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The question made complete sense to her. As far as Ginny was concerned, it was the responsibility of any time-traveller to not only remedy mistakes of the past, but to also take steps to ensure personal success upon returning to the original timeline.
She’d heard enough theory between Hermione and Theo to last her several spins of just such a Time-Turner. They might as well consider her an expert on the topic and hire her upon her retirement from Quidditch…not that that was happening any time soon.
“Hermione’s done it before! Saving Buckbeak, then Sirius. Who’s to say that other changes won’t somehow work out in the end, as long as the perception remains the same?” she reasoned.
The other two glanced at one another, obviously exasperated. A pair of swots with absolutely zero imagination–it was no wonder they got along so well.
“That was different, Gin–” Hermione tried to argue, like she always did.
“How is it different?”
“If you’d stop interrupting me, I’d explain!”
“Will your explanation be any different than what you’ve already told me before? Because the excuses are tired.”
Her friend squawked with indignation. “Just because you find them tiring, doesn’t make them any less true!”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “All I’m saying is that I don’t see any harm in a bit of meddling.”
“Maybe she’s right.”
“Theo!”
Hermione was the one to gasp, but Ginny was right there alongside her in disbelief. Theo hardly ever sided with her against Hermione, who not only was his coworker, but also one of his closest friends after she began her scandalous relationship with his other best friend.
Ginny had to admit the twinkle in his puppy eyes, framed by stupidly long lashes she only wished she shared, suited him. They, along with those dark curls, smattering of beauty marks across his pale skin, and wry smile, made Theo Nott far too charming for someone who spent most of his time with a nose buried in books.
“We could let her test run our prototype on something minor. Inconsequential.”
“Our Time-Turner is only meant for research! It doesn’t work like other Time-Turners that shift hours, at most. We’re aiming for years,” Hermione hissed, quickly building steam in her rapidfire retort.
Ginny could hardly restrain her excitement. This was far more information than the meager hints she’d gleaned up till now. If she could travel years, then maybe she could witness the birth of Quidditch, or investigate Aunt Muriel’s claim of a blood relation to the legendary witch Boudica.
“–if she’s a Flobberworm upon her return, then we’ll know further adjustments are needed.”
Wait.
“Excuse me? A Flobberworm? Why in Circe would I turn into that?” she exclaimed.
Again, the two of them turned towards one another for a silent conversation. Ginny really needed to get around to pressing Malfoy for Legilimency lessons.
“Well,” Hermione slowly began, “do you remember how I received my Apparition license months ahead of anyone else in my year?”
Ginny snorted at the memory. “Of course I do. Ron wouldn’t stop whinging about it for weeks after the fact.”
“I was already older than most of my peers, but my use of a Time-Turner in Third Year significantly increased that span. The reason why the original versions could only travel a handful of hours at a time was because no one had yet figured out how to negate the effects on the user.”
Theo picked up where she left off. “Were you to go back years, the moment you returned to your original timeline, you would instantly gain the difference, physically and mentally.”
Ginny frowned. So centuries were off the table. She’d rather not return a decade older, either. She was only in her late 20s, but hitting her middle years earlier than expected would close the door on the remainder of her professional career.
Then, she remembered Theo’s suggestion.
“Wait, you were going to let me try?”
He shrugged, lips twitching before he schooled them into submission. “I know better than to say ‘no’ to Gryffindor women. Volatile, life-endangering lions–fuck!”
He rubbed at his side with a grimace, visibly smarting from the Stinging Hex Hermione had shot at him both wandlessly and wordlessly.
“No, he would not have actually allowed you anywhere near our prototype, one you shouldn’t even know about.” Narrowing her eyes first at Theo, then at Ginny, she looked to be wrestling with whether or not to say any more. “I have a mind to–”
“I won’t say a word to anybody. I swear,” she interrupted.
Despite Hermione’s reluctance towards Memory Charms, Ginny knew it was still well within the Ministry’s power to wipe any memories containing knowledge about the inner workings of the Department of Mysteries.
“Enough to submit to an Unbreakable?” Theo challenged her, to which both witches looked at him, askance. “What? It’s the only way to be sure.”
An idea came to her, just then, that would hurry along a situation that might otherwise take weeks, if not more, to execute.
“How about this, Nott? I’ll do so only if you agree to a double date.”
His attention turned speculative as he openly grinned at her proposition. “My, my, Ginevra, are you that eager to get a taste of–”
“Oh, please. Not for me, you pillock. For Harry!” she burst out. The very thought of Theo, no matter how fit and pretty, as a romantic partner made her want to run screaming from the room.
“F-For…Potter?” His voice turned squeaky in what he’d probably consider “unbecoming,” and the sound of it prompted her to laugh aloud.
“Don’t act so surprised. You two have been eye fucking one another for years.”
To her immense pleasure, Hermione hummed in agreement.
Theo smoothed his hands down his front in an obvious attempt to calm himself. Even in his state, he couldn’t stop himself from preening. “And who, exactly, am I meant to bring along like a Mooncalf to slaughter?”
An ungraceful snort escaped Hermione. Ginny glared at her before answering.
“Parkinson.”
Two mouths dropped at the name. Self-consciousness prickled across Ginny’s chest, threatening to spread upward into her cheeks.
“We hit it off at your last party.” The one they’d thrown at Malfoy and Theo’s flat.
“Did you now?” The prat finally found his voice, the question lilting upward. Ginny would know that tone anywhere. It was a perfect match to the way her mother fished for information.
She wasn’t about to reveal how new to the entire situation she was; Ginny had always dated wizards up to now, never staying with any one of them for long. Harry had been her steadiest relationship, but they’d come to the same, peaceful understanding that they made better friends than lovers.
After loosening up from drinks and finding her conversation with Parkinson far more enjoyable than she could have ever imagined, given their former animosity, she was eager for more. With less booze. The safety of friends. A plan of attack.
Plus, she’d been annoyed at watching the two wizards dance around their mutual attraction.
“What do you say? A pesky vow for some mutual satisfaction?”
“‘Pesky’?”
They ignored Hermione’s yelp, for once of the same mind.
“Hermione, be our bonder,” he barked, without looking away.
“Of all of the ridiculous ideas, this one takes the cake,” Hermione muttered, though she pulled out her wand.
Ridiculous? Definitely. Wreckless? That was Ginny’s middle name.
This wasn’t any different from her approach to Quidditch, or any other area of her life. As far as she was concerned, anything worth having was worth the risk.
She gripped the offered hand, already imagining Pansy’s sharp wit and even sharper tongue sparring with her own.
“Here are my terms…”