Draco asked, bemused.
�Huh? What?� Her hand flew to her hair. Last night, she had twisted the badly behaved curls into a knot atop her head. No doubt there were escapees, springing out every which way. As was usual while working so intensely, she had tucked a few quills into the messy pile. She was always forgetting she had stuck a quill into her hair and would absently reach for a fresh one, repeating this a few times without even realizing it. She probably had at least three feathers sticking out of her head. Her fingers were stained with ink, and more than likely there would be a smudge or two on her cheek or nose.
�I must look a fright,� she replied, suddenly self-conscious under his scrutinizing gaze. Feeling around in her abundant waves, she removed four quills.
Draco measured her with intense eyes. �Adorable, actually.� He chuckled. �Let me fix you something; you must be famished.�
Flushing at his compliment, she answered lightly, �Alright. Wait. You cook?�
�Don�t be so surprised. My mother is an excellent cook and she�s taught me everything she knows. I think we�ll have grilled bacon and tomato, poached eggs and toast with butter and jam.�
�Mmm, that sounds lovely.�
Taking her by the hand, Draco led her to the kitchen. �I knew I could tempt you.� He flashed a dazzling grin. �If you�ll make tea, I�ll do the rest.� He set to work with rashers of bacon, and then sliced the tomatoes. �So why don�t you fill me in on the Mayan connection, yeah?�
He looked so at home in the tiny kitchen of the modified Shrieking Shack. It surprised her in an altogether nice way. His hands were as skilled with a blade as with a wand. His long, elegant fingers cradled the knife handle. She began telling him of her research dealing with the Mayan people.
It was oddly comforting, talking and working. She felt content, her hands busy preparing the tea, not having to look him directly in the eye. His eyes were so penetrating, she found herself much distracted whenever they held her too long.
She was at ease sharing her research with him, which was extremely unusual. She was usually quite secretive. �I suppose when one is fiddling with time travel, it would stand to reason said person should have an idea of the workings of time itself. The Maya people, you may well know, were an extremely advanced civilization for their time.� She chuckled. �That is to say, the age in which they thrived.�
She went on happily, �Mayans developed mathematics, astronomy and the calendar. They had precise knowledge of the calendar year and its relationship to the universe as a whole. They understood how the sun and the earth�s rotation dictated the seasons, the amount of daylight, and the like. The interesting thing is, they seemed to believe time was� shall we say, unwinding, or unraveling. Let me put it this way. It�s like pulling at a lose yarn in your jumper; pull long enough and your sweater will eventually disappear or cease to exist.�
�Remarkable,� Draco commented. �So, did they actually come up with an end date? That is for the end of time?�
�Indeed, they did. December 21, 2012, in fact. But regardless of that, they were a spiritual people as well, and understood the necessity of balance. At the ruins of Tulum in Mexico, there is a small building containing nothing at all; in fact, it's mostly just walls, but the Mayans probably used it as sort of a solar calendar, as the portals face in all four cardinal directions. It was erected at an exact location to capture the sun�s rays during the solstices. You�re familiar with the solstices, yeah?�
Draco was listening intently and nodded immediately. �Absolutely. It�s either of the two points on the ecliptic when the Sun reaches its northernmost or southernmost point relative to the celestial equator. In other words, either the longest or shortest day of the year.�
�Yes.� Hermione smiled, looking greatly pleased. Her excitement mounted, realizing she had a worthy partner in both knowledge base and intellect. �Well, at the solstices, the sunlight shines directly in the north door and out the south, or the reverse, depending on whether it�s the summer or winter solstice.
I believe it was not only a way of marking time, but also of creating equilibrium from imbalance, or restoring perfect order�perfect balance. Like magic. Magic, as you well know, is highly ordered; it needs the correct balance of movement, incantation and pronunciation. Then of course there�s Apparating. Every time we Apparate, it�s no small feat of precise balance. Determination, deliberation and destination, and so on.�
�Okay, okay, Professor Granger,� said Draco. He grinned at her, obviously teasing. She rather liked it.
