Out of Place
Disclaimer - Harry Potter is owned by J.K Rowling
A/N - Written for QLFC final round 1
Prompt - Theory of Relativity - BEATER 2: The Time Traveller's Wife — Audrey Niggenegger
Additional prompt - [quote] 'It's time to say goodbye, but I think goodbyes are sad and I'd much rather say hello. Hello to a new adventure.' — Ernie Harwell, (emotion) Disgust
Word count - 3028
Nicolas paced outside his bedroom, where his blushing bride awaited. Merde, it was supposed to be the most memorable night of his life, but he couldn't just lie to Perenelle. He had to tell her the truth about what he really was. He couldn't keep her in the dark.
But what if she left him after hearing the truth? What if she hated him or, worse, told others about him? Then he'd be beheaded for sure. With these thoughts still swirling through his head, he banged open the door and entered.
Perenelle looked up, startled, but relaxed when she saw her newly-wed husband. He took a moment to drink in her appearance. She was wearing a loose, white see-through nightgown. Her hair was loose. Her cheeks turned red at the sight of him, only serving to make her look more endearing.
"Are you alright, my love?" she asked cautiously, her Parisian accent as endearing as the day he met her.
Nicolas could feel the sweat rolling off him in waves, but he nodded and asked her to sit. Once Perenelle had done so, he started to pace again, overcome by nerves. He looked at his wife and spoke, his voice shakier than he would have liked. "Perenelle, we've started our life togezer and I-I don't want our marriage to be built on a lie."
Penerelle stood up. She gently placed her hand on Nicolas's shoulder, but he flinched as if he was burnt. He regretted his reaction when he saw her face fall.
His hands leapt into action of their own accord, taking her delicate fingers into his own. "I love you, Perenelle, but I cannot lie to you. Neizer do I want you to 'ate me."
"I could never 'ate you," Penerelle said softly, without a trace of suspicion upon her beautiful features.
With that assurance in mind, Nicolas fumbled around and pulled out a wooden stick. His hands were shaking, and he could feel the sweat soaking through his clothes. This was not how he had pictured his wedding night, but it was his own fault for not telling her earlier. His whole body started to shake as he tried to focus on the stick. Suddenly, Nicolas's whole body was surrounded by white light, and in a blink of an eye, he was gone.
Nicolas landed on his face. His long, dirty blond hair had fallen over his eyes. He got to his feet slowly then blinked several times, unable to believe what he was seeing.
He definitely wasn't in his village. There were strange-looking things that had people inside, but they moved by themselves; there were no horses. People were dressed weirdly, garbed in the oddest of clothes. What was all this? Had wizards actually taken over? What had happened to the Muggles then?
He walked past a dark alley; suddenly, someone yanked him inside. He desperately searched for his wand but realized he didn't have it. It must have fallen to the floor when he appeared in this strange land.
"You should be more careful. Muggles could have seen you! Lumos!" Light appeared, and Nicolas was able to see who it was: A man around his age with auburn hair and piercing blue eyes. A pair of spectacles were perched on the end of his nose, and that reassured Nicolas that some things were the same wherever you went.
He instinctively reached for his wand,before remembering that it wasn't with him. Sensing his agitation, the other man spoke again.
"I won't harm you; I'm a wizard too," he assured him. Nicolas stared at him as if he were speaking a different language. "I assure you, I won't cause you any harm. My name is Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore. Come with me, and I will explain."
With that, the man extended his hand. Nicolas hesitated, unsure whether he should trust this man, but he didn't have many options. The man had a wand, and he didn't; whatever he claimed, he could force Nicolas to go with him if he wished. But maybe he was telling the truth; maybe he could help him.
Hoping he was making the right decision, he took the hand and they Apparated away.
Nicolas eyed his surroundings suspiciously. Albus had done nothing but help him since he had arrived this ludicrous place, but he still couldn't believe he was in London. Although had never intended to visit that place—it wasn't very wizard-friendly—he refused to believe that it was so different, so loud, compared to Paris. After all, the Britains who occupied the North of France had seemed more similar to his countrymen than his new acquaintance. He was deep in thought when Albus entered the room.
"I see you have woken up," he said, offering a friendly smile. Nicolas didn't smile back. Albus sighed and tried again: "I see you don't talk. I can brew a potion that can bring your voice back."
"Zere eez no such potion," was the immediate reply, the words clear despite his heavy accent.
Albus inwardly patted himself on the back. At least, he had been able to break the ice. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
It had been two weeks since Nicolas had arrived at this strange place. The only person he could trust was Albus; thus, he let the other wizard take him to Diagon Alley. He couldn't be more thankful after everything Albus had done for him. He had believed him and given him food, clothes and shelter. His disgust for Englishmen allowed an exception for the kind young man strolling by his side.
They were walking through Diagon Alley, something Nicolas believed he would never tire of. He was so mesmerised with the place. He would have never thought that the future would be like this.
