"I think we may be in a different book, on a different page. You said you are different, but you're the same stranger," Jhene Aiko- 'Stranger'

Chapter 21: Stranger

Hermione had been screaming for hours- no maybe even days.

The dark cell they kept her in just made her want to sleep away all her time. There was nothing to do- nothing except wait for them to come for her again.

She had cuts all over. Deep cuts. Some even ran as deep as the bones. She couldn't remember how she got them, but she was glad there was some sort of spell keeping them from bleeding. The spell was enough to keep her from bleeding out, but not enough to subside the pain.

She could barely get past the filmy haze in her head to scream, but when she did, she wasn't sure if she was screaming for help or because of the pain at this point.

However, every time she thought about stopping, she would think about a tall blond with grey eyes who was waiting for her.

Draco's blood was running cold as he stared at the girl across the bar.

How could Blaise have done this to him?

He narrowed his eyes at the young girl. She hated him as soon as she had met him… And now he hated her too. Some girl, a fourth of his age, and he resented her for something out of her control. But he just couldn't help himself.

"Draco!" Mrs. Zabini yelled with her wand pointed at him.

He must have looked half crazed, because even though the girl in the back of the bar looked at him as loathsome as he felt towards her, the entire bar was staring in his direction.

Draco excused himself and ran up the stairs.

"I'm not going to think about it," he said out loud towards the wall.

He laid down on the mostly-clean bed and closed his eyes.

He had been so sure that Hermione loved him before everything at the manor happened. How could he think that now? After seeing what he just saw?

He still felt awful, but the facts remained facts- and the fact was that something changed. Maybe she didn't love him.

Tears began filling his eyes. He swore he would never cry about a girl, but he was sure this wasn't what he meant when he had initially made the vow. This was different. He loved her, and she loved him, but she chose someone else entirely. It had only been a day since they kissed, and now she had a kid with his best- his only- friend.

Yeah, this was worse than he could ever imagine.

Draco awoke to a pounding on the door. The house cleaning here is really getting aggressive, he thought while opening the door.

"Mr. Malfoy," said a man dressed in old tattered robes. "I'm sorry about the inconvenience, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

He didn't sound sorry. "Why?"

"Well," the man said, as though he was about to start a long list of reasons. "Last night-"

"Enough." Draco wasn't interested in listening to a poor bar manager tell him why he wasn't welcome anymore. "I'm leaving," he said, pushing past the man and walking down the hallway.

As soon as he was outside, he apparated home.

The manor looked as it always had, if not a little more aged. He walked straight for the library. It didn't matter that Hermione was with Blaise in the future. He had her in the present, and he had to help her. Whatever happened to this Hermione to make her love Blaise wasn't going to happen to him. He'd never let her see Blaise again if that was what it took.

The library had an entirely new section added to it towards the front. He figured he'd start there.

He was three books down before he found anything worth noting. Those responsible were either dead or in Azkaban, but there wasn't even a list of was almost no details of the account. Like it was covered up.

He opened the top drawer to the desk. Everything was organized with paper-clips and colour coordinated.

He took a peek into the larger drawer towards the bottom. On top, laid a picture of a beautiful Hermione Granger in an incredibly deplorable pink and green dress, and it was sitting on top of at least a hundred other clippings.

Draco was a unsettled by it. It seemed like a depressing hobby to keep track of an ex like this, but he couldn't help feel a little sorry for himself. It looked like life was going well for her, and he was sitting here collecting clippings of her happiness and stuffing it into a drawer.

He dug his arm into the very bottom, hoping he would pull out a clipping of useful information.

"Draco," his mother's voice rang as she opened the door. Draco scurried to get his hand out of the drawer and pushed it shut. She looked at him with sad, knowing eyes. "Blaise is here to see you."

He sat up, and put the books underneath his desk.

Blaise waltz into the room, acting as if he owned the place. "What the hell was that?" He yelled.