He continued, �It�s almost incomprehensible how sophisticated their knowledge really was.�
�Quite.� She brought the plate of toast to the dinette in the kitchen nook. Draco followed with two heaping plates of scrumptious smelling breakfast. As they sat, Hermione kept talking. �So I�ve used contemporary magical theory coupled with the Mayan knowledge, and I had the basis for my dissertation, my new time travel theories, and my cutting edge experiments.�
�Why haven�t you shared this with anyone else? You could have been receiving major funding; unlimited resources.� Draco�s arched brow gave him an air of irritation.
Hermione hedged. �This is my life�s work, Draco. It�s my baby. I hope you understand how much this all means to me. I don�t want anyone else�s help�frankly, I don�t trust anyone else.�
He searched her expression. He could understand not trusting. �Of course.� He reached across the table, placing his hand atop hers. She blushed, pulling from his light touch.
�So, here�s what we�ll do. First, we eat. Then you sleep. After you rest, you can work more on the Turner, then I�m taking you out of here. A little holiday, you might say.�
She eyed him suspiciously. �Explain.�
�Well, I think maybe we should do some field research.�
Hermione swallowed a bite of toast. �Field research?�
�Yeah. What�s keeping us from going, well, anywhere really? I mean, we could Apparate to anywhere that may help us fix that blasted Time-Turner. I mean, as long as we don�t run into any people we know.�
She paused in thought. �I�ll let you know when I think that�ll be necessary.�
Draco snorted, chucking under his breath. �Know-it-all��
�Sorry? Did you say something else?�
�Not at all.�

Even in two days time, the tedium and isolation of the Shrieking Shack had become nearly too much for Hermione and Draco to bear. Hermione seemed utterly discouraged in her efforts to right the Time-Turner. The moans and groans emitted from her workroom more and more frequently. Draco continually offered his help, but she continued to make it clear she worked alone.
He had given up and resigned himself to stay away from her, when he�d heard the crash. In a bolt, he charged into the room. �Hermione! What the hell was that? Where are you?�
The old sideboard she�d been using as a workbench was cleared. As if in a rage, someone had swept the contents onto the floor. Hermione was down in a pile beyond the table, her head in her hands. The sight of her, crumpled up like a broken doll in the corner did something funny to his heart, made it feel as if some malicious entity had pricked it with a sharpened quill. His long legs crossed the room in three strides, and he knelt down beside her.
�Hey, Smarty Bum, don�t be so hard on yourself. With some time, I know we�ll fix this. And we have nothing if not time, yeah?�
She looked up at him. The expression was one he�d never seen on her face. Defeat. It changed something inside of him. She seemed suddenly different, too. Her tough-as-dragon-hide exterior was gone. The biting comments, the disdainful glares� all gone. All he could see now were wide, sad eyes, quivering lips, and that ridiculous hair.
She sniffed. �Do you really think� �
He stole a kiss. A quick, soft kiss.
�What� Draco,� she touched her lips. �You kissed me.�
�And I�d do it again,� he teased. �Would you let me?�
A lovely shade of crimson bloomed on her cheeks. �Why don�t you try it and see?� she teased back, punctuating with a sly smile.
He squared his body with hers. Taking his time, he drank in her small heart-shaped face, her sable eyes framed with long black lashes and at last, her pretty pouting lips. He cradled her face, tilting it to his, bringing his lips closer to her mouth. The feel of her skin under his rough palms was like the soft velvetiness of a rose petal. Her lids fluttered closed, and this small gesture from her, this tiny symbol of complete trust, undid his heart.
Their lips met fully; hers were shy, his restrained. Hermione gave a soft sigh, ran her hands up his chest, and encircled his neck, inviting him into her arms. He gathered her close and deepened the kiss. She opened herself to him, and he entered. She tasted sweet, and he drank her in greedily. She returned his fervor, her sighs turning to groans, climbing into his lap to straddle him, her fingers threading through his hair. Her long lashes felt like the wings of angles tickling his check, his brow.
