Chapter 5: You!
It was the second day in her new "life". After breakfast with her parents and Audley (who turned out to be her father's steward), Hermione had been left to her own devices. Actually, her mother's exact words had been "I hope you will work on your embroidery today. Industry is a virtue, Hermione."
Virtuous or not, Hermione had done a couple of stitches of an elaborate hunting scene, and chucked the whole thing aside. She hated sewing!
Over the last 24 hours, Hermione had discovered more things about "herself" in this "life". She didn't know why the Thyme Eliminus had brought her into this persona, and inside, she wondered where the "real" Mistress Hermione Granger had gone- or, were they living a sort of split-personality persona? For she found she had snatches of knowledge and insight about this life that there was no way she could have known back in Hogwarts. For example, she had known the names of several servants by instinct and…fortunately for her, how to use the privy.
In Hermione's mind, there was no doubt that this was the real past. She had discovered, through prudent questioning and keeping her ears open, that it was 1486. Henry Tudor had defeated Richard III at Bosworth Field last year. England was still Catholic and bathing was considered bad form.
When Hermione had insisted on having a bath last night, her maidservant Mary (for that was the plump, smiling lady's name) had had ten fits. Hermione had managed to have a bath in a heated tub eventually but only with Mary pouring warnings of plague and distemper into her ear non-stop throughout the entire process.
Hermione stalked the hallways of the manor, deep in thought. In her mind, one thought was foremost…how to get back to Hogwarts? She had realized long ago that her wand was not with her. It was impossible to apparate to the then-Hogwarts without it as she had hoped at first she might do. Think think think…She could try to look for other magical people to help her…but of course, they burned witches here didn't they? Hermione shuddered when she recalled Audley the steward reporting the witch burnings in Essex to her father. Anyone who wasn't Catholic, anyone who was different…was burnt alive.
Her footsteps brought her to the lower hall and armoury. The manor was huge…more like a small castle. On the walls of the armoury were wooden plaques carved with the Granger crest- an otter and a swan. Were we really lords of the manor once? Thought Hermione proudly. Her parents, both dentists, would be thrilled to find that out! Hmm…I wonder what made us decline in fortune? Hermione thought of her comfortable little Surrey House. Their most expensive 'heirloom' was her Great Grandfather's silver tea service…hardly lordly at all!
She walked around the armoury once, then went out to the lower hall. That was always filled servants coming and going on the lord's business. There was a heavy iron gate that shut the inner compound out from the outer compound. She peered through it and thought she could make out stables, fields and more buildings in the distance.
"M'Lady?"
She turned around. It was Fanhope, the bailiff. He was a young man, tall and well-built and his dark eyes and hair reminded her of Justin Finch Fletchley in Hufflepuff.
"What is it?"
Fanhope bowed politely and delivered his message.
"Her Ladyship enquires if you would like to accompany her at chapel?"
Hermione wondered what one did at "chapel" in the middle of the day, but she really didn't want to be stuck inside church in the middle of the brilliant May day.
"I have to decline." She answered him quickly. "Please, how do I get outside?"
"Outside?" asked Fanhope in surprise. "Mistress, you want to go outside?"
"Yes" said Hermione testily, "Please open this gate."
The bailiff shook his head. "It is as they said, you are not yourself these days. I'm afraid I cannot open this gate, your father would have my head if I let his only daughter out alone."
"Well, then, you come with me!" said Hermione.
Fanhope looked even more taken aback.
"Mistress, I think you sicken. Perhaps we should call the doctor? Is there something you need?"
Hermione shook her head. She looked at the firmly locked iron gate and at Fanhope's face and realized that she would never get out of the iron gate that way.
"I was jesting…" she said pleasantly, and was glad to see Fanhope's worried expression vanish.
"I will convey your message to Her Ladyship. And perhaps…a word of caution?"
He looked at her gently, "you had better give up these ideas of yours, mistress. Gadding around, playing boy's games…it is unseemly. Your father thinks you should take on more womanly pursuits. And if I may say so, I agree with his Lordship. Such a lovely rose should never want to nestle among thorns."
He reddened, bowed, and turned away from her.
