Author's Note: I would just like to take this time to say thank you to
Serpent du Feu, who was the first to ever give me a review. Thank you, you
have made my day! To my other reviewers, thanks and thanks again! I'm
smiling like crazy just because of you! Once again, please read and review!
Please forgive me if I'm not consistent with the language they use before.
I will just use our language, except maybe for "Nay" and "Aye" in a few
cases. I'll be throttled by my History teacher because I'm rewriting
history. hope you won't mind. Sorry! And now, on with the story!
Chapter 3: Into the Arms of a Lord
Hermione opened her tired and weary eyes, feeling as though she had just come from an immense battle, very much like the stories she had read during the past. She blinked a few times, disoriented with her surroundings. She tried to remember what happened.
*
She was sitting at the vanity, merely contemplating on what was about to happen within a few minutes. She was also, in the deepest part of her heart, wishing that she were in another time, in another place. All of a sudden, a strange mist began to appear in the room. Startled, Hermione got up from the chair and began to pace backwards.
The mist was getting bigger, she did not know where it came from or what it actually was, but there was no time for her to be curious. She paced backward until she hit the door. Reaching back, she held the doorknob and started to open it. that's when she was quickly enveloped in the strange mist. It was not cold, nor damp. It was kind of tingly and warm, making her smile. She was instantly reminded of a book she read that described a woman's first real kiss was of a warm, tingly feeling that enveloped you.
The feeling was intoxicating. Hermione quickly began to feel drowsy. Without warning, she dropped to the floor and slept.
*
Hermione stirred slightly, then was shocked to find out that the sound she had been hearing all the while was the sound of a slight breeze, rustling the grass.
Grass? Hermione thought wildly. There was no grass in the room. There couldn't be any grass inside the room. Could there? She tried desperately to orient herself, but her efforts were futile.
It was at that exact moment that she heard footsteps. Heavy footsteps falling on the soft earth and that were getting louder and louder. Its owner was getting nearer and nearer to her. Overcome with fear and much confusion as to why she was outside, Hermione could only stay still and close her eyes, hoping that her 'attacker' or whoever it was, would not notice her.
But she was wrong.
On two counts. One, her 'attacker' noticed her and was coming toward her in a curious pace. And two, this was no attacker. At least, not yet.
"My lord, my lord!" Said the man as he came to a halt, a few feet beyond Hermione's state. He had a deep and growling voice, but somehow, Hermione's fear and anxiousness lessened slightly.
She wondered, why in God's name would a man be calling another man 'lord' in this day and age? It seemed as if these men were from another period or something. Maybe they're insane. She concluded in her mind.
"Aye?" Answered another man. Hermione felt a sudden chill down her spine with that one single word. Though it was not the exact word itself, it was the way it was said. The voice was rich, deep and immensely masculine. And powerful enough to let Hermione know that this was the lord the other man was talking about.
But how could she have gotten here? Here in God knows where and with God knows who. Still. Hermione continued to play dead and simply listen to the answers her 'companions' might provide her with.
"A maiden, my lord." The man with the growling voice said.
"What?" He answered irritably. Hermione noted that his voice, though rich and powerful, was somewhat faint, therefore meaning that he must be a quite a distance away.
"A maiden, my lord." The man repeated. "A maiden, or perhaps an angel from the way she looks and the gown she wears."
"You are out of your wits, man. No maiden dare come here, much more an angel, as you call her."
"But my lord, what I see is right in front of me, and she is sleeping." The man insisted. "Will you not come and see for yourself?"
There were a few silent moments before Hermione heard the sound of heavy and irritated footsteps making their way towards her. They stopped, from what Hermione assumed to be, a few feet away from her body.
"See my lord?" The man offered.
The man was unable to speak for a moment. He simply looked at the sleeping girl with an impassive expression on his face. His companion thought it best not to prod anymore. The lord took in the appearance of the beautiful girl that lay in his courtyard.
"Is she alive?" He finally asked after a few moments of careful deliberation.
"She is asleep, my lord. See the rise and fall of her chest." The man said quietly.
Without any explanation, the lord began to walked slowly toward the sleeping girl. Hermione sensed this and figured out that it was now or never. She was about to open her eyes and look at him straight in the eye when he beat her to it.
