Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Robin Hood or HP
A/N This is my first attempt at a crossover. Some light housekeeping: Not epilogue compliant for HP, not series three compliant for RH. I'm just pretending the series two finale never happened.
Hermione Jean Granger knew how to handle herself. Her life had not been without danger, but she could always take whatever was tossed her way. Trolls. Werewolves. Hippogriffs. Dark wizards, dragons. Hormones, horcruxes, battles, Polyjuice Potion, frizzy hair. Her life had been nonstop excitement since the age of eleven, and Hermione had been rather hoping to have a safe, sensible year for a change. The war was over; she, Harry and Ron were safe. They had mourned their fallen friends and family, and had begun the healing process; she had finished her seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and although she had not been Head Girl (stupid McGonagall deciding it wasn't fair since it was not technically her class - stupid Ginny!), she was thrilled to have completed her magical education. Now she was on her own and taking some time off before she started working for the Ministry. Her life at that moment should be cake.
But right now there was no cake. Right now, there was a forest and a band of men surrounding her, all of whom were pointing arrows and swords at her.
Hermione was a sensible, clever girl: cool-headed and calm during crises. At the moment however, she had no wand, no backup, and no earthly idea where she was. All told, she was more than a little outmatched at the moment, not to mention horribly confused.
"This, m'lady, is an ambush," one of the men said in a lilting, playful tone.
"Tell us how much money you have - the truth, mind you," another one declared, "and we'll take only ten percent. Lie, and we'll take all of it."
There were six men around her - way too many for her to fight without a wand. They were almost casual in their stance, as if this was all good fun, but Hermione could tell fighters when she saw them. They would not let her pass.
But maybe she didn't need her wand. Perhaps it did not matter that these armed men would not let her pass - because surely she was asleep. How else to explain the fact that bizarrely dressed men were holding her captive in the middle of a forest, when moments ago she had been in the park, looking at a statue? There had been a bench nearby - perhaps she sat down to rest and nodded off instead. It was like she had blinked, and then she was here. True, her dreams were not usually so vivid, nor was she in the habit of falling asleep in public parks, but it was the only explanation that made sense.
"Sheriff got your tongue? Or are you so weighted down with wealth you can barely begin to add it all up?"
"She does not look like she has much on her," a new, softer voice said. With surprise, Hermione turned to the speaker and realized it was a woman. She did a quick check out of the corner of her eye and confirmed that the rest were men. A slight breeze blew her hair into her eyes. This did not feel like a dream.
"She doesn't look like a noblewoman, either," said one of the men, a tall, brawny man with a wild beard and hair that reminded Hermione of Hagrid. "She's dressed like Djaq - what would a noblewoman be doing dressed as a man?"
"Look at her hair - that isn't peasant hair. She's cleaner than any peasant I ever saw, too."
"Well, she's certainly cleaner than you are, Allan, but I don't know if that makes her a noblewoman."
"Search her; she's bound to have something."
"Do we attack poor travelers now?"
"Why isn't she talking? She's making me nervous; there must be something wrong with her. I knew we should have left well enough alone today."
The voices all jumbled together as Hermione stood looking around at her attackers. None of them had moved towards her, but were still staring back at her warily, their weapons trained. They were dressed very oddly indeed, as if they were wizards who had watched old muggle movies. Their weapons were old-fashioned, too. Just where in the hell was she?
Finally, one of the men stepped forward. He had an air of authority about him, and Hermione was instantly sure he was the leader of this little gang.
"Good day to you, lady," he addressed her in a pleasant tone. Hermione remained silent and the man continued. "You are traveling through our forest. Perhaps you've lost your way? You look like noble birth to me, but are we mistaken? Are you merely a helpless wanderer? Speak, lady, and we may decide to let you go."
"Who are you?" Hermione finally said. "What right do you have to detain me? Where am I? Why have you brought me here?"
"You are in our forest," the man said. "We neither brought you here nor invited you. In order to pass, you must pay the toll."
"What toll?" Hermione demanded. "What are you talking about? How is this your forest? Is this some kind of a trick? A trap? Are you Death Eaters - how did you get me here?"
The men looked at each other in confusion. Death Eaters? Was that some sort of code for the black knights? The girl sounded odd, too; although clearly English, her accent was unlike any they had ever heard. When added to her strange clothes, no one could get a clear idea of where she was from.
"She must've bumped her head or something," one of the men said. Hermione recognized him as the first one to speak, the one who declared the ambush, and named her 'cleaner than most peasants.' He was tall, with brown hair, a goatee and a bit of a smirk. "Maybe I better search her after all. You never know what she could be hiding under those clothes."
"Don't touch me," Hermione snapped, more afraid than ever. She wrapped her arms protectively around herself. "Tell me who you are."
"Robin of Locksley, m'lady," said the leader, sweeping an imaginary hat at her and bowing. "I am sure you know that you are in Sherwood Forest, and as such must answer to us."
Hermione burst out laughing. Suddenly, everything made sense -the only question was how they had done it. "Robin Hood? Oh, this is priceless. And here I thought Ron never paid attention. This must be a birthday present. How fun! I didn't know the Daydream Charms were quite this realistic. Robin Hood. Hmm."