Hermione stared after him. Apart from being glad that yet another person had called her "lovely" (Pansy Parkinson, eat your heart out!), she was also glad that she had learned something new. Apparently, this "persona" of hers was quite the tomboy….quite the unmedieval lady. Well, that was good, because these corsets were killing her and she felt like she wanted to run and break free of everything…she felt that very soon, she might do something "unwomanly" and shocking. Hermione grinned to herself and gathered her brocade skirts around her.
Off she went to find another way out of this damned manor…the curiosity about what lay outside consumed her. Perhaps this world wasn't real…and outside lay Hogwarts! If she could just see the fields, hills and towns around, she would know that all this was real…She felt that the more she knew about her surroundings, the better she would be able to devise how to get back to her own time. She wasn't giving up hope yet.
She wandered down to the kitchens and the servants murmured as she walked past. None actually stopped her, though they looked at her curiously.
The kitchens were enormous. Clearly, this was one of the most important parts of the manor. Situated beneath the great hall, the kitchens were a good fifty feet long, with heavy wooden tables in the centre, each stacked with vegetables and game. There were several ovens as well as several water pumps situated along the walls. The place smelt rather unpleasant, smoke was everywhere…
Hermione noticed how shabbily the servants were dressed. So far, she had only see the handmaids, serving boys, steward and bailiff, all who had been dressed quite well. But the servants in the kitchen wore coarse, patched tunics, dirty white shirts and shabby hose. They didn't look up as she passed, bowing and muttering, "M'Lady" or "Mistress".
Hermione felt incredibly self-conscious. Her hair was still braided with ribbons and pearls, her gown was a deep, green brocade lined with valenciennes lace. Even her shoes looked expensive, soft and beautifully cut out of fine leather. The jeweled gold cross around her neck, so beautiful in the Great Hall upstairs, looked gaudily expensive in the kitchens.
Turning red and wishing there was some quick way out of this place that she did not belong, Hermione hurriedly exited the kitchens and found herself walking along a narrow stone corridor. At the end was a door with a wooden latch which she opened quickly. Where would it lead?
Hermione expected to come out into another suite of rooms in the manor, but to her surprise, a rush of cold wind hit her face along with a burst of sunshine.
She had found a way out of the manor!
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Shit. Thought Draco Malfoy. Shit shit shit.
He wasn't just cursing either. He was making an actual observation of his surroundings. Draco was in the stables with three other young men scooping out horse dung with a large shovel.
What punishment is this! Thought Draco, bitterly. Blisters had already formed on his hands and every scoop burned his palms. Aaargh.
"Git on wit it," said a man in the corner. "His Lordship is having visitors tomorrow. The Lord bloody Camvile no less."
Draco had already formed a firm dislike of the man in the corner. Hibbings. He oversaw the work on the Lord's estate and was cunning and rude. Yesterday he had cuffed Draco on the ear for "sauciness". If Draco had his wand….to make himself feel better, Draco thought of all the curses he would like to cast on Hibbings….Furnunculus for one. Hmm…Jelly-Legs too. Densaugio….not bad.
His hands stung with pain, his crude boots were already caked with horse dung and he stank of it. It was all he could do to avoid getting it on his shirt and hose as well.
"Yer aven't got all day" said Hibbings. "After this there's the 'erb patch and the lawns."
That deserved a Crucio thought Draco, smiling wryly. This is all that bloody Granger's fault he thought. If she wasn't feeling well why the hell did she continue with the potions NEWT? Something like this was bound to happen, stupid girl.
Draco remembered all too clearly Hermione's potion exploding. He had been soaked with it as was Hermione. Hermione had fallen onto the floor in a faint. It was instinct that made him try to help her up.
Instinct. He told himself, sternly. Just instinct, nothing else.
As he held her in his arms, he had the strange sensation that he was being sucked somewhere…like his body had been magnetized and was being drawn to a mysterious huge magnet somewhere. To his horror, Granger began to fade in his arms, then his own arms began to fade…and he was falling, falling…in deep sleep.
He had woken up unhurt, but extremely uncomfortable in a very dark, musty room. He was naked except for his Malfoy signet ring. He sat up and realized that he was on a kind of low trestle bed. His mattress was thin and stuffed with straw…no wonder he ached in a hundred places! Immediately, he looked for his wand…but he realized that he had left it on the Potions Bench back at Hogwarts. He let out a stream of curses, many learned from Lucius.
