A/N: Wow, I got a great response for that last chapter! I was so overjoyed to find you hadn't all given up on me---and so happy that you'd all reviewed to tell me so---that I went a little nuts and wrote another two chapters in record time (for me, that is.) Thanks so much for reading, and keep up the reviews---they make me want to write more. : ) Chapter Eight should be up in a week or so.

CHAPTER SEVEN: ROLE REVERSAL

SIR DRACO MALFOY

GARDEN OF KING CHARLES

When Mya and I broke apart, she gasped.

"What?" I asked, alarmed. Her eyes were fixed on a point beyond my left shoulder. She didn't look scared, just bewildered.

"What is that?" she asked. I released my hold on her, then turned to see what she was looking at.

And then I saw it. A swirling black mass, streaked with white and adorned with silver stars which shone in the moonlight like glass in the sun.

"It looks like that thing behind the door at Dumbledore's office," Mya breathed. "Do you think that's the time portal?"

"Oh," I said, surprised. I'd nearly forgotten we'd be going back to our own time. "Probably," I admitted, disappointed.

"Don't worry, Draco," she said sympathetically, as if she'd read my mind. "We're not going home yet."

"Oh no?"

"No," she replied. "Don't you remember? Dumbledore said we'll probably get bounced around in time before we get back to our own. He said that in each time period, we should find the time portal and keep using it until we get back to our time."

"Oh," I said, relief making my shoulders relax. "Well," I said, "Shall we go through, then?"

"All right," she replied, and we headed towards it.

Just before we stepped into it, I took Mya's hand.

"Promise we'll find each other, wherever we end up," I told her.

She looked at me. "I promise," she said, giving my hand a squeeze, and we stepped through the portal.

I felt a falling sensation and then...

Everything faded away and my vision went black, and after that I knew no more.

HERMIONE GRANGER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

There was sudden darkness after we stepped through the time portal, just as there had been the first time.

This time, when I woke up, I found I wasn't alone. In fact, I was in a makeshift bed made of hay and ticking that laid on the floor in a row of others.

The other beds, I soon realized, were full of sleeping women. All of us wore the thin, soft, and faded fabric of slaves---not very well-taken-care-of slaves, by the looks of it. Most of the women had cuts on their faces and arms; several had bruises and makeshift bandages.

There was a window a few feet away; the only window in the small room. I looked into it, searching my reflection for recognition.

My long hair, still the length it had been when I was a Princess, was wrapped into a tight braid that hung down my back; my eyes were the same; but I also sported a thin, inchlong scar that slashed across my left cheek. I was startled, but the scar made me think of Harry.

I looked past my reflection to see a large lawn, fenced in, leading up to a castle.

This castle, however, did not give the impression of warmth and cleanliness that King Charles' had. No, this castle was sinister, frightening, and dark. It was taller than it was wide, with tall, thin turrets stretching into the clouds.

One of the other women stirred in her sleep. I quickly returned to my own bed, not wanting the others to notice that I was awake, but I wasn't there for long. Almost as soon as I laid down, a loud bell sounded from outside, like an old-fashioned church bell.

I thought at the time that it was a pleasant sound. I would soon learn to hate it.

At the sound of the bell, every single woman was awake and on her feet, taking turns at the window to braid their hair and change into day clothes. I found a simple dress, neatly folded, on the floor beside my bed, and quickly changed with the others.

Then, in single file, they began to line up; there seemed to be some order they lined up in.

"Um, sorry," I said to one of the other women, "But I fell and hit my head last night, and I can't remember a thing. Could you tell me what's going on?"

"Oh, Hermione, you poor thing. All right, we don't have much time, so I'll just give you the basics. I'm Katrina, also known as 81029. We've all got numbers, and we line up by number. You're just after me, 81030. Our Master calls us by number, so memorize it quick. Every day when that bell rings, get up and get dressed, and we line up and go outside. Then our Master inspects us, making sure we all look alike, then sends us off to work. You'll have to listen to him for that, we never know what we're doing until he tells us."

"Who is---our Master?" I asked uneasily.

"No one knows his name," Katrina replied, shrugging. "He's terrible. You're the youngest slave, and you've only been here with us for two days. The rest of us have been here a year or more, but he's starting to get more people. Oh---" Katrina quickly pulled me into line as the girl at the head of the line opened the door. "All right, now, what's your number?" she asked.

"81030?" I asked, and she nodded.

"Good," she told me. "We're all going to go outside and stand in a line. If he asks for you, take a step forward and kneel until he tells you to rise. Always respond with 'Yes, Master,' or 'No, Master.' Don't ever look anyone except other slaves in the eye; if you look him or anyone else in the eye in his presence, you get in trouble."

