Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I own the writing and story.
Fandoms: Harry Potter, X-Men
Notes: This will probably have one more chapter after this. :] thanks EVERYONE who reviewed the first chapter! I'm so glad to know I haven't lost my writing touch, and I'm sorry this took so long! There will be a final, short chapter after this.
Summary: What if it was Hermione that left Harry and Ron during their quest to find the Horcruxes? She ends up in America, and comes across the complex world of mutants.
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With The Thieves
"What is this place?" Hermione asked as she was forced into a small building. There were so many people inside that she felt like she had just jumped into a sardine can. And here she had been thinking how crowded the streets were.
She heard nothing from Victor, who followed her in. People of all sorts were in the place, although there were fewer crazy costumes and masks. Cigarette smoke filled the air and Hermione coughed, putting a hand over her nose and mouth to try to filter out the smell.
Hermione's eyes adjusted to the smoke and dim lighting in the room slowly, so she found herself constantly bumping into people, mostly Victor. The huge man finally stopped, causing her to literately crash into him. He said nothing, only grunted, and she pushed aside someone so she could stand beside him. They were at a railing and the floor dropped a few feet in front of them, where there was a larger floor filled with poker and pool tables.
"You brought me to a bar?" Hermione said over the chattering and music.
Victor surveyed the crowd, searching. Without warning, he swooped down, face coming within an inch of Hermione's. "There's someone here I need to talk to."
Hermione tried to hide the fear from her voice but her eyes betrayed her. "Then go talk to them," she said.
"You need to."
"Why?"
"He won't come nicely if he knows it's me. Talk to him." He gripped her chin between powerful, clawed fingers and turned it in the proper direction. With his other hand, he pointed to a man wearing a hat, sitting at one of the poker tables. "Get him to the back alley."
With that, Victor disappeared through the throng of the crowd, though his space beside her was soon filled with other bodies. Hermione contemplated trying to run. Where would she run to? Could she really Apparate across the Atlantic Ocean again so soon after her last jump? If she got Splinched, there would be no one there to help her. Gnawing on her bottom lip, she let out a breath through her nose. Victor had saved her from that Death Eater; she owed him.
Pushing through the crowd, she knew the sort of girl that everyone in this bar would be looking at, and it wasn't her. She somehow found the bathroom, which was surprisingly clean and empty. Slipping into the largest stall, Hermione pulled off her sweater and pushed it into her bag. She pulled out a small towel and spelled it to clean and she quickly wiped her arms and neck and torso. She charmed her pants clean, since they were dirty and muddy. She changed her soaked sneakers for a pair of boots she had hastily thrown into the bag because they were her favorite shoes. They matched her clean pants well. Now she just had to find a proper shirt. She could already feel the sweat forming on the back of her neck and sighed. She found a tank-top and slipped it on before twisting it at the back and tying it into a small ball to show off a sliver of her stomach. Nodding, she put her wand into her bag—she didn't want it so far away, but it had to be done for this to work—and walked out of the stall. Using a small mirror above the sink, she damped her hair, though it was still bushy and full, surrounding her face like a lion's mane. Her eyes looked haunted, so she hid behind a stall and fished out her wand to conjure up some make-up to try to lessen the darkness in her eyes.
Finally ready, she looked at herself once more before the mirror and wondered what it would be like if she dressed like this all of the time. The way boys treated her would probably be different. That was the whole reason for this outfit, wasn't it? To get a man's attention. Before she started really thinking about it, she stepped out the room, her bag clinging to a beltloop on her jeans. She did a quick scan for Victor but he was no where in sight. She set her eyes upon the man in the hat and made her way through the crowd, feeling as if too many eyes were upon her.
The heat from the room didn't feel so extreme now that she was out of her sweater, though she still felt warm and her heart beat wildly against her chest. She had no idea what type of person this man was. There was a small crowd around his table: he was playing against a man in a cowboy hat with a cigar. Hermione joined the group—who where mostly women—and watched the man Victor wanted her to get for him. His face was hidden in shadows, though she could see his shirt was made of purple silk and he handled a deck of cards like an absolute pro.