Such sweet ardor he�d never known. He�d always thought of kissing as unnecessary. Even at school, he hadn�t enjoyed snogging. Quite possibly it had been the way teen girls had slobbered all over his face that had turned him off. In all honesty, it disgusted him. And the women of his young manhood, well, he�d wanted one thing from them. Sex. Plain and simple. Mind you, he was an extraordinary lover and had been told so many a time. But snogging, to him, was unappealing.
Yet at this moment, lost in time, kissing seemed fitting. Another way to connect and communicate. It was intimate; similar to enjoying a treasure or receiving a prize�something worth cherishing, something to work for. Sex was great, and he got it easily whenever he wanted. To Draco, sex equaled pleasure�release, and sex had always been one-sided. Kissing, on the other hand, was sharing a part of your soul. And it wasn�t Draco�s thing. Until now.
Hermione was the one to pull away, and he opened his eyes to see flushed cheeks, swollen lips. He wanted more. Leaning in, he at once felt her palm pushing at his chest.
�Draco�wait.�
�Shh�� He nibbled at her plump bottom lip. He was rewarded with a delightful trembling sigh. �Shh, kiss me again�� His whispered request was scarcely audible to his own ears.
She surrendered, melting into him, offering her mouth like some hard won sacrifice. The sizable bulge in his pants left no mistake as to the state of his arousal. Her position in his lap, and her little wriggles, left him no mistake of hers.
�Your wonderful,� he sighed, after stealing a breath. �Who knew the most intellectually gifted witch of this century would turn out to have equal skill at snogging. Exceptional, in fact.�
�Anything worth doing,� she paused and smiled, her eyes piercing his, �is worth doing well. I know you agree.�
�Indeed.�
What could he do but kiss her again. And again.

Later that evening, Hermione was dozing on the sofa with another book from the Malfoy library. This particular tome was entitled �Ancient Magic: Magic Before the Dawn of Time�. The old magic, also referred to as ancient magic, is magic not cast by wizards with wands. It is part of the "magical-ness" of the universe. Hermione could think of a number of examples off the top of her head. There was Dumbledore�s protection, which had surrounded Harry and had somehow been connected to his only living relatives, the Dursleys. There was Lily Potter�s sacrifice of herself that created protection for Harry even Voldemort could not break. In fact, it so infused Harry�s skin that the evil wizard couldn�t touch Harry until Voldemort stole this magic by forcibly taking Harry�s very life essence. His blood.
One couldn�t forget about wizard debt, either. The magical bond of life debt created when one wizard saved another�s life. And then there were dragons. Ancient magic resides in their thick hides, making them nearly impossible to slay. The reading was heavy expository text, and it had made her a bit drowsy. Her feet were propped on Draco�s lap. He sat at the opposite end, reviewing her Arithmancy charts.
Suddenly, her sleepy voice interrupted his concentration.
�Did you call me �Smarty Bum� earlier?�
Draco smirked as his eyes slid sideways and perused her supine frame. �Yeah, I guess I did. And you are, you know. A smart arse, that is.� He laughed, and she kicked his inner thigh with her heel. �Hey, watch the goods, woman.� Draco grabbed her by the ankle to quell the kicking, causing her to squeal. �Did you like it?� he teased, beginning to tickle her feet.
Hermione yelped, tugging away from his incessant fingers. �I like that better than �Smart Arse�, I suppose.� She drew her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms round her legs. �I should go work on the Turner some more.� She stayed put.
Draco edged closer. �Yeah, good idea� you should go work on it.� He was close enough to reach up, graze her forearm with his fingertips. �Right away, in fact.� He leaned closer as she closed her eyes, parted her lips. The breath from his repartee tickled her lips. �Come�ere Smarty Bum.�
She couldn�t help but smile. The heat from his nearness and the suppleness of his mouth made her feel dizzy. Draco�s kisses were long and languid. It was as if he�d never snogged a girl before, but that could never be the case, considering how good he was at it. The tiny strokes and deep swirls of his tongue made her insides quiver. It was blissful. Maybe it�d be okay if they never fixed that silly old Time-Turner. This thought jarred her into reality, into the enormity of the situation.
