Hermione stared at the photo in her hands. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes again. She would never see Ron and Harry again. They were both dead.
Voldemort had thrown the Killing Curse at Harry and Ron had jumped in the way. Her lips twisted into a wry smile. Doubtless Ron had thought he was saving the day, but five second later a second curse flew towards Harry. She wasn't sure who had thrown the second curse but she suspected it was Lucius Malfoy.
And now, Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes, everything had changed.
Voldemort had won.
She swallowed hard to stop the hysterical laughter from bubbling up. She couldn't believe it. Hogwarts had been taken. She and the other students who had been loyal to Dumbledore and the Order had been bundled up into Gryffindor Tower and guards were posted at the entrance. The staff had been lined up and Voldemort had taken malicious pleasure in killing all of them.
Hermione's stomach twisted as she saw him walk up to McGonagall and caress her face with his wand. McGonagall had spat in his face but he just laughed.
Snape was standing with his fellow Death Eaters, an impassive expression on his face. Hermione had almost flown at him to pummel him with her bare fists. Such a Muggle reaction, she thought. And then she realised that Muggle was going to become a dirty word. Like Mudblood.
"I'm sorry," Lavender said softly from where she was lying on her bed staring at the ceiling.
Suddenly, Hermione was furious. She glared at the other girl. "You're probably going to be fine."
Lavender looked over at her, startled.
"You're pureblooded," Hermione snapped. "He's not going to alienate his primary power base, is he? He's probably consolidating power at the Ministry right now. Then he'll come back and you'll get to go back to your mother and father." Her lip trembled. "While I…"
"Don't do this," Lavender pleaded. Her makeup had been smudged and her long hair was tangled. "I'm not on his side. None of us were. Don't blame us, just because…"
Hermione snorted. Lavender couldn't even say it. She knew she was being unfair. It wasn't Lavender's fault. It wasn't anybody's fault except Voldemort and his Death Eaters. But it was so easy to blame somebody. She was probably going to die. Together with the Weasleys and anybody else who had stood up to fight against Voldemort. He couldn't risk insurgents, she knew that. She'd studied enough Muggle and wizarding history to know what would happen to her.
She'd probably be made an example of.
Hermione shuddered. I'd be safe if I were a pureblood, she thought suddenly, but then immediately thought it was unfair. She would have fought against Voldemort just as strongly if she was pureblooded. Just like Ron did.
And look where that got Ron, the little voice in her mind insisted. He's dead. His parents are dead. And soon everybody in their family, even Ginny will be dead. That's where your precious morals got you.
Hermione's hands trembled. She could fix all of this. She knew she could. It would be so simple.
Last year, she had come across an incantation in a book in the library. It had been stuck behind another book in a dusty disused corner. At first, Hermione had thought it was useless, but the more she read of it, the more she realised that she had hit upon a gem that could change the war. It could fix everything. Fix it so that people needn't have died. Fix it so Peter never turned. Fix it so Sirius never went to Azkaban. Fix it so Neville's parents were never tortured into insanity.
She had taken the book to Dumbledore's office, but not before copying out the incantation into a spare notebook. She had expected Dumbledore to caution her, to tell her that he wouldn't use it until there was no other option. She knew how much the spell would cost.
She just hadn't expected Dumbledore's face to turn ashen. He had made her promise to forget all about the spell, to forget all about the idea that history could be fixed. Not like using a time turner, that could fix nothing, but that history could be truly changed for the better.
"Promise me, Hermione," Dumbledore had said insistently, looking into her eyes. He had thrown the book in the fire and she had watched it burn, secretly glad she had written down the incantation.
She had promised, but now she wasn't sure.
Everything could be fixed. It could be perfect again. She didn't know why Dumbledore had been so determined to not to use it. It was a lot of responsibility for one person. The incantation was designed to tap into the person's mind and basically change the world. The person chanting it had to keep a clear idea of the world they wanted to create in their mind.
Hermione had been sceptical of the idea, but from Dumbledore's reaction she had surmised that it was true.
She swung her legs off the bed and knelt down. Feeling below her bed, Hermione pulled out her notebook. Lavender looked briefly at her, a spark of curiosity in her eyes before turning away. It was obvious that everybody else in the room was in their own world.
Hermione flipped open her notebook to the right page and stared at the page. When she had gone to Dumbledore with the spell, she had expected him to take it and use it when the situation was direst. After all, it was a huge amount of responsibility. In the wrong hands, it could create a horrible world. But in the right hands, Hermione was positive it could make the world a better place.
I could eliminate poverty, she thought suddenly. I could cure diseases. I could make everybody happy.
But no sooner did she think that, she knew that she couldn't. It would be too complicated to hold that idea in her mind, especially when the spell noted that the person needed to believe in the world they were creating.
Hermione knew she believed in a world where the wizarding world was at peace and where she wasn't being persecuted for who she was. She opened her mouth to recite the incantation and hesitated.
Perhaps Dumbledore had a good reason for burning the spell. Maybe it would backfire on her and create a worse world.
Hermione stared around her at the blank faces. Her classmates as well as people from other houses that she barely knew were huddled in small groups. Some were crying. Others were rocking back and forth.
She knew she had to. Not just for her own sake, but for the sake of her parents and her classmates and everybody whose lives Voldemort had destroyed.
Biting her lip, Hermione reached under her bed again for the knife she used for Potions. The spell said that she needed to draw blood and recite the incantation while keeping the image of the world she wanted in her mind. It had recommended that the image of the world be as simple as possible to avoid complications. Hermione had the inkling that the spell might be dark, but she didn't care any more. Her friends were gone. They were at war. No. They had lost the war.
She wanted peace.
That was what she thought of. Peace. The idea of the wizarding world at peace. The idea of people happy and safe in their homes. The idea that she wouldn't be persecuted for who she was. The idea of Harry and Ron and all those people alive and safe.
Hermione took a deep breath and took the knife. She sliced into her hand deeply and was careful to keep her breathing steady. After all, she didn't want to faint or anything.