Draco stayed silent, giving him the silent treatment. Had he seen the clippings?

"You have the nerve, after all these years, to make a scene like that? In a public place, no less. What's wrong with you?"

Oh...That.

"Draco, if you don't tell me what's wrong with you, I'm going to call Hermione to come talk to you."

It was a threat... and quite an awkward threat at that.

Draco wanted to see her, but Blaise had said it as though Draco was avoiding Hermione. So, he decided to play the role he was given. "Don't do that."

"I'm going to have to, if you don't talk to me."

He crossed his arms, knowing it was a childish act, but knew it would make him follow through on his threat.

Blaise eyed him up and down. As if hit by the actual thought, Blaise's eyes widened. "But that's what you want, isn't it?"

Draco was cunning, but Blaise was sharp too. Draco should have known that Blaise wasn't stupid enough to not notice that he actually wanted to talk to Hermione.

He finally sat down in the chair across from Draco. "What do you want from Hermione?" he asked. "Money?"

"No," he said, a little peeved at the implication. He didn't even know his financial status at the moment, but he still felt offended. "I need to talk to her."

Blaise analyzed him for a few moments then stood up. "If you need to talk to her, than go talk to her."

"Is that a wise decision?" Draco asked, giving a slow, sardonic smile.

He was looking down at Draco. Not literally, but his face made it clear he was disgusted by the thought. Blaise was truly struggling with doing the right thing. "I know she loves me, and I know she'd never leave me. No matter what happens. She doesn't love you anymore."

Draco looked away. Blaise could be brutal sometimes. He always knew exactly what to say to twist the knife in deeper.

"But-" Blaise said in a softer tone. "I know she never stopped loving you either."

Blaise let out a long sigh. Draco could tell it was physically paining him to say this.

"You may have done some shitty things, unforgivable things even, but you were her first love… Even if she denies it, I think you guys need to talk."

He grabbed his coat and and right before he left Blaise added, "Seriously, don't act like that towards them again. You really scared my mum."

Draco didn't say anything. He didn't want to hear anything needed to get to Hermione.

So he grabbed his coat and left as well.

Draco got into the ministry without a hitch. A half-witted man even helped him get onto the level where Hermione would be. The real problem was getting past the secretary.

"Mr…" the secretary said, looking up from a piece of parchment.

"Malfoy," he said, trying his hardest not to roll his eyes. The woman was older than dirt. There was just no plausible explanation to why she wouldn't know who he was.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Unfortunately, the Minister for Magic requires an appointment in advance."

Draco wasn't listening to her though. There was a lone door at the end of a long hallway, his eyes were fixated on it. He wondered how far he could make it before they caught him.

Draco hadn't even taken a step before the woman behind the counter sounded an alarm, separating two middle-aged wizards alongside the blaring siren.

They all sent stunning spells, before he had a chance to even touch his wand.

His last thought was that he regretted not having a plan, but when Draco awoke in an office room across from Hermione, he decided not having a plan wasn't too bad.

Her whole face had aged, sure, she was at least 20 years older, but she looked like she was a decade older than Blaise.

She had deep lines in her face. And even if he wanted to call them laugh lines to be polite, they definitely were not laugh lines. Honestly, she didn't look like she'd laughed in years. There were large bags under her eyes, and her outfit was more disheveled than he'd ever seen on a business woman.

"You," Draco croaked. "Look different."

"I'm sure I do," she said, marking something off of the paper. "The magazines do a lot of editing."

Her writing hand was shaking a bit. He wondered if she was nervous or angry.

"I was stunned?"

"Yes?"

"And how-?" Draco began.

"Do you honestly think they could ring an alarm bell and I'd just sit inside my office?" She looked up at him with the same vigor he'd grown accustomed to. "I'm Minister for Magic, not helpless... obviously."

She drew her hands underneath the table. "And I'm allowing you in my office because I want to know why you're here," she said before he had a chance to ask.