The man in the cowboy lost all of his money and went off steaming. The crowd dissipated slightly and Hermione took the opportunity to slip into the unoccupied seat. She rested her arms on the table, leaning forward slightly, trying to get a good look at his face.
"Bonjour, mon cheri," he said, leaning forward as well, though his hat still caused a shadow across his face.
Hermione smiled, trying to look as interested as possible. "Bonsoir, monsieur," she replied. "I must say, you are very good at poker."
"Merci," he tilted his head down in respect. "What may I do for you?"
The gears in Hermione's mind worked for an excuse that would force him to take her outside. To the back, Victor specified. "I'm afraid I've lost my way. I cannot seem to find the way back to where I'm staying and you…seem like you would be able to take me there."
She suspected that his eyes narrowed at her statement, but that was only suspicion. He began shuffling the deck in his hand, fingers moving fast and flawlessly. "I t'ink I can do dat," he finally said, standing and pulling on a long coat all in one sweep. He pocket the deck and walked around the table, hand outstretched toward her. "De name is Gambit, mon cheri."
Hermione took his hand and stood. "Penelope," she replied. It was still too dark to see his face completely, but he smiled slightly and his hand fell from hers to the small of her back, guiding her toward the back corner of the building.
"An' where are we going, mon cheri?" Gambit asked, his breath hot on her neck.
Of course he would ask where she was staying. And she had no idea of any hotel or place to stay around here. She should have thought about this longer. Just as she opened up her mouth and hope something good spilled out, someone punched someone else in the crowd behind them and a brawl began. Gambit quickly ushered her out of a door that led to the cooler air outside. Hermione hoped she was doing the right thing. She would not be an accomplice in murder if that is what Victor had in mind for Gambit.
"It is so hot here, I'm not used to it," she blurted out, turning to face him. The lights from the nearby street allowed her to finally see his face. He was young looking, probably his mid-twenties, with a small amount of facial hair and…his eyes. They were completely black, with red irises. Hermione tried not to gasp, and, almost thankfully, that was when Victor stepped out from behind a fire escape where he had been lingering in the shadows.
Gambit turned swiftly, pushing Hermione behind him and pulling a short staff from beneath his coat. How could he be wearing a coat? It was so very hot.
Victor growled, walking into the middle of the alley. Hermione's eyes widened and she scurried off to the side, despite Gambit's hisses for her to stay behind him. She undid the tie at the back of her shirt as she watched the tension between the two men grow.
"Victor," Gambit said finally, his hand tight around the staff. "What an…unpleasant surprise. What can I do for you?"
Victor growled and Hermione saw his claws grow even from where she crouched. "You stole something from me."
Gambit didn't even bat an eye. "I did? Name it, I shall give it back t'you."
"My brother." Victor's eyes hardened.
Hermione took in a sharp breathe and a wave of sadness pulsed through her. She had no idea what blood was between Gambit and Victor but it didn't seem to be good. She sensed more emotion than just anger in Victor's voice, and she couldn't blame him. She knew what it was like to lose family.
Gambit lowered his arms and swallowed before looking up at Victor. "I did not take anyt'ing from your brother, Monsieur Creed. 'Twas Stryker. Ademantium bullets so Logan would forget. His brain is damaged; dere be not'ing dere t'steal."
Victor clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes, which, for a moment, flicked over to Hermione, who was now wringing the string on her bag, a pitying expression on her face. "He doesn't even remember me," Victor growled to Gambit, "his own flesh and blood. Over a century spent fighting along side one another and he doesn't even remember."
Time to step in. "I really think Gambit is telling the truth," she started, walking almost between the two men. "Amnesia…it's painful for those of us left behind, honestly, I do know." She really did. It wasn't long ago that she had erased her parents' memories of her.
Victor didn't take his eyes off Gambit, who was now looking the larger man right in the eye. Hermione swore that time slowed down as the next set of events happened. Gambit twirled his staff and it grew four times its length. Victor growled, low and menacing, and started running toward Gambit on all fours like a cat. He pushed Hermione back with one large, clawed hand and she went stumbling into a pile of black trash bags as Victor pounced on Gambit. Gambit's staff glowed purple and Victor went flying as an explosion seemed to go off right from Gambit. Hermione scrambled to her feet and pressed herself against the smooth stone of the building behind her.
