Contingent | D.M. + H.G.

Chapter 2: In the Nick of Time

The next day came far too quickly for Hermione's liking. She groaned as she sat up in her bed, cursing the wisps of daylight that streaked in, sneaking their way through the curtains. Rubbing at her tired eyes, she stepped out of bed and into her slippers as she started to get ready to go down to breakfast.

Even though it was still early September, there was still a bite to the crisp autumn air that Hermione couldn't quite place. She had always been one to get cold easily, but this felt different, more bone-chilling for some reason. She reasoned with herself that she was just tired, and it was the product of her overactive imagination. Whatever it was, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something.

Try as she might, she couldn't stop her mind from going back to the Quidditch game from the day prior. As soon as the shock from almost being obliterated by a cursed bludger faded from her fingertips, she was honing in on Malfoy - though she hated to admit it. Even with all of their history coming up in quick flashes - the amount of times he'd called her Mudblood meant that the insult meant next to nothing coming from him anymore - she couldn't wrap her head around why he would do something like that.

Granted, Hermione knew he wasn't evil - very misguided and a product of his circumstance, perhaps. Whatever the case, she just couldn't conceptualize the idea of him being anything other than a downright git to her. While what he did is what almost anyone else would have done given the situation, what she couldn't get past was the fact that it was him of all people who had stepped in.

Draco. Malfoy.

The boy who literally could not have cared less before if she lived or died - if memory served, he wished her dead in second year - was suddenly coming to her rescue? What was she, a bloody damsel in distress? Hermione had really always hated those characters. She much preferred the strong, independent female types. She knew by now that she could hold her own in just about every aspect, and she'd fought over and over again in every way she could think of to prove that to herself - and everyone else. Hermione had always felt that she, more than anyone, had to earn her place in this world, and even though it never sat quite right with her, she couldn't help it.

She hated to admit to herself that something so trivial had caught her off guard. Even worse, she came to the sickening realization that she now owed him one.

Hermione held back a shudder as she mulled over what he might choose to cash in. She couldn't imagine that she had anything to offer him - maybe he'd ask her to do his homework for a month? Honestly, it was damn lucky that he had no idea about the Map or the cloak.

She pinched the bridge of her nose as she shut her eyes and forced herself to exhale slowly. Why was she thinking about this so much? She knew that he sure as hell wasn't. She made herself snap out of it as she gathered her textbooks, shoving them haphazardly into her bag. At the last second, she grabbed her time turner from under her pillow, putting it in an inside pocket. She liked to keep it close to her when she slept, since that was when she was most vulnerable.

Hermione knew she was lucky that Dumbledore was letting her use a time turner again - she wanted to take so many extracurriculars, and she had a constant nagging feeling that she wouldn't be very worried about Ancient Runes next year. By now, the professors at Hogwarts knew how headstrong Hermione Granger was when it came to her studies. She was granted this request without much trouble or objection. At least, if there was any, she didn't know about it. It was probably better she didn't - she would have tried to figure out why.

She headed into the Great Hall, sliding in smoothly next to Ron and across from Harry. They were still going on about the Quidditch game from the day before. She tucked into her toast and eggs, effectively tuning out their conversation. Hermione could never quite understand their fascination with the sport, but then again, they couldn't grasp why she was so intrigued with academics. To each their own, she supposed.