Chapter 8

Hermione had spent the first couple of hours of the journey on horseback, annoying the guards to no end. They would chase after her as she sped off down the road, leaving the escort. Draco had enjoyed watching her. After a while, she felt tired and tied her horse to the carriage before taking her seat next to Draco. She fell asleep soon after, her head resting on his shoulder. He had his hand around her shoulder, carefully playing with her curls. She smelled of vanilla and lilac flowers, a scent he had grown addicted to in the past couple of days. James had passed by the window of their carriage a couple of times, looking more murderous every time and Draco was loving it. He couldn't remember the last time he was involved in such a fight over a girl. He had never felt the need to fight over Pansy as she clung to his every breath. But with Hermione, it was different. She felt like sand, if he tried to hold on too tight, she'd slip away, but the same would happen if he didn't close his hands enough. It was a balancing act that he didn't fully understand yet. She wasn't predicable, she was reckless and spontaneous and he found that troubling as well as alluring. They hit a bump in the road and Hermione was jolted from her sleep.
"Where are we?" she gasped.
"In a carriage, on the way to Argon, remember?" he asked, one eyebrow raised as he looked at her.
"Right, I forgot" she smiled at him.
"I was having a wonderful dream" she whispered. "What about?" he asked her.
"I'll tell you some other time" he frowned at her.
"How long until we arrive?" she asked. He smiled.
"How would I know? I've never been to your country and I am not from this time, remember?" she shook her head.
"Right, I keep forgetting" she whispered. She crawled away from him and hung her head out of the carriage.
"How long before we arrive?" she yelled at the driver.
"Uhm, just a couple more hours, my lady" the driver reluctantly yelled back. Hermione sat back down and sighed.

The rest of the journey was rather uneventful. James kept his distance, which made Draco mistrust him even more. They arrived at the court of Argon two days later. Hermione was greeted like the queen she was, the entire castle was in an uproar.
"Your Grace, I am lord McCarthy, I was your father's right hand. It would be my honour to serve you as well." The silver haired man bowed, Draco guessed he would be around 50 years of age, which made him ancient in this time. Hermione politely thanked him and told him that she would talk with him after her father's funeral. The funeral would be tomorrow and Hermione would have to play a big role in it, as she was now queen. Her coronation would be one day later. Hermione had told Draco that she would retire to her chambers and spend the rest of the day preparing, which he thought was a good idea. He decided to spend his time getting to know this country he would soon rule by her side. It didn't take him long to figure out it was rather different from England. It felt rougher, wilder and almost untamed. There were even more men than there were in England, and they adored their queen. He could see it on their faces whenever she walked by them, or when they spoke of her. It wasn't like she was some unknown royal that just happened to be born into the right family. They really loved and admired her, and she would fit in great in this country. She would be their ideal queen and he knew it. The only question was if he was going to be the right kind of king for this country.

Hermione was appropriately dressed in black, after all, she was supposed to be in mourning. But that didn't mean that she would wear a black burlap sack either. She had chosen a black dress with a chiffon collar that reached up to her chin. The bodice of the dress hugged her every curve, right up to her hips, where it flared down into a big skirt. Her hair was tied up in a tight bun, her crown sat on top of the bun. It wasn't the actual crown yet, she'd get that one at the coronation.
"It's time, your liege" a man told her. She nodded and followed him down. He led her to the courtyard, where her father's coffin was waiting to be transported to the church where his funeral would be held and where he would be put in his tomb, along his other blood relatives and her mother. Draco was waiting for her, also wearing black, his robes were lined with silver. He smiled at her and reached his hand out to her, she gladly took it.
"Are you alright?" he whispered. She nodded softly.
"It's weird, burying someone I'm supposed to love, but I don't feel anything" he knew how that felt. He buried his father the summer after fifth year and he had felt as empty as she was right now. They got into the first carriage that followed the coffin, it was a short drive, about two minutes but it was custom for the company to follow in carriages. The church was beautiful, and the interior was even more magnificent. The sun was out and the stained glass windows cast rainbows on the floors and the ceilings. Hermione took her place at the front of the church, Draco sat down next to her, holding her hand in his. Their quiet moment was interrupted by James as he sat down one row behind them. He put his hand on Hermione's shoulder and leaned in to whisper in her ear.
"I'm so sorry for your loss, Hermione" he squeezed her shoulder lightly.
"Thank you" she answered, Draco glared at James.
"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to remember our King" the pries started.

The mass was long and tedious and Hermione was exhausted by the time it was over. The body of her father would now be embalmed before being placed in the family tomb. After the funeral, there was some sort of feast, Hermione didn't stay long. She just ate something and talked to the appropriate nobles before retreating to her chambers. No one seemed to mind as they thought it was because she was wrecked with guilt. Her maids helped her out of her dress and she slipped on a nightgown. It was silky and white and flowed to the floor like water. When all her maids left the room and she was alone again, she took of her crown and undid her hair. Her unruly curls cascaded down her back, almost down to her lower back. They had grown long and she had stopped cutting it. It made them easier to tame. She put the crown on her vanity table and looked at it. Soon, she would wear an even bigger crown, granted, she wouldn't really have to wear it every day, just for the occasional event or royal meetings. As of tomorrow, she would officially be a queen. It felt odd, weird. In their world, back home, she was a normal wizard, part of Harry Potter's entourage, and mudblood. That is if you asked Draco Malfoy. But here, here she was royal, she ruled a country. She had armies at her disposal and could change the course of history with a single word. She had to admit that it felt good too. It felt good to be someone important in this story. She had to give in to the fact that it would indeed not be so bad if they were stuck here forever. She had just crawled into the sheets when her guard came in.
"My Lady, the castle is under attack, we have to get you somewhere safe!" Hermione got up and looked at the man.
"What?" she asked, stupefied.
"There are intruders in the castle, usurpers that oppose your rule. I need to take you somewhere safe as soon as possible" he repeated. She threw on a white woolen blanket and followed the guard into the hallway.
"Where are we going?" she asked, as he led her down to the cellars of the castle.
"There is an underground passage to a nearby stable, we can get a carriage from there." He had his hand on her lower back and was carefully pushing her forward.
"Where is Draco?" she asked.
"He is busy fighting" he answered.
"What?! We have to go help him!" she yelled, turning around. The guard grabbed her arm.
"Let go of me, I have to go back for him!" she tried to yank her arm out of his grasp.
"You're coming with me" he hissed, tugging her forward. Hermione struggled against his grasp, screaming at the top of her lungs.
"We're in an abandoned part of the cellar, no one's going to hear you" he smiled.
"Who the hell are you and where are you taking me" she yelled.
"It doesn't matter who I am, what matters is that we don't want that English pawn rule our country." Hermione looked at him.
"This is about Draco?" she whispered.
"We want you to marry someone from Argon, so that's what we're going to do." He smiled again.
"Draco will find me, and I'm not marrying anyone." She stated.
"Your little fiancée is long dead by now" the most evil smile crept over his face. "no" she gasped. The so called guard tugged her forward down a long dark corridor. At the end of the corridor, she was ushered into a carriage and they drove off. They had tied her hands before throwing her in and Hermione was contemplating what could be her best chance to escape.