Summary: It wasn't a deliberate choice, but they were doing it. She and Draco were going to save the wizarding world from Voldemort, or die trying, there were no other outcome. Timetravel/Marauders era. Slightly AU. Pairings yet to be decided.
La Lumiére
Chapter 1.
.
.
.
"Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light."
- Steven Kloves
.
.
.
"Great." A familiar male voice moaned audibly, "Bloody fucking great." Hermione could hear his footsteps in the gravel; they were irregular almost as if they were taken in an insecure or drunk manor. Several more curse words were flung out as it sounded like the person tripped and landed in the gravel quite heavily.
Hermione frowned and tried desperately to fling her eyelids open, she disliked being ignorant to whoever it was that was clearly approaching her, sure it could be an ally, but the chances it was an enemy was equally big. Her eyelids rimmed closed, it felt like they were glued shot and she moaned loudly when she tried to move her arms to at least try to get herself off the ground. She flinched hard and let out a gasp, something hurt.
Something hurt a lot.
"Shit, Granger don't bloody move!" The male voice demanded quickly, and when she ignored his order only to feel a large stinging sensation in her left side she groaned and gave up. "Are you barking mad, woman? Stop bloody moving!"
Where did she know that voice from? And how had the two of them ended up here anyway? Her thoughts were clouded, and her head hurt immensely. She frowned and again tried to pry her eyes open, she succeeded, alas with only one lid and it did not do her much good. Her vision was as clouded as her thoughts and it was probably linked to the feeling of wet that trailed down her forehead. She wondered briefly if this was how Harry saw without his glasses, she had tried them on once when they were messing around in the common room, Harry's glasses might as well be made of telescope lenses, he was that blind.
Oh merlin, Harry.
He had gone to defeat Voldemort, but then what? She could not remember much else at the moment.
Something shifted in the grovel again, knees landing next to her limp body it seemed, and she watched confused as the male figure hopelessly opened the lower part of her shit, much to her dismay. "Shit Granger," the voice mumbled again, "You're in even worse of a state than earlier," he let his hands touch her side briefly, probably to assess the damage, Hermione relaxed under the touch of warmth hands.
"H-Harry?" She stumbled over her own words in a desperate question, she felt as if she had taken a bludger to the head. She should have known it was not her spectacled friend the moment her last name had left his mouth, Harry would never call her anything but 'Hermione' and 'Mione' after all.
"Not Potter," He mumbled distractedly as he ripped his shirt to pieces, Hermione powered herself to move her head and get what little of sight she could of him, but with her current vision all she was able to peg out was that he was blonde.
Harry was not blonde.
The wheels ever so slowly began to turn and she suddenly put the clues together, "M-Malfoy? Is that you?" She floundered over the words, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth and the taste of iron heavy on her lips.
"Who else would it be, Father Christmas? Sheesh, Granger."
Definitely Malfoy, the smart remarks should have made it obvious.
"Where's Harry? And Ron?" She asked concerned as he wrapped something around her midsection.
"Potter and Weasley? No clue, I don't even know where we bloody are woman." So Harry was fighting Voldemort alone and Ron was probably off on his own somewhere? The idiots had better not get themselves killed while she was gone. "Oi, Granger, are you even listening?" Malfoy demanded, but it came out slurred and distorted, Hermione realized he had still been talking when her mind drifted off to her friends.
Malfoy said something else, and she thought he sounded angry, but by now his voice sounded like a wall of water was between them, Hermione could barely understand him and her vision started failing her even more so than before, "why are you so swirly?" She found herself asking Malfoy confused as he neared her face and took it in his hands, his face was so close now that Hermione could actually make out his features.
An expression she could not admit to have seen on the Slytherin's face before now took over even the anger that she had felt in his voice. Disturbance, distress and... was that worry? For her?
"Malfoy?" She found herself slurring out.
He was yelling at her, in her face, and if it was not for the current circumstances Hermione might have hexed him for it, now it was concerning though. What was he saying?
Hermione struggled to keep her eyes open, why was she suddenly so exhausted? Well she had been tired before but this was completely different.
"Granger, stay with me, don't close your damn eyes!"
What a weird thing to say, after all she was not going anywhere, was she? And her eyes, they were open were they not?