I swallowed. "What kind of trouble?"

At that moment, we left the room and were suddenly blinded by bright sunlight; Katrina stopped speaking at once and looked down. I did the same, looking at the bottom of Katrina's dress.

Then we stopped walking and everyone turned to the right; I did also. I saw a man's feet, but didn't dare look into his face.

"Guess what?" he asked, walking down the line in front of each of us. "I won't be picking someone today."

I glanced over at Katrina. She said under her breath, so quiet I could barely hear her, "He chooses one person a day who doesn't have to do work outside. You get to work indoors instead. No one knows why."

"Why isn't he picking one today?" I asked quietly, but Katrina shook her head slightly as the Master came towards us.

"All of you head inside," he commanded, and all of them women exchanged incredulous looks as we walked up to the castle.

When we got inside, Master stopped walking. The slaves re-formed the line.

"I've got a guest coming for dinner," Master told us. "You're helping the slaves inside prepare for him. Got it?"

"Yes, Master," we replied quietly.

He led us to the kitchen, then shoved them all inside, one by one. They all landed on the floor, hard, and no one moved once they'd been pushed. They just laid there. None of the slaves in the room reacted to their presence. He didn't shove me; on the contrary, he grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the door, and I knew I was expected to stay there,

"Get to work," he told the slaves on the floor, and closed the door. I stood stock-still and didn't say a word as he turned to me.

"What's your name?" he asked.

I didn't look up. "Hermione, Master," I replied quietly.

I heard the slap before I felt it; I heard the smacking sound of skin hitting skin and then I was on the floor, my cheek stinging.

"Get up," he growled. I got uneasily to my feet, but didn't look at him. I kept my head bowed, refusing to touch my smarting cheek. I knew it would bruise; I could feel it.

"Your name," he said, so close to my face that I could feel his breath on my cheek, "doesn't exist anymore. You are 81030. You have no name, no family, and no friends. You exist to serve me and make my life comfortable. Don't ever get smart with me again. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Master," I replied.

He spat in my face; I flinched. He didn't say anything more, just opened the door to the kitchen and shoved me inside, sending me sprawling on the floor. I didn't move until I'd heard the door shut behind me, then crawled shakily to my knees, wiping my face on my sleeve.

All of the slaves in the room waited for a few moments, as if listening. And then it was as if someone had flipped a switch; they all put down whatever they were doing and came to help me up and see if I was all right, introducing themselves and asking my name.

"I'm George," one of the men said.

"I'm Ashley," said a woman.

"Harriet," said another.

"Lily," said a third, and I looked into a pair of bright green eyes. I nearly stopped breathing. I knew it wasn't Lily Evans, but the combination of the name and the eyes startled the hell out of me.

The rest of the slaves introduced themselves. Then all of them dispersed.

Harriet led me over to a counter which held a large pile of potatoes.

"We get the fun job," she said sarcastically, laughing. "We've got to peel the potatoes."

"Oh," I said, surprised. "All right."

She handed me a knife, and the two of us attacked the pile with a vengeance.

"So you're new, are you?" Harriet asked.

"Yes," I replied, exceedingly grateful that I'd been assigned something as easy as potato-peeling. I wasn't sure how to do half the things the others were doing.

"He wasn't too mean, was he?"

I shuddered, but refused to be weak. "No, he just asked me my name."

"You didn't tell him your real one?" Harriet asked nervously, and I nodded. "Oh, no. What did he do?"

"Just told me not to get smart," I replied. "It was fine."

Harriet looked at me as though she didn't believe me. "You're lying."

"Yes."

She looked surprised that I'd admitted it. "Your cheek's beginning to bruise. How hard did he hit you?"

"Not hard."

"You're lying again."

"Yes."

Harriet smiled slightly. "At least you're a good liar. It's a useful gift, especially in this house. I never was any good at it. Well, welcome to Master's Palace."

"Thanks," I said. "Where is 'Master's Palace', anyway?"

"No idea," Harriet said, shrugging. "We were brought here in a carriage with no windows."

"Interesting," I said, curling the knife around the vegetable in my hand. "That's very interesting."

DRACO MALFOY

LOCATION UNKNOWN

When the darkness dissipated, I was in a bed---just as I had been the first time I'd time-traveled. This one wasn't nearly so large or so comfortable as my previous one, but it was a nice bed nevertheless. I didn't open my eyes, just thought for a moment. I'd made a promise before I'd stepped through the time portal. I'd promised to find her.

"Mya," I said, then realized I'd said it aloud.

"You're awake!" said a voice. "Christ, took you long enough. Need anything?"