He crouched down beside her, then slowly reached out and touched her left cheek with the back of his forefinger. Hermione trembled slightly at the touch. Then, after saying a quick prayer, she opened her eyes. And she came in contact with the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen. His eyes were stormy, much like the ocean during a hurricane. They were framed with long and dark eyelashes. Hermione could do nothing but gape at him for a few moments. She then looked at the rest of his face.
He was incredibly handsome. Every feature well-defined and were seemingly painted by God himself. He had long, blond hair which fell across the sides of his face. Hermione's breath caught. He, in turn, drew back his hand, but not before a fleeting expression showed on his face. One which neither he nor she could determine at that moment.
She slowly pulled herself up into a sitting position and took in a few deep breaths. The air smelled of earth and leather and. man. It was hard for any girl not to swoon at that moment, as the combined odors were not unpleasant. Once she overcame the nausea, she looked at the man with the long blond hair who was sitting next to her.
"Where am I?" Hermione asked a little bleary eyed.
"Where no lady should dare come unannounced and uninvited." He answered in a flat tone. Hermione looked to his companion for help.
"Where am I?" She repeated. Her throat was dry and so she swallowed as she waited for the man to answer.
"You are, my lady, in the courtyard of the Malfoy castle." He answered in a kind way.
"Which part of the map is it located?" Hermione asked.
"In Brittany." He supplied.
"France?!" She exclaimed. Her mouth dropped and she found it hard to breathe. I can't be in France. She thought. I was just in England, like about a few minutes ago!
"Yes." The man said kindly.
"And who are you?" She asked.
"Allow me to introduce myself," The man sitting next to her interrupted. He then rose up to his full height, which was imposing to say the least. "Lord Draco Malfoy."
"And I, my lady, am Sir Gregory Goyle, right hand man to my lord." The other one answered.
"And who might you be?" Draco asked.
And what to make of these lords and sirs? Hermione wondered, then realized that Lord Draco was expecting an answer. "Hermione Granger." She said simply, making a big effort to smile.
Both men looked on each other with confused expressions. While Hermione was rubbing her temples.
"Granger?" Draco asked and his brow furrowed. "I do not remember any man or woman called Granger. Why are you here?"
"Actually, I don't know." Hermione answered.
"What?" Draco demanded in a harsh tone. That harsh tone, coupled with Hermione's escalating headache made her snap back at him.
"I don't know how I got here, okay?" And she put her head in her hands.
"Are you a spy?" Draco asked.
"Spy?" Hermione repeated, incredulous. "I don't know what you're talking about. I am no spy. Why would I be a spy for someone who I don't really know. and besides, I don't know how I got here!"
"Your temper should be kept in check." Draco warned.
"Well, I've got a splitting headache and a nagging confusion and a man who irks me." She snapped back. She then decided that it was enough to be sitting around with this imposing man looking at her strangely. "A little help, please?" She asked and he held out his hand and pulled her to her feet without much ado.
"Thank you." She said curtly. As she brushed off her clothing. and realized that she was wearing her wedding dress. Or what was left of a wedding dress, seeing as it was soiled into a murky brown. She sighed in disgust. As she was brushing off the front of the gown, she noticed something.
Her engagement ring was gone.
Clapping a hand over her mouth for a moment then she looked down on the ground for it. She kept her head down, wondering where that ring went off to. She was moving around in circles when she felt a pair of strong hands grab her shoulders and stop her. Then, she was turned to face him.
And for the second time that day, all she could do was gape and stare at the most incredible man she'd ever seen. She noticed that her head was level to his nicely-shaped mouth, and she was still wearing those three- inch heels. Then, she took the time to notice what he was wearing: chain mail and woolen tights. The hilt of a sword was on his left side.
Chain mail? Tights? Swords?
"What is this game now?" He asked sarcastically.
Immediately, all attraction towards him left her as she gritted her teeth in frustration. "No game. I was looking for something." She answered as she twisted away from his grasp.
Slightly taken aback, he kept his hands at his sides. His hands were clenched into fists.
"If you'll just answer one more question, then I might be of some use to you." Hermione baited.
He nodded and waited for her question.
