Author's Note: Thank you for all your reviews! I absolutely love getting
them and reading them! Thank you, thank you once again! Anyways, I am
really sorry that the romance part will be for later and I know you all are
getting quite impatient with me, (hell, I'm getting impatient with me!
[kidding]) but I wanted the first touches and kisses to be super special!
So, please keep reading and reviewing. The lovely and intimate scenes will
be coming up soon, I promise!
Chapter 10: Empty Workings and Uncertainties
A week after Draco and Goyle had left for the battle; Hermione was feeling incredibly bored and restless. For the first few days, she had been busy, doing what she would be doing if they were here. But, on the seventh day, she just didn't feel like doing it all anymore.
Mealtimes were spent in the kitchen, as she ate with the other servants and conversed with them. She loved each and everyone - their insights, their ideals, their dreams. Hermione loved spending time with them and working with them.
But it just wasn't the same.
First, she'd been separated from her family. God knows what they were doing right now. She guessed that her mother would be sick with worry and her father would be hollering at the police and detectives, telling them to keep at the search for his only daughter.
And their efforts would be futile. Hermione thought as she sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. Most of the mornings were spent like this: with her feeling drained and sickly.
And now, Draco and Goyle were off to a battle. How she missed them.
After all, she smiled as she recalled the memories, Sir Goyle could make her laugh and smile with his endless talks about trivial matters. They, when they found the time, would talk about what the future was like and made endless comparisons and contrasts. As well as a few jokes here and there. Sir Goyle was funny and adorable. Hermione wondered why he never talked about his love life. Not that she'd be too shameless to ask.
But Draco?
He'd only warmed up to her, become gentlemanly and chivalrous; then he had to be called to a battle. Hermione sighed and pushed back the blankets and got out of bed. She went over to the desk she'd appointed as a vanity and picked up an ornate ivory comb and began brushing her hair.
Draco had left the comb on her vanity table before he left that morning. Hermione had not even stirred when he came to her room and placed the comb on the desk. What she didn't know was that he looked at her for a few minutes, imprinting her face in his mind and vowing to himself that he would go to the war and come back, safe and sound, just for her.
After brushing her hair, she simply stared at the gift he had given her. Hermione smiled wistfully. Where he got the comb and why he gave it to her, she did not know. She knew she would have to ask him that when he came back. Setting the comb down and putting on her day clothes, Hermione wondered what she would do today.
Breakfast came and went, with Hermione not eating but only a few spoonfuls of porridge. After eating, she went outside to look at the garden. But, much to her disappointment, the cold was setting in and most of the plants were feeling the effects of the temperature change. Sighing, she went to the stables.
Once there, the horses neighed and greeted her as she stepped in.
"Hey guys." She said, giving them a small smile. She went over to Starshine and gently stroked her. The horse nudged her comfortingly. "I know, Starshine." Hermione replied. "I miss him."
She spent about an hour there, just being with the animals. She found comfort in them... and amazingly, when she left the stables, she was more joyous than she'd ever been.
This of course, being the creative woman that she is, presented the urge to make some changes in the castle. The Yuletide season was fast approaching and she wanted everything to be prepared, even though it was only the last days of October.
When she asked Rose and Mathilde for any thing or any materials that she could use to make decorations, they looked at her strangely. Mathilde explained that while they did have decorations, it was too early to put them up. Hermione then explained that she did not plan to put the decors just yet, but she wanted to make them.
Rose understood completely and this prompted her to show Hermione to one of the rooms that Draco used as a storage room. The room was located in the far corner of the castle and it was incredibly huge. Candles were lit, since the windows were boarded up. And dust was everywhere.
Nevertheless, Hermione found it as a perfect opportunity to do something worthwhile. After telling Rose that she'd be fine in the room, Rose simply nodded and went on her way.
Hermione rolled up her sleeves and began to look at the things there. Portraits were off to one wall, covered with a sheet and gathering dust as it is. Suits of armor were also seen, gathering dust as well. Huge wooden boxes were around, and that's exactly where Hermione intended on starting her little project.
Never minding the little critters and such that were lurking around, she used one of the many candles Rose had lit and bought it over to one of the boxes.
And so, she spent the whole day there, only coming out from the room when she needed to eat and when she needed to get a breath of fresh air. But, by the end of the day, she managed to get a few yards (or what she calculated them to be) of different textures of cloth, a few yards of ribbon, some knickknacks that she figured could be used as decors and such.
