Hello hello!

If you love Dramione, time travel or Marauders, buckle up because you are in for a ride and I truly hope you enjoy it! I really just wanted to explore what it would be like it Draco Hermione travelled back in time to the Marauder era, and I think that the time travel trope is my weakness, because I now have four fics about it (three are epic length LOL).

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.

In the last twenty four hours, Draco Malfoy's life was flipped upside down. Not only was everything he'd ever known gone, but now the only person he had to rely on, hated him with every fibre in her being. Draco Malfoy was stuck in the past with none other than Hermione Jean Granger.

Draco's head was pounding. The corridor was tilted, and there was a persistent spot firmly fixed in his vision on his left side. He focused on putting one foot in front of the next as he hurriedly trailed after a determined brunette.

The Hogwarts Halls were a blur. Hermione Granger's untameable honey brown curls bounced about behind her as she marched forth. Draco pressed a finger to his temple, wincing as nails of pain drove their way into his skull.

"Granger," Draco hissed. The witch made no indication that she had heard him. She slowed as they reached a fork in the road. Hermione made a split decision and took a harsh left; her hair whipped out behind her, and was inches away from whipping Draco in the face.

I hate my life. I fucking hate everything, Draco thought. He righted his black suit jacket and took off after her.

"Granger. Are you hard of hearing? I am talking to you," Draco said, irritation bold on his tongue as he spoke.

The witch whirled around with annoyance crackling at her fingertips—she raised her hands as if she wanted to wrap them around his throat. Draco skidded to a halt, just in the nick of time to avoid an nasty collision with the petite witch.

"What?" Granger snapped.

"You are convinced that we've somehow travelled back in time, but do you want to share with the class how you came to said conclusion?" Draco asked tightly. There were no clear indications of her theory, not that he could see at least.

"It's a gut feeling," Granger said, some of her vexation melting away. She glanced anxiously around their surroundings, her hands now on her hips. Draco took the opportunity to scrutinise their surroundings, his throbbing headache dulling around the edges: empty halls, curious portraits staring out of their frames at them, pale light floated in from the sparse windows along the left side of the corridor.

"I had the strangest dream—" Granger said, drawing his attention back to her and he found her peering up at him. She had fine features, high cheekbones, big brown eyes that reminded him of Fall, and he got lost in their hues for a brief moment. He shook himself out of it; he couldn't afford to allow himself to get distracted by Granger.

"A dream? You are basing your assumptions off of a fucking dream?"

"Something is wrong, Malfoy. We're in the wrong time, I know it."

"This is a waste of my time, I'm going to head back to my Common Room," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"Malfoy," Granger said. There was something in her voice that gave him pause. His shoulders rose and fell laboriously as he gazed down at her. There was a fiery determination threatening to explode from the petite creature. He would play along, for now, or at least long enough to convince her to take a trip to the Infirmary.

Then I can go back to my life, without delusional Gryffindors prattling on about time travel, Draco mused, he tucked his hands into his trouser pockets.

"Fine. Say we've travelled back in time. How do you know Dumbledore is even here, or that he's the Headmaster?"

"We'll just have to go and find out for ourselves, won't we?" Hermione said in a sickly sweet voice, flames curling in her brown orbs. Delusional or not, he didn't wish to be on the end of her wand. Hermione Granger was a lot of things, including a brilliant witch.

"I suppose."

Granger worried her bottom lip between her teeth, and she fiddled with the fabric of her pleated school skirt for a moment before she said, "I may not like you, Malfoy...but no matter what happens, we have to stick together. Agreed?"

Draco scoffed at the sentiment, but nodded his head. "If we have actually travelled back in time, then yes, we will...stick together."

How did I get in this situation? Draco groaned internally. He played his recollection of recent events through his mind: he and Granger had been engaged in a heated argument about something, and then the world tilted on its axis and they slammed into each other before flying through a wall.

