Rewound (Drarry)

How to Hide From Hermione Granger

Everyday felt like a blur of deja vu from that first meeting onwards. Harry was living the days he'd already lived, and although he could make changes, if he simply did as normal then he was only seeing what he'd seen before. It was driving him mad.

So, he decided to do something different to the original timeline every day, if only to keep things interesting. Any chance he got to switch the timeline, he did. At first, when he'd realised that he and Draco had meddled enormously in the timeline and how it would then unfold, he'd panicked- what if they actually changed this for the worse? But he quickly dismissed this thought, that kind of thinking would prevent them from doing what they needed to, it could prevent them from saving lives. Saving Sirius. Nothing was worth that price.

So, now he embraced it.

So far, he'd instigated several impromptu Quidditch practices by coercing Angelina and the twins into a sporty mood, joined a Herbology extracurricular class with Neville on Wednesday evenings and started helping Hermione knit clothes for the House Elves in the rest of his free time. He was also discreetly making contact with Draco wherever he could, not including their letter sending. Whenever he passed him in the halls or they made eye contact across a classroom, he'd incline his head lightly, or sometimes even brave a little wave when no one was around.

Although the secret waving and eye contact made him feel slightly as if they were star-crossed lovers or some other ridiculous relation, he didn't care to stop. This burgeoning friendship, and the new activities he'd begun to take part in throughout the week were massively improving his mental well-being.

He supposed all those books and articles he'd read about self-care actually had a point, taking time for hobbies and friends really did improve your mindset. If only he'd known sooner.

His newfound joy of company also seemed to be having a positive effect on his friends, they seemed far more cheerful when he was around than they ever had been before, and he was rapidly becoming closer with Neville thanks to their plant-based time together.

His life seemed to be going excellently.

That was, until two days before the choosing of the champions.

It had been playing on his mind only slightly, but now he was becoming extremely concerned. Either he or Draco had kept watch on the map throughout every night, and every other time the Cup was available other people had been around. And yet, Moody-Barty still hadn't put Harry's name in, or, it seemed, even tried at all.

The only time he'd come close to having a chance, it had been late afternoon, with the autumnal evening chill already descending upon the castle. The Great Hall was empty, and Moody-Barty took his chance. He sidled over to the cup, magical eye swivelling ominously in it's socket.

He'd noticed Harry before he'd even fully stepped in the room.

"What are you doing, Sir?" Harry had asked.

Moody-Barty then took a overt step back from the Cup.

"Examining. Why does it interest you, Potter? Fancy putting your name in, eh? Want a bit of that eternal glory?"

Harry frowned, "No, I was just curious." He'd said, then feeling that perhaps he'd been too blunt for someone who should be under the impression he was speaking to a teacher, he added, "Sorry Professor."

"Alright, Potter." Moody-Barty had nodded, "You've surely got enough glory without that nonsense anyways." He patted Harry's shoulder roughly and stalked off.

But that seemed far too easy. Not even one more attempt? Surely a Death Eater so determined that he'd break free from the Imperius Curse to return to his master would be more vigilant than that.