Holding the notebook with her other hand, she started the incantation, all the while keeping the image of peace in her mind.
-***-
Hermione opened her eyes slowly. She moved her arms experimentally. She didn't feel dead. And she definitely would have been dead if her incantation hadn't worked. She sniffed slightly. It smelt like her room at home. The blankets smelt like her blankets. And she could even smell the slightly burnt smell of her mother's casserole.
She didn't dare to hope. Perhaps the incantation had worked. Perhaps everything was fixed. Perhaps the wizarding world was at peace.
Hermione felt a slight tendril of pride creep into her heart. She had brought peace to the wizarding world. It was definitely something to be proud of. She had the sudden thought that perhaps it might not have worked out as well as she would have liked, but she pushed the thought out of her head. She hadn't even seen this world yet.
She opened her eyes and was glad to see her room, just as it had been for the past seventeen years. She swung her legs out of bed and ran out of the door. She skidded to a stop in the kitchen. Impulsively, Hermione hugged her mother.
Her mother, after a slight pause, hugged her back. "Are you okay, sweetheart?" she asked.
Hermione stared at her in puzzlement. "I'm just happy to see you," she said. She knew she normally wasn't so demonstrative with her emotions, but this was a special occasion.
Her mother gave her a hesitant smile.
Hermione got a distinct uncomfortable feeling but she brushed it off. She kissed her mother on the cheek and grabbed the newspaper off the kitchen table on her way to the living room. She sat down on the couch and looked at the date on the newspaper. It was the same date. Good, she thought. She skimmed through the lead Muggle stories and it all seemed to be the same in her world.
Hermione realised she needed a copy of the Daily Prophet. She frowned. There was a copy in her room.
High Chancellor Declares Tenth Year of Peace
She stared at the headline. High Chancellor? She skimmed the article. It seemed that the High Chancellor was a similar position to the Minister of Magic. The only picture accompanying the lead article was a picture of smiling children standing in Diagon Alley.
Frowning, Hermione wondered who the High Chancellor was. She supposed it was good that there were ten years of peace. Obviously Voldemort was dead. She couldn't help smiling. Harry was undoubtedly alive! And Ron!
Suddenly, Hermione knew she needed to go and see one of her best friends. She wanted to make sure that they were alive and she wanted to put her arms around both of them again.
She hesitated. She probably couldn't see Harry, she realised. She didn't know if he was living in Godric's Hollow with his parents or even if they were alive. She felt a sudden stab of guilt. She had been thinking of peace and her own safety and her friends, but she hadn't thought of Harry's parents. She hadn't thought of saving them. And she couldn't remember the incantation so she couldn't say the spell again if this world had ended up wrong.
Hermione brightened. Doubtless the book would still be in the Hogwarts library. She could just go and find it again if there was something wrong with this world.
There was a part of her that told her she was being ridiculous. That it was a dark spell and that she couldn't have changed the world so easily, to such a perfect world, without paying a heavy price. The voice told her that she was making hasty decisions and that she was probably in shock from losing her friends. Hermione pushed those thoughts away. Neither Ron nor Harry were dead in this universe. Their world was at peace. That's what mattered.
-***-
Hermione felt irrationally nervous as she stood outside of the Burrow. She had quickly had a shower and dressed, barely looking at herself in the mirror. She was too excited at the opportunity to see her friend again. She hadn't wanted to ask her mother for a ride, so she decided to take the tube and then a taxi to a Muggle town near the Burrow. She had expected her mother to protest against her going out without any notice, but her mother had been surprisingly accommodating. Hermione thought there might have been a tiny note of fear in her mother's voice when she said yes, but she brushed it away. It was just her imagination. Why would her mother, the mother she had loved and who loved her, fear her?
She lifted up her hand and knocked briskly on the door.
A few seconds later, a hassled looking Molly Weasley answered the door. Hermione couldn't help smiling. Molly looked just the same as always. "Hi," she said, unable to help the slight note of nervousness that crept into her tone. "Is Ron in?"
"Sure," Molly said, with a smile. "Are you one of his friends from school?"
Hermione blinked, but Molly had disappeared, undoubtedly to get Ron. Maybe Molly had temporarily forgotten her, but Hermione was starting to get an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. It felt like it was churning. It was the same feeling she got before an exam she hadn't studied her best for.
Ron appeared at the door, his usual cheerful smile on his face. That smile disappeared the moment he saw Hermione.
Hermione felt her heart drop. The look Ron was giving her. It was close to hatred. It was almost the same look he gave to Draco Malfoy every time they passed in the Hogwarts corridors. "Hi Ron," she said weakly.
"What are you doing here?" he snapped. "Don't you have anything better to do than to bother our family?"
Hermione could feel tears welling in her eyes. This was too much. To watch Ron die and then to have him reject her like this. She couldn't stand it. "I'm not here to bother anyone!" she protested. "We're friends, Ron!"
Ron raised an eyebrow. "You've been inhaling too many potion fumes," he said flatly. "We are not friends. We could never be friends." He hesitated. "There was a time back in first year ... but that was before you got bundled up into that crowd."
Hermione felt lost. It felt like when she was back in primary school and she could barely understand what the teacher was going on about. She had felt so helpless back then. The same helplessness permeated her now. "I don't know what you're talking about. You're one of my best friends."
He stared at her in disgust. "I could never be friends with you." He then slammed the door in her face.
Hermione looked at the closed door and felt a tear trickle down her face. This world, it wasn't so perfect after all. That was blatantly obvious. Ron obviously hated her for some reason. He looked at her as if she was worse than Draco Malfoy. That hurt more than Hermione cared to admit. Still, she told herself, as she bit down on her lower lip to stop herself from crying, Ron's alive and that's better than nothing.
She couldn't help but think of the little book stuck in a back corner in the Hogwarts library. She could change this. She could fix it so that Ron didn't hate her. She had experience now. She would have to hold more in her mind.