Consequently, Draco had woken up in a squashed, clean but bare room with limited light and the air tasted stale. Granger was pacing, back and forth, wearing an impression in the stone as she muttered about time travel.

It is a bit hot, Draco admitted. There was normally a draft that whistled through the castle this time of the year. Perhaps I'm just in denial and don't want to believe that I've actually ruddy time travelled.

Draco began to question his life choices. Either way, I should have listened to Father and stayed under House Arrest with him as opposed to coming back to Hogwarts to finish off my education.

"What do you remember?" Hermione asked, as if reading his mind.

"About what? My life?" Draco drawled.

"No, you prat—"

"Oi! You two!" A deep voice called from the end of the corridor, behind Draco.

"Time to go!" Hermione announced urgently. Instinctively she grasped his hand in hers, and she tugged him behind her as she sprinted down the corridor. Her hand was much smaller, and much softer than his, and the shock of her touching him wore off as they ran for their lives.

Their surroundings blended together as they sprinted. Draco risked a glance behind them, and saw that the man was in hot pursuit, and he'd drawn his wand.


"I know a shortcut!" Hermione exclaimed, ducking to the right suddenly. Draco feared his shoulder would pop out of his socket from the movement. The short, narrow tunnel was stifling, but momentarily they emerged into an open, airy space flooded with light.

Through a window Draco spotted bright blue sky, fluffy clouds and the distinct smell of fauna was tickling his nostrils. It's supposed to be December first, it was snowing earlier, Draco thought in shock. He swallowed thickly. Hermione's claims were beginning to hold water. Hermione's hand was gripping his painfully, and he faced forwards to see that they were right in front of the gargoyle that barred the entrance to the staircase that led up to the Headmaster's Office.

"What now, Granger?"

"Lemon Drops, Chocolate Crackle, Liquorice Whips, Sugar Quills, Pumpkin Fizz—" Hermione shouted, and Draco gaped at her. This is how I die, with Granger banging on about sweets.

Hermione's voice died in her throat as the gargoyle creaked and groaned as it began to move.

"Bloody hell," Draco said under his breath. Dull yelling reached his ears, and Granger must have heard it as well as she tugged him up the stone staircase the moment the gargoyle had cleared the path. He almost tripped over his own feet on more than one occasion on the way; his disoriented state from earlier was creeping back in on him, and pressure was squeezing his skull.

They burst into the room, and Draco almost collapsed out of relief.

Dumbledore was there. He was sat at his large, mahogany desk, a quill in hand as he scratched away at a bit of parchment. He paused, twinkly eyes peering at them over his half-moon spectacles.

Dumbledore could feel the magical residue emitting off of the pair. Curious. Most curious. "How may I help you?" He asked.

The man who had been chasing Draco and Hermione reached the top of the stairs, panting heavily. He hunched over, one eye squeezed tightly shut, and rested his palms on his knees, his wand digging into his skin.


"It's alright, Bartholomew. I'm sure I can attend to the young wix." Dumbledore smiled brightly. The young man looked stunned, and he blew his dark hair off of his forehead. He nodded curtly, and dejectly trekked back down the stairs.

"He's still young, eager to impress you see," Dumbledore chuckled lightly, gesturing to the seats across from him. "Please, sit."

There was no hesitation on Granger's part, she released her hold on Draco's hand and strode forward, neatly sitting down in one of the proffered chairs. The loss of her warm touch was unsettling, and something inside of him twisted.

Draco hung back. Dumbledore was right in front of him; alive. Draco had inadvertently caused his death, he'd watched him careen over the railing to his untimely end after the killing curse had slammed into him.

Hermione was holding herself stiffly, but she glanced over her shoulder at him, and she smiled. Hermione Granger was smiling at him. The small reassurance soothed him, and he didn't know why.

Draco's feet briefly refused to listen to him, but he eventually found himself crossing the gaudy carpet and settling into the seat next to Hermione.

"So, how may I be of assistance?" Dumbledore queried. His eyes darted between the pair. Draco flinched unwittingly. This was strange.