There was a long pause. She was waiting for him to say something, but got tired of the silence. "Why are you here, Mr. Malfoy?"

He didn't like the formal, borderline rude tone she was taking on. Draco took a sip of water. "I met your daughter yesterday," he said, evading the question.

"Yes, I know."

"And you're married to Blaise. I'm not surprised."

"Well, you shouldn't be. We've been in the papers almost non-stop for ten years now," she said, putting down her pen. "And don't think for a second you're hiding anything valuable. Blaise may think he's sly, but I know you two are still in contact."

"And how do you know that?"

"It only takes a phone call to the Floo Network Authority to figure out why my floo powder is decreasing more than it should be."

"Don't you think that's a little invasive?" Draco muttered.

"I have a daughter, and I was worried," she said, but quickly added, "I should also have a basic idea of where my husband is, too."

"Sure, sure," he waved.

"Why are you here?" she snapped. "Do you need money?"

"No!" And why does everyone think I need money? "I want to know where they took you when you were kidnaped."

Her face fell. "What is wrong with you?" she shrieked

"You-" She stood up so abruptly it knocked over one of the few picture frames on the desk towards Draco. "YOU after all these years! YOU want to know about that? W-Who do you think you are?"

"I just want to help, Hermione."

"You want to help? Where were you then!?" she shouted, grabbing her hair.

Draco dared not to move because he was sure, at this very moment, she was insane. "Where were you when I fucking needed you, Draco? You were eating a warm meal every day while I rotted away! You have no right to know! Wh- I... J-Just get out."

Draco didn't move. He just witnessed Hermione Granger having a complete mental breakdown. Did she actually want him to leave? Or did she just want him to turn his back so she could curse him for that too. He suddenly understood what a mouse caught by a cat felt like.

She lowered her hands and drew her wand, waving it towards the door. "Get. Out. Now."

"I may look like it, but I'm not-"

"I don't want to hear it, Malfoy!" She used her wand to throw the door open. "Leave."

And so he left, learning only that he hadn't tried searching for her, and that whatever time she spent there, she'd gone a bit crazy.

Draco was exhausted by the time he got home. He understood why Blaise wasn't concerned about them meeting. It made sense why Mrs. Zabini said she didn't think Hermione forgave him, but she was wrong to think Hermione didn't hate him.

She definitely hated him.

He knew now. Yes, he knew. She hated him, and it was all his fault.

It was nightfall, and again, he still hadn't accomplished what he set out to do.

He was mentally kicking himself for not being able to avoid the outburst. He smelled something savory coming from the kitchen and his stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten all day.

His mother was standing above a large pot of of some sort of stew. Normally, he wouldn't have even touched that sort of dish, but he was hungry, and more importantly his mother had actually made food for them.

Something was wrong with his family. He knew that now. Everyone assumed he needed money, there were no house elves, and his mother was cooking.

"Here," she said, handing him a bowl. "I hope it's better than the last time."

"Me too," he said, not knowing about the last time, but still hoping it was better.

Draco decided it wasn't the worst thing he'd ever eaten.

Before he could tell her it was good, she threw down her fork. "It's just as awful! I know it is. I'm so sorry."

"No, it's good."

"Really?" She asked, her eyes half watery.

"Y-yeah… look I'll clean the dishes," he said. It seemed she was in the midst of a breakdown too. He'd already seen one too many today.

"That's very kind."

Draco felt a breech in the wards and his mother's eyes turned to him. "If it's for me," he said, "tell them to come back tomorrow." Even if it was Hermione, he could just go to see her tomorrow.

She nodded her head and went to open the door.

Draco used his wand to wash the dishes. Of the few times he talked to Hermione about the Weasley's house she'd mentioned a automatic washing spell. Maybe that would be his parting gift to his mum of this world.

He heard two pairs of feet coming towards him.

Why did no one ever listen to him?