She pushed lightly on his chest. His hard, perfect chest. �I really should get to work�� These words seemed to spur him to more insistence. Her gripped her tighter, kissed her deeper. �Draco,� she gasped, �I should... do some work. The adjustments I made to the synchronization element in the Turner are nearly complete. Then I can have a go at it.�
He sighed, releasing her. �All right. If you need me,� he paused for effect, �let me know. I�m happy to be at your disposal.�
She rose and grinned at him. �My disposal, huh?�
He arched one brow in answer, inclined his head in a ridiculously elegant, yet devilish, way.
Laughing lightly, she practically sashayed to her workroom.

Draco had meandered to one of the bedrooms and was falling asleep with pleasant thoughts of Smarty Bum dancing in his head. He had just reached that point of near unconsciousness when he was rudely awakened.
�Bugger all!� Hermione shouted from her workroom in the Shrieking Shack. Again, she�d been up all night working on the Time-Turner to no avail, her latest attempts at aligning the synchronization elements a failure.
Draco was thoroughly annoyed. He jumped off the bed, yelling out as he sought the source of his annoyance.
�Granger! I swear, how can anyone stand to live with you? Up all night, sleep all day. What are you, an owl?�
He sauntered into her workroom. It was a good thing he had the most precise reflexes of any Auror. That was the only reason the inkpot Hermione launched across the room had missed his head by centimeters.
He rushed forward to grip her wrist before she could pull back and hurl the sodding Time-Turner at him.
�Easy now. A bit tense are you?�
�Shut it!� she growled. �This is entirely your fault. If you hadn�t grabbed my hand, two people wouldn�t have been transported, and we wouldn�t be in this mess!�
�That�s it. You�re in need of a break. Come here.� He grasped her round the waist amid a full on protest. As quick as a wink, they were gone.
�Where are we?� Hermione glanced around squinting.
�Italy,� replied Draco, as if he�d said �Hogsmeade� or �Sussex�.
�Italy?! Why�how�what?� she stammered.
�You forgot �Who, When, and Where�. And to answer your questions: Because you�re losing your mind, Apparition, Field research, you and me, and lastly, Venice.�
She stared, opened mouthed. �What on earth is in Venice that could possibly help us?�
�You�re not the only smart one with mass amounts of information at your command. See, I even brought your bag.�
She made a face at him.
Ignoring her antics, he continued, �I used to go on holiday with Mother and Father here all the time. Not many wizards know there�s a magical community here; lots of magical shops and interesting wizard folks. We just might be able to find something to help us.�
Unconvinced but helpless to object, Hermione shrugged and inclined her head, signaling for Draco to lead the way. They walked the quaint streets, quickly coming to a stone garden wall. Draco tapped his wand in a precise, patterned dance among the stones. Instantly giving way and folding in upon itself, the fractured wall revealed a vibrant and lively street.
�Welcome to Horizon Alley,� Draco said, taking her hand and tugging her into the cobblestone street.
Hermione hadn�t known this much wonderment since her first trip to Diagon Alley when she was eleven years old. This place was much the same. Small shops lined the wide cobbled streets, and lampposts dotted the walks of the storefronts. She noticed many of the same kinds of shops; magical bookshops, charmed candy stores and quaint pubs. After wandering the streets for a bit, they entered a boisterous eatery with an extremely old wizard playing a balalaika. It was a wonder he could even strum the strings, for he appeared to be at least 200 years old, but he danced and played like a much younger wizard.
Hermione and Draco took a table near the front window. They enjoyed paninis, and Draco made sure to order magical soda drinks, much like an Italian soda, but with tiny little bubbles that burst under one�s nose, giving an especially giddy feeling upon inhalation. After eating, they set out again, to stroll through the streets. Both of them were relaxed, as they hadn�t been in days.
�Ah,� remarked Draco, �Here is the place I want you to see.� His eyes sparkled.
The name on the worn sign above the door read �Curios Chronos�.
It was darkened inside and smelled of mustiness and herbs. Hermione�s nose prickled the moment they walked through the door. It wasn�t an unpleasant smell, just strong and heady.
