Author's Note:
I know I need a BETA – please know I am not writing this as a work of literature, just a little leisure project I'm working on. From now on – a chapter will be focused on Harry Potter a chapter on Naruto. If someone WOULD like to BETA the story, shoot me a message and I'll gladly let someone help me edit and work on organization or whatever else. Otherwise, I do hope it's not too disorganized, with too many mistakes.
I've received a complaint that may be shared by others that are reading/following/or just started the fanfic that I'm overpowering the girls.
Trust me, they remain with the power levels they have in the canon. No one is going suddenly be super awesome and insane at anything. This is a story about two girls that perhaps don't belong to either world, how they got separated at birth, and their reunion.
I threw in the Dramione pairing, which I wasn't going to initially, because I honestly don't think that two people can work side by side, and find out so much about each other without there forming some sort of bond. Hermione, not being muggle or witch, automatically changes the perspective. This fic wasn't going to be done within two days or something, so there is a natural flow of time that can perhaps inspire a relationship between the two. Also, I absolutely adore the pairing. Tom Felton supports it. Enough said :3.
To clear up the whole "new head of Hyuuga house." Hinata never wanted to take over – even in the canon, Hinata seems really reluctant to become head of house suddenly after her father passes away eventually. Honoring Neji's memory by making the kid "belong to the head house" simply means that the kid won't get branded with the same technique as Neji was, and will be in line to inherit and lead in the event that Hanabi and Hinata are unable to. Considering how big of a shock it was that Neji died, and how much I loved him, this is my ode to him.
Don't like, don't read. Constructive criticism is great when concerning plot holes and writing in general. So please read and review!
And now to continue with the story.
- x -
Hogwarts
Hermione awoke with a start.
Cold sweat ran down her body, drenching the white tank top she slept in, her curls plastered to her face. She tried wiping her forehead with the back of her hand in a futile attempt to get some of the sweat off. Her hands were just as sweaty.
She threw the covers off and made her way out of the girls' dormitory to the bathroom down the corridor. Eight in the morning – everyone else was luckily downstairs at breakfast. In the back of her head, she knew she had to come up with some sort of excuse as to why she wasn't down there herself, but she suffocated the thought in lieu of actually fixing what was wrong with her.
What was wrong with her?
She walked into the bathroom and cast a spell on the water in the large bathtub to be a little colder than room temperature in order to cool off and peeling away her sleeping shorts and her tank top, slowly sank in.
She missed showers. They had showers in the muggle world – this beautiful contraption where it felt like it was raining from above and you could make the water as cold as the Arctic sea or as hot as the fires burning in hell and the sound of the water helped to dispel most thoughts.
However, the wizarding world was so used to not requiring plumbing. It had something of the sort for the toilets, but really, and overtime Hermione came to realize this, what was happening was the sound of magic vanishing excrements in a whirlpool motion. The flushing string simply set the magic already in place in motion.
Showers required a drain, required plumbing, required… well no, not really. All it honestly required was the contraption of the shower head itself – and the same spell that the toilets used could be cast on the drain while a simple aguamenti cast at the shower head would create the illusion of a true muggle shower.
Hermione shook the thoughts from her head, filing it away as something to perhaps bring up to Dumbledore.
The lukewarm water hit her skin and instantly cooled her off. She sighed in content and laid back in the tub and thought back to her nightmare.
Blank.
She couldn't remember it at all.
She couldn't recall what was so bad that she awoke with a start.
If it was the same nightmare that she'd been having for years, she should technically be able to remember it. Maybe, she surmised, for the first time the nightmare she had was a normal one. Perhaps possessed dolls or serial killers from Muggle movies.
The water went from lukewarm to cold, and feeling a little rejuvenated, Hermione got up and out of the tub. She grabbed a fluffy white towel that hung in midair around the tub, and thanked Merlin that the tub was enchanted to produce a towel depending on how many occupants were inside of it.
She had however, forgotten her clothes. She cast a quick drying spell on her hair and body and then tiptoed back to the girls' dormitory in nothing but a towel hoping no one was back yet.
Hermione sighed in relief noting that no one had returned and dressed herself in much needed silence. She looked at herself in the mirror and furrowed her eyebrows. Never one to take care of her appearance, even she could say that she looked like absolute shit. Usually, it didn't matter – but also, usually, she didn't look like someone had removed her soul, given her a good beating and left her for dead. She had a natural color complexion with a cold undertone. When muggle shopping, she opted for the sand colored foundation and soft rosy blushes in the event that during the summer, her parents would make her attend events.
The lackluster skin tone she was staring at was as white as muggle printing paper and it really brought out the dark bags under her eyes.
This will cause questions. I hate being asked questions I don't want to or rather, can't, answer.
"Accio make-up." She waved her wand in the direction of wardrobe and the bag of make-up shot towards her landing on the vanity.