With effort, Hermione stopped that train of thought. She suspected that this was what Dumbledore was talking about. Change the world was addictive. She doubted that most people would be able to resist the allure of changing the world to suit their own personal desires. But, she thought, I didn't do that. I changed the world for the better. I didn't give myself the perfect life. I gave myself the life I should have led.
With that thought in mind, Hermione squared her chin, lifted up her head and began the long walk back to the Muggle village.
-***-
At the village, Hermione couldn't help feeling as though everybody was staring at her. Angrily she wiped the tears away from her eyes. How dare they stare at her? Just because she was crying. Didn't they ever cry? She had just lost her best friend. Her lip trembled. Probably two best friends, she suddenly realised. Harry would most likely still be friends with Ron in this world.
The problem was that she had no idea what she had done. She remembered back to her own first year. She had hated Hogwarts until she had become friends with Ron and Harry after that embarrassing troll incident. That had been a turning point in her life at Hogwarts. Before that she had been lonely and had spent all of her time studying or crying in the girls' bathroom. After that she still felt lonely at times, especially when the girls in her dorm were gossiping. She always felt left out at those times, but she no longer felt bad enough to go and bawl her eyes out in a toilet stall.
But it seemed that in this universe the troll incident didn't happen, Hermione thought. She wondered if that had been it. Perhaps without that incident, Ron would have always thought of her as a stuck-up know-it-all brat.
She reached up, about to twine a curl around her finger, and hesitated. She always had the bad habit of fiddling with her curls whenever she was nervous or upset. It usually calmed her down. Except now.
Hermione yanked her hair in front of her and stared at it.
How the hell did she miss this before?
Instead of her normal frizzy mousy brown mess, her hair was somehow – bizarrely – straight. She looked closely at it. It looked darker than it normally did. Hermione was horrified. Did she dye her hair in this universe? She knew perfectly well how dye could ruin her type of hair. Her hair was normally incredibly dry. Dye would only make it worse.
Or, Hermione reasoned to herself, I could have simply used a spell.
She gave a sheepish smile and a passer-by looked at her strangely. Hermione immediately looked away. Obviously, she thought, I must look like some sort of dolt to these people.
Surreptitiously, she ran her fingers through her hair. It felt sleek and perfect. The kind of hair she had always wanted. The kind of hair she had spent hours slaving on for the Yule Ball back in fourth year. Muggle products worked on her hair for about half an hour and then her frizzy curls bounced back again. She had gritted her teeth and spent ages on getting a charm to stick down her curls and make them into the beautiful straight hair she had always wanted.
It obviously had worked by the look on Ron's face when she walked into the Great Hall.
Hermione's stomach churned slightly at the thought of Ron. The look he had given her had felt like it was tearing into the very heart of her. It had hurt so much. In fact, it hurt more now that she had time to digest the implications.
She stared helplessly around. Somehow she didn't want to go home. It was the summer holidays so she most likely wouldn't be able to get to Hogwarts. Besides, she had once seen the normal Hogwarts line and was horrified at the number of stops the Hogwarts Express train could have stopped at. It would take her about a day to get to Hogwarts.
She didn't want to face Harry's aunt and uncle. Besides, she didn't think she could stand it if Harry had the same reaction to her that Ron did.
Hermione dug her nails into her palm until she no longer felt like crying. She wasn't regretting her decision to use the incantation but she was beginning to think that it was rather rash to do it so quickly. Maybe it would have been better if she had waited. Maybe she could have fixed her own world. Maybe.
She gave a harsh laugh.
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. She could "maybe" herself to death.
Suddenly she heard the telltale cracking sound of somebody Apparating. She looked around and spied somebody in the bushes.
Hermione shivered and began to walk quickly towards the bus stop. Despite the incantation, old habits tended to die hard and she was terrified that there was a Death Eater behind the trees.
She chided herself mentally as she walked. It was unlikely that a Death Eater would be hiding in the bushes of a Muggle town. More likely or not she had simply heard the sound of lovers in the bushes and a twig snapping or something.
Hermione had almost convinced herself of this when somebody laid a hand on her shoulder.
She gasped and spun around, staring into the eyes of her attacker.
-***-
"Malfoy!" Hermione managed to get out. She groped around in her pocket for her wand for half a second before remembering that she had left it at home. She mentally kicked herself.
To her surprise, he didn't look menacing and he didn't have his usual look of disgust in his eyes as he looked at her. In fact, Draco Malfoy looked almost sheepish. "Sorry, Hermione," he said. "I'd forgotten how much you hated people coming up behind you." He laughed slightly. Hermione couldn't remember a single instance where she had heard Draco laugh non-maliciously but here he was, laughing warmly and genuinely. "I guess it would have served me right if I had my head blown off."
Hermione didn't know what to say. "Uh," she managed to get out before he interrupted her.
"Anyway, why are you here?" He looked around with a look of distaste on his face that Hermione found familiar. "Why are you in this Muggle town?" His lip curled. He then turned to her with a look of worry. "You know you only have permission to visit your… parents during holidays. You could be in serious trouble if anybody realises you were here. I could be in serious trouble!"
Again, Hermione felt like she was only understanding half of the conversation. Draco was speaking perfectly lucid English, yet the meanings of what he was saying seemed to be going over her head. And why had he paused before saying the word 'parents'? "Don't be ridiculous," she said tartly. "Why shouldn't I be here? I'm a Muggle-born, aren't I?"
She was surprised yet again when Draco turned to her with a look of sympathy. He put his hand on her forearm. "Oh Hermione," he said gently, "does that still bother you?"
Does what still bother me? Hermione thought, baffled. The fact that she had Muggle parents? That had never bothered her, not even when people had called her a Mudblood. In fact, right now, the only thing that bothered her was the creepy crawling feeling she got down her back as she felt Draco's warm hand on her arm. She folded her arms.
Draco gave her a slightly hurt look as he stepped backwards. "Look, I'm here to help. You're one of my best friends. And by the looks of it you don't even have a wand on you. If you did, you would have hexed me seven times by now. You could easily be hurt or killed by insurgents! It's not safe here. Come on, let me take you somewhere safe." He held out a hand.