Hermione took a deep breath and prayed that her suspicions were wrong. "What is today's date?"
"The sixth of October." He answered.
"And what year?" She asked, her heart pounding wildly.
"I thought you said just one more question?" He informed her, raising an eyebrow. Hermione could swear that she heard his companion snicker, which heightened her anger. But she kept a cool front.
"Well, you gave me an incomplete answer!" She retorted.
"Fine." He compromised. "Thirteen hundred and seventy-five."
It took her a while to digest all information he'd given her. 1375? Hermione thought and suddenly, the world tilted. Without much warning to her fellow companions, she passed out and dropped straight to the ground.
"My lady!" Sir Goyle exclaimed. But Draco's reflexes were faster. He caught her long before she was to hit the ground and scooped her up into his arms as he straightened up.
"Goyle, tell the servants to open the door." He ordered as he started to walk back to his castle, Hermione's sleeping body in his arms.
As he walked the distance, he took the time to really look at her. And, unexplainably, his chest tightened at the very sight of her. Her hair was getting loose from the twist and it flowed down her face. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her skin creamy, her lips pink and slightly dry, her eyelashes long. And how was it possible for him not to notice how beautiful her hazel eyes were when she opened them.
He stopped looking at her long enough to see that the heavy wooden doors to his castle had been opened and a servant went out to greet him.
"My lord!" Mathilde, a kind and motherly woman, exclaimed as she saw them.
"Prepare the guest chamber, Mathilde." He said quietly.
"Yes, my lord." Then went up the stairs quickly, with Draco following slowly. Up the wide and expansive stone staircase, he went, careful not to jostle Hermione too much. He wasn't used to being chivalrous. In fact, he stayed away from women as much as possible. But with Hermione. he carried her as if she was made of pure glass.
Once on the landing, he walked the last few feet to the first guest chamber which had a fire roaring in the grate and the bed ready for her. He went to on side of the bed and carefully deposited her on it. She stirred, but did not wake.
Then, he summoned Mathilde to remove the soiled dress that she was currently wearing and dress her with one of his late mother's nightgowns. Mathilde nodded and quickly set off to work.
Draco, in the meantime, took one last look at her sleeping face then went off to the hall to have a bit of drink. Hermione's face was not only imprinted deep into his mind, where he would not let anyone know that she affected him that much; it was also imprinted on his heart.
Chapter 3: Into the Arms of a Lord
Hermione opened her tired and weary eyes, feeling as though she had just come from an immense battle, very much like the stories she had read during the past. She blinked a few times, disoriented with her surroundings. She tried to remember what happened.
*
She was sitting at the vanity, merely contemplating on what was about to happen within a few minutes. She was also, in the deepest part of her heart, wishing that she were in another time, in another place. All of a sudden, a strange mist began to appear in the room. Startled, Hermione got up from the chair and began to pace backwards.
The mist was getting bigger, she did not know where it came from or what it actually was, but there was no time for her to be curious. She paced backward until she hit the door. Reaching back, she held the doorknob and started to open it. that's when she was quickly enveloped in the strange mist. It was not cold, nor damp. It was kind of tingly and warm, making her smile. She was instantly reminded of a book she read that described a woman's first real kiss was of a warm, tingly feeling that enveloped you.
The feeling was intoxicating. Hermione quickly began to feel drowsy. Without warning, she dropped to the floor and slept.
*
Hermione stirred slightly, then was shocked to find out that the sound she had been hearing all the while was the sound of a slight breeze, rustling the grass.
Grass? Hermione thought wildly. There was no grass in the room. There couldn't be any grass inside the room. Could there? She tried desperately to orient herself, but her efforts were futile.
It was at that exact moment that she heard footsteps. Heavy footsteps falling on the soft earth and that were getting louder and louder. Its owner was getting nearer and nearer to her. Overcome with fear and much confusion as to why she was outside, Hermione could only stay still and close her eyes, hoping that her 'attacker' or whoever it was, would not notice her.
But she was wrong.
On two counts. One, her 'attacker' noticed her and was coming toward her in a curious pace. And two, this was no attacker. At least, not yet.