Draco was tired of talking… tired of thinking. Every move he made in this world so far had been calculated- more or less. So why was he also responsible for obliging everyone else's requests whenever they felt like it.

Draco set the sudsy dish on the countertop, not bothering to rinse or dry, and left with a loud pop.

He laid down on his bed. They probably believed he was gone by now. He might as well be. He grabbed a cold pillow, put it between his legs, and through his blanket over him.

He was almost on the verge of sleeping when there was a knock on the door.

"Let me in, Malfoy," said a beautiful, yet angry voice.

Moving was a pain. His wand was on the nightstand behind him, and turning over and losing his comfortable spot was too much of a hassle. Hermione would just have to talk through the door.

"I know you're in there. You don't have anywhere to go do you?"

What did she know? She said she hadn't talked to him in years. He could have loads of friends! Plenty of places to go.. Night clubs, bars, hotels. He could be anywhere.

There was a heavy sigh and a set of footsteps walking away.

Surely she would wait till morn-

His thoughts were cut in half by pieces of stone hurtling towards him. The air was so thick of dust from the wall's fragments he had to bring the blanket up to his mouth to breathe.

His grey eyes peaked above the blanket to see a very composed Hermione standing at the post of his bed.

"Don't ignore me," she said.

"I wasn't-"

"And don't lie."

She walked around the bed and wiped off chunks of rock and dust particles off of the blanket and sat down.

"So when are you from?"

Cutting right to the chase. It was just like her to do that. Draco thought. No silly roundabout questions like he'd been doing since he was here.

"I'm from… well, you were kidnapped about a day and a half ago."

She looked over at the wall she'd just blown up. "You're young then."

What a strange thing to say, he thought. What made it even more odd was the Loony Lovegood look she was giving the empty space of what should have given him some sort of protection from her.

"I guess..." This wasn't his hermione. She'd already made that clear. He pulled the blanket from his face and sat up. "Look, are you going to tell me where they took you or not?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed and her lip curled up.

"You're a very insensitive person."

"No, actually I'm not. You're the insensitive one, trying to keep things from me that will help the girl I love."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You don't love her."

"Stop trying to tell me who I am and what I think. I don't care who you think I am. If you can't give me the answers that I want, than just leave already."

She stared at Draco. A stare that reminded him of his Aunt Bellatrix after she escaped from Azkaban. It was unsettling. His stomach clenched, and he averted his gaze.

"Fine. I'll tell you." No matter how sincere it sounded, the crazed look was still there. "But I'm going to give you something first.

She grabbed Draco's arm and yanked him forward. The force brought him face-first into the mattress.

A woman with a vendetta against him had him pinned down, vulnerable in his own bed, and not in the way he would have liked.

Then the pain came. She was carving something into his arm.

"HERMIONE," he begged, "STOP!"

She let go immediately. It was as instant as turning off a light. The real Hermione took back control of her body. Draco's soft pants were the only thing breaking the silence. He flipped over and glanced at his arm. It was throbbing, but he couldn't see anything wrong with it.

What the hell was that? He wondered.

Draco felt the mattress move. He moved his eyes towards her. He could tell she was holding her head in her hands, but everything else was blurry.

"I- I'm sorry. I'm sick- Draco I'm so sick." Her voice was beginning to shake. "I'm not like this, I swear. I haven't been this person in years. You didn't do anything. You didn't. It wasn't you, not really. It was him. Not you. I should have known it would be too much for you."

Draco strained to sit up, carefully avoiding using the arm she had just carved into.

Hermione's lips were shaking. She kept wiping at the tears, but it was only spreading the drops across her face. Something was completely broken in her. Something that made him want to crawl out of his skin, but it was also a feeling that made him want to give her comfort and help. This was still Hermione.

Draco wondered if he really was just a bystander to her torture like she had implied. The way she was treating him made it seem like he actually played a part.