Some primer, concealer, and foundation. Perhaps a golden pink blush. Perhaps mascara.
She opened the tube of mascara and thought otherwise.
That is noticeable. The foundation isn't – to an extent.
For a split moment she thought why she just didn't use a glamour charm, and she waved her wand to return her make-up bag back to its original spot in the wardrobe and then shoved the thought away as well. Doing muggle things helped ground her. It was familiar. It was soothing. She was a muggle before she ever was a wizard.
Grabbing her book bag, Hermione checked the time and realized it was almost time for the first class of the day.
Transfiguration with McGonagall. Routine. Routine was good. Starting the day with her favorite professor was perhaps all the mercy she could ask for. Quickly, she ran out of the girls' dormitory, down to the common room, and fell into a speed walk set on making it in time for class.
Breakfast.
She hadn't eaten, but it only dawned on her when right before reaching Transfiguration, her stomach made a growling sound that echoed through the stone corridors of the castle. Damn this place and its echos. She'd go down to the kitchens between classes, grab a sandwich, and hope her stomach doesn't growl while in class.
That would just be embarrassing. Biting her lower lip, Hermione walked into class, and realized she had made it on time. McGonagall was there, but only half the class was, too. She had a couple minutes to spare and a ton of desks to choose from. Opting to sit closer to the professor, ever the good student, Hermione grabbed a table in the second row, taking her books out.
Transfiguration this year was a difficult subject. Less so difficult and more so that Hermione just found it hard to pay attention. The looming war ahead of them, the questions about whether Draco Malfoy truly was a Death Eater or not, the paranoia that set it surrounding that specific idea and all it brought with it, and her nightmares – all reasons why Hermione found it hard to concentrate on Friday mornings, yet she couldn't help but berate herself for not understanding the instructions the first time around.
It was a pain that come sixth year, classes were shared by those who managed to pass their O. versus an actual other house. Sporadically Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins walked through the doors. Of those Slytherins, of course, one had to be Draco Malfoy and his posse. This year, instead of Crabbe and Goyle, the posse was Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. Pansy Parkinson wasn't to be seen, so Hermione assumed that she got less than an E.E on her O. in Transfiguration. Harry walked in right behind Susan Abbott however, and bee-lined for her looking worse for wear than usual.
"Hey, 'Mione." He huffed and slammed his books onto the table, taking the seat next to her.
She shot him a questioning look and stood to check his temperature, "Harry, you're covered in sweat, are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just, I thought that we were having class in 1B but checking my schedule I realized it was classroom 99 in the south wing, and it was hell trying to get here on time," he shot her a smile and busied himself with taking his books out of his bag.
"A huh," she bit her lip, disbelieving. It was a nice distraction to be worried about someone else – something else, so momentarily, Hermione forgot her horrendously weird morning. It has become rather usual as of late.
Harry ran his hands through his hair, somehow managing to make this bird's nest on his head messier if possible. He shot her a weary smile and gripped her hand, "I'm fine, I swear. I just…"
"Was stalking Malfoy?" she shot him a knowing smile.
"Sort of," he sheepishly admitted.
"He's too young to be a Death Eater, Harry! How many times do I have to tell you this!?" She reprimanded, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
Harry rolled his eyes at her and opened Advanced Transfigurations, and made to respond before being cut off.
"Students!" Professor McGonagall strode into the classroom, robes billowing behind her. A woman on a mission – she looked out of sorts, a nervous wreck, as if she just found something out that was of utmost importance and hated the fact that it had to wait after class to be dealt with.
Chatter instantly stopped.
"Today we will be learning a transfiguration charm that is not in your textbooks, not part of the program. Today we will be transfiguring our partners to look like ourselves – but rather perfect clone copies, we'll transfigure them to look like twins. Every human had the possibility of having a twin during the term of pregnancy, and it is interesting how certain people find their doppelgangers through life – people that look so much like them, they could be mistaken for them."
Harry squinted at Hermione, eyes darting between the professor and her until he eventually cocked his head to the side, utterly confused, hoping the know-it-all had some answers to why in Merlin's name this was even relevant to anything.
"Why this is relevant?" McGonagall waited for the silent consensus that yes, this is what everyone was about to ask her.
"So we can see ourselves from our own points of view. Humans only ever see their own reflections – they never actually see themselves as they do everyone else. Being able to actually see yourself has interesting implications psychologically and emotionally and perhaps, might bring to light what it is to look at you from another's point of view."
"Pairings are as seated."
Hermione and Harry simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief. They'd be paired with each other and not some idiot from Hufflepuff, although they do realize how rude this is, or some stuck up bitch from Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw has hated Hermione because either the clever house didn't get the most clever girl, and they either felt cheated by this or simply hated that the intelligent house couldn't outsmart a girl who sticks up for rules and then breaks them with reckless abandon. Slytherin, as per usual, is out of the question, because if either got stuck with Malfoy or Zabini or Nott, someone would end up dead by the end of class.
