zebiks.cc 
“You killed my father!” she screamed and cast, “IMPEDIMENTA!” at the leader of the group who had made her drink from the vial. Lovegood looked up from the grass, grabbed a large silver bell from her pocket and rang it repeatedly.
To the side of Igora, Felix shouted, “Expelliarmus!” and one of the two figures that had hung back from the exchange lost their wand. Felix added, “Stupefy!” and the figure fell to the ground. Before Igora could get a spell out, the other figure immediately disapparated.
She didn’t have time to dwell on it because as soon as she looked back to the center of the field, she dropped her wand in shock. Hundreds of shining, silvery lights ascended from the grass and began swarming anyone who wasn’t wearing a holiday jumper. Parkinson had thrown herself to the ground and pulled Bertrice inside the oversized jumper.
Igora watched in horror as the other figures tried to swat the Fae, listened as they screamed in agony. After only a few seconds, the three kidnappers had fallen to the floor, writhing, while the man who’d apparated into the scene late screamed at Hermione Granger for help.
“You said you knew what you were doing!” she replied. Granger motioned to Lovegood after that and the blonde rang the bell again. The Fae pulled back and united in a swirl of tiny lights sinking back into the ground.
Igora and Felix rushed down to the field and took stock of everyone. Hermione Granger was binding the kidnappers and taking their wands, Luna Lovegood had gone after the kneazle, and Pansy Parkinson still had Bertrice Zivantus in a tight embrace, rocking back and forth and whispering in the young girl’s ear.
“Everyone’s alright?” Igora approached. Felix went to help Granger with the kidnappers. Igora gazed around in case the figure who had disapparated might come back.
The black-ops man rolled around in the grass and groaned. “I am not alright.”
“Everything will be fine,” Granger nodded, ignoring the man.
A few feet away, the large green plant burst into flames.
Granger continued nodding, “This is fine.”
“Malfoy,” Harry looked around the alley as the sun filtered in over the buildings surrounding it. “It’s daylight.”
Malfoy took a step back from him and looked at the Timepiece in his hand. He blinked, shook it, and then scowled. “I don’t believe this!”
“What is it? Where—I mean when are we?” Harry’s heart pounded.
“Thursday morning,” Malfoy’s voice cracked. “Quarter to seven.” Thursday morning? That was a few hours before the penthouse massacre. Suddenly Harry was winded, sick to his stomach but riveted with the sudden understanding that they were supposed to be there. He had been there, he reminded himself. It wasn’t someone on Polyjuice, it wasn’t someone soul-swapped with him, it was him and it always had been. He turned around and made for the street. “Where are you going?” Malfoy called after him.
“The hotel,” Harry said over his shoulder.
Malfoy rushed after him. “Harry! Wait! We can’t!”
“Yes we can,” he said, “And we already have. I’ve seen it.”
“What do you mean?”
Harry couldn’t help the sudden consummate smile on his face. “I saw myself that day. I was in the elevator, Draco, and it stopped on the fourteenth floor. Two people were arguing in the hallway outside a room, our room, and the person in the hallway was me. I was wearing this same outfit!”
Malfoy stared in shock. He blinked and then looked away. “You saw yourself?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t think that was important? You didn’t think you should tell someone?” Malfoy’s voice rose, anger forging his features into a tense scowl. “You, Saint Potter, kept something hidden that could have potentially changed everything.”
“How?” Harry was getting angry now, too. “How would the knowledge of me being in that hallway, or some form of me, have helped?”
Malfoy let out an unsteady exhale. “It doesn’t matter now, does it?”
Harry rolled his eyes, “I’m going, you can come or stay here for all I care.” Malfoy pointed his wand at the plant and muttered something under his breath. The plant shrunk to the size of a chocolate frog, and Malfoy picked it up and put it in his pocket. “You couldn’t have done that earlier?”
The blond smirked. “You seemed to enjoy carrying it around.”
They walked the two blocks back to the Ashtyl in silence. Harry didn’t know what they would do when they got there. It was hours until the incident would take place. When they reached the hotel entrance, Malfoy stopped Harry from going inside. “I told you,” Harry started but Malfoy raised a hand to silence him.
“We should use glamours,” he suggested.
“It’ll be fine,” Harry said. “I’m not—I mean, Archie won’t be here for a few hours.”
