Timeless: And The Reason Is You
Chapter II: The village of Hon
Disclaimer: I own NOTHING, well except for the plot and the new characters. I just write for fun, all right?
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A/N: To sharmaine, Marille, Caffine, Moonchylde, Tracy (twice!), Dragon, Moon, Agust, Draco, anonymous reviewer, Star, Ann (the lucky 12th reviewer who wins a virtual hug!), sir-writes-a-lot, Hiko, allee kat, amanda, hyper_shark, mya14 (ei liz!), *ME*, LadyLily and Kurayami Pansa, thank you all so much for giving me the chance to continue this story. I really appreciate your encouraging and kind reviews for the first chapter. =) Thank you!
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"Oh my god… What is this place?"
Draco glanced at Hermione's utterly stunned and bewildered face; relief swept over him when he knew that he wasn't the only one confounded at the present situation.
They were facing towards what looked to be a small village; people were slowly appearing from the stone houses with thatched roofs neatly lined up on the dark, still wet ground. The only problem was the appearance of both the villagers and of the very village itself. The clothes were the most noticeable; the women wore long cotton dresses with aprons and simple headdresses while dirty, drab tunics with plain trousers distinguished the men.
"Where are we, Granger?" He didn't mean for it to be a full-blown question; he was actually just thinking out aloud. He didn't need to let her know that he was as clueless as she was; that meant losing his 'control'.
"I don't know…" She had a concentrated look on her face; it was as if she was trying to remember something, while her fists were clenched and her face was deathly pale.
No one was looking at their direction – so far. The women were busily tidying up the still fresh traces of the sudden rainfall while the men were walking to and fro carrying various objects from broken pieces of wood to bawling farm animals. Children were happily scurrying in every direction; mud already plastered on the hems of their clothes.
Hermione took a reluctant step forward, still apprehensive at approaching anyone but already impatient in wanting to clear her muddled mind. Her arm was abruptly seized, however, and Draco's anxious voice rang in her ears.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
She forced herself not to smile or smirk, even. He was scared as she was but she knew that Draco wanted to keep this certain fact hidden. It was pure haughtiness, plain and simple.
She roughly shook his hand off, glared at him and decidedly approached a young woman passing in their direction.
"Pardon me, miss. If you could just –"
The young woman stopped, lifted her face towards Hermione's and slowly gasped as she took a closer look at the witch's suspicious appearance. Her eyes widened as she hastily backed away; fear obviously taking over.
"Wait! I just want to talk to you about this village… this place." Hermione stretched out her arm in a gesture of both helplessness and friendship while smiling in a sincere manner. Please… Oh, please…
With so much as a startled cry, the woman lifted the hems of her brown skirt and ran away, towards the direction of the inner parts of the village, leaving a bewildered Hermione and a snickering Draco.
"You're a laugh, Mudblood! Bloody good! Imagine, scaring a poor woman out of her wits with just a pathetic face!" Draco fell on the ground while holding his sides, still shaking with laughter.
His companion resisted every urge to disembowel him alive since she didn't want to continue in this adventure all alone. She did, however, march right up to him and said, "You do it, then."
He stopped in mid-laugh and quickly stood up to face her challenge. "Damn right I will." Without glancing back at the now smirking Hermione, Draco walked towards a child playing in front of a small house of stone nearby.
The small girl, hearing his footsteps, looked at the approaching stranger but unlike the woman Hermione encountered earlier, she met Draco head on.
He smiled and whirled around to raise an eyebrow at the fuming Hermione, the glint in his steel gray eyes could only be interpreted as self-satisfaction. He then focused his attention at the girl standing shyly in front of him. Stooping, he patted the braided red hair and asked quietly, "Hello there… What's your name?" Now, the kindness and humility in his voice was just for show, an invaluable aid in wheedling the child into telling him the information he needed. He honestly didn't give a damn about anything related to the girl, his only concern: to get out of there, wherever 'there' may be, as quick as he can.
"Brigid, sir." With head still kept bowed and hands clasped tightly together, the little girl responded with a slight accent.
"Brigid? Well, tell me, Brigid… Where is this place?"
"The village of Hon, sir. In the kingdom of Almeria, under the reign of Prince Henri."
"Malfoy!"
He impatiently brushed Hermione's urgent cry aside, troubled with little Brigid's sincere answer. Surely she made that all up. Village of Hon? Almeria? Prince Henri? What kind of lies were these? He probably didn't hear right. Yes, that was it. He just misunderstood the child. But still…
"Draco!!!"