Despite his outward marvelling, inwardly, he felt overwhelmed. He felt his heart constrict to think about his beloved Perenelle. Poor Perenelle; Merlin knew how she was holding up after his disappearance. Then he realised that Perenelle had probably passed away at least three centuries ago. The thought was sobering.
Suddenly, they arrived at their destination: A wand shop. 'Ollivander's,' read Nicolas. At least the written script hadn't changed that much.
Once inside, Albus immediately approached an older man, who was wiping the wand cases with a reverence that Nicolas found unsettling.
"Ah! Hello, Mr Dumbledore. How may I help you?" asked the old man, eyeing Nicolas, who found himself cowering a little bit at the man's penetrating stare. It was as if he knew that he didn't belong here, that he was from another period in time.
"My friend here has lost his wand; he's hoping to get a new one," Albus replied breezily, as if he hadn't sensed the change in atmosphere.
After testing many wands, Nicolas finally found the one that was closest to his original wand, a cedar wood wand with unicorn hair.
When they got home, there was an owl on the window with a letter attached to its foot. Albus wasted no time in gently untying the letter and started to read quietly. By the time he finished, he was beaming with joy.
"You're positively a good luck charm for me, my friend! You arrived and now my application has been accepted." Albus beamed.
"What application?" Nicolas asked, confused. And what did he have to do with it?
"I have been offered the job of Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts. I have to leave by tomorrow," Albus explained, his grin growing broader by the second.
Nicolas' brown eyes rounded into saucers. If Albus left, how was he going to survive? He didn't know anything about this world, and he didn't know anyone besides the auburn-haired wizard.
As if reading his mind, Albus spoke: "You don't have to worry about a thing. I'll send a house-elf to help you out."
Nicolas just nodded. Privately, he didn't know if a house-elf would be enough.
Without Albus, Nicolas felt alone. The house felt gloomy, as if the light had been sucked from it without the auburn-haired wizard's presence. He tried to busy himself, reading Albus's books to gain more knowledge about the era. He also pestered Tulip, the house-elf, with his incessant questions.
When Albus returned for the winter break, his small house seemed different. He wasn't sure what it was, to start with. Everything was tidy and clean; everything was in its place... then the smell of delicious food hit his nose. He followed it eagerly and was just about to enter the kitchen when Nicolas came out. He was sweating but looked satisfied.
"Oh, you're early. I've prepared the meal for us. Freshen up after your journey and we'll have it," Nicolas said, smiling sweetly.
Albus gulped, feeling as if there were butterflies in his stomach. He mentally scolded himself. Nicolas was his guest, his friend, and if he knew what sort of thoughts that were conjuring in his mind about the other wizard, he'd hate Albus and probably feel disgusted by him.
How could he dream for something he could never have? Nicolas had a wife, whom he evidently loved. Though she was centuries away from him, Albus could never take her place. Not only was she a woman, but Nicolas had spoken at length of her caring and patient nature—so different to Albus himself.
At his silence, Nicolas grew worried. "What happened, Albus? Did I do something wrong?"
Albus just shook his head. He smiled and started to eat. Maybe the feelings would go away.
Two years later, Nicolas was used to this new timeline. He had resigned himself to never seeing Perenelle again, as well as the odd mannerisms of British wizards. But he had never expected that Albus's research would end with them being chased by an angry dragon. He was sitting behind Albus on a broom, clinging for dear life as the dragon roared just behind them. They dove swiftly towards the trees, but the broom went wild, crashing into the branches below. Thankfully, no bones were broken.
"Hurry up; the dragon will get us," Nicolas said, dragging Albus to his feet and clinging to him for help. He didn't notice Albus's cheeks turn red. They heard the dragon's roar one last time as they Apparated away.
As soon as they reached home, Nicolas sighed in relief.
"Y-you are a crazy man, Albus Dumbledore. You foolishly drew zat dragon's blood wizout checking if it was asleep or not. You almost got us killed," Nicolas accused, voice trembling.
Albus raised his hands in a gesture of peace and defence.
"Now, now, I thought that dragon was asleep! And how could we get this, otherwise?" Albus said, smugly pulling out a small phial half-filled with red liquid from his robes. He handed the bottle to Nicolas, who refused to take it.
"I've heard it has many magical properties. One of us must drink it to confirm it," Albus suggested. Nicolas grimace in disgust. He couldn't believe what the other man was saying.
"I'm no vampire," he stated, wrinkling his nose at the very thought.
"Neither am I, but I know someone who can help."
Nicolas didn't like Horace Slughorn. Though the other wizard was a very skilled potions master and a jovial man, he didn't like Slughorn's closeness with Albus.
He didn't know why he felt that way. Albus was his own person, an adult, and was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. In Nicolas's opinion, Albus could be friends with whomever he liked, and if something deep inside of him yearned for Albus' attention, he ignored it. It was too scary to contemplate. He shouldn't have this sort of thoughts. He was a man and had a wife. He shouldn't feel whatever it was that he was feeling for Albus. But it was eating him up inside.
"It's bloody brilliant!" Slughorn's voice brought him out of his conflicted thoughts.