Malfoy nodded and they went inside. Harry realized in that moment that Valentine would be there. “I want to hold the world on its knees,” the hotel manager had said. Harry suddenly became very angry. “Valentine is here,” he whispered. “We can—”
“Stop right there, Potter,” Malfoy commanded quietly. “As you said, in our pasts we have already been here. We obviously didn’t go after him this morning if he fires you later today.” Harry opened his mouth to protest but then realized he was right.
“Harry Potter!” Mortification hit Harry like a Stupefy as the man himself crossed the lobby to greet them. Valentine stepped up to the two of them, a giant smile plastered across his face. It made Harry sick. “Mister Potter, we are so thrilled to have you in the hotel.” Valentine nudged him. “You must have stayed under an alias last time, but it’s no worry. We here at the Ashtyl value our guests’ privacy.”
Harry realized he was expected to say something back. “Last time?”
Valentine’s eyes darted to Malfoy as he said, “A few weeks ago, of course! You dropped your cloak room ticket at Club Bezemkas. The gossip columns all reported that you stayed here. Anyway, my name is Valentine de Russo, I’m the hotel manager. If you’re in Edinburgh again, I would love to offer you a room for your trip. On the house.”
Malfoy narrowed his eyes and faked a smile. “Yes, we had such a lovely time,” he purred. “We would appreciate it if we could have the same room on the fourteenth floor. It had such a beautiful view, didn’t it Harry?”
“Er—” Harry had barely been paying attention. All he could think about was stopping himself from tackling Valentine to the ground and arresting him for Marwan Zivantus’ murder and Bertrice’s kidnapping. A voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Malfoy’s pointed out that Marwan hadn’t even been murdered yet. “Yes,” Harry agreed finally. “It was a nice room.”
“Well, let me see if we can get you back in that room,” Valentine led them to the counter. He shuffled behind and sifted through some parchments. “What room number was it?”
Harry paled. He’d never looked at the number. He knew exactly where it was but he couldn’t even think of what the number had been. Merlin, he really had made a terrible hotel porter.
“1409,” Malfoy said.
Valentine nodded. “It’s available,” he furrowed his brow. “We’ll just have to move a few things around. And what colors would you like displayed, Mister Potter? Gryffindor Red?”
“Green,” Harry said, just as Malfoy answered, “Blue.” They turned and glared at each other and then Harry realized the room had been decorated in green and blue. “Both,” he finally said but kept his gaze trained on Malfoy.
“Fantastic,” Valentine snapped his fingers and the spell key appeared in his hand. “Here you go, Mister Potter. The house elves should have it decorated by the time you get up there. Please, if you need anything, do not hesitate to ask.”
Harry turned back to him and flashed a fake smile. “Thanks, Valencio,” Harry said and walked away, his jaw clenching so hard he thought it might break. He and Malfoy didn’t speak as they waited for the lift and went up to the room.
Hermione sat outside Ron’s office in the DMLE ignoring the various people who gawked at her. Still in the ridiculous Christmas jumper, she found herself both too exhausted to move and too busy reliving the events of the day. Not only that, but she still hadn’t heard from Ron and it was well after three in the morning.
After the Edinburgh aurors took over the scene in Haddington, Hermione made sure the others were alright. They were collectively in shock, mostly that their plan had worked but also because absolutely nothing had gone wrong. Bertrice was safe and sound and Parkinson seemed to soften with every passing minute in the young girl’s presence. Pansy’s relief was almost contagious until Luna mentioned Harry and Draco.
“Whatever they did, it worked,” Pansy said. She winked at Hermione, “Even if we did most of it.” Then Igora and another official, Auror Phillips, apparated with Pansy and Bertrice to the Edinburgh Main Office and Hermione was left with an addled Cormac McLaggen, and Luna, who appeared to be settling her arrangement with one of the Solstice Fae. The small winged man glittered bright in the darkness, and judging by Luna’s increasing frown, seemed to drive a very hard bargain.
McLaggen ordered Hermione to come back to the Ministry and to her own dismay, she did so without protest. After all, she had promised Icarus Sableton she’d come back and work on Pandora. She thought maybe she’d have a moment to breathe, and maybe a moment to explain things to Ron.
“'Mione?”
She bolted up from the bench and took in the sight of the love of her life. She couldn’t help the large sigh that escaped her and pulled Ron into a firm embrace. “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried, Ron.”
