Disclaimer - I obviously do not own Harry Potter. This story is inspired by the works of J. . It is also inspired by an idea on tumblr, so I'm not very original at all. Either way, I just wanted to have fun with this idea as it is very cool, and I like to mess around with the history of it, even if a lot of it is very wrong.
Chapter One
It was surreal.
Even though it was her reality, all she had ever known, staring at it always made her think how strange the world was.
She was currently seated in a café area in the middle of a large shopping centre, sipping her hot chocolate and just watching the world go by.
Teenagers, no older than 18 walked past, talking about what had happened to them 30 years ago.
A newspaper stand mourned the recent loss of a woman who was born in 1786. The picture accompanying the headline showed a girl who seemed to be only about 18.
It was cruel and beautiful. But, she supposed, that was how the world worked.
Ever since she was a child, she had been waiting to find her person. Her soul mate. The one human being to make her complete. She remembered in school, she and the other girls used to daydream about what their Absent would be like. What kind of job would they have? Would they be good looking? Secretly - would they be a girl or a boy?
Once your body had reached full maturity, all aging stopped. Millions of people frozen in puberty, some for what felt like forever.
However, if you found your Absent, your aging resumed. Once you found the one person you were supposed to be with, you were free to grow old together, to reach the true eternity that did not exist in years, but in death. But, what if you met them and didn't realise it? What if you spent years in a relationship with someone, believing them to be the one, but eventually realising that while you were aging, your partner was not.
A large part of their education was trying to teach them how to recognise the signs, before lives were ruined. As a child, she saw it as living out a fairy-tale. Lifting a curse and being with your true love. But as she grew up, she saw how wrong that was.
People spent lifetimes looking for their Absent, but never found them. Some were 'lucky' and found their Absent twice, even after their death.
Her name was Hermione Granger. She was 35, and she knew for certain that she had not found her Absent, because she had the face and body of a 21 year old.
She came from a Complete household. From a supposed nuclear family. And while everyone acted like life Bonded was perfect, she knew that not to be true.
For years her friends had asked her why she didn't go and look for her Absent. It was a common practice all over the world. People took years out of their lives, travelling the world, looking for the person they were supposed to be with.
Hermione was happy with her life. She didn't need anything more from it, let alone a relationship she could never really escape. She had a lovely house, a great job and paid for everything herself, which was all she had ever wanted.
She was supposed to be meeting her friend Ginny for coffee, but she was – as usual – late, and so Hermione had resorted to people watching. It was never a good idea for her to be alone with her thoughts and nothing to do. And forever was a very long time to be dealing with them.
Hermione caught sight of her friend, pushing a buggy along with all sorts of bags hanging from the handles. Ginny waved energetically, increasing her pace so she could reach her friend quicker.
"How are you? You look great!" Ginny cried, pulling her purchases off of the handles of the buggy so that it wouldn't fall back when she let go of it. "I haven't seen you in so long!"
"I'm good, I'm good. I've just gotten a promotion, so I'm pretty happy, but busy! So I have kind of been in hermit mode – sorry! How are you? And how is my best little boy?" Hermione replied, reaching into the buggy and pulling out her godson, James, who was giggling as her plunged his sticky hands into her curls and began to play with them.
"He is a little monster! But he is my monster, so I guess he'll have to stay," Ginny tickled her toddler as she said it, and his giggles increased in volume "Everything is great, the kids are loving their new school so I have some more time on my hands which is great. I've started writing again, and I'm hoping I can send something to my publisher by the end of the month."
"That's amazing! What is this one about?"
"It's just a kid's book. I've been feeling inspired by the mind-numbing amount of kids TV I watch. I actually watched Cinderella about 15 times this month alone. I think I'm starting to go crazy! Any news from you? Any romances to tell me about?"
Ginny had started aging again when she was 23, and so now had the appearance of a woman in her mid-30's. She was quite lucky, because her husband Harry was about the same age. It was scary to look at her and see wrinkles when they had known each other from when they were babies. It was scary to think that one day James might look older than Hermione herself.
Hermione attempted to suppress a sigh. It never took long for this conversation to rear its ugly head. It was unavoidable. Any Complete couple just wanted the same for their friends. They were living the ideal life and just wanted it for others. But sometimes the ideal life meant something different to someone else.
"Nope. Just me. As usual." She replied, her voice light but strong in an attempt to say 'can we stop talking about this?'
"Have you ever thought about, you know, being with someone who isn't your absent?" Ginny said in a low voice, looking around her to make sure no one could over hear them.