She left the room, after extinguishing all the candles and went directly to take a bath. Once done, she slipped into white linen nightgown and brushed her hair as she sat on the vanity. The night breeze was cool and Hermione's skin broke out in gooseflesh.
"I wonder how Draco and the others are standing this cold?" Hermione muttered in a soft voice. "I just hope they'll be safe."
It was only then that Hermione wondered why Draco was so important to her.
"Let's sort out the facts." Hermione continued, getting into the whole deal of talking to herself. She used to do this a lot back then, when she was all alone in her apartment in London. "I'll admit that I am attracted to him." Who wouldn't? She thought. "And he is gentlemanly and sweet, well kind of, when he's with me. But..." She trailed off.
Why did she have to travel 600 hundred years into the past to find him?
That was precisely the million-pound question that she refused to ask out loud.
Sighing, she put down the comb and crawled into bed, sleep taking over her tired form.
* * *
The next few weeks for Hermione were spent either preparing the whole castle for Christmas and for the cold winter or writing.
Yes, she'd taken up the passion for writing yet again. She was now intent on writing a continuation on her second book. Yes, the manuscript was saved on her computer back home, but the main plot was still in her head. She'd only begun to write the first few chapters before she was whisked away to this place and time.
It's funny, Hermione thought as she paused in her writing during that sunny (yet still cold) Friday morning, all that time, I thought I was writing about this different character who wants more substance in her life... but now I realize that this book is me.
She smiled, shaking her head. She reread the passage she'd just written:
*Isn't it strange, I've asked myself for so many times, that I've never really thought about the meaning of my life? I've been there, I've certainly done that, but I could never find any satisfaction in my life. I know it is quite selfish of me to say this, but... how can you feel something about the things that you do when you've never learned HOW to recognize the feeling? For example, how would you know true love if you've never experienced it? Yes, a lot of my friends tell me that I'll feel it and know it when I encounter the man of my fondest dreams. But what exactly do you feel? Is it the feeling of your chest tightening when you see him, the pain you encounter when he's gone, or the sweaty palms and the constant biting of your lip when he looks at you? Maybe it's the exact way that he's supposed to hold you, touch you and kiss you. Maybe it's the exact way you're supposed to respond to his actions.
Maybe that's the problem here, it's not that I don't know how to feel... but I don't know what to feel. But either way, I am now determined to know what it takes to make my life substantial and important.*
Hermione smiled again. After countless drafts and trashed manuscripts, she'd finally found a good enough prologue to her story. Picking up the quill and dipping it in ink, she continued to write.
Maybe I'll make my male lead just like Draco... She mused absentmindedly.
There was only a few more days before he (and the others of course) came home, and Hermione was bubbling up with anticipation that she would see him again.
* * *
But as luck would have it. Exactly one month after they left, they didn't come home. On that day, Hermione was trying desperately not to think about them coming home and her seeing Draco again. But as nightfall came, no sounds of the barbican gate opening were heard and there were no thundering hooves on the soft earth.
Hermione stayed up all night, but still they didn't come. She reasoned that maybe they were caught up in bad weather or that Lord Phillip had a feast.
One week later, they were still nowhere to be found.
Hermione began to grow worried. It was the 28th day of their departure and they still didn't come home. What was worse, snow had begun to fall two days ago. This made her jumpy, afraid and extremely worried about their state.
Rose and Mathilde tried to comfort her, telling her that it was possible that the snow had hindered their arrival and Hermione did try her best to feel comforted and fine... but she couldn't. At least she couldn't when she was alone. Yes, there were times when she wanted to cry but she stopped herself each time.
During the day, she would go around with her chores. The decorations were now being slowly put up in the great hall where she's laid out tapestries on the floor and insisted on the few men that had nothing to do to make her a small couch where she could sit and watch the fire in the hall.
Sometimes during the day she would go up to Draco's tower and look out to the view the windows presented to her. But she still felt empty.
It went on like this for a few more days. Soon, Draco and his men were missing for 2 weeks. During that time, Hermione felt incredibly drained and weak. She wasn't eating that much and she wasn't sleeping that well either.
Both Rose and Mathilde tried to comfort her but they couldn't do anything except persuade her to eat and watch over her as she slept. Although Draco had been called to many battles before, he was not this late when he came home. They wondered what could be keeping him.
What they heard of, about the battle though, was that Lords Phillip and Draco were victorious. They obtained this through the people that bordered the castle gates. They did not, however, learn any information about the whereabouts of Draco and his men.
They expected the worst.