"My lord, my lord!" Said the man as he came to a halt, a few feet beyond Hermione's state. He had a deep and growling voice, but somehow, Hermione's fear and anxiousness lessened slightly.
She wondered, why in God's name would a man be calling another man 'lord' in this day and age? It seemed as if these men were from another period or something. Maybe they're insane. She concluded in her mind.
"Aye?" Answered another man. Hermione felt a sudden chill down her spine with that one single word. Though it was not the exact word itself, it was the way it was said. The voice was rich, deep and immensely masculine. And powerful enough to let Hermione know that this was the lord the other man was talking about.
But how could she have gotten here? Here in God knows where and with God knows who. Still. Hermione continued to play dead and simply listen to the answers her 'companions' might provide her with.
"A maiden, my lord." The man with the growling voice said.
"What?" He answered irritably. Hermione noted that his voice, though rich and powerful, was somewhat faint, therefore meaning that he must be a quite a distance away.
"A maiden, my lord." The man repeated. "A maiden, or perhaps an angel from the way she looks and the gown she wears."
"You are out of your wits, man. No maiden dare come here, much more an angel, as you call her."
"But my lord, what I see is right in front of me, and she is sleeping." The man insisted. "Will you not come and see for yourself?"
There were a few silent moments before Hermione heard the sound of heavy and irritated footsteps making their way towards her. They stopped, from what Hermione assumed to be, a few feet away from her body.
"See my lord?" The man offered.
The man was unable to speak for a moment. He simply looked at the sleeping girl with an impassive expression on his face. His companion thought it best not to prod anymore. The lord took in the appearance of the beautiful girl that lay in his courtyard.
"Is she alive?" He finally asked after a few moments of careful deliberation.
"She is asleep, my lord. See the rise and fall of her chest." The man said quietly.
Without any explanation, the lord began to walked slowly toward the sleeping girl. Hermione sensed this and figured out that it was now or never. She was about to open her eyes and look at him straight in the eye when he beat her to it.
He crouched down beside her, then slowly reached out and touched her left cheek with the back of his forefinger. Hermione trembled slightly at the touch. Then, after saying a quick prayer, she opened her eyes. And she came in contact with the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen. His eyes were stormy, much like the ocean during a hurricane. They were framed with long and dark eyelashes. Hermione could do nothing but gape at him for a few moments. She then looked at the rest of his face.
He was incredibly handsome. Every feature well-defined and were seemingly painted by God himself. He had long, blond hair which fell across the sides of his face. Hermione's breath caught. He, in turn, drew back his hand, but not before a fleeting expression showed on his face. One which neither he nor she could determine at that moment.
She slowly pulled herself up into a sitting position and took in a few deep breaths. The air smelled of earth and leather and. man. It was hard for any girl not to swoon at that moment, as the combined odors were not unpleasant. Once she overcame the nausea, she looked at the man with the long blond hair who was sitting next to her.
"Where am I?" Hermione asked a little bleary eyed.
"Where no lady should dare come unannounced and uninvited." He answered in a flat tone. Hermione looked to his companion for help.
"Where am I?" She repeated. Her throat was dry and so she swallowed as she waited for the man to answer.
"You are, my lady, in the courtyard of the Malfoy castle." He answered in a kind way.
"Which part of the map is it located?" Hermione asked.
"In Brittany." He supplied.
"France?!" She exclaimed. Her mouth dropped and she found it hard to breathe. I can't be in France. She thought. I was just in England, like about a few minutes ago!
"Yes." The man said kindly.
"And who are you?" She asked.
"Allow me to introduce myself," The man sitting next to her interrupted. He then rose up to his full height, which was imposing to say the least. "Lord Draco Malfoy."
"And I, my lady, am Sir Gregory Goyle, right hand man to my lord." The other one answered.
"And who might you be?" Draco asked.
And what to make of these lords and sirs? Hermione wondered, then realized that Lord Draco was expecting an answer. "Hermione Granger." She said simply, making a big effort to smile.
Both men looked on each other with confused expressions. While Hermione was rubbing her temples.
"Granger?" Draco asked and his brow furrowed. "I do not remember any man or woman called Granger. Why are you here?"
"Actually, I don't know." Hermione answered.