Hermione stared at it. She didn't want to take it but she didn't see what choice she had. This world was obviously not the kind of world she had wished for. She was beginning to see why Dumbledore had told her not to use the incantation. She was completely at a loss as to what to do in this world. And Draco Malfoy – of all people – seemed to be being nice to her.
It made sense to Hermione that she should just go along with it. Besides, she reasoned, Draco Malfoy had a wand. She didn't. "Okay," she finally said, hesitantly.
He grinned at her, and she marvelled at how it softened his sharp features. "Since you didn't bring your wand, it'll have to be side-along Apparation."
She shivered slightly as he put his arm around her and they Apparated away together.
-***-
Hermione's first thought when she looked around the magnificent grounds of Malfoy Manor was that this would not have been her first choice of a safe location. It wouldn't have been her second or third choice either. In fact, she would have probably put it down as her last choice.
"You look surprised," Draco said, tilting his head to look at her quizzically. "You've been here a million times before."
Hermione began to get another uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. Just what kind of person was she in this world? What kind of world was this? Before today, she would have maintained that regardless of what kind of world she was in, she would always be the same person, but now she was beginning to doubt that reasoning. She would have never become friends with Draco Malfoy and come over to Malfoy Manor 'often' on her world, yet it seemed to be that was what her doppelganger did on this world.
"I'm just a bit tired," she fibbed, mentally crossing her fingers. She hesitated slightly before saying the next bit, feeling as though she was betraying her parents somehow. "I'm just not used to the Muggle world, being with my parents."
To her relief, Draco nodded with a look of understanding in his eyes. "Well fortunately," he said with a smile, "we have all the modern wizarding conveniences here. You'll feel at home again in no time. Do you want the same room as you had last time?"
Hermione looked startled. "Sure," she said quickly. "You'd better show me there though. I always get lost here."
She felt like she had just made another faux pas when Draco gave her another small look of surprise.
-***-
Hermione had to admit that her room was luxurious. She had once stayed at a five star hotel with her parents and even that room wasn't anywhere near as beautiful as the one she was in right now. The sheets were silk. Brocade curtains hung at the windows. The carpet. Hermione couldn't resist it any more. She took off her shoes and dug her toes into the deliciously thick carpet. The bathroom that was off her bedroom had gold taps and marble everywhere.
She gave herself a little shake. This was Malfoy Manor. She shouldn't get too comfortable here. After all, she needed to get to Hogwarts and find the book and the incantation again and fix all of this. Surely there was some way to undo this. She couldn't stand seeing her friends, her enemies, everybody act so differently to the way they were supposed to act.
She had to admit that being in this room was far better than awaiting execution as a Mudblood. Just. It was still Malfoy Manor, after all. For all she knew, Draco Malfoy had some sort of horrible torture waiting for her.
Hermione stared around the room and spied the wardrobe. Draco had said something about this being her room. She wondered….
Hermione opened the wardrobe and almost fell over in shock. Inside there were several outfits. And by the look of it, they were all her size. She was beginning to get the queasy feeling in her stomach that Draco was most definitely not lying when he said that they were good friends.
She examined the clothes in the wardrobe critically and couldn't help but notice that they were of exquisite quality. And no label on them either, so obviously wizarding made. There were also satin dress robes hanging up next to the normal everyday clothes. She took it out and held it up, meaning to see what it looked like when she caught sight of herself in the mirror.
Hermione stared.
It was blatantly apparent now that she hadn't looked at herself at all in the mirror when she had dressed that morning. Even her own examination of her hair in the Muggle village hadn't given her enough of an insight into the change her body had somehow undergone.
The rational side of her realised that if her duplicate self was friends with the Malfoys then a little physical change wasn't such a huge deal, but somehow this felt worse. She felt like it wasn't even herself in the mirror any more.
The person who looked back had a slightly haughty expression. Her face was about the same. The hair, of course, was drastically different.
Hermione frowned. She cupped her breasts experimentally. Were they bigger? She wasn't quite sure, but somehow the top she had dragged on this morning seemed to make them seem bigger. She suddenly noticed a slight lipstick stain on her top and realised that her alternate self must be in the habit of wearing makeup.
Hermione almost never wore makeup. She found the sensation uncomfortable. Still, she reasoned, Malfoy hadn't seemed to notice anything different about her physical appearance today. So maybe she wouldn't have to put on makeup and preen just like those types of girls she had always hated.
She knew perfectly well that if she gave out any sign that she wasn't their Hermione that dire consequences would arise.
Hermione scrutinised herself in the mirror again. Now that she looked closely, there really weren't that many changes. It just seemed that this body, this face seemed to settle into that slightly arrogant expression very easily. It didn't feel the same as her body. Not when she was looking at it in the mirror.
Hermione shivered slightly. The expression on her face was very reminiscent of the normal expression on Draco's face.
There was a knock on her door.
"Come in," she said, clenching her fists to keep her voice from quavering in fear.
Draco poked his head in. "Father wanted me to let you know that dinner will be served in an hour and that the attire should be semi-formal." He rolled his eyes and Hermione, automatically, grinned at him.
"Typical," she said, before she could think.
Draco grinned back and closed the door.
Hermione sat down on the edge of her bed. It seemed to happen so easily to her, that sort of easy banter with Draco. It was like her body knew what to say and what to do but her mind obviously didn't. And semi-formal attire for dinner? It was ridiculous. She frowned slightly and wondered where his mother was.
She decided not to ask. She had already drawn enough suspicious glances from Draco already. It was best to remain innocuous until she could get to Hogwarts somehow.
With a sigh, Hermione turned to her clothes in the wardrobe and wondered what she was going to wear to dinner.
-***-
To Hermione's relief, Draco came to escort her to dinner. He looked approvingly at her outfit. "It looks good on you," he said. "I remember when you bought it."