Hermione was surprised. Ginny had always been very traditional, very conservative. There was a big movement of 'purists' who believed that love and sex should only be between Belonged, and Ginny had often shown sympathy to their cause. This view was felt by most in society, but legislation protected those who chose to be together despite not Belonging to each other.
Hermione herself believed that everyone had a right to feel what they felt as long as they didn't hurt anyone. If people could find love in one another, and understood there was a possibility they would not last, then they should be allowed to express that love.
"No," she said, and with prompting from Ginny's eyebrows she continued "Having a relationship, being with someone is not and never has been something that appeals to me. I don't want someone dictating my life. I want just want my own space"
"But that's not how it is! You are meant to be together, that's how it works! Compromise is a big part of relationships, and when you have someone you love more than anything else in the world, you would be happy to compromise for them, and they feel the same!"
Hermione fought the bitterness that rose up inside her chest and suppressed some angry retorts, instead choosing to cuddle the toddler on her lap a little tighter, as James was starting to nod off in her arms.
A silence stretched out as the two very different women looked at each other from across the table. Eventually Ginny broke the silence and asked her about her promotion.
She had been working for about 5 years in a small museum, a private collection for a large company. It was a shipping company called Atlantic Movement, and was hundreds of years old. It had been renamed many times, due to the company's controversies in the past. Shipping involved a lot more than just food and supplies long ago, and it could never be forgotten. So PR had changed the name to attempt some distance.
The archives were large, and she loved working in them, reading the stories that had been lost through the years. The tales of the people below the surface of history.
She had only been one of the supporting curators, but after the retirement of her boss she had been elevated to the position of main curator. She had no idea how many responsibilities he had had, so the past few months had been spent catching up, forming relationships with people who had known her predecessor for decades.
After filling Ginny in on her promotion, she accidentally let slip about the party that was to be held the following night.
"What, a ball? Sounds fancy! What are you going to wear?!" Ginny squealed, before quieting as her son stirred from his spot on Hermione's chest.
"I have a dress, but I'm not sure if I'm going to wear it. It's a bit risqué." She replied, her face turning red as she thought about the dress. It was something she would NEVER wear.
"Oh come on! You have to! What's this thing for anyway?" Ginny said, waving away the doubt with a careless hand.
"It's to celebrate 400 years of the company. As I am now technically a department head I have been invited. I really don't want to go though. It's such a boys club. Even though the guys look my age, they still live it up like it's the 18th century AKA belittle anything a woman does. I'm pretty sure I can count the number of female department heads on one hand." Hermione fumed. She had had to fight down her every instinct not to attack those assholes sometimes. They treated her like she was nothing, just because she was a woman.
It angered her that people like Ginny tried to act like relationships were equal. Even though their bonds proved that men and women should be treated the same, that they were matching pieces of a puzzle, men had still been considered the greater of the two sexes up until very recently. And even the supposed equality they had now, it was not what it should be, especially with men from centuries past still hanging around.
"Ok, well after the ball you have to come to mine so we can talk about it! You are a young eligible woman and I am going to have to live through you!" Ginny smiled. She looked so sweet Hermione agreed, although she knew she'd live to regret it.
Ginny and Hermione continued to chat for another half an hour, before Hermione had to get back to work. It was Friday, so she was happy to sacrifice her lunchtime for a quick coffee with Ginny, just to make the day go faster. She just wanted to be in her bed doing her paperwork, rather than the office… doing her paperwork.
Taking her time to walk up to the 'museum', she kept her head up as the people passed her. And by 'people' she meant men. Ignoring as they judged her with their eyes, or straight up leered at her.
She knew she did not have a very healthy opinion of men.
Entering her mahogany office she chucked her bag onto the floor, and began to check the emails on her computer.
Several memos and emails later, she found a newsletter, recounting the major events within the company in the month. What caught her eye in particular was the notice announcing the party that would be taking place the next day, and stating that one of the original founders of the company would be attending.
This shocked her completely, as she knew them to be ancient. Atlantic Movement was part of an old chain of huge multi-national companies, all started over a range of centuries by the same group of men.
By now, they must be at least 1000 years old. Now a days, you never saw someone that old. They were usually rich enough to keep out of the public eye, and bored of the mundane life of the 'young'. To actually see one in person would be interesting. The last time she had seen one even close to their age was when she was a young child. They were considered celebrities, many would love to be in her position to be able to see one.
She thought again about the party, and her willingness to attend began to dwindle. Having a founder there would cause the smarmy climbers of the company even worse. They would be insufferable, talking non-stop about meeting him. There would only be about 5 other women who actually worked at Atlantic movement, and the rest would be trophy wives, gossiping at the tables whilst the men retreated for cigars to discuss 'business' – although she would never get invited.