"Professor—" Hermione started, but faltered. She fidgeted in her seat, wringing her hands in her lap. Draco couldn't tear his gaze away from Dumbledore. This must be a bad dream, or a cruel joke.

"You can trust me, my dear."

Hermione snorted, "yes, I suppose."

"I cannot help you if you do not tell me what has happened."

Hermione drank in a shuddering breath, and the dam broke. Words spewed from her gleefully as she recounted the past few hours, or what felt like hours.

"You are from the future?"


Dumbledore pressed them for more information, urging Hermione forth. He dutifully listened, nodded, and politely interjected here and there. Hermione attempted to tread carefully when asked of details of their future. Dumbledore insisted that they were completely honest, and honey rolled off of his tongue.

Draco caught the shift in Dumbledore's demeanour: he straightened out and leaned forward, drinking in the knowledge like a starved man. Power, knowledge, they were tempting for a man like him.

Hermione continued to speak. Draco flinched, and shifted in his seat when Hermione brought up Dumbledore's death in their sixth year.

Outwardly the Headmaster gave nothing away as he listened to them. He appeared to be unbothered by his future self's demise. Draco vaguely wondered if they were changing the future as Hermione revealed all their secrets.

Dumbledore twirled his quill between his fingers. Heavy contemplation weighing down his eyebrows as he sat back in his chair. "The only question now, is how are we going to integrate you into our time?"

Hours had easily passed since they'd entered the room, and through a nearby window Draco registered that the summer sun had almost faded only to be replaced by the night sky, the stars twinkling.

"Not how are we going to get back to our time?" Draco asked dryly. He had stayed quiet for the most part since they'd sat down. We're stuck here, Draco though, and the realisation smashed into him like a tonne of bricks.

"We have no idea how you got here, and thus we need to tread carefully. Time is a fickle thing, and history has never favoured those who tamper with it. I'm sure you've heard of—"

"Eloise Mintumble?" Hermione grimaced. "Yes, I don't think we'd like to age five centuries."

Dumbledore nodded cheerfully, "so we must carefully integrate you into our time."

"Bollocks," Draco grumbled.

"He's right, Malfoy," Hermione said sadly, she was looking at him with those big, brown eyes." Her brow furrowed, and Draco could see the gears turning in her head.

"What year is it?" Hermione addressed the Headmaster, folding her arms over her chest.

"Ah. There is that. How silly of me to forget. It is currently August eighth, nineteen seventy-one."

Hermione's jaw dropped. Draco imagined what was happening at the beginning of the seventies, nothing too important came to mind. My parents were still attending Hogwarts.

"They come to Hogwarts this year—there is no way this is a coincidence." Hermione shifted in her seat until she was facing Draco, and she reached out and grasped a hold of his chair's arm. She was looking at him imploring, as if she thought he would be on the same page as her. Draco was drawing a blank.


Hermione huffed out a puff of air, eyes wide. "Draco!"

"Have you been touched in the head, Granger? I haven't the foggiest about what you're so worked up about. Who is coming to Hogwarts this year?"

"The Marauders."


Future Indie here on April 17th, 2020!

I re-wrote this chapter sometime in August last year, but just decided to update and post it here. So there may be some date discrepancies going forward because originally I had them arrive in the past at the very end of August, whereas in my plan for the rewrite they arrive much earlier. Whenever I finish this fic, I am eventually going to re-write the whole thing.

Also, you will be warned now, whilst Dramione is the end pairing, there is a lot of Remione. This is a slow burn Dramione, it takes time to develop, and this fic is about more than just their romantic relationship, it's about building a secure friendship as well.

I made a note at the end of one of the later chapters (chapter 47: I Hate You) basically explaining all of this more in depth.

This is a slow burn, and this story is nowhere near finished. Thank you for your time if you've read this little note, and I really hope that you will enjoy this story if you choose to continue! *kisses and hugs*