She smiled tightly. In all honesty, Hermione liked her outfit too. She wore the dress robes and they were a beautiful dark blue colour and clung to her body, showing off her curves well. By the look in Draco's eyes, she realised that he thought so as well.
She placed her hand on his arm, and together, they walked down to dinner.
-***-
As soon as she sat down at the dinner table, Hermione began to feel like it was a bad idea. Lucius was regarding her with a very suspicious expression on his face and immediately began to ask her questions as to how her holidays had gone.
Hermione tried to answer his questions as vaguely as possible. She didn't even know what house she was in at Hogwarts, but somehow, she suspected that it was probably Slytherin. The more she answered his questions, however, the more the suspicious frown on Lucius's face grew and the more Draco looked at her in puzzlement.
"Here," Draco said, during the dessert, handing her over the plate of chocolate cake. "Have some. You're looking really run down and tired."
Hermione tried to smile, but she suspected from the look on Draco's face that it came out rather twisted. "Thanks."
"So Hermione," Lucius said, sipping his brandy. "What do you think of the High Chancellor's new policies regarding Muggles and Muggle-borns?"
Hermione froze. She had no clue what he was talking about. In fact, she was rather surprised he didn't just use the word Mudblood. "I'm still undecided," she said carefully.
"I think it's an excellent idea," Draco said, with a nod. "Muggles are different from us. They cannot hope to comprehend even a micron of our universe. They aren't equipped to deal with a magical child. This new Muggle screening process will ensure that magical children are put with magical families."
Hermione could feel a sick feeling building up in her stomach. It sounded like they were talking about stealing children away from Muggle parents. It was ridiculous. Surely the Muggle police wouldn't allow them to get away with it. The Muggle PM was in constant contact with the Minister. He couldn't – wouldn't – just let them do that, would he? She couldn't help feeling like she had made a giant mistake creating this universe. It was obvious they weren't at peace, least not the kind of peace she had wanted to create.
"I'm surprised at you, Hermione," Lucius said smoothly. "Given your background, I would have expected you to have expressed strong views by now. You are usually very outspoken."
Draco too was staring at her. Hermione felt her heart sink. Draco's expression was less puzzlement and more suspicion now.
"You mean given my Muggle-born background," Hermione said, trying to stall for time.
Draco stared at her and stood up slowly. "I thought you were just making a joke earlier today." He looked over at Lucius. "Who or what are you?"
Hermione was puzzled. She had no idea why she had said wrong. Surely Draco knew she was Muggle-born. She had obviously just come from visiting her Muggle parents. "I'm Hermione Granger," she snapped, the fear evident in her voice. She mentally kicked herself for it. It was obvious she was found out, but did she really need to be so obviously scared?
"No, you're not," Draco countered.
She stared at him. "Don't be ridiculous," she said faintly. "I'm obviously Hermione Granger."
She saw Lucius put a restraining hand on his son's arm. "You'd better leave, Draco," he said.
Hermione felt a shiver slide down her back as she watched Draco leave. As much as she hated the Draco Malfoy of her world, the Draco she had gotten to know here seemed okay. In any case, he didn't terrify her as much as Lucius did. She watched as Lucius walked across the room to where she was sitting and sat down on the chair in front of her. He seemed to be studying her like she was some sort of specimen in a jar. "What?" she snapped.
To her surprise he laughed slightly. "I'm surprised. I thought you insurgents thought yourselves above using Dark Magic like the Polyjuice Potion. I wonder who you really are?" He reached over and ran one finger down her cheek.
Hermione jumped up from her chair. "I'll just be leaving now," she blurted out.
He just looked at her. "No, you won't."
She saw Lucius finger his wand slightly. The threat was obvious. "Now, now," he said, as she sat back down again slowly. "I thought you insurgents were better prepared than this. They send one of their operatives in without even training her?" He peered at her. "Or are you a him? And wandless too. But I have heard that you have been having trouble getting wands recently. But even I would have thought you would have heard of my wife's death."
"But I'm not an insurgent!" Hermione protested.
Lucius gave her a slight smile. "If I had a knut every time somebody told me that. Well I wouldn't be any richer than I am now, but you get my point."
She glared at him. "What makes you so positive that I'm not Hermione Granger?"
Lucius smiled, a slow and lazy smile, and looked down at her. Hermione couldn't help but lean backwards. He was uncomfortably close to her and it made her want to run away screaming. This was Lucius Malfoy. She had heard so many horror stories about what he had done to Muggles and Muggle-borns. Yes, this was a whole different universe, but she couldn't help think that this Lucius Malfoy was probably as equally bad as the one in her universe, if not worse. "I'm definitely positive, my dear. The Hermione Granger I know would not have that pathetic look of fear in her eyes."
Hermione narrowed her eyes and tried to summon up her courage. "I'm not scared," she spat. "I'm angry."
Lucius leaned over her, his face centimetres away from her face. She could feel his warm breath on her face. To her complete and utter surprise, Lucius kissed her. She could feel a warm tingle flow through her. To her horror, she gave out a low throaty moan as Lucius's fingers slipped underneath her robes. He ran a thumb over one of her nipples and she shivered.
It took her a full five seconds to realise just exactly what was happening before she leaned backwards and turned her head aside. He slid his hand out of her robes but not before she could feel his hardness pressing against her.
Lucius stepped back. "And now," he said, sounding amused, "I'm positive."
Hermione was horrified. Surely she didn't have some sort of relationship with Lucius Malfoy in this universe. She could stand being on talking terms with him. She could stand the fact she was obviously good friends with his son. But to have a relationship with Lucius? It was ridiculous. Above and beyond the fact he hated Muggle-borns, he was also more than twenty years her senior. "I... uh..." she managed to get out. "I no longer wish to continue our relationship."
There was a predatory expression in his eyes. "Our relationship? Our relationship, Hermione?"
Hermione suddenly felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. It was obviously a bluff and she had fallen for it. Completely. She could have slapped herself on the forehead.
"I would have expected better from the insurgents," Lucius commented casually, twirling his wand. "You obviously haven't done your research."