With a wave towards the board, the spell was written out complete with annotations of pronunciation, and McGonagall went through explaining the wand movements clearly, having them practice it for the first forty minutes of class. The final ten minutes were reserved with strict reprimand if the movements were perfect.
Once satisfied that no one would end up in the hospital wing disfigured for all eternity, she let the students use the last 20 minutes of class to try it out.
"You go first 'Mione!" Harry smiled at her, honestly curious what the girl's reaction would be to herself.
Hermione laughed and nodded and flicked her wand to the precise movements as she said, "gemina sui!"
However, instead of brown curls and a body drowned beneath purposefully large robes, Harry turned into a girl that looked a lot like Hermione, expect with straight hair done up in two buns on either side of her head, a fringe, and a Chinese looking outfit – a white Chinese style shirt that was tighter than anything Hermione herself would wear, and blooming dark red pants that stopped short of her ankles. Around her right thigh was a black pouch, and she was not wearing Mary Janes but rather black shoes with open toes that were ankle high. Her eyes were slighter larger than Hermione's and a deeper brown and she wore black fingerless gloves – almost looked battle ready.
As Hermione was the first to successfully, or rather, unsuccessfully transfigure her twin, the whole class turned around to stare.
Hermione, HERMIONE, failed?
She cast McGonagall a look of pure shock. She was sure she did it correct. The elder woman made her way down to their desk and did her own wand movements and scrunched her eyebrows in confusion.
"I don't understand myself, Ms. Granger. I checked the spell – it was correctly executed. The spell says that – this – is your twin," she looked warily at Harry who was now a weird looking girl.
"But that's just ridiculous. Sure, she bares resemblance, but she looks nothing like me." Hermione was adamant something had to have gone wrong.
McGonagall flicked her wand again, and then shook her head, "The casting was successful. Magic deems that this is your twin. I am just as confused as you are Ms. Granger, but then again, magic has a mind of its own sometimes. Since execution was accurate, you still get 20 points for being the first to successfully transfigure your partner into your twin. As to why your twin looks absolutely and irrevocably nothing like you, I cannot explain."
"Well there is some resemblance," Seamus from the table behind them butted in, "They have the same eye shape, and the same turned up pixie nose, and the same cheekbone and jawline. I have not seen Hermione's body so I cannot say that they rest is the same as well, but they do seem to have the same leg length and collarbone structure, as well. Perhaps you are fraternal and not identical twins?" He offered up trying to be of help.
"Yeah, but, how does the spell decide whether you have a fraternal or identical twin?" It was weird watching a woman speak in Harry's voice and everyone looked a little uncomfortable with his voice coming out of the brunette donning weird clothing.
Stunned silence followed as everyone in class pondered the idea. McGonagall broke the silence with a shrug and by releasing Harry from the spell, "If I knew, I would've told you by now. Please continue."
Hermione turned into a dark red haired, green eyed girl. Apparently, magic thought that Harry's twin would be a younger replica of his mother, and not that that wasn't possible, sometime twins were born one male one female, but seriously, the transfiguration class was getting a bit creepy.
Twenty minutes later, everyone filed out of class, some still whispering about what the spell thought Hermione's twin would look like. While everyone mostly got the intended result of the class, Hermione got confused.
Not only was it nothing like her, it looked like it came from a different era, a different time. She sighed and as per usual, decided to go down to the library and do some research.
Readjusting her books, she spun on her heels and smiled, "Harry, go on without me to the next class. I'll catch up with you. What's just happened is a little more than just bothering me, and I want to go research that spell. I'll see you at lunch?"
Harry furrowed his eyebrows, "But 'Mione, you never skip class, and Ron's gonna come chasing after you if you leave him alone in Muggle Studies."
"Ron can deal with it, just tell him the truth, and tell him if he disrupts my research, I will hex him into oblivion."
Harry laughed and waved at her while running down the corridor.
Who the fuck placed Transfiguration so far away from civilization? South Wing classroom 99 – that's just ridiculous.
Hermione however knew a short cut or two to get to the library, and ducking behind a tapestry tapped her wand on the stones in the alcove and watched them separate to form a doorway.
Hermione jumped. She jumped and wriggled her hand, she jumped and then fell off of the stool she was jumping from and twisted her ankle, the goddamn book still out of reach.
Her fall made quite a ruckus and she honestly hoped that the stingy librarian Hermione had grown to love hadn't heard. No such luck.
Wringing her hands into her robes, the short, plump woman fussed her way to Hermione.