"Merlin, the potential of this thing is amazing. Not only does it have healing properties, but it can make witches and wizards more powerful too. Can you believe it? All those incurable diseases can now be cured!" the potions master continued, sounding like an excited kid.
For some reason, none of this made Nicolas feel better.
That night, Nicolas sat alone, thinking of all the confusing emotions he could no longer ignore. How could he even feel something for Albus in the first place? He was a married man; he had married a woman, Perenelle, whom he loved. He shouldn't feel these things, it was just wrong.
"I think you should tell him."
Startled, Nicolas spun around to face the intruder. He sighed in relief to see it was Slughorn, not Albus, though he couldn't deny a pang of disappointment.
"I-I don't understand," he stuttered.
Slughorn raised a hand as if to stop him. "Look, I'm not narrow-minded. I'm not going to judge, and I know that it's hard to own up to your feelings. Most people prefer having wives, myself included, and it's easy to conform. You both should just tell each other and stop moping. The world needs more love, no matter what type."
Nicolas didn't know what to think of that, so he just nodded. Perhaps the man wasn't as bad as he'd thought.
The next day, when Albus went to see Headmaster Dippet, Nicolas cleaned the whole house and prepared dinner. When Albus returned, the whole house seemed different. After so many years, it looked like home. He was met with a smiling Nicolas, whose smile melted his heart.
"Albus," Nicolas said after dinner, "from the moment I arrived here, you've helped me in every moment. You took me in, gave me food, shelter and a new life. You don't know how thankful I am for this—"
Albus was about to say something, but Nicolas pressed on. " You made me feel at home. Instead of it being a hard goodbye to my old life, you have made me come to appreciate this new one, with your simple greeting, your kind words. I realise now that have come to deeply care for you, and—" He abruptly stopped, overcome by a bubbling sensation. Something was wrong.
"Nicolas?" Albus asked, his eyes filled with worry.
Nicolas smiled reassuringly. "I'm fine, Albus. I-it's just, I realised that, that I lo—"
Before he could complete his sentence, a white light surrounded him and the world started to spin. Just like before.
He landed on a grass field. He looked around, but couldn't make out anything in the dark.
One thing was sure, Albus wasn't here.
Then he heard someone calling his name. "Albus?" he asked hopefully.
"No, mon ami, it's Geoffroi," said the man.
Nicolas sat up immediately. He was shocked to see his neighbour and friend Geoffroi there, staring at him.
"Nicolas, where were you? It's been a whole year. We thought we'd never see you again!"
Nicolas was beyond shocked. Somehow, he was back, but he didn't want to hear it. No matter how selfish it sounded, he wanted to go back to Albus. He realised that Geoffroi was still talking, then it hit him; he was back.
"What happened to Perenelle?" he asked, feeling guilty. How was he going to explain everything to her?
Geoffroi stared at him as if he had grown another head. "After you, uh, left, she waited for you to return, then her father came and took her back. He had your marriage annulled, and she got married to Baron Gaston Lefou. They live on the other side of town."
Nicolas didn't know what he was doing. He stared at the large wooden door until a servant came out and told him that the Baroness would see him now. Hesitantly, he went inside, sitting heavily on the a chair.
Just then, Perenelle entered the room. She was wearing the finest silk gown and was adorned with jewellery, which was unlike her. She gave him a watery smile.
"Bonjour, Madame Lefou," he said with an awkward bow.
"Nicolas—"
He cut her off. "I'm sorry for the ordeal you went through during our wed—during that night. I never wanted you to suffer and I'm glad you found a better man. Remember when I said I'd never lie to you? I meant it. The truth is that I have fallen in love someone else. But I may also never see them again."
Perenelle was immediately by his side. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "When you vanished, I looked through some of your belongings. It took me some time, but I realised that y-you were a sorcerer."
Nicolas flinched at the word.
"B-but I never told anyone, not even my husband," she assured him.
Nicolas gently patted her cheek and bid goodbye to her. After all, it was time for a new chapter of his life. Of both of their lives.
1940s
It had been centuries since Nicolas had made the Philosopher's Stone and drank the Elixir of Life. Though all these years had been lonely, he lived happily with the memories of a certain auburn-haired, blue-eyed wizard.
But lately, the wizarding world had drastically changed. There was a sense of dread in the air. He was worried about the Philosopher's Stone and didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands.
A knock brought him out of his thoughts. When he opened the door, his breath almost caught. There stood Albus. Though he looked older than Nicolas remembered, it was the same person. He could never forget those twinkling eyes.
His mind filled excitement and happiness. Then, fearing that he would get transported like last time, he started to take deep breaths to calm himself.
"Albus," he said softly, voice filled with emotion, then he stopped. The other wizard didn't even know him.
"Nicolas," Albus said in same tone.
Nicolas's heart fluttered to hear it. "You know me?" he asked lamely.
"I remember you from my dream-memories. You already know about the threat of Grindelwald on the wizarding world, and I need someone's help whom I can trust. There's no one whom I could trust more than you, Nicolas. Will you help me?"
Nicolas's cheeks turned red. "Always."