There were some clothes on a low stool by the bed – if it could be even called a bed. Shit. What was this? Some form of linen shirt and hose. Filthy. Still, he couldn't walk around naked. Draco put the clothes on and strangely enough, they fit.
What life had he been drawn back in time to? How come he found the whole place slightly familiar? He went straight to a cupboard and took out a stale loaf of bread. How did he know that it was in that cupboard? Draco shrugged. There was a jug with water in it on a stone slab by the side of the room and a fire burned in crude fireplace. It was rather smoky.
Draco found himself ravenous and finished the whole loaf of stale bread and water. It tasted terrible. Damn you Granger he thought. And anyway, where are you?
But he couldn't spend all morning thinking about Granger, he had to go outside and see what was what. Maybe this was all a bad nightmare. Cautiously. Draco opened the door of his cottage. The first thing he saw was a castle in the distance. A CASTLE! I should be in there!
He began to make his way toward it. After some time, there was a shout over to his left. It was the man he now knew as Hibbings. That was when his nightmare began in earnest…
Draco stacked his dung shovel away in the corner and wiped his boots on the pebbled path outside. The other three lads did the same. The work seemed to get worse and worse. Yesterday, Hibbings had made them work on building an extra barn for the harvest which promised to be plentiful this year. The Lord of the Menor had acquired more lands. Draco had absolutely no idea how to build anything and had been the subject of much scolding. When he answered back, Hibbings had boxed his ears.
The worst part of the nightmare was learning that the Lord of the Manor was Lord Granger of Suffolk. Draco had laughed aloud. He had a good idea of what had happened. So far, he had not managed to get a glimpse of prissy-Head-Girl Granger, but he had been keeping his eyes open. Come out, come out, wherever you are.
The thing Draco couldn't understand was why everyone still knew him as Draco Malfoy. If he had come into the life of someone else, surely he would have a different name, a different identity? Surely no one in the Malfoy family had ever been a gardener's boy?!
He felt the weight of the signet ring around his neck inside his shirt. He had tied it there on a leather cord for safekeeping. It would surely be odd to see a gardener's boy wearing such an expensive ring. Whereas it had once been a constant reminder of the burden of upholding the Malfoy name to him, it was now a comforting reminder that he did not belong here, in this time, in this station in life. No Malfoy could ever have sunk to this level before. What had happened? Lucius had always told him that the Malfoys had been rich and powerful for over eight centuries. If only he could get to Hogwarts, he could make himself known…they would know him there! Grrr….but he didn't have his wand…One thought was foremost in his mind how to get back to the future?
"Gaaah!" he gasped.
"Daydreamin' again? Yer are the worst boy on this land. If yer don't buck up I'll tan yer hide. Fanhope should nivver have taken you on. Dunno what made him take a shine to yer."
Draco wore a sullen expression and bent over the herb patch. Over to his left, Thomas, another gardener's boy, gave him a sympathetic glance. Peasant! Thought Draco, enraged. I don't need sympathy from peasants!
He watched as Hibbings moved away and cuffed Clifton on the head. The resentment and anger that went through Draco was so strong he yanked ferociously on the weeds in the patch as he used his bare hands to turn the soil over for "fallowing". The herb seedlings would be rooted and begin to grow next week. It was hard, back-breaking work…but he was soon absorbed in it, the furious yanking of the weeds giving vent to his anger and confusion.
The soil had a sweet, rich smell. Draco had never been so close to the earth before. He quite enjoyed the feeling of the black dirt between his fingers. It was cool and so sincere. Strange, he thought, I am enjoying this menial task much more than I should.
He was so absorbed in it he didn't notice the young lady watching him from a corner of the garden. The lady lifted her skirts and began to walk towards him.
It was only when she was right next to him and her shadow fell across his work area that Draco looked up and saw her.
In the May sunshine, the lady next to him sparkled with youthful beauty. Her thick chestnut hair was braided with pearls and wound becomingly around her head. Her gown was an expensive forest-green brocade trimmed with fine lace and it clung to all her curves gently. Her complexion was fair as snow and on her cheeks was a bloom of pink health. She smelled like lavender and sweet spice and she was now looking at him with large, shocked, toffee-coloured eyes.
She was the loveliest thing he had seen since coming back to the past. Perhaps even the loveliest thing he had ever seen in his whole life.
His eyes narrowed.
"You!" he growled.