"GRANGER!"
.
.
.
She was woken by yells of anger and frustration, her body felt weak and heavy, she felt a little dizzy but otherwise she felt fine, or at least until the yelling continued and she felt herself flinch at the loud voices ─ a slight headache making itself known. She wanted nothing more than to ask the arguers to cease their noise, but she was sure that was not the best cause of action when she currently knew nothing of her whereabouts or company. So instead she played the waiting game, listening in on the conversation, which was surprisingly being held in French.
"It's been weeks!"
It took only a moment for Hermione to recognize the voice of Malfoy, and she breathed a sigh of relief at the presence of the sarcastic Slytherin, he meant safety and that was highly appreciated.
"Calm yourself, Mister LaLumiére! Your sister will wake when she wakes, your presences will not change that."
Mister LaLumiére? She knew the voice belonged to Malfoy, if not for clear knowledge of how his voice sounded, then the odd feeling in the pit of her stomach ensured her that she was correct. She could not have been wrong.
"I will be here when Hermione awakens,"
"...Fine, suit yourself Sir, but I have other patients to see to."
As soon as Hermione heard the door shut close she opened her, peaking up under her eyelashes to take in the environment; white walls, an IV drop, and the smell of pain relieving potion insured her that she was in some sort of hospital, perhaps St. Mungo's, though the French led her to believe that hardly could be the case.
He looked different, she realized.
"Hermione," he breathed in relief, it sounded, "thank Salazar."
He dragged the chair that had been leaning against the wall towards her bedside, the backside of the chair facing her, and sat on it, leaning his forearms against the backrest.
"What's going on?" Hermione found her voice to be slightly rusty and croaked sounding, "What happened to my voice?" She had not seen Malfoy looking so happy since− actually she had never seen him look so happy, pearly whites were easily spotted in the wide smile that lid up his face. "What?" She asked when the smile disappeared off of his face.
"I don't even know where to start with explaining... But it's good to see you awake again. Salazar knows I've been waiting for this, you've been unconscious for over a bloody month, you know that?" He gave her a slightly annoyed expression as if had it been her own fault, "Your voice won't be sounding like that for long, it's a simple side effect of the ritual, should be over in a month or two."
Hermione used her elbows to push herself to a sitting position, "Ritual?" She noticed something very odd about the Slytherin, "Merlin, Malfoy, what happened to your hair?"
The blonde, or well now brunet, glared at her and made a silencing hand gesture, "Don't call me that, they aren't supposed to hear. It wouldn't bode well for our story, alright, for now just refer to me as Draco," he looked at her with a firm expression and Hermione for once did not question him.
"Fine."
"Good, I still have no idea of how to start explaining this."
"The beginning would be nice," Hermione suggested.
She almost expected Malf− Draco she reminded herself, to glare at her for her sarcasm but was pleasantly surprised, and perhaps just a tad worried, when he continued where he had left off. "We aren't where we're supposed to be." When Draco saw her open her mouth he continued quickly, "Not location wise, Hermione. Time wise."
"If this is a joke Malfoy−"
"It isn't and I told you to call me Draco." He strained, "Do you remember waking up on that forest trail?"
Hermione looked at him confused before something pinged in her brain, "On that gravel? Yes, some of it I do."
Draco nodded, "Good, that's a start I guess. That was after we were sent back, I have no clue how we ended up here by the way, but we landed in wizarding Paris,"
"That explains the French, then."
Draco gave her a bemused look, "No, really." He snorted, "we were both in a bad state when we got here, but you were far worse off than I, which is why you are currently still hospitalized. You were kind of in a coma for a month, and I've been worrying my arse off−"
Hermione snorted, "Yes, I'm sure you have." Rolling her eyes for emphasize, which Draco responded to with an all but amused glare.
"Oh shut up Hermione, and let me finish." When she said nothing he went on, "Good. Anyway, we landed inside a wizarding property and when the family felt their wards broken they naturally went to investigate, found us and helped me get you to the hospital, which is where we are now."
Hermione watched his hair curiously, "and the hair?"
"Same reason as to why your hair is now as the same texture as mine, and your eyes are blue."
"My eyes are what−"
"I'm your brother."