"Water," I replied, then opened my eyes to see a guy---maybe a year or so younger than me---with curly blond hair carrying a wooden mug of water towards me. He sat on the edge of my bed and handed it to me, grinning.

"You think you'll live?" he asked.

"Who are you?" I asked, handing him the empty mug. He stood and went to get more, shaking his head.

"I'm Tristan," he replied, then called to someone outside the room. "Katherine! He can't remember anything."

A woman came into the room; she reminded me of Mya, with her long curly hair, but it was blonde instead of brown and she wasn't as pretty. "Of course he can't," she replied.

Tristan laughed. I sat up, trying to make sense of the world, but suddenly got dizzy and held a hand to my head.

The woman called Katherine sat down where Tristan had vacated and pushed me back into a lying position. "Lie still, brother," she told me. "Your skull's taken a good knock."

"I've noticed," I replied, rubbing my forehead.

"Leave it, Dragon," she said, smacking my hand away from the wound and picking up a basket sitting near my bed.

"Dragon?" I asked.

"Oh---that's the name we used to call you when we were little, because Draco means dragon in Latin."

"Ah," I replied. I hadn't known that.

"Tristan, bring me some water, would you?" Katherine asked.

"Anything for you," he replied with a grin. He filled another mug with water and brought it to her; she immediately dumped some greenish powder into it, followed by a pinch of tiny shredded leaves. She swirled the contents with a twig that had been stripped of bark, then handed it to me.

"Here," she said. "It should help with the pain."

"Thank you," I replied, my vision hazy. "But who are you two?"

"That there's Tristan, your brother," she replied, gesturing to Tristan. "And I'm Katherine, your sister."

"Who's older?" I asked, looking between them.

"I am," she replied, "By three and a half minutes."

"And it shows," Tristan added. "She's more mature."

"No...that's because I'm female, not because I'm older," she replied sweetly.

"Hey!" both Tristan and I said at the same time. She just smiled.

"So you're twins, then," I said thoughtfully, looking between them. It was easy to believe; if Katherine cut her hair and Tristan shaved, their faces would be identical.

"Yes," Katherine answered, directing a laughing scowl in his direction, "which means I can't even claim we're not related."

"I love you, too," he replied, returning the scowl.

I laughed. "How was I injured, then?" I asked. "I suppose I 'took a fall off'n that horse of mine', did I?" I added under my breath, but neither Katherine nor Tristan heard me.

"You were feeding the horses when one of them got stung by a bee and went wild. He reared up and bashed you right in the head," Tristan informed me.

"I'm beginning to really hate those animals," I grumbled.

Katherine pursed her lips. "You've got a lovely bruise."

"Yeah, right in the shape of a horseshoe," Tristan laughed.

Katherine picked up a muddy boot that sat near my bed and chucked it at him. "It is not," she replied. "And if you keep on bothering him, I'll get Father to come and remove you."

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," Tristan replied, ducking as the boot flew by his head.

Katherine laughed. "Though I don't suppose you tried," she answered.

Tristan grinned in response. I decided I quite liked these two.

"Anyway, you're in Father's house."

"What's 'Father's' name?" I asked.

"Lucius Malfoy," she replied.

Wow, couldn't have guessed that one. I scowled.

"Now," Katherine said. "Tristan, I suppose you'll have to go with him to his meeting today. It's an important one, and if Draco doesn't have his memory back by then, you'll have to speak for him."

"All right," Tristan said, suddenly becoming the responsible youngest child. "We should tell Father."

Katherine stood, then suddenly bent down to me again as Tristan left the room.

"You'd better prepare yourself for meeting this man," Katherine whispered to me. "I've heard he's more evil than Satan himself."

With that, she left the room, leaving me to wonder what the hell Dumbledore was thinking.

HERMIONE GRANGER

'MASTER'S PALACE'

The knife I was using to cut vegetables was both incredibly shiny and incredibly sharp.

I'd already sliced my thumb open, but I'd managed to wrap it before it bled anywhere. Had I been in the magical world, it would have required a Healer. In the muggle world, it'd have required stitches.

Which wasn't a happy thought.

I noticed as I was cutting carrots that I could see the reflection of my hand on the knife. It was as clear as a mirror. I picked it up off the cutting board and turned it to see my face. It was dirty; I had a bruise on my cheek from where Master had hit me. I also knew I had finger-shaped bruises on my upper arm from where Master had grabbed me.

Master. What an odd thing to call yourself. Whenever I thought of Master, it didn't feel like a title. The only reason I actually called him Master was because I had no other name for him; it seemed to me that Master was his name. I knew it wasn't, but even when I called him Master it didn't make me feel like a slave.

The door of the kitchen opened and closed; I started, and turned to see who had come in.