The wares were interesting, fascinating, really. There were stacks of aged magic books, dusty old cauldrons, cloudy beakers and vials of every shape and size. An old pewter bowl, that looked to be an antiquated Pensieve, was overflowing with cork stoppers for potion bottles. Mysterious small machines sat on several tables. Enchanted statues waved at them, or strolled around the shelves.
�Are you traveling?� came a creaking voice from behind the high counter.
Hermione turned to see an old woman, a witch with twinkling brown eyes.
�Yes, you could say that,� she answered, amiably.
�Ah,� croaked the old witch, �I�ve traveled much myself. I believe� to find what you two are looking for, you need to look to the sun, the dawn� Zama.�
Hermione stared, opened mouthed. Finally she stammered, �I� er� beg your pardon?�
�Time,� the woman began, �is a funny thing. One cannot hold back time, nor perpetuate it. It is as old as the universe itself. You cannot expect to meddle with it without consequence, can you, Hermione?�
Oddly enough, what shocked Hermione the most wasn�t that this strange person knew her name; it was that the elder witch knew what she and Draco were doing, what they wanted to do. �How do you know me?� Hermione rasped, her throat constricting as she spoke.
The woman chuckled. �No time for that now, dear. Come closer, look to see if I�ve anything that will help you and your young gentleman in your�ah, endeavor.�
Stepping cautiously closer, Hermione reached the counter realizing it was a jewelry case. Inside were jeweled rings, necklaces, lockets, pendants and a very old, much worn Time-Turner.
Hermione gasped, and the woman gave a low chuckle. �Can I show you something?� she queried in a kind, gravely voice.
�Yes,� Hermione choked, almost afraid to breath, �yes, the Turner.�
In a blink, it was cradled within her hand, her fingers rubbing the smooth brass, and the fine crystal hourglass.
Hermione tore her gaze from the Time-Turner and stared hard at the old witch. �How much will you take for this?�
The woman threw Hermione a hard stare straight back. �How can one pay for something that already belongs to her?�
�Hermione!� Just then, Draco appeared with a Venetian Water Plant in an aquarium tucked underneath his arm. He was smiling like a fool. �To replace yours, Love.�
The woman, who was disappearing into the beaded entry of the back room of the shop, called out over her shoulder, �Leave the twenty Sickles for the plant on the counter, Draco.�
He smiled, tossed the coins on the counter, raised his eyebrows at Hermione and turned to leave. Hermione followed him out onto the too-bright street without another word, so keen was her state of awe.
�What�s with you?� he asked, dropping an arm about her waist.
�Don�t you think that woman was� odd.�
�Odd in what way? She was seriously old. Did you see her hair��
�She gave me this!� She shoved the Time-Turner under his nose, stopping him in his tracks. �And she told me it was MINE!�
�Ehi! You two! Arresto! Get back here with that!� A short dark haired man was yelling at them from the walkway directly in font of the shop they�d just exited.
�Sorry?� sneered Draco. �Are you speaking to us?�
�Si, you thieving canaglias! Bring back my charm necklace!�
�I just got this from your shopkeeper, the old witch,� cried Hermione, apprehension rising in her throat.
�There is no old witch working here. I am the shopkeeper. Help! Thieves! They�ve stolen my valuables!�
Draco quickly put two and two together; he watched as horrified realization dawned in Hermione�s huge sable eyes.
�Run!� He hissed, grabbing her hand.
Draco and Hermione clasped hands. �Hold tight,� she screamed above shouts from the crowd. He locked eyes with her, squeezing her hand so hard she felt the bones might break.
She shouted, �Don�t you dare let go of my hand.�
Ducking out of sight in a narrow alley, she quickly Disapparated them. The squishing, suffocating tightness lasted but a moment, before their feet landed in soft cool white sand.
The two voyagers collapsed, panting and heaving. After Hermione�s breathing returned to a somewhat normal pace, she stood, instinctively turning to the sea.
�Where are we?� Draco heaved out the words between the air he dragged into his lungs.
