A/N: the next chapter and the aftermath of being sucked into the time turner. This story is sort of the case where the readers know a little more about what is going on than the characters. I did my best to describe historical London, so I hope I set the scene ok (but really just try to imagine the Sherlock Holmes movie with Robert Downy Jr). The painting series I referenced by William Hogarth is real and really depressing. I left the chapter where I thought it should end. Not much Tom in this one, mostly about Hermione dealing with the situation and getting caught up in something.
BACK IN TIME?
Hermione POV
Inside the time turner
I could feel myself get sucked into the portkey well at least that is what it felt like. One minute I am standing behind Voldemort clutching at his robe like a frightened schoolgirl and the next I am deposited…where exactly? How did this happen? I felt stupid for not paying attention in the Forbidden Forest completely. Dumbledore caught us all completely off guard and something was definitely wrong. He was supposed to be dead and so I found myself clinging to the back of Voldemort's robes, even more surprising was that he had let me. Even gently nudging me behind him…it was an odd gesture for someone so cruel and ruthless. I couldn't process this. It…. just…. I need time and space to think. I was so overwhelmed.
I looked around at where we are, everything was so foreign but strangely familiar at the same time. There were no skyscrapers cutting into the skyline or motor cars honking at the traffic congestion. No there was still plenty of buildings and the bridge being built across the river, there were sailboats and coal powered boats that chugged on the water emitting thick black smoke. The roads were semi paved, what wasn't paved was covered in a thick layer of horse manure. Horses neighed, their hooves clopping rhythmically, men shouting and bells ringing. We looked down at the city scene before us. I knew where we were and roughly the time period.
London, England
Possibly late 1700s early 1800s.
I sucked in a deep breath to try to prevent the panic that was rushing through me, to get a full grip on myself before I had a full-blown panic attack. This was disastrous, how were we going to get back? How the fuck did we end up in here in the first place? What were we going to do for food? For shelter? We had no money and no possessions on us. I slumped back on the ground. I really wanted to be repulsed by sitting on the filth and grime, but I just couldn't summon the feeling to care.
Anger simmered underneath. It was his fault, if he didn't start this/that stupid war then we wouldn't be here, and I would be back at Hogwarts. I knew it was completely irrational, but I needed to direct my anger somewhere and he was the only person around for it.
I turned my head ready to spit fire at him, rip him to shreds with my words; cut him down. At first, I blinked, my anger on hold as I took him in. He didn't resemble the snake faced man Voldemort was back in the forest. No…this was a man in his late thirties, with dark curly hair, steel blue grey eyes, soft pink lips, chiselled jaw and high cheek bones. He was devastatingly gorgeous. So, this is what Voldemort would have looked like if he didn't make all those horcruxes. Still…he is the one to blame. I narrowed my eyes and he glared back at me; jaw clenched.
"You villainous arsehole, this is all your fault. With your war mongering and pitiful attempts at trying to take over the wizarding world. You got us into this mess and so you better be working on a way to get us out of it!", I was so worked up and overwrought, that I didn't care that I looked like a petulant child chucking a tantrum on the ground. I looked weak, the one thing he absolutely despised.
I was frightened, more so than I have ever been before. And here I was stuck in the past with the Dark Lord.
"I hate you", I sobbed my voice cracking. I picked myself up off the ground, clutching at my skirts trying to brush them off. I turn to run off so I can think and process this whole event, but the chill in his voice stops me momentarily.
"Miss Granger, don't go doing anything stupid now. Realise what time we are in", his face was stoic like perfectly sculpted granite, betraying nothing of how he felt about the situation. There was a hardness in his eyes that was promising retribution once he caught me again. I shook it off and ran off, after 10 minutes of running and having some time to cool off and as the reality of the situation started to sink in, I realised what a mistake I had made. I was lost and alone, here in historical London. It would have been better to stick with the devil I know than be faced with a night on the streets, alone. I was a young unwed woman; I was little more than property to men. I could end up kidnapped and sold. The reality of the situation once again, looming heavy on my conscious. I stopped and sunk low gripping my hair, I couldn't help the sob that escaped my throat. I just needed a minute. Anyone would panic if they were thrust back into the past and ripped away from everything they ever knew.
I felt a hand touch my shoulder, and I jerked back looking up from my hands, wide eyed. It was a woman, so I relaxed marginally.