Hermione bit down on her bottom lip.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't dispose of you right now. The High Chancellor gives me full authority to dispose of insurgents." Lucius sounded bored. He had returned to his chair and was leaning back on it.
Hermione had the irrepressible urge to run away. She knew it was ridiculous. She didn't have her wand and Lucius was already holding his. Besides, she didn't know her way around Malfoy Manor. Where would she run to? She was beginning to get a sinking feeling that Dumbledore might have been completely right when he had told her not to use the spell. "I can explain," she said, screwing up her courage. She would tell him the truth. There was nothing else she could say.
-***-
Lucius stared at her. There was surprise in his eyes. "Obviously," he said grimly, "I thought wrong." She felt a brief surge of hope. Maybe he believed her? But then with the next sentence, he extinguished the hope. "You're not an insurgent, as I believed. You're obviously an escapee from St Mungo's."
Hermione couldn't help but clench her hands in frustration. She felt a shot of pain go through her right arm and looked down. The cut she had made in her own universe was still fresh and red on her hand. "Look at this," she said, lifting up her arm. "Look at the cut."
He looked at it impassively. "All this shows me is that you sliced open your hand and are probably suicidal."
"It was from an incantation," she snapped.
Lucius's lips twisted into a wry smile. "You're trying to get me to believe that the Hermione Granger you described, that perfect little Gryffindor shining beacon of the Light, would have used a dark spell?"
Hermione bit her lip. She had to admit, it didn't sound believable. But it was true, nonetheless. "Why did Draco react that way?" she demanded, changing topics. She knew she needed to know as much as possible about this universe in order to survive.
Lucius frowned briefly and she could tell that she had thrown him slightly with her abrupt topic shift. "Because you're not Muggle-born."
Hermione stared. "Don't be ridiculous," she said faintly.
"I was as surprised as anybody," Lucius said slowly. "There was an uproar back when you were in first year at Hogwarts. The insurgents used it as a chance to argue that you were a tool of the High Chancellor. You were an inspiration to them beforehand. The most brilliant student in a century was a Muggle-born. To have you turn out to be pureblooded destroyed their ambitions."
Hermione found her hands shaking. She had never bought into the pureblooded propaganda that purebloods were better at magic than Muggle-borns. After all, she was the prime example of that being untrue. "That's... eugenics," she ground out. "It's ridiculous. Voldemort was a half-blood."
Lucius gave a half-smile. "I don't know why I'm explaining this to you. If you're an insurgent, you already know this. If you're truly insane and have somehow managed to get your hands on polyjuice, then you don't need to know this. But yes, that's true. High Chancellor Riddle is a half-blood. However, he still has magic running strong in his veins from his mother. Muggle-borns do not have that genetic advantage. It's simple science."
Hermione tried to steady her breathing. High Chancellor Riddle? Voldemort was in charge of all of magical Britain? This universe was getting worse and worse.
"And now," Lucius said, still in the same conversational tone, "I have to inform High Chancellor Riddle of our little problem. He will dispose of you as he sees fit."
"No," Hermione cried out, but Lucius had already flicked his wand. Ropes emerged and encircled her, tightening until she was bound firmly onto the chair. "I'm telling you the truth!"
"I will leave that to the High Chancellor to decide."
-***-
Hermione was startled to say the least. She wasn't sure what she was expecting when the High Chancellor emerged from the fireplace, but she was definitely not expecting this.
"Voldemort," she said flatly.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm surprised you know that name," he said smoothly.
Hermione pursed her lips. She had immediately recognised him, but only because of her research into the past of Voldemort. The man standing in front of her was still obviously Tom Riddle, but still human. In fact, despite his age, she had to admit that he was still rather handsome. He moved well and charisma practically exuded from him. She was beginning to understand why so many witches and wizards had followed him.
"But," he continued, "please call me Chancellor Riddle."
She just glared at him.
Riddle took a wand out of his robes and flicked it. Her ropes untied themselves and slithered off her wrists. Hermione rubbed her wrists.
"Lucius tells me that you claim to come from a different universe," Riddle said mildly.
Hermione pursed her lips and didn't say anything. She doubted Voldemort would actually believe her anyway.
"He told me what you said," Riddle said. "It so happens that I believe you."
"You do?" Hermione managed to get out.
Riddle gave her a brief smile. Somehow, with that mildly benevolent smile that reminded her of Dumbledore, it was difficult for Hermione to remember that this was Voldemort, one of the most evil wizards of all time. The man who had killed so many of her friends. "I am quite acquainted with that spell. You have taken over your counterpart's body. I suspect you have kept all of her attributes except for the scar that you used to complete the spell. To be honest, I'm surprised it worked."
"Why?" Hermione snapped.
Riddle looked surprised. "From what Lucius told me, you would be unfamiliar with dark magic. It can be dangerous to those who are not used to it."
Hermione was puzzled. This was Voldemort, for Merlin's sake. He was sounding almost reasonable.
"Sometimes Lucius can be a bit hasty," Riddle said conversationally. "I shall have a conversation with him. I have also brought you a history book of our world." He handed her over a leather-bound book. "My own personal copy," he said, with an almost abashed look when she glanced up at him. "I had it rebound." He walked to the door and then turned around. "I trust that you won't try to escape?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes.
Riddle left the room, and closed the door behind him. There was an audible click. Hermione snorted. It wasn't as though she could escape anyway. He'd just locked the door. She shivered slightly. He reminded her of Dumbledore. A little too much.
-
"I apologise for my actions earlier," Lucius said stiffly. He was standing before her, grey eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Chancellor Riddle explained the circumstance and believes you would be an asset to our universe. I trust you will read the history book he gave you. He told me to tell you that this was a completely different world and that not to have preconceptions of who we are."
Hermione stared at him. This universe was beginning to feel more and more bizarre. Firstly, apparently she was friends with Draco Malfoy. Then she was told that she was pureblooded. She discovered that Voldemort was actually quite charismatic and reminded her of Dumbledore. And now, Lucius was apologising to her.