Suddenly, a head popped around the door. It was her boss Horace Slughorn, he managed all the department heads at the London headquarters.
"Good Afternoon Mr. Slughorn, can I help you with something?" she asked kindly. He was a nice man, and always looked after her, even though he said things that annoyed her. He did pretty well compared to others at the company despite being over 100.
"Ahh yes, Hermione! I just wanted to come in and make sure you were coming to the shin-dig tomorrow. Mr. McLaggen has been asking for you specifically, and asked me to ensure you attended" he smiled in pride, missing the split-second look of horror on his subordinates face.
"Uh, yes sir, I will be attending, if it is Mr. McLaggen's wish. Is there anything else?" Mr McLaggen always 'asked for her'. He had been after her since day one, and every encounter it was harder to keep his slimy hands off of her.
"No my dear! Have a lovely day! Make sure you get your beauty sleep!" whistling a jaunty tune, he left down the corridor, and once he was at a safe enough distance, Hermione slammed her head down onto the table.
She would have to attend now, there was no escaping it. The last time she had missed a work event against the behest of Mr. McLaggen, she had received a citation, warning she'd be suspended if she did it again. She had tried to complain about it, but he was too high up the chain of command for HR to do anything about it.
Battling her way through the next couple of hours, she was able to collect her things and go home. She was very proud of her little flat. Her first wages were spent buying a comfy leather armchair so she could read her books in the corner. Warm light spread throughout, and she was able to just see Regents Park from her window.
Throwing her bag onto her bed, she leaned out of the window. It was a beautiful day in London, and as she breathed in the air, she thought about what the years could bring her.
Maybe she should just find someone. Even if they weren't her Absent. She wouldn't be lonely anymore. She wouldn't be empty. But a part of her wondered if she wanted to be alone. She could live out her life, moving through the ranks. It had always made her angry that there were no powerful women, maybe she could be one of the first.
But forever is a long time to live.
It was 2076, how people interacted was changing. Even if she wasn't traditional with how she lived, it didn't mean it was wrong, or that people would judge it. She had even heard of legislation being put forward to allow same-sex marriage, despite same-sex bonding existing since the very beginning. It was the best time to be alive, and she was lucky to be there. That was how she should be thinking. She had to think like that or she wouldn't be able to live.
Putting on the TV, she flicked through the channels. The history channel was running a series on the impact of Baconian science and 'philosophy', so for the rest of the evening she ate her dinner, worked on her paperwork, and tried not to think about the following evening.
As it was a Saturday, she had the day to herself.
She spent her time reading and tidying her flat, halfway through the day taking a small walk to the local park so she didn't spend her whole time indoors, although later she realised that was unnecessary as she was going to the ball later.
The latter part of her day was spent getting ready. She wearily applied her makeup and curled her hair, painting her façade back on with a vengeance. Not a hair was out of place – she looked beautiful. Her dress was an impulse buy, but it was gorgeous. Rich, dark blue that clung to her figure, her curves highlighted to the fullest, but with a modest neckline, it showed off her figure but not enough to be daring. Her hair fell in waves, one side tucked behind her ear to show off her small vintage stud earrings.
She managed to get ready just in time, as the cab arrived as she fixed the finishing touches. Uttering a very unladylike 'Shit!' she chucked her vital items into a small clutch, grabbed her white pea coat and ran out the door.
When she arrived the party was in full swing. The ballroom was beautiful, with towering ornate windows 3 stories high revealing gorgeous gardens outside, whilst the inside glittered with gilded mirrors and marble floors, couples gliding across the room. Angels painted on the ceiling watched the people below dance and gossip, and listened to the band as they played a lively tune.
After handing her coat into the cloakroom, she walked with (false) confidence to an empty table. She was right in her assumption. There were no women there she didn't know, all were wives and colleagues. Everyone was dressed in their best, and many wore a dress similar to her own – the difference was, she was single and they were not. If she was not mistaken, she was the only single woman in the room. That meant all eyes were on her.
She would have been flattered, but she knew what the eyes and attention meant. Unlike more liberal parts of society, the kinds of people who worked at Atlantic Movement were very conservative. Whilst some would spend many years with people who were not their Absent, even marry them, in these circles to do so was a shameful thing. So when men talked to her, tried to form a connection with her, she knew it was not so they could form a lasting relationship with her. They wanted to use her and leave her. As a woman in the workplace, she was used to this. Many men assumed they were all easy, had loose morals, but that was not the case. If she wanted to be with someone, then she would. But she felt nothing romantic for anyone – man or woman. She would not have her rise to the top ruined by something as stupid as a reputation.