"'Ello dearie, you look like you could use a pick me up", I took stock of the woman with her hand held out for me to take. She was blonde haired with brown eyes and not much older than me. She had on a tight corset which showed her assets (breasts) off in a rather...well I guess the word would be display? And a long pale blue over skirt with multiple layers of petticoats. She looked relatively clean compared to some of the people I had passed, covered from head to foot in soot. I hated feeling dirty and I was used to a level of cleanliness that far exceeded their hopes on the matter.
"What's ya nam' girl?", I reluctantly took her proffered hand and let her pull me up, she was a fraction taller than I was and I had never before felt like a young girl until now. She pulled me along down some back street and I started to get worried was this a ruse?
"Hermione, and yours?", she smiled a blinding smile, except her teeth were alot left to be desired. I felt bad being the daughter of dentists and how much I am unwittingly going to stand out amongst the poorer class.
"'Ngela, come met the girls, 'ermione. They'll 'ove sweet innocent you", she tugged me along down some more streets with all types of men leering and jeering as we walked past, I swear I even felt a hand grab my arse at one point. A small part of me a rather traitorous part wished that the dark lord? Voldemort? Tom? (I wonder what he would call himself in this time) was here. I would feel safer as ridiculous as that sounds.
"Where are we going Angela?", we take another left and I am faced with buildings a few stories high, with washing slung over the balconies or just in general flung out the windows, chamber pots stacked in rows, general filth everywhere. It smells horrid. We are just missed by someone tipping out their laundry water out on to the street, I squeak as I duck out of the way. This must be the slums of London, or at least a slum. I don't want to be here; I can feel tears prick at my eyes.
"Druary Lane", my blood pressure plummets as I swear all the blood goes to my feet. I stumble apparently on nothing and nearly trip face first into the back of Angela. I am grateful for the help, but I just want to run away and try to find Tom. Druary Lane at least in this time (so I know we must be around the turn of the century) was a haven for prostitution, girls tricked and sold into sex slavery. I didn't want to be one of those. No way was I letting a man touch me. I'd rather kiss Voldemort as snake face, than be touched by these disgusting people. I hate myself a little bit for thinking that because this is the life they lead and it's such a harsh life. I'm sure life expectancies don't go too far past 30.
We stopped out the front of a building with multiple men loitering out the front. Oh god, I must have looked like the delicious innocent prey about to be served up. If the look on these men's faces were any indication- fresh meat has arrived. I lamented the loss of my wand which I hadn't had to think about until now. I could feel the magic thrumming underneath the surface of my skin itching to get out, but something was blocking it. I for all tense and purposes was a normal muggle. I shuddered under their lecherous gazes. This reminded me of the series of paintings done by William Hogarth titled 'The Harlot's Progress', where M the woman gets tricked into prostitution with a sad end of her dying of venereal disease. Coincidently on Druary Lane.
"'Ome on you'll be fine 'ermione", she tugs me up the steps and I hold my breath as one of the men grab me round the waist. I freeze up at the unexpected touch. I'm by no means a blushing virgin, but I have no attraction for any of these men.
"Let me go!", I yell angrily as I stomped down on his roes with the heel of my shoe. He yelps and pushes himself off me. He raises a hand to slap me, but Angela stops him.
"Now now Henry, this isn't a new girl she's just a friend", I hope her statement means they'll keep their word, but I doubt it as I see the look in Henry's eye. He will come for me if I'm not careful. I let out the breath I was holding.
"Thanks for that Angela", she beams another impossible smile at me. We enter the establishment and I desperately tried not to stare. In the main area, lines of men were waiting outside doors and paying up their tabs. I was gobsmacked with the amount of people. I had never been into a brothel before, nor had I even thought about what it looked like on the inside. For the most part people were waiting patiently for their turn, somewhere a little drunk and promptly escorted out by the 'brothel bully'. I guess the modern term would equate to a bouncer(?)
A couple where giving a show against a wall, clearly, they liked to be watched. It was eye opening; I will have to wash my brain in bleach to extract that mental image. His pants around his ankles, bucking wildly into the willing woman. Her loud pleasurable exclamations were clearly put on because no one would scream that loud or just in general sound like that. It was too pornish. Very over the top. I wouldn't have been surprised if she was faking the entire thing. Then he grunted at his own release. I felt disgusted and a little violated. And I was the one transfixed. Angela tapped me on shoulder and shook her head. I schooled my features to look as neutral as I could.