"What?" Draco demanded in a harsh tone. That harsh tone, coupled with Hermione's escalating headache made her snap back at him.
"I don't know how I got here, okay?" And she put her head in her hands.
"Are you a spy?" Draco asked.
"Spy?" Hermione repeated, incredulous. "I don't know what you're talking about. I am no spy. Why would I be a spy for someone who I don't really know. and besides, I don't know how I got here!"
"Your temper should be kept in check." Draco warned.
"Well, I've got a splitting headache and a nagging confusion and a man who irks me." She snapped back. She then decided that it was enough to be sitting around with this imposing man looking at her strangely. "A little help, please?" She asked and he held out his hand and pulled her to her feet without much ado.
"Thank you." She said curtly. As she brushed off her clothing. and realized that she was wearing her wedding dress. Or what was left of a wedding dress, seeing as it was soiled into a murky brown. She sighed in disgust. As she was brushing off the front of the gown, she noticed something.
Her engagement ring was gone.
Clapping a hand over her mouth for a moment then she looked down on the ground for it. She kept her head down, wondering where that ring went off to. She was moving around in circles when she felt a pair of strong hands grab her shoulders and stop her. Then, she was turned to face him.
And for the second time that day, all she could do was gape and stare at the most incredible man she'd ever seen. She noticed that her head was level to his nicely-shaped mouth, and she was still wearing those three- inch heels. Then, she took the time to notice what he was wearing: chain mail and woolen tights. The hilt of a sword was on his left side.
Chain mail? Tights? Swords?
"What is this game now?" He asked sarcastically.
Immediately, all attraction towards him left her as she gritted her teeth in frustration. "No game. I was looking for something." She answered as she twisted away from his grasp.
Slightly taken aback, he kept his hands at his sides. His hands were clenched into fists.
"If you'll just answer one more question, then I might be of some use to you." Hermione baited.
He nodded and waited for her question.
Hermione took a deep breath and prayed that her suspicions were wrong. "What is today's date?"
"The sixth of October." He answered.
"And what year?" She asked, her heart pounding wildly.
"I thought you said just one more question?" He informed her, raising an eyebrow. Hermione could swear that she heard his companion snicker, which heightened her anger. But she kept a cool front.
"Well, you gave me an incomplete answer!" She retorted.
"Fine." He compromised. "Thirteen hundred and seventy-five."
It took her a while to digest all information he'd given her. 1375? Hermione thought and suddenly, the world tilted. Without much warning to her fellow companions, she passed out and dropped straight to the ground.
"My lady!" Sir Goyle exclaimed. But Draco's reflexes were faster. He caught her long before she was to hit the ground and scooped her up into his arms as he straightened up.
"Goyle, tell the servants to open the door." He ordered as he started to walk back to his castle, Hermione's sleeping body in his arms.
As he walked the distance, he took the time to really look at her. And, unexplainably, his chest tightened at the very sight of her. Her hair was getting loose from the twist and it flowed down her face. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her skin creamy, her lips pink and slightly dry, her eyelashes long. And how was it possible for him not to notice how beautiful her hazel eyes were when she opened them.
He stopped looking at her long enough to see that the heavy wooden doors to his castle had been opened and a servant went out to greet him.
"My lord!" Mathilde, a kind and motherly woman, exclaimed as she saw them.
"Prepare the guest chamber, Mathilde." He said quietly.
"Yes, my lord." Then went up the stairs quickly, with Draco following slowly. Up the wide and expansive stone staircase, he went, careful not to jostle Hermione too much. He wasn't used to being chivalrous. In fact, he stayed away from women as much as possible. But with Hermione. he carried her as if she was made of pure glass.
Once on the landing, he walked the last few feet to the first guest chamber which had a fire roaring in the grate and the bed ready for her. He went to on side of the bed and carefully deposited her on it. She stirred, but did not wake.
Then, he summoned Mathilde to remove the soiled dress that she was currently wearing and dress her with one of his late mother's nightgowns. Mathilde nodded and quickly set off to work.
Draco, in the meantime, took one last look at her sleeping face then went off to the hall to have a bit of drink. Hermione's face was not only imprinted deep into his mind, where he would not let anyone know that she affected him that much; it was also imprinted on his heart.