Despite her inner monologue, she was quite charming when she wanted to. Greeting many as she walked, and engaging some with conversations, she smiled and laughed, none of it reaching her eyes. She was firm with the men, but not in a way where they could be affronted by her rebuff of their advances. She played it like a game, turning their flirtatious remarks away with a quip. One of the few male friends she had at Atlantic movement said she had a 'silver tongue'.
Passing the hours away she danced with a few gentlemen, talked with some of her colleagues, and pigged out on bread rolls in a corner where no one could see her. Though she had dreaded the night, she was actually having a fairly good time.
Throughout the night, the main topic of conversation was the founder coming to the ball. It hadn't specified which it was, and she knew as head historian that all of them were controversial. She was privy to many dirty details, and she was sure much of what they had done over the years was covered up as well. Sometimes when she read through their records she felt sick for working for such a company.
As the hours dragged on, the founder still hadn't made an appearance, and Hermione began to feel optimistic that he wouldn't arrive.
Just as her spirits began to improve, disaster stuck, as Mr. McLaggen spied her and made his way over. She had been very subtly avoiding him up until that point, and cursed as a smarmy smile made its way onto his face.
"Ah Hermione darling," he took one of her hands and placed a lingering kiss upon it, "so good to see you, you look simply divine"
Unable to respond in words, she simpered a smile, trying to pull her hand out of his grasp to no avail.
"Would you do me the honour accompanying me to the dance floor?" he asked. He was handsome enough, but couldn't seem to understand that she didn't like him. Or just didn't care.
"Of course," she grimaced a smile, and followed him onto the dance floor, silently swearing as the music changed to a slow song. Disgust filled her as his hands found their way to her hips, and his thumbs lightly brushed up and down her hip bones. She forced herself no to gag as she put her arms around his neck, and tried to avoid conversation by placing her head there as well.
"I'm so tired," she said in an effort of self-preservation "I think I'll head home after this."
"No," he groaned, holding her closer to him. "I've waited all night to see you"
She laughed nervously, "I thought you would have been waiting all night to see the founder."
"Of course, but it's you I NEEDED to see." He replied, and her attempt at keeping it light completely failed.
"Mr. McLaggen, I'm so sorry if I have led you on, but I am not interested in a relationship with someone other than my Absent," that was the best thing about their society, as soon as you pull the purity card people generally back off. "I'm sorry if I have caused you any sadness."
He went still, and Hermione suddenly felt fear fill her, despite all the people around them. His hands suddenly went to her neck, pulling her face up so he could look at her, his face intense and unreadable.
She was spared whatever he was going to say to her, as someone announced the arrival of the founder. McLaggen's hands immediately dropped. She took the opportunity to move away from him quickly, and tried to make her way through the crowd that had gathered towards one of the sitting rooms that lined the ballroom.
Then she did something that she wished she hadn't. A simple thing. A stupid thing.
She turned her head in curiosity to look at the founder, to see the man everyone was making such a fuss over. When she saw him, it was all over. All the signs she had been taught to recognise, the fluttering of eyelashes, sudden rise in temperature, dizziness and fatigue. It lasted only a moment, but long enough to recognise what it was, which filled her with dread. She didn't want to be with an 'elder' of the world. She wanted to be free, and she knew with someone like him she never would be.
She quickly turned away. She thought that perhaps if she didn't approach him, he would never know it was her and she could go on living her life in peace, without someone telling her what to do. If he didn't know who he had matched with, or didn't realise it, nothing would change.
Almost running, she grabbed the door handle and threw herself into the room. It was beautifully decorated, with a large vase of lilies on a stand in the middle of the room. Moving as fast as her heels could carry her, she pulled open the window, and sucked in the cold night's air.
Try to stay calm. Try to stay calm. She said over and over in her head, and as the minutes dragged on, she felt her heartbeat begin to slow.
She was safe. He wasn't coming. She could live her life as she wanted to.
He had been very handsome. Dark perfect hair, brooding eyes and pale skin. He had stood tall and broad above most of the people, looking down on them. But had he looked at her?
As she was about to close the window, she heard someone enter and lock the door behind them.
Her eyes slowly shut, and the heartbeat she had just gotten under control went wild once again. No matter who was also in the room, it wouldn't end well.
She turned around, her eyes open once more.
It was him. He was a beautiful nightmare, standing tall in his tux and appraising her appearance.
"Hello," he said, his voice deep as his dark eyes searched hers.
"Hello," she replied simply.
Silence stretched, and the very awkward part of her wanted to say something – anything – to make it stop, but the more sensible part of her was scared what would happen.
"I felt it, did you?" his voice rang out in the room, and she could hear laughter and music filtering in behind the locked door.