"Dear child! Ms. Granger! I must ask of you to cease and desist automatically! You're bothering others trying to study! If you keep making noise I would be pressed to ask you to leave! This is your first and last warning, Ms. Granger!" The woman made no attempts to even help her up and Hermione groaned as she lifted her head and watched her leave back to her desk. She let her head fall back onto the ground. Perhaps falling off of a stool didn't exactly require the hospital wing, but she could've at least asked her if she was alright.
Hermione tried propping herself up on her hands and pulled her legs closer to her. She winced as her ankle started to throb.
"See, this is exactly why you don't belong in our world, Granger," a familiar sneer caused her to list her eyes and glare daggers at Malfoy.
He leaned against the shelf, his derogatory smirk aimed happily at her, but she chose to ignore him. Instead, she sat up and started rubbing her offending ankle.
In her peripheral vision, she saw him lift his wand and mutter the levitating spell she knew oh so well how to pronounce and watched as the book she was trying to reach fluttered happily towards her. He did release the spell and let it drop a good two feet in front of her with a loud bang, sniffling in delirious joy as she flinched, not expecting it.
"Try magic next time, witch. Better yet, return to your own world where there is no magic and where people will actually be sorry when you can't reach a book, mudblood."
He spat the last word, and heard a growl that came from deep within her chest as her amber eyes shot up again.
"Piss off, Malfoy."
He snickered, but turned on his heels and left.
Rubbing her ankle, and not wanting to admit that Malfoy for once had a point, she pointed her wand at her ankle recalling the only healing spell she knew, "Episkey."
The pain in her ankle faded slowly, and the girl got up brushing imaginary dust from her skirt. She really should learn more healing spells, she thought, then bent over to pick up the book Malfoy had all but thrown at her.
Human Transfiguration and Transmutation – Taboos and Secrets.
She blew the dust from the front cover and wondered why this book was not in the Restricted Section – perhaps misfiled. Named Taboos and Secrets, it certainly should've been.
Hermione threw all of her thoughts on wrongly shelved books out of her mind as she opened the front cover and heard the parchment crackle. It hasn't been used in a long time or perhaps ever.
Sighing, the girl ran her index finger down the table of contents until she found the chapter she was looking for.
"Human Transfiguration – Twins" She flipped open to the designated page and began reading.
Human transfiguration usually turns the target into a very similar, if not identical copy of the castor. Blah. Blah. Blah, Hermione skimmed through the basic introduction that McGonagall herself had given them, finding it useless to repeat – right now she wasn't studying. She was trying to find an answer. She could go back and reread carefully later.
However, in the event that the castor actually has a twin or during conception had a twin, that is what the target will be transfigured into.
Hermione looked up at nothing in particular shocked.
She swallowed hard.
She re-read that one line. Over. And over. And over.
It didn't change. She didn't read it wrong. In the event that the castor actually has a twin or during conception had a twin… Did her magic believe that she had a twin?
DID she have a twin?
She would surely know if she had a twin right? Her parents at SOME point would've mentioned this, brought it up. Harry may have had a twin that didn't make it. It happens that sometimes the stronger of the two "eats" for lack of a better term the other. Is that why when Harry transfigured her, she basically looked like a carbon copy of Harry except with the basic genetic differences – and still retained her robes?
And if she had a living twin instead of one she consumed during birth, is that why the magic actually changed the clothing as well – even gave the twin a specific hair style – because someone out there in the world, Hermione had a twin who currently was donning that specific look?
What the living fuck. Hermione was slowly finding it hard to breathe, her heart racing in her chest as her eyes hurriedly searched the pages of the book for answers.
Even in her nightmares – the one in which everyone dies, the one in which she gets kidnapped apparently, the one Snape told her was true – even in those nightmares, memories, whatever the fuck they were, she never saw another girl anywhere.
So if she had a twin in those first few months of her life before she was kidnapped, which she still didn't fully believe were actual memories, who the fuck – where the fuck was she?
Hermione slammed the book shut, cast a glamour charm on it, and ran out of the library – she would need to read that whole chapter and take careful notes on it. Something was wrong. Maybe, once she was done reading, she would go back to Snape and have him do Legilimens on her again.
Maybe Snape could see through the apparent memory and take his time searching it – perhaps another crib, something that would indicate another baby at some point was present. After her kidnapping was she returned home?
Hermione could feel a panic attack coming. Her chest constricted, her breathing labored, tears furiously falling down her face and she tried to breathe and failed. She ran and ran and ran down the twisting and taunting cold stone walls of the corridors, going nowhere in particular before she slammed into a dead end corridor, never used, and sank down the wall and cried, her world, reality, spinning out of focus. She may have vomited, she may have cried so hard the entire castle shook, and she may have forgotten to cast a silencing charm around herself. She didn't know. All she knew was that as reality began to spin, reality also faded with her thoughts and she must've, at some point, passed out.
I have a twin. Apparently.