Hermione's voice was terrified now, shrill and panicky. With a sudden burst of conscience, Draco finally turned around and irritatingly hissed, "What?"
Hermione shakily pointed at the far right of the village; a throng had assembled around the young woman she had spoken to a little earlier. It wouldn't have bothered her that much if the throng wasn't made of angry, middle-aged and muscular men carrying pitchforks and torches and the hysterical woman wasn't gesturing towards the direction where she was currently standing.
Draco held his breath and almost frantically looked back at his companion. They had to get out of there. And fast. The men were now marching towards them and their gruff and menacing expressions told him that they weren't planning to offer him their warm welcome.
He quickly grabbed Hermione's hand and broke into a run, into the depths of the forest once again. He would rather take his chances in the dark forest than in the hands of the threatening mob.
Hermione tried to keep up with him, her legs stretching as far as they could and her feet pounding hard on the wet forest floor. But she wasn't built to be an athlete and the stitch in her side was working up again. She quickly grew tired and the desire to stop grew inside her. She was now being pulled rather than running independently. She just couldn't go on anymore…
Damn it, Mudblood! Move faster or we'll get caught… From the gasping sounds she was producing, Draco knew that Hermione's strength was fading fast. But they were still near the village and the mob was still after them. They had to get deeper into the forest but with Hermione's present condition, Draco clearly doubted whether they could get that far.
She winced as Draco's nails dug into her skin, his grasp tightening on her cold, damp wrist. Their fear grew more apparent now, mingling with every hurried step. Voices, angry and cruel ones, surrounded them, quickly filling the once silent forest. Hermione didn't want to look back, knowing that if she did, she would finally faint in exhaustion and insurmountable defeat.
The voices and pounding feet were much closer now; Draco could already see a few flickering torches here and there. A few more minutes and they'll surely be caught. His heavy panting betrayed his slowly rising fatigue but he wasn't prepared to give up just yet. No man can ever take a Pureblood by forceful means.
Suddenly, Draco felt the supposedly solid ground give way beneath him. They had unwittingly stumbled into one of the villagers' forgotten traps hidden beneath a pile of undisturbed leaves. With a sharp cry, he fell in the deep hole along with the shrieking Hermione. Fortunately, he had the presence of mind to quickly grasp a rock protruding at the sides with his free hand (the other one is still grasping Hermione's wrist, remember?). With a grunt, he came to a stop not a moment too late.
"Damn it!" Draco could feel his muscles straining to keep his hold both on the slippery rock and on Hermione's very pale wrist. The couple was hanging very precariously and any minute now they would finally be enveloped by the dark abyss waiting for them below.
Hermione's strength was failing and she felt herself slowly slipping into unconsciousness. A murmur slipped from her dry, chapped lips. "Draco…"
"Don't do this to me, Mudblood! Wake up!" He looked down at Hermione and a sudden bolt of fear and annoyance ran through him, seeing that her eyes were already half-closed. He struggled to get a better grip on the rock but after doing so, he suddenly felt Hermione's wrist slipping form his clammy grasp. Frantically trying to keep his hold on her, his hand holding on to the rock dangerously started to slide nearer the edge. Draco gritted his teeth as every inch of his arm muscles were stretched to their very extent; he knew that he couldn't keep his grip any longer and it would have to come down to him letting go of the rock or Hermione's hand. Gravity decided for him and suddenly, his hand was holding nothing but stale air.
"No!!!" Draco exclaimed as he helplessly watched her silently tumble down, down into the darkness. His arm was outstretched in the very last moment in a futile hope of catching her.
No… No… This can't be… He stared wildly back down at the shadowy depths; vainly searching for a trace of his companion. I dropped her… killed –
"For the Prince of Almeria! Down to Nantes!"
With a curse, Draco started to climb back up. Sweat now covered his body along with a great amount of muck and stench. Slowly, he inched his way up and while doing so, a great wave of guilt and anguish filled him. Hermione had fallen to the bottom of the pit because of him. No matter how much he hated her, he never really did want her to die. Well, at least, not on his account.
A few harrowing and painful minutes later, Draco's grimy hands finally touched the solid forest ground once more. Draco fell down to his knees in exhaustion; his silver blonde hair in wet tangles and his terribly pale face marred with red scratches. After forcing himself to get back up, Draco took one last look at the pit and began to run shakily away, deeper into the heart of the unknown forest.
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"You shall not go near her, Froech!"