The white expanse of beach sands gave way to azure blue water. The water revealed ever increasing intensities of cool aqua until it kissed the sky; a deeper truer blue. The combination was pleasant, calming. The recurring cadence of the surf and the soft caress of the sea breeze soothed Hermione�s throbbing mind. The atmosphere was like balm to her soul, lulling her to a state of relaxation; yet, oddly, she was exhilarated at the same time. For a moment, she could only stare out across the water to the sky, a great wall of cerulean. Was this the Greek beach from her earlier dream?
The gentle gusts tousled her curls. She closed her eyes and inhaled, taking in the calm, the peace; she tried to hold it within her being, tried to memorize it, this feeling of tranquility and completeness. She felt at ease, relaxed. Only then did she realize Draco was close behind her, his hands on her shoulders. Pivoting toward him, she tilted her head as he framed her face in his palms. Draco nuzzled her forehead, kissed her brow.
�You feel it too?� he breathed.
�I feel� serene, but energized as well. Why is this place special?� she murmured.
�I�m not sure. But we�ll find out. �We are like children playing on the seashore while the great ocean of truth lies before us undiscovered�.�
�That�s Sir Isaac Newton,� she gaped at him, �a muggle scientist, and physicist.�
�Yes,� Draco confirmed.
Hermione smiled and nodded before laying her head against his chest. Draco never failed to astound her. She would think she had him figured out, and then he�d go and surprise her again. He was a study in contradictions. He was also spot-on about this beach. No doubt magic resided here. Strong magic. This place was special; mystical, and she knew that here, they were safe.
But the extent of their troubles invaded her tranquility, and the feeling slipped away, like grains of quartz through the goblin-hewn crystal hourglass of the Time-Turner that vexed her so.
She looked up over Draco�s shoulder back toward the inland. The rocky crag rose on two sides. Above, were several ruins including two more prominent buildings. Between those two ruins, she noticed a break in the cliff that formed the cove where they stood. Standing close to the edge of the cliff on the east side was a ruined castle. It was not Greece.
�Draco, look.� She began making her way toward the break in the cliff. Draco followed. �I know where we are! This is Tulum, the main Mayan city on the east coast of Mexico.� She began ascending the path up toward the ruins; Draco was close behind.
The crumbling building consisted of two platforms that supported two galleries with a flat roof reached by a long, central staircase. In front of the structure was the small walled temple Hermione had described to Draco in the kitchen of the Shrieking Shack.
�Tulum,� Hermione repeated. � Zama� the dawn. So this is what she meant.�
�What who meant?�
�The woman. I don�t know how, but she knew us. Our names, our problem.� Hermione clasped the Turner in her hand, tilting her face up towards the ruins.
�Why did you bring us here?� he asked, falling into step beside her.
�I don�t know for sure. It was unconscious. We had to get away. Determination. I was thinking of what the old witch had said in the shop. Destination. Then, pop! I ended up bringing us here all because she had said �Zama.�
�Let me get this straight; we�re here because the crazy woman in �Curios Chronos,� said Zama to you? That�s why you apparated us here? And now, what�s here? Nothing!�
The skepticism in his voice was too much. She rounded on him. �Are you saying I�m a fool to believe her? How else can you explain the fact that she gave me this Time-Turner, knew our names and our situation?!�
Not giving him a chance to answer, she sprinted towards the sea cliff and up the path leading to the ruins. She didn�t stop when she reached the top of the rock face, but headed towards the highest step pyramid, the one known as �the castle.� Draco was close behind, unable to fully understand what had angered her on the beach.