It was Master.

He saw me looking at him and positively growled at me. I felt my eyes widen as he came towards me. He took the knife out of my hands and looked at it as though inspecting it, then pressed the blade to my throat.

"Stop working again, 81030," he said, "And this goes through your heart. Understand?"

"Yes," I replied, and he took the knife away and slapped me in the mouth, snapping my head back so fast I nearly got whiplash. My lip caught on my teeth and I tasted blood.

Great, a bloody lip to add to my appearance. At least bruises went away quickly. A cut would last days.

"You answer me with 'Master' at all times!" He roared. "Don't let it happen again!"

"Yes, Master. My deepest apologies for my disrespect, Master," I said, somehow knowing that it was the right thing to say.

He nodded once, a deep glare still etched into his features as he stepped back a few paces. Then, suddenly, he threw the knife at me.

Out of reflex, I caught it by the blade. I didn't even cut myself.

"Get back to work," he said, and I could tell he was trying hard not to look awed at the catch I'd made. "All of you!" he shouted when he realized everyone was watching our exchange.

And with that, the room hummed to life again, and everyone continued working.

Master left, and immediately people began commenting on the conversation. No one dared move from their assigned position, but Lily called, "Nice catch, Hermione!" from across the room.

"Yeah, where'd you learn that?" George asked.

"I dunno," I replied uneasily. "Just got lucky, I suppose."

That was a lie. I hadn't gotten lucky. My father had been in the army before becoming a dentist, and he'd taught me exactly how to catch knives without cutting yourself; how to walk silently even through twigs and leaves; how to camouflage yourself for all types of environments; how to move without being seen; how to hunt; how to climb trees without moving branches; how to scale vertical, perfectly smooth walls without falling; how to listen for the smallest sounds, see the slightest movements.

He'd taught me much more than that. So much more. Things I hadn't needed to learn, things my mother didn't want me learning. I'd learned to shoot a gun, throw a dagger, use a sword, shoot an arrow, use a crossbow, and ten thousand other things he'd deemed useful.

I'd had the most varied, interesting childhood and education a kid could ask for; and I'd loved every bit of it.

Of course, how to tell people who'd lived centuries ago that my father, who was now a dentist, had been in the army...

Yeah. I didn't see that going over easy. Hell, if you even said the word 'army' around these people, they'd probably scream, 'Army? Where?' and duck.

If only swords were the only weapons Voldemort had at his command. At least with a sword you had a chance of escaping alive.

DRACO MALFOY

TRAVELING

Tristan and I were on our way to my meeting. This made me nervous; Katherine's parting words hadn't been all too cheerful.

I was also riding in a carriage. In my own time, before this whole time-traveling thing, I'd always thought carriages were for high-ranking women who were too lazy to walk and didn't want to get their dresses dirty. And, of course, the horseless ones that brought us from the train to Hogwarts at the beginning of the year.

I now realized that carriages were like brooms, or Floo Powder, or Apparition; if you needed to get somewhere, you used a carriage. That was all there was to it. If you didn't want to use a carriage, you walked. The end. There was nothing else with wheels out there.

We pulled into the drive of a huge, black mansion. It was intimidating; a tall, thin, black silhouette against the darkening sky.

"This man," Tristan informed me, "believes in power, money, and whatever suits him best. Keep that in mind. He hardly cares about anything other than his own comfort and well-being."

"What's his name?"

"We call him Tom."

I froze. Tom? Well, it was a common enough name. But could it be Tom Riddle? As in, Lord Voldemort? No, I told myself, fighting the automatic fear that came with saying Voldemort's name. No. Voldemort wasn't been alive during this time.

"No last name, I assume," I replied.

"Oh, he's got one," Tristan answered. "He just won't tell us what it is."

"So where do I stand in terms of authority with him? Does he outrank me, or---"

"Far from it," Tristan cut me off, laughing. "He's practically your servant."

"Why?"

"Because you're the eldest son of Lord Malfoy," Tristan explained. "This is a business meeting. We're here to buy things from him; he basically collects treasures for us to buy. We're here because he sent word that he has some especially rare things for us. I'll handle the transactions," he added when he saw my worry. "But you have ultimate power over him. You can buy the rug under his feet if you so choose, and he's not allowed to ask why."

"All right," I replied, catching myself before I said 'okay.' I didn't think the word existed yet.

We stepped out of the carriage, and Tristan told the driver to park next to the castle and to be prepared to leave whenever we came back outdoors.

We climbed the stairs, and Tristan knocked on the huge mahogany doors.

A butler-type servant opened the doors and allowed us in, then led us to another set of doors. Opening them, the butler spoke to someone in the room.

"Master? They are here."