"How dare you defy me, Hesse! If only you were not – Very well, I will let her be. However, remember this, no good will come to you as long as that girl remains in your dwelling."
A door slammed shut and a soft sigh followed, stirring Hermione from her unconscious state. She felt something cold touch her cheeks and her heavy eyelids fluttered at the sudden sensation. After a few moments, she slowly opened her amber colored eyes and to her amazement and horror, a woman of the unpleasant village was staring at her in concern.
A soothing voice entered her still muddled thoughts, "How is thy self, child?"
Well, Hermione thought, her head was throbbing, her throat was parched and her back hurt like hell but otherwise she was – Wait, what was she doing here? Who is the woman kneeling in front of her? What happened to the mob? To… Malfoy?
Hermione merely stuttered incoherently in response, confused with the present situation she was in. Thinking that the young witch was still delirious, the motherly woman furrowed her eyebrows and carefully touched Hermione's forehead. "Perhaps a bath shall do thee good. Come, lass and follow Hesse." The woman helped the slightly nauseous Hermione shakily stand up and took hold of her arm. She led Hermione into a small room with a cot, a table with a medium-sized bucket and a matching chair as its only furniture.
"Now, child, cleanse thyself and put these on." Hesse thrust a bundle of clothes into Hermione's arms and turned to leave. "I will wash thy …clothes later." She added while warily eyeing Hermione's dirt-matted uniform.
"But – Wait! What – Where… am I?" Hermione desperately clutched the bundle and took a step forward.
Hesse smiled grimly and shook her head. "Wash thyself first then all shall be known." The door opened then softly closed, leaving the now gaping Hermione all alone.
This is not good… This is definitely not good. Hermione frantically looked around the dismal room, vaguely noting that the light illuminating it only came from an open window. She was alone in this unknown place, undeniably vulnerable and still weak, while having absolutely no idea how to get back to Hogwarts.
With an anguished moan, she dropped down on the chair and gazed at her reflection in the bucket. Her troubled face partially covered with mud stared expectantly back at her as if taunting her to come up with answers she was known for always having. She stayed in this position for a long time, racking her brain for a plausible reason for all this, surely
"Is thee finished, child?" Hesse's muffled voice interrupted her deep reverie, making her bump into the table in surprise.
"Erm – Not yet! I… er…"
"Do you need help?"
"No! I'll be out in a few minutes."
Hesse seemed convinced since Hermione heard footsteps move away from the door.
Hermione bit her lip and finally started to undress herself, leaving only her undergarments on. She forlornly looked at the innocent bucket then at her mud-caked body. How was she supposed to thoroughly clean herself with only one bucket of water? Sighing, she nevertheless dipped the cloth in the cold water and proceeded to wipe herself with it. It was a slow task, the mud had now hardened on her body and her hair just wouldn't be cleared of leaves and dirt.
More than just a few minutes later, Hermione felt that she was now presentable in the very least. She couldn't see for herself if she was indeed clean since there was no mirror to be found in the room. She started to run her hand through her hair to straighten it out but when it got immediately got caught in the tangles, she quickly changed her mind.
Turning to the bundle Hesse had given her earlier, Hermione unfolded the garments and held each one at arm's length. She was given clothes quite similar to the one Hesse was wearing; a long, loose gray dress with equally long sleeves, an apron-like garment of brown that went from the shoulders down and was tied at the sides and dark green stockings. Hermione gingerly put these all on while vaguely wishing that she could see herself in a mirror. I must look ridiculous, mused Hermione as she walked towards the door. Thank goodness, Malfoy isn't – She started as she realized that this particular fact was anything but good, well, at least for the time being.
Opening the door, she carefully stepped out into the hallway, half-expecting a mob waiting outside to capture her. This was after all the house of one of the villagers, part of the insane crowd or not. Hermione felt that she was still in danger; her mind was already forming an escape plan when Hesse suddenly appeared in front of her.
"It's about time, child." She took Hermione's soiled bundle while smiling fondly at the slightly surprised Hermione. "A perfect fit…"
"I… erm… don't know if I put these on correctly." Hermione tugged the gray skirt and looked sheepishly at Hesse. "And my hair…"
"Ah… We shall do something about it. Wait here." With that, Hesse disappeared around a corner and after a minute, came back with a comb and weathered shoes in place of the dirty clothes. She thrust them into Hermione's clammy hands and said, "Supper is just about ready. Come…"
Hermione hesitated while nervously fingering the uneven teeth of the comb, still unsure whether she could fully trust Hesse. The elderly woman noticed this and smiled. "Now, lass, I do not have any desire to harm you… unlike the others."