"Excuse me?"
Draco rolled his eyes at her, "It's our cover story, I'm Draco LaLumiére, and you, Hermione, are my younger twin sister, Hermione LaLumiére." It all made a lot more sense now she supposed. "I assume you speak French?" When she nodded he sighed in relief, "Good, else we'd really be snookered, since we were both born and raised here."
"LaLumiére has got to be the most horrible French name I have ever had the displeasure of knowing, 'the light' I mean, couldn't you be bothered to find something a little more believable?" Hermione commented lightly.
"Well I had to make something up quickly, and Weasley's light device from old Dumbly caught my eye." He shrugged as he explained.
Hermione gave him a look, "You named us after one of Dumbledore's favourite quotes…"
"Oh shut up, I'm not proud of it alright."
"If we are in a magical hospital, they're certainly aware of our identities, they certainly don't admit patients without the proper paper work." Hermione frowned.
Draco gave a smug look, "Don't worry, I took care of that a while ago."
"How?" Hermione asked, whole-heartedly curious, forging wizarding papers were not nearly as easy as muggle papers.
"Maybe I should mention that I've told someone of our... situation?"
Hermione's teasing expression ceased as she looked at Draco furious, "You didn't, Draco, if someone knows we don't belong here then−"
"Aberforth won't tattle on us, Hermione." Draco said assured.
Hermione was about to respond in kind, when she closed her mouth confused and then opened it again moments later, "Aberforth Dumbledore? Professor Albus Dumbledore's brother?"
"How many other Aberforth Dumbledore's do you know of?"
Hermione slapped his shoulder, "Are you remotely aware at what you've done!?" She whisper-screeched at him, "Do you have any concept of what this could do to us? To the timeline?"
Draco frowned angrily at her, "Of course I know what I've been doing, I'm not an ignorant twat like Weasley." Hermione glared at him for the remark about her boyfriend, "Don't give me that look, just shut up and see things from my point of view, will you."
Hermione bit the bullet and watched Draco more than a little displeased, "Fine," She agreed, "Explain it to me, then."
"He's going to help us bring Voldemort down."
For a moment Hermione was very sure she had misheard Draco. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
She took in a deep breath, letting it run out in a sigh, "Draco horrible things have happened to−"
"−'Wizards who meddle with time,' yes I know. But what you seem to have forgotten, and I still remember, is that horrible things happen to other wizards as well." Draco watched her with a grim expression.
"Draco, we can't change the timeline it's forbidden─"
"What about the Weasleyette?"
Hermione froze. "Ginny…"
The first to fall at the battle, even before Harry, Ron, Draco and she had split up. "That was cruel and unnecessary Draco! Bringing that up to force me to change my mind..." Tears burned in her eyes, it had been just yesterday to her after all.
Draco gave her an unremorseful scorn, "The world is cruel Hermione, didn't you notice? Or weren't we fighting the same war?" He bit back.
Hermione stared at him shocked, "Don't you think I know that better than anyone? In case you forgot Draco I was there with Ginny when it happened." She said sorrowful as her face grew paler and paler, "I had… we─ all the blood, and she was just─ and I, I couldn't help her, and she was all over me and─" Strong arms wrapped around her petite frame and she felt Draco's nose above her ear, startling her out of her almost panic attack.
"Sorry." He said, "I didn't mean to be such an arse, we both know you were there at the frontlines too, none of us had it easy, I didn't mean to make you relive it all."
"If you're caught by an Unspeakable you'll go to Azkaban, you know that right?" She mumbled after a little while of him holding her.
Draco gently pushed her away, looking her in the eyes, "It'd be worth it, wouldn't it?" Hermione was not sure if it was a statement or a question, but she wanted to talk back and argue. She wanted tell him that he was wrong, and that they both had so much to live for. But she found herself at loss for good arguments. Friends? They were all in a war where more and more lost their lives. Family? She had lost hers to the Third Grand Onslaught, while his mother had been executed for her betrayal to the dark side after her rescue of Harry. Love? Astoria was gone for good (few even knew Draco and her had been a thing) and she had no idea if Ron had been alive the last moment she saw him.
They had nothing to live for; no dreams, no hopes and no ambitions back home. Draco was right.