"I will escort you back to your room," Lucius said. To her surprise, he took her arm and began to steer her towards the door.
Hermione struggled slightly but his grip was strong. It was obvious that despite his polite words, Lucius Malfoy still did not trust her. She was mildly amused that he didn't seem to take Voldemort's words on face value like he did in her own universe. "I can walk myself there," she snapped, even though she wasn't quite sure that she could.
Lucius raised an eyebrow. They were walking past rooms and rooms filled with beautiful tapestries and statues. As they walked past one room, Hermione looked in and noticed Draco sitting in front of a large mahogany desk.
"Father!" he exclaimed. "Where are you taking ... her?"
Lucius stopped, his grip tightening on her elbow. "Hermione Granger is a visitor from another universe," he said flatly.
Draco stared. "Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm escorting her back to her room," Lucius said, ignoring what Draco said.
Hermione bit down on her bottom lip. She trusted Draco more than she trusted Lucius. She tried to catch Draco's eye but he looked away from her, not before she caught a gleam of hurt in his grey eyes.
"Come alone," Lucius ordered.
"High Chancellor Riddle already confirmed that I've been telling the truth," she said, trying to sound reasonable as they continued walking. "You know that I'm no threat to you."
Lucius stopped and to Hermione's surprise, with one swift motion, pushed her into a doorway. She caught her breath as he loomed over her, using his hands to pin her hands by her side. "All I know," he said softly, his breath caressing her ear, "is that the High Chancellor believes you. Even if that is the truth, you are no allies of ours. It was apparent from your little outburst during dinner that you side with the rebels." He snorted in disgust.
She shivered slightly. He was so close to her. There was something powerful about Lucius and where his hands were holding her wrists in place, she felt tingles.
Oh fuck, Hermione thought. This really can't be happening. She felt herself getting wet between the legs. She really couldn't be attracted to this man. It was impossible.
Before Hermione could say anything, Lucius had whirled her around and with one swift motion, he opened the door behind her and she was pushed through. Hermione stumbled slightly and once she had caught her balance once more, the door behind her had been closed. She heard a click.
Stubbornly, she tried the doorknob but it was definitely locked.
With a sigh, Hermione looked around the room and realised that she still held the large leatherbound book in her fingers. She threw it onto the bed. There was no way she was going to read their history book. Besides, she reasoned, it was likely that it was a false account of history anyway. Her father had always said that history was written by the victors.
Of course, Hermione realised, her father in this universe was most likely another man, a pureblooded wizard. Unless they were lying to her, which she wouldn't put it past them.
She shook her head.
It was ridiculous. She couldn't keep on thinking like this and questioning everything. It would drive her insane.
-***-
The following morning, Hermione found herself reading the book the High Chancellor had given her. She told herself that she wouldn't take any of the contents are face value, but her curiosity was getting too much for her.
She frowned as she was flipping the history book. It seemed that Voldemort had won the first time in this universe. He had never created horcruxes and had somehow ended up as High Chancellor. Dumbledore and his compatriots had become insurgents – or as the book labelled them, terrorists. Their victories were minimal and mostly bloodless, however, Hermione felt her heart sink when she heard that Dumbledore had led a party to kill the people who were taking Muggle children away from their parents. Apparently the raid had gone horribly wrong and the Muggle children had died.
She didn't want to believe that the book was telling the truth. It was unbelievable and horrible. It was as though her entire world and beliefs were inverted.
She continued reading. It seemed that this universe – or at least its British wizarding world – was mostly at peace. Muggle children were stolen away from their parents – relocated, according to the book – and resettled in the wizarding world. But still, it seemed that Voldemort's party had not won on anti-Muggle and anti-Mudblood hatred. They had won with science.
Hermione felt sick. It seemed that some bright youngster had proven that Muggle-borns were less magical than their pureblooded and half-blooded counterparts. This had convinced the entire wizarding world to follow Voldemort.
Dumbledore and everybody who followed him were considered ridiculous ancients who refused to follow science and progress. They wanted integration with the Muggles, where recent studies had shown that their current system had caused the least amount of bloodshed in recorded system.
Hermione felt her heart sink. It felt as though her entire world was spinning out of control and everything she thought was right, was actually wrong.
She dug her fingers into her palms. She would have to get out of her room somehow and try to get out of Malfoy Manor. Perhaps she could find more information that way. Perhaps she could find something on how to get home.
-***-
Getting out of her room was surprisingly easy. It was somewhat more difficult to get out of Malfoy Manor. She tried to find an exit but somehow she kept on getting lost in the corridors. Finally she found herself in the library.
Hermione wondered if she could find more information on this universe in the library. Perhaps something would give her information on how she could get out of this place. No matter how terrible her universe was, this universe somehow seemed worse. It was all wrong.
"Hermione Granger," an icy voice said behind her. "What are you doing here?"
Hermione felt her stomach sink. She spun around. Standing there, in the semi-twilight of the library, was Lucius Malfoy. "Lucius," she said flatly. "I wasn't aware that I was a prisoner."
To her surprise, he smiled slightly. "You really aren't that different from our Hermione."
She stared at him. "So you do believe me now?"
"I had another talk with the High Chancellor," Lucius admitted. "It now seems likely to me that your story is accurate." His eyes hardened. "This still does not mean that you are not an enemy."
She ignored what he said. "I just want to get back to my own universe."
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "It's impossible," he told her. "I had a look at the spell myself. It is completely impossible."
Hermione felt her stomach twist. Surely he was lying to her. It couldn't be possible. Surely she wasn't stuck here. A part of her mind countered with the fact it was her own fault when she was here in the first place. Everything in her mind was counting on being able to get home. Lucius's words felt like a bucket of ice cold water drenching her.
He laid a surprisingly gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Hermione."
Hermione shivered at his touch.
-***-
Somehow, Hermione found herself sitting at the Malfoy Manor dining table with Lucius Malfoy, eating muffins and drinking tea. A part of her wanted to run away screaming but she knew that it would be pointless. She didn't know this universe and chances are what the history book said was true.