Hermione decided to keep her fear at bay for the meantime; mutely nodding, she silently followed Hesse to a fire-lit room, which appeared to be the kitchen. She noticed a patched pot hanging in the small hearth, steam already rising from its mouth.
"Sit, child and comb thy hair." Hesse distractedly pointed to the wooden table and chairs in the center of the room while stirring the pot's contents.
Hermione obeyed and slowly removed most of the tangles from her still quite soiled hair as she tried to calm her fast-beating heart and whirring mind. The leather shoes, she discovered to her dismay, was quite big for her and she could only content herself to tying the laces very tightly. Her eyes silently followed the bustling elderly woman, who was walking to and fro and placing wooden utensils and a plate of bread on the table.
After a few minutes, Hesse scooped the hot porridge into two wooden bowls and sat across Hermione after handing her one steaming bowl and a slice of the bread. "Nourish thyself and a good rest shall follow. "
Hermione couldn't keep her silence any longer; she needed to understand everything in order to keep herself from going insane with fear and doubt. "Please, Hesse, I have to know what happened to me, why I ended up in your house… why my companion isn't with me… Why, you haven't even asked for my name yet…"
"The mind is full of queries, hmm? Very well, halt that strange speaking tongue of yours and I shall explain while you eat." Hesse raised an eyebrow at Hermione's still untouched porridge.
Hermione warily spooned a bit of porridge and ate; slowly chewing, a sudden burst of flavor filled her mouth and her body tingled with newfound energy. She involuntarily smiled and found herself wanting more.
"I see you appreciate my cooking. You are not the first, lass. Now, as for your queries… I saved you from Froech's mad wishes to see you tortured then burned."
Hermione felt her heart drop. "Tortured? Burned?" What kind of people did she run into?
"Yes. You see, Froech is dangerously watchful these days… With the war with Nantes, Froech is convinced that every unknown traveler is a spy from Nantes." Hesse drank heavily from her cup and added, "He is extremely loyal to the prince."
"And you were the one who took me from him." Hermione suddenly felt guilty that she ever doubted Hesse.
Hesse smiled but her eyes were anything but glad. "He was very hard to convince. Even the blood of one's kin knows its boundaries."
Hermione started but tactfully didn't comment further. However, one thought was still nagging in her mind. "But – How did Froech catch me? I remember that the mob… er… the villagers were still running after us and we – " Suddenly remembering the not-so-pleasant details only she could've known, Hermione gasped as she dropped the spoon into the half-filed bowl and whispered, "We fell into a hole… Malfoy was holding me and I… He was shouting something and I felt oh, so tired and…" Her eyes widened much farther as recalled the most vital detail that was the very cause of her presence in Hesse's dwelling. "That egotistical bastard dropped me!"
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Draco couldn't help but shiver. This forest was proving to be a very undesirable place to spend the night; the air was terribly cold and the rocky ground wasn't meant to be lied upon. Add his rumbling stomach, his filthy and worn-out self and his unnerving conscience, Draco wasn't looking forward to a good night at all.
As the branches shook under the weight of the passing wind and the wolves cried over the yellow moon, Draco tried not to think about his present situation. He did not want to hear the voices of the mob nor the pale, tumbling figure of the Mudblood over again. But still they persisted, keeping him company in the cold, wet forest floor.
Oh, how he wanted to sleep but for some reason, it evaded him, leaving him to deal with the dilemma at once. He whined, even threatened everything around him, from the dead leaves to the wispy, semi-transparent clouds, just to get a moment's rest.
Draco shivered more violently this time, only having his damp robes to wrap around himself. He knew he had to get something to eat but from his journey so far, he still hasn't seen any fruit-bearing plant. He hung his head in despair while annoyingly brushing his hair back. If only he hadn't let go of – Wait. He didn't let go; she slipped. It wasn't his fault, goddamn it! If she hadn't fainted at the very last minute, she would still be here… alive. Yes, it was her fault. Not his.
The wind howled more fiercely this time; it was as if it was clearly contesting his claims. Draco narrowed his eyes and leaned further on the huge trunk of a tree. If he hadn't dropped – all right, if the Mudblood hadn't slipped from his grasp, then he would definitely be in a better situation right now. She knew something, judging from her reaction when she first saw the village.