"So you have heard of me, lady," Robin stated. "Funny how one's memory comes back. Now, are you going to pay the toll for safe passage?"
"And what happens if I don't?" Hermione asked saucily, putting her hands on her hips and raising her eyebrows. Robin Hood and his Merry Men, huh? Hermione had loved the story as a girl, and though Ron usually had little patience for muggle stories, he enjoyed the myth as well. He had listened closely as she and Harry told muggle stories on their last trip. They must have had George prepare this for her as an early present. "I suppose you'll turn me over to the dreaded Sheriff of Nottingham, will you?"
Robin looked at her quizzically. The woman did not appear at all intimidated now that she knew who they were. He looked back at his men; Little John shrugged, Much grimaced and Djaq motioned in a "you tell me" manner. "Lady what do you know of the Sheriff?"
"I know he's your sworn enemy," said Hermione, grinning. "And I know that Hagrid-looking gentleman must be Little John and then the rest of your Merry Men. This is very neat."
"Merry Men?" the goateed man, the one they had called Allan, protested. "Merry Men? What kind of name is that, I ask you? Do we look bloody merry to you, Princess?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I suppose I should play along," said Hermione. "I don't want to ruin anything. As you see, gentlemen, you have caught me without my purse." She swept her arms out in a grand gesture.
"The girl speaks in riddles," Allan said. "Robin, why don't you tie her up or something?"
Hermione grinned again - tied up by Robin Hood and his Merry Men? What did Ron have in mind? He must think her desperate or something - just because she hadn't had a date in some time didn't mean she needed pervy daydreams. Still, this was highly amusing. George and Fred (God rest his soul) were geniuses - this was way more realistic than she ever would have imagined. The ground felt solid beneath her feet, and she could smell the sweat of the men.
"Allan, have you ever seen this woman before?" Robin asked, keeping his eyes on Hermione. "When you were working for Gisborne?"
"I've never seen her before, Robin," Allan assured him. "I'd remember her, believe me."
"Sir Guy of Gisborne?" Hermione asked. "I recognize that name. He's one of the bad guys, right? What were you doing working for him? Spying for Robin?"
"The other way around, actually," one of the men answered. "He was lucky we took him back."
"Much!" Robin admonished. "Watch your tongue in front of this stranger."
"That's quite scandalous, Allan a Dale," said Hermione, picking his name out of the stories she remembered. She smirked at the expression on his face. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Much the Miller's son is right, you're very lucky Robin here forgave you. And is this gentlemen Will Scarlett? Where's Friar Tuck?"
"She has to be working for the Sheriff," Allan stated. "I'm not being funny, but how else would she know all of this about us?"
"We're not exactly unknown," Djaq pointed out. "Surely if she has heard of Robin, then our names must be known to her as well."
Hermione was a little bit puzzled. If this was a daydream, shouldn't they go along with whatever she did? Why were they acting like she was crazy? Wasn't this her drama to direct? Perhaps that was all part of the fun.
"Djaq, search her," Robin commanded.
Hermione allowed the small, dark-haired woman to rifle through her pockets, but Hermione didn't have so much as a knut on her. She had forgotten her wallet and had been about to apparate back to her flat when the statue in the park caught her eye. "What's a nice girl like you doing with this band of ruffians?"
Djaq ignored her and turned to her friends. "Robin, she has nothing."
Allan groaned loudly. "Well, we shouldn't let her go."
"Why not?" Will Scarlet finally spoke. "If she doesn't have any money, what use is she to us? No offense, ma'am."
"None taken," Hermione grinned back. She did hope they would let her stay and play awhile with them. When she had played Robin Hood as a little girl, she had always imagined herself bravely shooting arrows and tossing bags of gold to the poor masses. Her games definitely didn't involve trucking it on foot to Nottingham.
"What do you suppose we do?" Much asked. "Robin?"
"How do you know these things about us?" Robin asked.
"I thought everyone knew about you," Hermione said. "You're famous, Robin of Locksley. You're all famous. Tell me, where is Maid Marian? Shouldn't she be here with her one true love?" Hermione spoke this last bit lightly, but was shocked as all the men pointed their weapons at her again. They may have been playing with her before, but she could tell by their sudden change in stance that she had said the wrong thing. This was confirmed when Robin grabbed her roughly by the arms and shoved her against a tree, nearly knocking the wind out of her. This daydream charm had just become very not fun.
"Ow!" she wheezed. "Let me go!"
"What do you know about Marian?" Robin demanded, shaking her. "Who sent you here? The sheriff? Gisborne? Speak, or I'll -"
"She can't speak, Robin, you're hurting her," Djaq said softly, putting a hand on his arm.
Robin shook her off angrily, but lessened his grip on Hermione. "How do you know about Marian?"
"I don't understand," Hermione managed, very frightened. "I thought Lady Marian was with you?"
Robin shook her again and Hermione's head banged hard against the tree.
"Robin, that's enough!" Little John spoke.
