Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
I have finally got around to re-doing this story! Woohoo!
Tangled Threads of Time
The dawn light seeped through the open window into the room, landing on the woman who laid asleep in blissful ignorance. A frosty yet gentle breeze tugged at her unruly hair, rousing her from her slumbering state. Slowly, she fluttered open her caramel-brown eyes, vision slightly blurred, she casually observed her surroundings. Hermione Granger awoke to a surprising realization that morning. She wasn't in her own bed. Nor in her own room, or any other room she could ever recall seeing before.
Her heart thumped in her chest, afraid to move or speak. Where am I? She thought briskly. What happened?
The last thing she could recall was her Hogwarts graduation. She stood amongst her peers and shook McGonagall's hand with tears that burned her eyes from glee and the sadness of a beginning and ending chapter of her life. She finished top in her class. Ron and Harry were both grinning, waving at her from the crowd along with the Weasley's and her parents, they were all beaming and beckoning supportive gestures.
They held a commencement party at the Burrow, filled with laughter and toasts of greatness, Ron pulled her away and...
Hermione felt a cold lump form in her throat. He asked her to marry him.
She accepted the offer with much enthusiasm, until the house shook and Death Eaters were seen flying over head…
Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt as he lukewarm sheets that rested over her form stirred; they shifted and made a small grunting noise followed by a groan of breath and creak of the wooden headrest that was gracefully carved in delicate designs above her pillow. Another grumble shortly followed.
Grunting? Thought Hermione anxiously, shutting her eyes tightly. Please let it be Crookshanks…
Gradually, she curved her neck to face whoever – or whatever – she was apparently dividing the bed with.
A man rested beside her, with sleep-ruffled blonde hair and a pale pointed face that was firm and rigid slept beside her. Hermione blinked and felt her breath trapped halfway through her lungs, her hand flew to cover her mouth to prevent a sudden gasp about to escape her lips and her fingernails clenched tightly on the sheets to keep her leaping out of her skin.
She was more terrified than ever. There he was, dozing there as bold as brass as if it was the most obvious thing to do in the world. She sensed her features flush as her eyes could not help but wonder to his bare chest that was somewhat visible past the covers. Hermione's brow creased, she squinted. He looks different…
Exceptionally cautiously, she stepped out of the bed, her mind screaming for her wand that was nowhere in sight. She decisively decided to grasp the white-silk dressing gown on the counter as a chill seeped through her skin. Glancing down at herself, she was stunned into a stumble. Her nightdress was far too petite and revealing to be something she'd ever wear in a reality – or dream, she settled on.
That's it, she concluded. A dream – a horrible, horrible dream. That's all it is.
Looking over at the person who appeared to be Malfoy, she clenched the robe around herself tightly.
Still… the voice in her head whispered. You better sneak out anyway.
Tip-toeing across the expensively furnished chamber and quietly out of the large oak doors, Hermione carefully closed them behind her before dashing as prompt as she could down the narrow hall and a marble flight of stairs. Portraits stared at her oddly as she passed; the bizarre house was dark and infinite, filled with outlandish objects. Hallways and corridors were enough for her to get fretfully lost. Eventually, she came across a kitchen, full of a ready-made breakfast. The aroma of freshly squeezed juices and extra crunchy bacon was almost too tempting to deny her protesting stomach, however her brain was still whizzing, trying to organize a decent and reasonable plan of action.
Without my wand, I might as well stand in the middle of the wilderness - sounding off a fog horn - with a big sign saying "vulnerable" tattooed on my forehead.
Her eyes wandered back down to her nightdress.
And a sign saying "skank" strapped to my butt.
The echo of footsteps caught her off guard, and a voice filled the house.
"Hermione!" it called.
It made her jump, her eyes scanned around the room, searching for a weapon that she could somehow use to defend herself. Snatching a nearby spatula, she turned towards the tone with a fake, cheesy grin, the spatula concealed behind her with her fingers closed tightly around it. The same questionable man walked into the kitchen in green-satin robes, looked at her a moment before sitting at the table and pouring himself a glass of juice.
"Good morning." he said gruffly.
She could no longer keep quiet. "Who are you?" she cried out, her voice raised higher than she would have otherwise decided. His grey eyes narrowed dangerously, disturbing his content mood. "Where am I? What is this place?" he just continued to glare. "Answer me!" she demanded.
The figure continued to watch her, sipping at the glass in his hand. He placed the crystal goblet back onto the table. A pause followed. "You are in the Malfoy Manor," he said finally, his fingers twitching. "I am Draco Malfoy. You'd think after ten years you'd know this."
"Ten years?" Hermione whispered, her mouth felt dry. "What do you mean?"
Draco drawled, amused. "Yes. That is how long we've been married isn't it?"
"Married?" her voice was so hushed she could barely hear herself.
"What is wrong with you today?" he said impatiently, grasping a copy of the Daily Prophet that was perched beside him.
"Married…" she mouthed again, the spatula behind her landed with a clang on the cold, tiled floor. The world appeared to twist in ways unnatural, the ring of the spatula echoed in her head, she felt sick. She grasped the cooking bench to keep her knees from shaking violently beneath her. Her stomach turned uncomfortably.
"What are you saying?" Malfoy snapped, slamming the paper back down on the counter in uproar. "That you suddenly don't remember what's happened in the last ten years?" Hermione stood there in shock, from the clueless look on her face Draco smirked. "Well, allow me to refresh your memory." His chair was sent backward as he backed her against the wall, kissing her roughly.
Once there lips separated Hermione quivered in disgust. "You and me are married," he said darkly. "We have been for ten years now, after we graduated Hogwarts. Our world - Wizard and Muggle – are ruled beneath the Dark Lord after his rise to power." Draco cocked his head in mild amusement at the terror in Hermione's eyes. "I work in the Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You stay home and ensure the House Elves do their job and company is well entertained." Hermione couldn't help almost going into her standard S.P.E.W lecture, but Draco lowered his voice and whispered into her ear. "You also ensure an heir in due time."
Her eyes widened, throat dry as she tried to swallow.
"I… I'm -?"
"Not yet." he said without doubt, looking onto her with bitter eyes.
She let out a sigh of relief as Draco gathered his seat at the table, opening the paper again, inspecting each page carefully as he ate slowly in thought. "Malfoy?" she mumbled, he didn't so much as acknowledge her. "I mean – Draco?" He didn't look up, but she knew he was listening. "I'm going to stay for a couple of nights at my…" her mind raced. "At my parents."
Draco gazed upwards at her, a small sneer tugging his lips.
"I'll be back," she said weakly. "I just need a few days to clear my head."
He then waved his arm in dismissal; Hermione felt a wave of hate wash over her until the dread and panic came flooding back with newly found intensity. Without a goodbye, she left the room before he could tell her otherwise. Running towards the grand front entrance, not bothered at the cold weather and her lack of shoes and clothing. The only thing she allowed on her mind:
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