Finally, Draco felt himself getting drowsy. He stretched his aching arms and tried to settle into a comfortable position against the tree. After a minute of pure tossing and turning, he finally found the most suitable one and slowly closed his eyes.
A wolf cry suddenly pierced through the dead silence of the night and Draco found himself wide awake. I'll never be able to sleep peacefully, he woefully thought as he ruefully looked at the thick bushes on his right. Fearing for his life rather than a terrible headache, he finally decided not to sleep or even dare to close his eyes at all.
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"Now, child, calm thyself. Surely he cannot be that vile."
Hermione looked forlornly at the amused Hesse, shifting in the thin bed of straw. Losing her appetite after remembering what Malfoy did to her, she was brought to the room she was in earlier. "You've never met him, Hesse and may you never will."
Hesse flattened the somewhat thing but warm blanket covering Hermione's lying but awake form. "Hush now, child. Rest… for sunrise shall need much of your energy."
"Sunrise? Oh, tomorrow… But why – "
"Lord Gareth will be passing by the village and hopefully, you shall join him in his travel to the castle." Hesse had now stood up and seemed to be avoiding Hermione's confused eyes.
"Who? What – Why will I be joining him? Hesse?"
"Forgive me, my child. You cannot stay in my dwelling. I have tried – "
Hermione sat back up, eyes wide with fear and with a slowly paling face. "Cannot stay? But Hesse – You told me that – "
"I can only protect you for tonight, my child. Froech does not want you here and he is not the only one. I cannot hold them back for much longer. You will be safer in the castle of Lyon."
Hermione couldn't breathe; her mind was whirring again and her heart beating at an enormously fast pace. "Safer in the castle… You won't go with me, will you?"
Hesse shook her head and in a sad voice said, "No. My place is here and yours is not. Forgive me…" Not even waiting for Hermione's reply, she immediately opened the door and
Hermione couldn't believe this; after escaping the bloodthirsty mob, she would be plunged into the outside world again, unprepared and ultimately vulnerable. It was this unknown world that drove her mad with apprehension and confusion; she didn't know where she was… or did she?
Everything she observed around her all lead to one conclusion: she was in the Middle Ages. Hermione felt faint again and as she slowly lay back down, her mind focused on the box Malfoy had opened in what seemed to be ages ago. It must have been a Portkey of some sort, but who placed it in the library? To whom was it meant for?
Fatigue was slowly overpowering her, making her previously alert mind now unbearably heavy. She was still asking herself questions, however, even though her eyes were already closed. Will I be able to met Malfoy again? Is there someone here in this world who could help us? Can we – Hermione yawned and turned to her side. Can we ever get back to our time?
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In a private room lit by candlelight and a roaring fire in the fireplace of stone, a cloaked man smiled ominously as he watched the swirling mist in the boiling cauldron. A sleeping Hermione and Draco materialized in the wispy vapors and after a few moments, was replaced by a darker, thicker shroud of mist. The man narrowed his eyes in obvious annoyance as he poured a violet-colored liquid into the cauldron and almost immediately, the vapors were clear once again, Hermione and Draco were nowhere to be found.
Sighing, the man pulled the cloak closer to him and started walking towards a stone wall. With one last grim look at the still misty cauldron, he touched the innocent looking wall and after it slid noiselessly open, entered the dark passageway it revealed.
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A/N: Well, long time no see, dear reader. I am dreadfully sorry for the very late update but for your precious sanity, better get used to this… However, I will try to post the next chapters much faster in order to make up for lost time. =)
I do hope you've enjoyed reading this chapter. Not much Draco/Hermione action here but I promise there will be… a lot! Was this chapter too long that it got a bit boring? Kindly tell me your suggestions, praises (whohooo!) or violent reactions/flames (Erm… No comment!) in your REVIEWS. *hint hint* =) The more reviews, the faster I'll update! I really do have to stop making promises… =)
I'm still considering the title… Please give me your suggestions…=)
Let's see… the 31st reviewer will get a virtual um… virtual… um… something virtual. =) See ya in two weeks!
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After every chapter, I will give a "teaser" of the next one to come, hopefully making your wait a little more unbearable. =) Have fun!
Chapter 3 summary: Taken by Lord Gareth, Hermione travels to the castle of Lyon, fearful of what lies in store for her. Draco is saved by a knight and is also brought to the same castle where he is forced to work as a servant. The question that comes to mind is, will their paths somehow cross and be able to meet once again?
A/N: (April 2003) I've finally come up with a title I really like. Wheeeee….