And it was all because of the war, they had lost everything in it, including themselves.
She had never been a killer, a fierce witch with a deadly wand, yes. No doubt about that. But a killer? No, she cherished life and had never once thought of taking one. Now she had a kill count on over eleven, not something to be proud of to be frank, but it had been necessary for her survival.
"We have nothing to return to…" She said slowly realizing, big blue eyes looking up at Draco.
Draco looked at her sympatric, "I know, it took me a week to realize, but I know."
Hermione placed her hand carefully on Draco's arm, "You know…" She said with a gentle and bemused smile on her face, "I never really thanked you for saving my life back at the manor."
Draco frowned, "I don't deserve any thanks, Granger."
"Hermione, we're family now, remember?"
Draco actually grinned at her, "Right." Something Hermione had never seen shone in the pools of grey, it was but a flicker but it seemed a small bond was formed, a bond of comradeship and perhaps of friendship?
However, their moment was broken when a healer entered the room and almost dropped her clipping board upon seeing Hermione sitting up, awake and well. "You're awake!" she exclaimed surprised hurrying over to Hermione's bedside, shoving Draco away (who rolled his eyes and gave Hermione a look as if to say "can you see what I have been dealing with?") and grasped Hermione's wrist softly with a pretty smile. "I need to do a few examinations; it'll only take a moment."
Which was a complete and utter lie because eighteen minutes later the woman was still pointing her pink glowing wand to Hermione's temple. "Are you quite finished?" Draco asked the woman annoyed.
To which Hermione gave him a chiding look and muttered, "Behave, Draco," before looking up at the Healer, "Please excuse my brother, I imagine he must have been quite a force to deal with, yes?"
The healer looked almost astonished at Hermione, "Who would have imagined the sister would be such a nice and polite young lady," came a voice from the doorway where stood an older, strict looking healer.
Draco muttered something rude which both Hermione and the healers ignored, "You seem just fine, in fact you could probably leave today if you want to, I will need the signature of your godfather for the official release of course, but after that you are free to go home with your brother. We have some potions you will have to take for the proper regrowth of your cells, but I assume we can discuss this matter more deeply when Mister Dumbledore arrives, is that okay with you, Miss?"
Hermione looked up at Draco, slightly confused and not entirely certain she would be able to say what she was supposed to say, and therefore hoped he, her 'brother', would take that upon his shoulders. "That's fine with us," he said before direction his gaze towards Hermione. "I'm going to floo uncle Aberforth, I'll be back shortly."
And as promised he returned shortly after, both healers had left her then, not before giving her a long speech about what she could and could not occupy herself with while her body properly healed, though. Hermione would also apparently have to go through some rehabilitation, as most of her muscles had either been severely damaged or had been broken down by some of the stronger potions she had been given to save her life.
"So we have a godfather we call uncle Aberforth?" Hermione asked, "This one I've got to hear."
"It was his idea, besides, we're both underage−" Hermione raised an eyebrow at that, "−here. We're fifteen years old and we were born in September, did you know that?" He asked sarcastic.
"Fifteen? Why?"
"Because September the fifth, year nineteen-sixty, was a good year to be born. We were born under the full moon, slightly after midnight, mother was ever so surprised that she was having twins." Draco answered.
Hermione gave him an impressed look, "Your detailing in making our identities has been nothing but concerning so far, Draco. Nonetheless it has been very useful. When will uncle Aberforth be here?" She asked amused.
"He's already here, child." A voice sounded from behind her, Hermione had to contain herself from jumping off of her hospital bed in pure out shock. Aberforth looked at her amused, as did Draco giving her a smug look as well, prat.
"You startled me," she defended.
"I gathered that," Aberforth said, "Draco's told me much about you, my goody-two-shoes, bossy, know-it-all and overbearing goddaughter."
Hermione threw Draco an unimpressed glare, "Oh, I'm sure he has, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mister Dumbledore−"
"−Do call me uncle Aberforth," he quickly interjected.
Hermione smiled, "Uncle Aberforth, then. Draco's told me some of the things I deem important, he has however jet to tell me why I am fifteen and in need of guardian still?"