Angela pulled me along, she held my hand steadfastly this time in case I got knocked or pulled aside. I assumed we were going to her room and I wondered what I would see. Did Angela take her clients there? Or was there another room? I wasn't sure of the etiquette in a brothel. I laughed to myself etiquette in a brothel. We climbed a set of rickety wooden stairs narrow enough for only one and a half people to pass. A fire hazard of I ever saw one. The walls were thin so you could hear all sorts of moans, groans, screams, slaps and other sexual assorted noises. I felt like a voyeur intruding on peoples most intimate moment, but that's just it isn't it? These weren't intimate encounters, just a business transaction. The men getting the better part of the deal, a warm body for the night and the women having to service multiple clients, trying to earn money anyway they can to feed themselves. The inequality galled me. Women were nothing in this society and it made me angry.
There were a couple of men hanging around outside the various rooms and even one getting fellatio by a middle-aged cubby woman who appeared to have sores on her face. I cringed at the thought of what STDs these people had. They seriously needed sexual education. I will never be having sex again at this rate. This experience has scarred me for life, because there was no way I was letting a guy wearing sheep intestine as a condom let his penis anywhere near my vagina. Yes, that is what they were using as prophylactic for pregnancy. I felt the sudden urge to reach for a bar of soap. As we approached the couple, I got my arse slapped hard- what is it with these people and touching my arse?
"Hey lil lady up for some fun on my cock?", I turned to glare at this deviant, but found myself momentarily stunned- he had his pants undone with his penis out of his breeches and waving it around like a fun toy. I was scandalized. I was speechless at the shamelessness this man had to flap his penis out in public and it wasn't even that impressive. Besides I don't even want to imagine were he has been sticking that thing.
"She's speechless by tha sigh' o' ya dick Micah", I scrunched my face up in revulsion.
"Ah no-", before I could finish my scathing retort, Angela cut me off. "Jus' move along Micah, Mel will be ready soon", she squeezed my hand letting me know this interaction was over and to keep moving. We took a couple of steps only to see the man receiving oral sex to pull out and come all over the face of the woman. I sighed and looked to the ceiling for guidance. Could this day get any worse?
Don' worry 'ermione, it's just sex. Are you still pure?", she asked as we paused in front of what I gathered to be the door to her room. I was taken aback not expecting her to be quite so blunt.
"No no I'm not. I'm just not used to sex being quite so open and men making sexual overtures like that. I find it a little offensive and degrading", she gives me a funny look, like she can't quite decide what to make of me. I am still a modern independent woman at heart even though I am currently stuck in a society designed to squash that.
"Jus be carful what you say. You're smart but innocent people will try to 'ake advan'age o' that. This is my room, you can stay 'ere the night or two, get fed and decide what ya doin'", I walked over to the second empty cot and sat on the edge. It looked semi clean and I needed a place to stay for the night so I could find Tom in the morning. I doubted if I was going to get much sleep.
"'Ermione I 'ave to go work now I'll see ya later? Just don' open the door for anyone, ok?", I nodded. There was no way in hell I was opening that door to anyone. I didn't want any of those men outside to think I was 'in business'. I would keep myself occupied somehow. I watched her walk out and close the door; I couldn't help but feel the sadness come over me at her situation. She looked to be only a few years older than me and had to sell herself to live. Was she forced into this lifestyle? Where are her parents? I sighed and curled up on the bed, my hand touched the simple unremarkable gold chain around my neck. I had completely forgotten about my transfigured beaded bag. Touching it made me feel safer; a comfort from home. I closed my eyes. I felt bone weary; I can't even remember how long I've been awake for, a couple of days at least. I thought perhaps I should have a nap to refresh myself, maybe I would think a bit clearer and not be so strung out emotionally.
I woke to a banging on the door, at first, I wasn't sure it was this door was being knocked on. Then the handle rattled and jiggled, it was like and explosion going off in the otherwise silence of the room. I froze in mild panic unsure how I should proceed, so I just remained quiet and hoped they went away. The door opened creaking slightly and the candlelight from the hallway spilled into the room. It illuminated Angela's bed not mine. The voice spoke…
"'Ere pretty pretty"