"Yes, I did," she responded, once again not elaborating, which, judging by the slight tightening in his eyes seemed to annoy him. She had learnt very young to read people, and it had saved her from pain many times. She wondered if it would save her now.
"What is your name? How were you invited to the event?" he asked, his eyes burning with intensity. She had heard thousands of stories of Absent couples finding each other, most of them romantic or emotional. She hadn't heard of one as awkward as hers.
"Hermione. Hermione Jean Granger. I'm the head of the archive department." She watched as one of his eyebrows arched, and his lip curled into a smirk.
"Ah, a Granger. I believe I know your father, Oliver Granger," his smile widened as her hands curled into fists, and she visibly struggled not to show anger. "Head of department? You've impressed many people."
Against her will, her eyes narrowed. Many in the higher circles of society knew about her relationship with her father. It was all anyone talked about for about 5 years. Millionaire loses wife and daughter – one dies and the other runs away. They had all been shocked when she turned up a couple of years later, supporting herself and with an actual job without the help of her father. It was scandalous and he knew it, and his little smile just made her angry.
"My aim in life," she said sardonically. Collecting herself she blurted "If you'll excuse me, I must go. I am meeting my friend now, she wanted to hear about the ball and I can't keep her waiting."
Both eyebrows were raised now. For almost all women, their aim in life was to find their Absent, so it must have been surprising for one to find her Absent and immediately try to run off.
When he didn't respond, she smiled awkwardly, gave a nod in goodbye and walked past him. Reaching the door however, she realised the key was missing to unlock it.
She cleared her throat nervously, her hand on the knob, not wanting to look at him as she stared at the mahogany wood "Excuse me, could you unlock the door for me?"
She heard a dark chuckle then silence once more. She was about to repeat her request when she felt his presence behind her.
This wasn't right. She felt uncomfortable. She just wanted to get out of the god forsaken room.
"Aren't you going to ask my name?" he asked, moving her hair from her neck, and tracing his finger up and down it. He had very warm hands, rough but also soft.
She gulped – very loudly – which made him laugh again. "What's your name?" she said in a strong voice.
"Thomas Slytherin," he said evenly, as if waiting for a response.
It took all she could not to recoil from his touch. Out of all the founders of Atlantic Movement, for all the horrible things they had done over the years, all the people they had hurt, he was the worst of them all. Thomas Slytherin had started the whole thing, and was the eldest of them all, at least 1100 years old. He had pushed the involvement in the slave trade, championed it during the abolition movement 20 years before. He had fought against rebelling colonial forces without mercy, committing countless atrocities.
Out of all the people her absent could be, it was Thomas Slytherin she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with.
He seemed to sense her disgust, and laughed once again.
"You're a smart one, aren't you?" he said, chuckling. She shot him a sharp angry look "And she's feisty too"
"She has a name, MISS GRANGER, and can be referred to by it!" she shot back, growing angry at his patronising attitude. A part of her mind screamed at her that he was basically her boss and that she couldn't speak to him like that but she ignored it.
She batted his hand off of her neck and turned to face him. "I would appreciate it if you would let me go Mr. Slytherin, my friend is waiting for me," she was fuming, her arms crossed as she introduced formalities in an attempt to gain control of the situation and make it more appropriate.
"I've never had one like you" he breathed, his smirk growing as he looked down on her with a fondness that made her more annoyed.
"Correction, sir – You don't have me. Now if you don't mind, please open the door" she repeated, tapping her foot on the ground.
He was all smiles and laughs, a handsome man that seemed to get everything he wanted. But she knew who he was. What he was. A monster. She didn't want to be anywhere near him.
He moved closer, backing her up against the door, causing her head to hit it with a dull thud. Her head craned up to look at him, whilst his craned down to look at her. She tried to keep control of her breathing, but it grew more and more out of control as he held her chin gently but firmly in his hand.
"So beautiful. So angry." He said, his voice gravelly as his eyes darted to her lips. Slowly, he brushed his over hers, and her heart beat fast in a panic.
In one swift movement, she darted out from in-between him and the door and went to the centre of the room.
"Goodbye Mr. Slytherin," she said, both coldly and cordially, before she ran to the window and climbed out in a most undignified manner. It was the first floor so she didn't fall to a painful death, and to her relief he did not follow her.
As she ran through the gardens and onto the streets hailing a cab, she felt triumph coursing through her veins until it stopped still, corrupted by dread as she realised work would likely be very different on Monday.
Apologies to followers of my other stories, I will be getting back to them, I have just had exams and moving and work to do so I've been a bit all over the place - sorry!
Please Review!
Lots of Love!