Robin gave John an injured look, but backed away from Hermione, who slid down onto the ground without his support. Djaq rushed over to her side, while Robin reared on Allan. "Are you sure you've never seen her before? Not once, leaving Gisborne's bedchamber, or speaking with the Sheriff? They must have sent her because they're still suspicious."
"No, Robin, honest," Allan assured him.
"She's bleeding, Robin," Djaq said in an accusatory tone. She pulled out a scrap of cloth and pressed it to Hermione's head.
Wandless she may be, but stupid she was not. Despite the painful fuzz in her head, Hermione managed to think quickly. In her excitement, she had forgotten an important part of Robin Hood lore - no one was supposed to know Maid Marian was connected with him, not while he was an outlaw.
"I've been away from these parts for some time," she managed, hoping her newly invented story would sound plausible. "I thought Robin of Locksley and Lady Marian were betrothed. I apologize for the mistake."
"See, Robin?" John said. "There was no reason to manhandle the girl. Are you alright?" He bent his massive frame down to examine her and Hermione was again reminded of Hagrid. Robin and his band of men were supposed to be kind - outlaws, yes, but good men all the same. She hoped that was true. Despite the fact that her head was still throbbing, she nodded to show she was fine. She'd had worse injuries, after all.
"I still don't like it," Robin grumbled, but he looked a little guilty for his rough treatment.
"Lady Marian lives in Nottingham," Will explained to Hermione. "She is not associated with outlaws, and cannot have her name besmirched in such a way."
"Of course," said Hermione, still slightly dazed. "Forgive my ignorance." It was becoming rather clear to her that this was not a Daydream Charm, so how in the name of God had she ended up in Sherwood Forest, eight hundred years in the past? There were no Time Turners left, and even if there were, she certainly hadn't used one, nor was her flat anywhere near Nottingham. Was dark magic to blame? What kind of spell was this?
"Should we send her on her way, then?" Allan asked. He was the only one who didn't appear particularly bothered by Robin's treatment of her. In fact, he seemed rather bored now that she didn't have any money for them to take. "I think I agree with Will. If she's a spy for the sheriff, she's a pretty crap one anyway."
"Where would I go?" Hermione asked feeling a bit desperate now that she definitely knew this was no daydream. "I was abandoned in the forest. You've seen I have no money."
"Abandoned in the forest?" Robin echoed. "My my, the story gets better and better. First you don't know who we are or where you are. But oh look now, I and my men are famous to you. Next, you lived here long ago and were acquainted with both Marian and myself, even though I have never seen you and you do not speak like someone from Locksley or Nottingham. And now you tell us you've been abandoned in the forest. Who, pray tell, left you here and why didn't we see them?"
"I don't remember," Hermione said, still grasping wildly. "Please, I don't know how I got here."
"You seemed awful cheerful when you learned who we were," Allan observed. "Not the attitude of one who has lost their memory, or narrowly escaped danger."
"I already said you were famous, and you've got a benevolent reputation," Hermione said. "Rather undeserved, I'm now finding, but you must be preferable to the Sheriff or Gisborne. Please. You saw I was scared before I knew you. What do you expect me to do?"
"Just leave her here, Robin, so we can find people with actual money," Allan urged. "She's clearly a liar."
"Oh, you'd recognize your own, would you?" Hermione snapped, finally fed up with him. How had she gotten stuck with this version of Allan a Dale? Wasn't he supposed to be a pleasant minstrel? She was definitely going to re-read her Robin Hood when (if, a nasty little voice uttered) she got home.
"She's got some lip on her, Robin," Allan smirked. "You can't have hurt her too badly. Come on, mates, leave her."
"What if she tells the Sheriff about Robin's reaction to Marian's name? It looks suspicious."
"Much!"
"Can't you ever shut up?" John bit out, casting a contemptuous look Much's way.
"It doesn't seem right, Robin," Will said. "What if someone worse than us wanders upon her? The sheriff's men search these woods daily. She wouldn't be safe."
Robin appeared to be weighing all of his options, clearly torn as to what to do. The casual way she had mentioned Marian had greatly unnerved him, and her strange behavior could mean anything. She could be a serious danger to them, or could merely be what she said - a confused girl who had lost her way and was in unfamiliar territory with no protection.
"Blindfold her," Robin commanded, finally reaching a decision.
"Why?" Hermione asked, panic rising again.
"So you cannot see the way to our camp," Djaq said kindly, trying to put her at ease. "It is necessary for our safety."
"I would never tell," Hermione said. She did not want to be blindfolded.
"It's either that, or leave you here," Robin said. "Your choice, lady."
"You can't expect us to trust you," John said apologetically. "We've only just met, and your story's a bit barmy, you must admit."
"Fine. But I don't want Allan a Dale to do it."
Will Scarlet, Little John and Much laughed heartily at that while Allan gave her a lazy smile. Once again, Djaq was the one to handle her, quickly tying her hands and covering her eyes. Hermione tried not to panic, but it was extremely discomfiting to be bound in such a way. She tripped over upturned roots and slipped on dead leaves as they led her through the forest. Her only (small) comfort was the knowledge that no matter what, Sherwood had to be safer than the Forbidden Forest. Besides, she was a Gryffindor. The time had certainly come to call on her vast reserves of courage.