When he, too had reached the peak of the ruin, he asked, �What is it? Why won�t you let me in, let me help you with this? You act as if this is some sort of competition or assignment. Well, I�ve news for you. You�re not alone here, Hermione. We�re on the same team. Why won�t you let me help you, comfort you?�
She stepped toward him and he caught her in his strong arms. She felt the firmness of his body aligned with hers. �I�m sick of being just �the brain.� I�m tired of only seeking answers. I want to be sure of something. I thought my work and my accomplishments could fill me up, be enough for me. But all I�ve done is cause more questions, more ambiguity�more emptiness. I want to be more than an isolated, lonely fool tinkering her life away in the bowels of the Ministry.�
He spoke soft words of reassurance to her. �Hermione, you�re so much more than �a brain.� The men you�ve kept company with are imbeciles to have overlooked you.�
Draco grabbed her face in his hands, enticing her eyes to meet his. �And to me, you�re comfort. Your eyes�they look like home to me Hermione�or what I�d always imagined home should be. Not to mention you�ve got a good head on your shoulders.� He chuckled, �And you�re nobody�s fool. Not even mine.�
Something in this assessment made her sprits soar. Why had no other man ever seen her this way? This is the way she wanted to be seen; respected, and yet desired, intelligent, but approachable.
Reaching up on tiptoes, she crushed his lips with her own. Weaving her hands through his hair, she pulled at him until he understood she wanted him to lie down with her. He cushioned her head under his hand, resting on his elbows so as not to crush her. The feel of his mouth on hers, his tongue tasting and playing at her lips, made her feel as if she were sinking and floating all at once. His soft kisses were such a contrast to the firmness pressing between her thighs. She hooked her legs round his calves and moved against him.
�Uh, Gods Hermione. I want you.� The words tickled the tender skin below her jaw line, for now he was sprinkling kisses along her neck, dipping his tongue into the hollow of her throat. �Mmm, you taste delightful�� He skimmed a hand down the side of her breast, then her waist to her bum. It continued its pleasant sojourn to her thigh, tempting her leg to hook round his hip.
The sensuousness of his touch made her head spin. The way he stroked his hardened length against her core made her moan. Her need rocketed to frenzy, and she could feel her building desire cresting with each thrust and rub. She wanted him with madness, she wanted him inside, wanted the silken feel of his steely cock bringing her to completion. With each drive of his hips, she gave back to him, knowing he was just a wild with lust as she.
�You want me too, don�t you?� His voice, warm and heavy with yearning, made her shiver.
Hermione searched his eyes, touched his lips with her fingertips. He kissed them, licked the pads. Taking her hand away, fingers still glistening with wetness, she pressed them to her own mouth. He watched, in awe, as she dragged them down her chin, her throat, to the gauzy material of her blouse. Unbuttoning her top, she pushed the flimsy cotton aside, revealing the pert mound of her breast topped with a dusky tip begging for his attention. She pulled on the bud, cupped her breast, offering it to his greedy mouth.
Draco courted her, wooed her, with licks and sucks that made her quiver to her very center. All too soon, he moved off of her to settle by her side, amid her protesting groans.
�Shh,� he murmured. His fingers stroked her tummy, playing at her navel, teasing nearer and nearer to the waistband of her shorts. �I�m nowhere near done with you�� His hot breath raised goose bumps on the delicate skin of her chest. As he turned his attentions to her other breast, he dipped his hand into her knickers, spreading her slick folds to caress her throbbing nub.
�Oh you want me, alright�.� The whispered words sent cool tingles over her damp and tormented nipple.
�Draco.� His name passed over her lips like the air she breathed. Involuntarily. Her body bowed into his touch, craving more. Her hips bounced as she drove her need in time with his torturous strokes.
She looked up, and saw the stars; their strange glow seemed unnaturally bright. It was then that she noticed the glittery wind billowing up all around them. The beautiful dancing sparking-diamond light wasn�t emitting from the stars, it was coming from the top of the castle.
Its peculiarity startled her, even jarred her away from the delicious pleasure Draco wrought from her body.
�Draco, its� its extraordinary.�
�Yeah,� he rasped, �You�re incredible too.�
�No,� she pushed at him. �Not you. Seriously! Look!�
�Huh?� he drew away, confusion etched on his brow. And then he saw it, too.
�What is it?�
�I�ve only seen it one other place. The Department of Mysteries, in the bell jar.�
Draco�s gaze snapped back to her stricken face.
The words fell from her lips full of wonder and fright. �It�s Time.�
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The Lost Time