She raised a hand and ran it over her smooth hair. A thought suddenly occurred to her. "What you said last night," she said quietly, "about us having a relationship, was that true?"
Lucius's face took on an impassive expression. "I said that to provoke you," he said.
Hermione frowned. She would have believed him, except there was something that didn't feel quite right. For one thing, when Lucius had pressed her against the door last night, it had felt almost natural. She felt like she was used to it and for a brief second, she had wanted to kiss him.
Her stomach turned over slightly. She didn't really want to think about the fact that she might have been having a relationship with Lucius Malfoy in this universe. Even though, even Hermione had to admit that she was attracted to the man.
It was early in the morning, but he was already dressed in heavy silk robes. His long blond hair was tied back with a black ribbon and she fought the ridiculous urge to run her fingers through it. His grey eyes seemed impassive but when she looked closely, Hermione felt like she could sense some emotion behind them, but she wasn't sure what it was.
"Oh," she said, not knowing what else to say.
Lucius sipped his tea and she nibbled on a chocolate muffin. For the first time in her life, Hermione felt almost helpless. Well, she thought, that wasn't quite right. Somehow, she felt like she was at home here in Malfoy Manor as well, more at home than a friend of Draco's ought to have been. Yet, she also felt like she didn't know what to do.
Here she was, in a completely different universe, with completely different rules and completely different ideas of right and wrong.
"You can stay here as long as you'd like," Lucius said abruptly.
Hermione couldn't help but feel a brief warmth slide through her veins at those words. "Thank you," she said quietly.
She thought she might just take him up on that offer. Until she truly understood this universe anyway, she might as well stay here. That and the fact, Hermione admitted, that she was really very attracted to the man. He had filled her dreams last night and an insane part of her had wished he had just fucked her up against the bedroom door.
Now that she thought about it, her left nipple tingled from where his thumb had brushed against it last night.
Hermione blushed.
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Are you alright?"
"Certainly," she said briskly. "Perfectly fine. Never better."
A brief smile crossed Lucius's face. She couldn't help but think that he knew what had just crossed her mind.
"You'll be safe here," Lucius said quietly. He reached over and silently placed his hand over hers. Hermione shivered and they sat there quietly together.
-***-
Epilogue
Lucius's arms entwined around her waist and he pressed a kiss onto her neck.
Hermione could feel a giant grin breaking out on her face. Three years ago when she had first ended up in this universe, she would have never thought that her life would end up this way. She remembered being disgusted at the thought of being attracted to Lucius. And then, she felt like she was somehow betraying her friendship with Draco if she pursued a relationship with his father.
"Don't be ridiculous, Hermione," Draco had told her. "My mother's happily married again. I have no problems with my father having a relationship." Typically, he had side-stepped her real question, but she had his answer nonetheless.
"We've done it," Lucius said quietly.
Hermione spun around and reached for his hands. "You mean..." she began, scarcely daring to believe it.
Lucius nodded. "The last of the insurgents have been put in Azkaban."
Three years ago, it was unthinkable that she would be rejoicing at the thought of Albus Dumbledore being in Azkaban. And yet, she did. Hermione folded her lips tightly. The day Dumbledore attacked Hogwarts in the name of helping Muggle-borns, was the day she lost sympathy for him altogether. In that attack, two children had lost their lives and Hermione couldn't forget the haunted looks of their parents.
"I want to see him," she said decisively.
Lucius smiled slyly at her. "I thought you would. Albus Dumbledore is currently enjoying the hospitality of the Malfoy Manor dungeon. The High Chancellor expects him by tonight. Intact, if possible."
-***-
Dumbledore shook his head sorrowfully at her as she entered. "Hermione Granger, what have they made you into?"
"What have they made me into?" she repeated, narrowing her eyes. "How about you? You murdered two innocent children the day you attacked Hogwarts."
"And their parents are some of the key proponents of the plan to remove Muggle-born children from their families," Dumbledore snapped, the sad look on his face disappearing. "I am surprised that you agree with their policies! Or has the knowledge that you're pureblooded warped your mind completely?"
Hermione gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to slap the old man. "I still visit my Muggle parents," she said, struggling to keep calm. "I barely know my biological parents. Not that this is any of your business. You killed innocent children."
"They were casualties of war," Dumbledore said coldly.
Hermione walked over to where he was shackled against the wall. "You're despicable," she said quietly. "I hope you rot in Azkaban for a very long time."
-***-
She was shaking by the time she got to the bedroom that she shared with Lucius. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, long and hard. "That man's a bastard," she whispered. "I can't believe he's the same person as he was on my world."
Lucius didn't say anything but just held her tightly. It was something she loved about him, the fact he knew when to just not say something and let her talk.
Hermione relaxed into his arms. As she did so, she looked around their bedroom and her eye fell on a pair of handcuffs that were on the bed. Looking over at Lucius, she raised an eyebrow.
"Well, I thought we could use them later," he said playfully, with a grin.
Hermione felt a sudden surge of sexual attraction for her husband. She was still incredibly attracted to him, which surprised her given that they had been married for almost a year. "Maybe we could use them now," she teased.
Lucius surprised her when he pressed her down onto the bed, holding her wrists in place above her head. Leaning down, he licked a line down her neck, sending pleasurable shivers down her spine. Hermione could feel herself getting wet as she wrapped her legs around him. She could feel Lucius pressing against her through the thin fabric of his robes.
As she rocked her hips up, he let out a low moan. "Tease," he whispered.
Hermione smirked and let him handcuff her to the bed.
-***-
Hermione looked over to where her husband was sleeping peacefully. She ran a hand through his silky blond hair. Settling back into the silk sheets, she realised that she was happy, in this most unusual of circumstances.
The Dumbledore of her universe had been wrong. The spell had truly given her a second chance.
-fin
Author Notes: I have this idea in my mind of writing some more in the actual body (i.e. not the epilogue) of this story, but I'm unsure.