Smaller explosions came shooting out of Gambit's hand, heading right for where Victor was in the process of getting to his feet to attack again. The four small glowing things hit Victor square in the chest and exploded on impact, causing him to fall backwards into a building, crumbling some of the brick. Hermione watched wide eyed, wanting to stop it all. She had enough of fighting.
Pulling her wand from her bag, she watched as Gambit jogged toward Victor, noticing that the small explosions were caused by his deck of cards. Shaking her head, she focused on the two bodies and pointed her wand, uttering, "Petrificus Totalus." Both of the men fell straight as boards from the spell and Hermione pushed the wand into her pocket as she walked over to them. She rolled Gambit over, since he had fallen face first. Victor was glaring at her as she stood back and looked down at the two of them. "The spell will wear off in a few minutes, there's no point in struggling," she said. "Now that I have your undivided attention, I have something to say to you. I have no idea of the situation you two are in, but from what I've gathered, Victor has lost his brother, Logan, who has amnesia. Victor blames Gambit for that, though I have no idea why. Gambit seems to have no connection with that. I can do a truth spell if you're so keen on knowing exact details.
"I came to this place to get away from fighting. I won't allow either of you to destroy yourselves while I watch. As soon as I'm gone, you can do as you please, I really don't care."
She felt exhausted. Emotionally, physically, mentally. She really just wanted to sleep, but this had to be dealt with first.
"I don't see how you can repair amnesia, Victor. There's not even a magical way to do so. I'm afraid I cannot help you with that, and I am truly sorry. My parents have no memory of me, so I do know how you feel. But please, stop attacking Gambit, for at least as long as I'm around?"
Both men started to feel their limbs become less restricted. Gambit turned his head this way and that and sat up, resting his arms on his knees. Victor grumbled and pushed himself to his feet. Hermione stood her ground and waited for their responses.
"Fine," Victor finally submitted. "But he's dead the second you turn your back."
Gambit got swiftly to his feet and dusted off his jacket, taking off his hat and bowing in front of Hermione before placing it back on. "Dis magic you speak of. Is it real?" he asked, ignoring Victor's statement.
"You have glowing bombs that come from a deck of cards," Hermione pointed out. "I'm not even going to ask about it. I just want to sleep and then try to get back home. Will you please help me?"
"Of course, mon cheri. I have a place you can stay."
Hermione nodded. "Thank you." She snuck a glance at Victor who was still standing there, the menace ever present in his eyes. "More of those men might come," she prodded.
Victor looked down at her and raised an eyebrow. "And?"
She raised herself up to her full height. "I helped you talk with Gambit. You can spend five hours making sure I don't get killed in my bed!" She reminded herself of Mrs. Weasley for a moment.
Victor said nothing, but he didn't leave either, so Hermione took it as a yes to him staying and keeping watch over her.
Gambit shook his head and put a hand on Hermione's shoulder after shrinking his staff and placing it underneath his jacket once again. "De place is close. Suivez-moi."
Hermione had no choice but to walk beside him and Victor followed like a growling shadow. This part of New Orleans was old; she could tell from the building materials and architecture. They reached a small building that looked indistinguishable the others and Gambit stopped, holding the door for Hermione. There was no one inside, everyone was at the party, so Gambit simply took a key from a ring behind the desk and trailed behind Hermione until they reached a room on the top floor. He opened the door for her and she went inside. It was a tiny room, with a bed, bureau and an incredibly tiny bathroom in the corner. There was also a small balcony, which is where Victor went first.
"Thank you so much," Hermione told Gambit. "I really appreciate this."
"Vous êtesla bienvenue," he said, patting her hair and then glancing at Victor. "I hope he does not bodder you." He placed the key to the room on the bureau on his way out.
Hermione would have normally been very concerned staying in a room with a dangerous man standing six feet away, but she was so tired that she couldn't be bothered to be worried. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed, pulled off her boots and then slipped under the covers. She shimmied out of her jeans and tossed them next to her boots before pulling the thin cover and sheet over her and rolling onto her side. "Please don't kill me while I sleep," were her last words to Victor before she was pulled into dreamland.