Aberforth's eyes twinkled, "But of course, Hermione, allow me to indulge you. You're going to attend school starting this September, in none other than the school my brother sits headmaster at."
"We're going back to Hogwarts?"
"Yes, I assume you are as determined as your brother in preventing a certain war from happening?" At her nod Draco breathed a relieved sigh, and Aberforth continued, "Good, very good. Well, to do so we need to work closely with my brother, whom of course knows nothing about where you two are originally from− manipulative and cunning that one, isn't he? Either way, I will however be telling him that my poor godchildren are very clear about wanting to take down a certain dark lord whom killed their parents and unborn baby brother."
"An unborn sibling, a tad dramatic, is it not?" Hermione asked.
Aberforth grinned, "Just adds to the hatred and loathe you have for you-know-who, no?"
"It does." Draco said looking at Hermione with a smirk, "doesn't it, sister?"
Hermione rolled her eyes at their theateristics but responded anyway, "It does indeed, brother. How do we explain our knowledge of the future to our dear uncle Albus?" She asked, responding in kind to their melodramatic hetaeristic.
Aberforth smirked, "You've both got the Sight, however else would you be able to foresee these happenings?"
Hermione frowned, "Oh, Merlin no, we're pulling a Trelawny on him?"
Draco grinned, "That is exactly what we're doing,"
"That won't be easy, lying upfront to Professor Dumbledore like that," Hermione sighed.
Aberforth clasped his hands together, almost a little too pleased with lying to his brother, "That is of course why you will both have practised your talents of the inner eyes before going to Hogwarts. Speaking of which, you've both lost all your positions in that horrible attack, such a horrible thing fiendfire is, so I will have to take you out on some shopping when we leave the hospital."
Draco gloated, "Already got everything I needed, and I was even nice enough to gather both of us school supplies, but I am not going knickers shopping, not even for my twin sister."
Hermione snorted, "Didn't expect you to," she directed her gaze at her soon-to-be adopted father, "When are we leaving this hell-hole," Draco looked gobsmacked at her choice of words and Hermione responded with an, "I'm not too overly found of hospitals, magical or not."
Aberforth rose an eyebrow, "Non-magical hospital? Oh but how would you know? You've never visited one before, one of the things enclosed in being a pureblood."
Hermione frowned at this, "We're pureblood? Why is that necessary?"
"Easier to get close to death eaters," Draco shrugged. "Besides it fits into our story, mother was of British heritage, born to an aristocratic pureblood family who was too be blunt bad shit crazy. She fled and met Aberforth here, who helped her leave for France where she met our father, a high standing pureblood who was sympatric to those of lesser births."
"That would work very nicely except for one little detail, how in Godric's name am I supposed to explain this?" Hermione pointed to the scar on her arm, the one Draco's crazy aunt had given her during the manor incident. "Mudblood isn't exactly an insult a pureblood would meet..."
Aberforth studied her arm closer, "Don't bother trying to remove it, it's cursed." Draco said, remembering the knife which had been used for carving. "Maybe we can keep it covered up?" He asked.
Aberforth hummed thoughtfully before doing something neither of them had yet to think off.
He transfigured the scar, and soon the horrendous letters shifted and spelled out the word 'blood traitor' instead. Hermione almost smiled, it was a horrible insult but she did not mind it the same as the previous word. "French?" She observed, at the red scar which said 'traître de sang' in ugly letters.
"Makes sense since we've lived our entire lives in France, don't you think?"
Aberforth nodded, "My exact thoughts,"
"Our perfect English skills?" Hermione asked.
Draco shrugged, "Easy, mum was originally of British birth, so of course she's been teaching us since we could speak."
"So everything's good and well? We can leave this place?" Draco asked.
Hermione frowned, "I still want to know about that ritual you two performed, I haven't got half the details I want yet."
Aberforth nodded, "When we arrive at Hogshead we can discuss this more thoroughly, for now I'll go talk to the Healers and sign the release papers."
"So?" Draco asked once the old wizard had left the room.
Hermione frowned, "So, what?"
"Are you sure you are ready to do this? Are you sure you even want to do this?" He asked.
Hermione took a deep breath, "I've never been this sure of anything before, Draco. Let's do it."
.
.
.