A/N: i own nothing. Sorry for not posting any earlier, had the exam session and other various reasons. I'll try to be more productive over the holidays. Also, I'm trying to keep the chapters the same length, so it might take some more time during school time (which is nearly over, so yeah.) Review, please!
Chapter eleven: In which Hermione returns to Camelot and Mordred feels unwanted.
"And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it." Paulo Coelho - "The Alchemist"
It was a rainy day in this pitiful castle of nowhere. Nothing had changed during these past weeks, but Hermione couldn't shake off the feeling of uneasiness and guilt. A few weeks ago she had visited Gaius, before she realized how the old man was trying to figure her out, and when Genevieve had asked about news, she had lied. Camelot was livelier than ever. Even though Hermione had never witnessed anyone entering or leaving through the woods, there were cracks in her shields and Hermione had always paid great attention to it, as there was always the safety of herself in it. Also, the thought of someone breaking and entering the castle was terrifying, so when she realized what was happening, she allowed that bit of information stay in her mind for a while, before renewing the wards.
She was growing anxious, wishing terribly to have someone familiar to talk to. Homesickness was driving her mad. She'd been with Genevieve for too long, her wards telling her where she was always. She could not tune the presence out – this was the one and only lack of a spell she'd performed.
She even missed Merlin, despite his rather strange behaviour the last time they'd seen each other. Missed Arthur, because he'd somehow always managed to make her smile.
"Genevieve, I'm going to visit Camelot today," she said to her friend, before casting a spell over herself. When Vivi looked at her again, what she saw was two girls: one, the Hermione she knew, and the other, the stronger image was of Hermione with straight red hair. Either way, she looked absolutely gorgeous.
Hermione had chosen red for her hair for the same reason she was going to see Merlin. The feelings of longing for another presence had grown too strong and who else could help, if not her best female friend?
Instead of walking, she apparated to the town, where despite of early hours, life was buzzing. She melted to the crowd effortlessly, moving with it without hurry to the warlock's chambers. Unsurprisingly, she found Merlin still sleeping soundly. Hermione leaned over his face, smiling gently at how relaxed it was. It would be so easy to fall in love with him...
When he finally opened his eyes, Hermione had started knitting out of boredom and knowledge of winter coming. The worst that could happen would be to die of cold. (Here she carefully ignored the fact she was a witch and could use a heating spell.)
"Hi," Hermione meekly said. Merlin looked at her in confusion, not recognizing the red hair from anywhere. After his eyes had cleared, he realized soon that it was Hermione he was staring at.
"You looked better with your hair," he replied with a yawn. Then, as if becoming angry at her, he asked sternly:"What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to make a truce," she said, putting her tools into the beaded bag. She looked more worn out and with a wave of her wand, she returned her hair to normal. The vibrant colour made her feel uncomfortable. Merlin sighed, leaning back to his cot.
"Just when I have a free day," he muttered to himself, but waved his hand for her to continue.
"Well, I'm sorry for.. doing what I did," She decided not bringing it up again would be a decent idea compared to what other she had thought about."As I was saying, the truce.. yeah, the truce." Her focus was slipping and she smiled nervously."I promise I will do nothing, if you continue to... Well, aid me, I suppose."
"Help you with what?" he wondered, still not moving from his bed. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Well, certainly not with going home," she said sarcastically, earning a grunt from the prince's manservant. It made her chuckle, but after he'd sent her a dark look, the laughing ceased and she was back to seriousness."I still wish to return," she added solemnly."It was a mistake, coming here. You might be the only one able to help me." Of course, she tried her best to stay vague in her voiced opinion, but she could not deny the praise. After what she'd seen him do...
"Okay," Merlin agreed easily, grinning at her. Hermione's heart fluttered at the sight of his teeth and without much worry, she smiled back. Merlin, however, had never been angry at her like she'd believed him to be. In fact, the only reason he could not return was the prince's worry he might do something to her. What a stupid idea it was!
"Really?" she asked for confirmation, her childish excitement barely showing through. Merlin sat up and nodded, showing her to the door. After all, it was unsuitable to be for a woman her age to be in the same room with a man in his sleeping clothes; especially, if the man was also her age.
Hermione walked downstairs with a slight smile, her head full of ideas for the day. She had the intention of acquiring a sword, since she'd have to leave the Gryffindor's behind. There were very few ways to strengthen the weapon in magical ways and finding one here would be a difficult task. Perhaps Merlin could offer his assistance in it as well.
There were many qualifications for a sword she could wield. Needless to say, it would have to be of high quality material, which would last long enough - if she could have a weapon that would exist even after the owner was dead, she would be happy. Secondly, the sword could not be heavy. When she explained it to Merlin, the boy was in complete agreement with her. About the looks? She wasn't sure.