She pulled his arm again, bringing him closer. Her hair was brushing against his forearm. "No- no. This is wrong," she said, rubbing soothing circles where she had cut.

She looked between his eyes and his arm. Her nails pressed in deeper. "I have to get it out."

Draco put his hand on her arm, giving what little comfort he felt comfortable with. "Hermione, please stop. There's nothing there, you just cut me is all. Why don't you tell me what happened?"

She gave a slow nod, her hair falling down like a curtain in front of her.

"You never came for me. You didn't even look for me. The whole time I was in there I thought, 'Draco's going to find me, he's looking for me.' You, Harry, and Ron were going to burst through the door and save me. I was so sure of it. But…" she sighed, rocking back and forth. "But your parents told you not to, so you didn't."

"I'm sure there was more to it than that."

She glared up at him. "They said they'd disown you if you did, so you didn't. The same person who was able to make the decision not to look for me is sitting in front of me right now. That's who you are. You're incapable of love-"

"No I'm-"

"I've accepted it. I know now that you were able to make that choice.."

"I'm here now. I'm not the one that made that choice. Sure, I could have made that choice. Isn't anyone capable of making bad choices?"

Hermione shook her head. "Blaise didn't. Blaise didn't even wait for the aurors to help when he found me."

"So he made a good choice." Draco shrugged. "That doesn't mean he wasn't capable of making a bad one."

"I want the me you know, the younger me, to know that you're capable of."

Capable of? That makes me sound like I was torturing her with my own hands. He thought.

She was watching him with bloodshot eyes. "You might think you didn't play a part, but doing nothing is just as bad." She paused, but continued when she felt like Draco wasn't going to say anything snarky. "I was held for five years." She was twisting knots in the bedsheet. She didn't want to tell him what happened or where she was. She didn't want to help him at all. But she owed it to her younger self, didn't she? She had to keep her from going through what she went through, even if she wanted Draco to suffer. "I don't know where exactly, because they just decided to drop me off one day in the middle of nowhere. But their leader was Knott Sr.. and Jr."

The room seemed colder, stagnant, like the remaining walls in the room were closing in. "Both of them? Who else?"

"Nameless people. They all scattered when the aurors finally found them. They all took unbreakable vows on identities. Even when you found one, it was almost impossible to get information on another."

"So-wait," Draco started. "How could Blaise, your knight in shining armour, find you if he didn't even know where to look?" Draco wondered if this was the real account of events or if her craziness was wearing into her memory.

"He knew where to find me because he's the one that bargained for my freedom. The day I was kidnapped, he joined them. You remember what it was like for the purebloods. They planted evidence on him in Hogsmeade just to get him to join. Remember?."

How could he not remember? For her, those moments were decades ago, but for Draco, they were still a very real threat.

"So Blaise joined, and they released me… eventually."

"Why would they trust someone who joined for the sole purpose of saving you?" he asked while shifting his legs.

"Because I meant less than nothing to them."

Hermione bit her lip and pushed her hair back. "They just wanted people in high positions, or people with name recognition to join their forces. It didn't matter why they joined. What mattered was their image, and making Blaise Zabini join because he wanted something back from them meant that they were a threat," she said. "And threats scare people into doing bad things."

"As we've discussed," Draco said, referring to his future-self's choices.

Hermione's face scrunched up. "So we have."

"So right now, even in my world… Blaise is?"

"Yeah, Blaise is one of them," she said softly, slowly, "but he's doing it for me."

Draco would bet his favourite broomstick she was wishing Draco had been able to come sooner somehow. At this moment, even in his world, Blaise was playing the hero for her. Hell, he already was the hero in this story, but Blaise wasn't going to be the hero in the real one.

That was up to Draco.

A/N: Yep, I'm still popping these things out. I love anyone who's still reading this, because I'm still trying to finish it. Thanks for the reviews in the past and your continued support. Working 50+ hours a week and writing everyday don't coexist peacefully, but I'm trying.