'are you an angel?'

The voice below her asks.

'Oh Merlin I think you hit your head.' Hermione replied 'are you ok?'

'I should be asking you the same thing, my, you appear to be injured, I should take you to the infirmary. I apologize, normally I am more put together than this.' The blonde girl attempted to move, but was reminded of her dizziness and close proximity to the brunette, the very beautiful brunette…

Hermione moved off the prone girl, making a huge clattering noise of armor falling of the pair in the process. She saw how dazed the girl looked and without another word she picked the girl up bridal style. Time spent on the run from Voldemort had toned her muscles to where this took little effort for the Gryffindor.

The blonde seemed taken aback, but smiled nonetheless. She leaned into the girl's chest and let herself be carried. She listened to the soothing heartbeat and took in the calming scent of vanilla and parchment. This girl had covered the Slytherin with her own body to protect her without even knowing who she was, and with no concern for her own wellbeing. Being a Black she was unaccustomed to someone doing something so selfless for her. Someone always wanted something from the Black sisters.

The blonde was a strong woman in her own right, but being dizzy and obviously this girl could handle the load…she let herself for once be taken care of by another human being, without fear of reciprocity. It was a curious thing, never in her life had she seen this woman before, she wore muggle clothes, but had a certain power about her, her raw magic cackled from every pore of her. She looked like she had just been put through Tartarus and back, but only shown concern for her precious cargo she was carrying. For that matter who was she? And what was she doing there especially this time of night?

'Erm, not that I don't appreciate this, but can I ask who you are?'

Hermione always clever and quick to reason out the best response. 'I'm Professor McGonagall's niece… my name is Hermione. I didn't quite catch your name however.'

'Narcissa Black. I assume that this is not your first trip to Hogwarts then'

'You would be correct Miss Black.'

Narcissa blushed and giggled, placing a slim delicate hand on the brunette's sternum.

'Please call me Narcissa'

'Well then Narcissa, yes I have spent many summers here with my aunt Minerva, so that's why I haven't been asking for directions to the infirmary to get your head wound checked out.'

'And yourself for that matter?' Narcissa asked, no stated

Hermione paused mid step under the intense gaze from the girl, igniting fire in her lower belly, 'ermm yes, of course.' The notorious fiery resolve from the Black bloodline was not limited to Bellatrix, it would seem…

Pleased that she was compliant and would be tending to her wounds, she asked 'Where have you been if I may ask, it appears you have been in quite the altercation.'

'Oh, yeah umm I have been studying abroad in the Americas, traveling on the dueling team. I just finished a match and apparated directly to go see my aunt. The time difference always takes some getting used to' Hermione smoothly lied, she didn't want to lie to this beauty, but neither did she want to alter the time line, doing irrevocable damage. Her parents actually had sent her a few summers ago to visit some distant relatives across the pond, so it was not much of a stretch for her.

'I have always wanted to travel there! Mum says however, that they have no culture and any good pureblood worth anything wouldn't lower themselves to such a dreadful muggle infested place, so I don't think I'll ever be able to visit…'

'Hmm well, I'm surely glad I'm a Mcgonagall and never had such issues, I'll just have to take you one day then.' Hermione replied easily. She didn't know why she was compelled to say so, knowing she could not alter the timeline anymore than she was already doing.

From first glance Hermione was smitten in her own timeline, that chance meeting at the bookstore sparked a fire in the young Gryffindor. She was enamored by her beauty and grace. This older witch oozed sexuality and a voice of pure silk. Hermione had never thought about her sexuality before she met Narcissa, not understanding what the big deal was with dating anyway, it all just mucked up her long time pursuit of learning. One look however, and she understood, the universe's mystery of love and life, and making a life with one other person made infinitely more sense. She felt a pull she could not explain away in the countless texts and tomes she scoured after the meeting. Years after their first meeting and she could not shake this feeling. Every chance meeting of the older blonde woman and she fell deeper and deeper in love. She was sure that the woman was flirting shamelessly, and could not help her reaction every time. An outsider looking in on the exchanges would not see the underlying meanings, she was after all a proper pureblood and carried herself as such.

The torture at Malfoy Manor was also curious. Her sister laid into her time and time again. Narcissa stood in the room stock still a face of a cold mask, but her eyes…her always expressive eyes held anger, contempt, sorrow, and still the longing…she stood in front of her boy Draco, shielding him with her body from anything that might come for him. She looked at Hermione the entire time, almost imploring her to forgive her for not acting in her defense. She did however save Hermione's life right before they apparated away with Dobby. A subtle wandless act moved Hermione slightly out of the way of the cursed dagger. Bella had originally targeted Hermione it would seem, but due to Narcissa's efforts she saved her life but to the great cost of sir Dobby. A steep price to pay for her worthless mudblood life. She didn't understand, why would Narcissa care?

Hermione looked down, this beautiful girl would one day become Mrs Malfoy, mother to Draco Malfoy. She could never be hers…the odds were, as usual, stacked against her. She was beyond clever and worked very hard to learn everything she could, but at the end of the day she would never be anything but a mudblood. Her value would never amount to what this girl needed in her life. She was already betrothed to the vile Luscious, her life already set in motion. And yet….and yet she could not help the offer to visit the Americas from coming out of her mouth. She knew from one look that she could deny this beautiful being nothing.

Narcissa smiled brightly at the statement, and they continued chatting the entire way up to see Madame Pomfrey, or whomever was in charge during this timeline.

It was indeed whom she had known, well due to her association with Harry and Ron growing up. Although Madame Pomfrey looked much younger, she was as brisk and businesslike as ever.

Hermione deposited her precious cargo on a nearby cot, then walked over to a private area to be seen to. She had asked for a silencing spell to be cast around them and implored the mediwitch to let her go see her supposed aunt. Madame Pomfrey begrudgingly agreed, but only after applying diagnostic spells . The minor cuts and bruises were easily explained away, but the overwhelming PTSD, and residual effects of the cruciatus curse were a blaring red flag. Hermione, after a long debate assured her that all would be explained to her by her aunt, as her presence and true meaning of her visit was top secret.

Hermione said a quick goodbye to the prone blonde, and headed for her favorite Professor's quarters. She had, in the last few years she had attended Hogwarts, taken to have private tutor sessions as well as evening tea with Minerva. She was told to be on first name basis with her friend while in her quarters. Minerva had seen the potential in the bushy haired brunette and nurtured that curiosity and thirst for knowledge.

Hermione trusted Dumbeldore, but his shady evasive manner never settled well with her. Harry could follow the elder wizard blindly, but her logical mind would not allow it. She preferred the straightforwardness of her friend. Minerva would never play games with her life and she knew that anything the Professor would say to her she could take at face value.

So with no amount of trepidation she knocked on the familiar heavy dark wooded door. A baroque Scottish voice filled the air once the door opened.

'Minerva…'. Hermione breathed out before her body completely gave out and the oncoming black darkness that she had held back for so long consumed her in the presence of her most trusted mentor and friend.