Many of the famous swords had had inset jewels and the owner's name engraved on it, but to Hermione, it seemed like a pointless waste of gold. These swords had always demanded attention and their owners often had to beware of lurking thieves and the wrath of their enemies. For that, Hermione did not wish.
"I'm unsure who to ask," Hermione admitted."By any chance, you don't know of any goblins around, do you?" Hearing the creature's species' name, Merlin groaned. Those mischievous beings were one of the many he'd grown to dislike and he would not point her in the direction of one. He'd once accidentally set a goblin loose in the castle and it had caused great trouble.
"I see you've encountered them," the woman observed."And by the looks of it, it wasn't very pleasant. I suppose their rather... different from the ones I've known." The goblins in her time were certainly not pleasant, but she could understand why. However, they had their own respectable jobs in the Gringotts Wizarding Bank and were regarded as equals by many. But Gringotts was a relatively recent thing even in her time with the history of less than 300 years.
"So, do you have any idea what we should do?" she asked, staring at him with interest. Merlin nodded slowly.
"I think that maybe you should get a regular sword at first," he said contemplating."And then, I could use a bit of my magic on it." He didn't add anything about the dragon. As much as he knew Hermione, he wasn't sure whether or not to trust her with the dragon.
"Then, of course, we should find a blacksmith," the woman stated the obvious. Merlin chuckled. It had been the two of them for hours - Gaius was out of town and Arthur had shown any interest in what Merlin was doing in his free time, although he suspected Merlin had gone to see Hermione, not vice versa.
"There are a few nearby, I could ask around," Merlin offered and Hermione nodded carefully. She knew her knowledge of weaponry was limited and it would be easy for Merlin to ask for Arthur's help, if he wasn't sure how to choose."Gwen might be able to know. Her father was a blacksmith."
"Was?" Hermione said out loud curiously.
"He's dead," Merlin blurted out insensitively. The woman looked him in the eyes with slight worry of having offended him, but the warlock gave her no chance to speak."Where are you really from?" he queried. Hermione froze, hearing the dreadful question. She gave her usual answer, but Merlin shook his head.
"No, Hermione. Tell me the truth, please!" he pleaded, leaning over the table and taking her hands in his. Hermione turned her head away.
"I can't," she admitted."I'm sorry." She turned her head back, but her head was down and she refused to look him in the eyes. Merlin sighed, giving her a squeeze."If I told you, it could change everything." Silence fell between the two and Hermione reluctantly pulled her hands away.
"When should I come next?" she asked standing up. Merlin rose from his seat quickly, his eyes wide.
"Don't go just yet!" he begged."You just got here!" He grinned widely, trying to diffuse the awkwardness. Hermione gave a weak laugh and sat down again.
"Okay," she gave in as easily as he had done before. "How about we talk of magic then?" and they did. They spoke until the sun descended and the world grew dark. It was only when the clock struck midnight, she kissed him bravely again and turned on the spot, looking back at his dazed eyes and a wide grin. It had definitely been a good day, very much so.
Mordred was angry to find Hermione gone. He understood why it was important she'd go, but he didn't like it nevertheless. After realizing he'd been left with that annoying Genevieve, who could not hear when he spoke with his mind, he had been wandering the castle, frustrated. Hermione had not even left him anything called 'homework' she'd given him in their attempts to teach him to write and read. He hardly saw any point in it, but he admired his future mother's elegant handwriting which took up so much space on the parchment on the tables.
He'd learned all the letters and could spell out some of the words written. From the few he could read, he knew everything already. He knew well the woman was a time traveller - there was no other explanation, and he desperately wanted to tell Emrys, but Hermione's secrets were hers to tell. Even if it ended up Merlin being the one to send her back to where she belonged.
Mordred wanted to scream. No matter how nice, how kind, how loving Hermione was, she had left him alone! Like an abandoned puppy, the child spent the day sulking. There was nothing else to do. Somewhere during the day, following the raid he'd done on kitchen, he went out for a walk and breathed in the nature. It felt like home. If only his parents were there...
When Hermione finally returned, she found him sleeping on the forest floor, covered by nothing but his own coat. She cradled him in her arms and carried her back to the castle. He snuggled closer to her, like any child would do, and inhaled greedily the scent of her. A smile passed the face of the sleeping child and Hermione was warmed by the heartfelt gesture.
She laid the child on her bed and covered her with a woollen blanket, knowing the night might be one of the coldest so far. Then, she proceeded to converse with the terse woman about how her day was. The more days passed, the more guilty Hermione felt for dragging her into the business. However, she was still more than happy to have a friend and if possible, she would definitely find Genevieve a good husband, one that wouldn't work her to death.
There was so much she had to do, so many books to read, and so little time. Guilt seeped into her heart, realizing she'd wasted another day she could have spent looking for a way home.
"Home," whispered something in her mind. "Isn't that the place where the heart is?"