On the last day of the second week, Hermione was forced to spend the day in bed, seeing as she could not stand or sit without feeling dizzy. Rose had been called to watch over her, but Hermione being the stubborn girl and she was definitely concerned that neither Rose nor Mathilde had been getting a good night's sleep at her expense, ordered them to sleep in their respective rooms that night.
Though with much protest, Hermione remained firm in her decision and order. Mathilde and Rose had no choice but to leave her alone that night after bringing her supper.
And so, Hermione was alone in her room and almost unable to get up from bed. She did as she did almost every night since Draco's departure and prayed. She wished and prayed and hoped that they would all come back safe and sound.
With that short prayer, she rolled onto her side and drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 10: Empty Workings and Uncertainties
A week after Draco and Goyle had left for the battle; Hermione was feeling incredibly bored and restless. For the first few days, she had been busy, doing what she would be doing if they were here. But, on the seventh day, she just didn't feel like doing it all anymore.
Mealtimes were spent in the kitchen, as she ate with the other servants and conversed with them. She loved each and everyone - their insights, their ideals, their dreams. Hermione loved spending time with them and working with them.
But it just wasn't the same.
First, she'd been separated from her family. God knows what they were doing right now. She guessed that her mother would be sick with worry and her father would be hollering at the police and detectives, telling them to keep at the search for his only daughter.
And their efforts would be futile. Hermione thought as she sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. Most of the mornings were spent like this: with her feeling drained and sickly.
And now, Draco and Goyle were off to a battle. How she missed them.
After all, she smiled as she recalled the memories, Sir Goyle could make her laugh and smile with his endless talks about trivial matters. They, when they found the time, would talk about what the future was like and made endless comparisons and contrasts. As well as a few jokes here and there. Sir Goyle was funny and adorable. Hermione wondered why he never talked about his love life. Not that she'd be too shameless to ask.
But Draco?
He'd only warmed up to her, become gentlemanly and chivalrous; then he had to be called to a battle. Hermione sighed and pushed back the blankets and got out of bed. She went over to the desk she'd appointed as a vanity and picked up an ornate ivory comb and began brushing her hair.
Draco had left the comb on her vanity table before he left that morning. Hermione had not even stirred when he came to her room and placed the comb on the desk. What she didn't know was that he looked at her for a few minutes, imprinting her face in his mind and vowing to himself that he would go to the war and come back, safe and sound, just for her.
After brushing her hair, she simply stared at the gift he had given her. Hermione smiled wistfully. Where he got the comb and why he gave it to her, she did not know. She knew she would have to ask him that when he came back. Setting the comb down and putting on her day clothes, Hermione wondered what she would do today.
Breakfast came and went, with Hermione not eating but only a few spoonfuls of porridge. After eating, she went outside to look at the garden. But, much to her disappointment, the cold was setting in and most of the plants were feeling the effects of the temperature change. Sighing, she went to the stables.
Once there, the horses neighed and greeted her as she stepped in.
"Hey guys." She said, giving them a small smile. She went over to Starshine and gently stroked her. The horse nudged her comfortingly. "I know, Starshine." Hermione replied. "I miss him."
She spent about an hour there, just being with the animals. She found comfort in them... and amazingly, when she left the stables, she was more joyous than she'd ever been.
This of course, being the creative woman that she is, presented the urge to make some changes in the castle. The Yuletide season was fast approaching and she wanted everything to be prepared, even though it was only the last days of October.
When she asked Rose and Mathilde for any thing or any materials that she could use to make decorations, they looked at her strangely. Mathilde explained that while they did have decorations, it was too early to put them up. Hermione then explained that she did not plan to put the decors just yet, but she wanted to make them.
Rose understood completely and this prompted her to show Hermione to one of the rooms that Draco used as a storage room. The room was located in the far corner of the castle and it was incredibly huge. Candles were lit, since the windows were boarded up. And dust was everywhere.
Nevertheless, Hermione found it as a perfect opportunity to do something worthwhile. After telling Rose that she'd be fine in the room, Rose simply nodded and went on her way.
Hermione rolled up her sleeves and began to look at the things there. Portraits were off to one wall, covered with a sheet and gathering dust as it is. Suits of armor were also seen, gathering dust as well. Huge wooden boxes were around, and that's exactly where Hermione intended on starting her little project.
Never minding the little critters and such that were lurking around, she used one of the many candles Rose had lit and bought it over to one of the boxes.
And so, she spent the whole day there, only coming out from the room when she needed to eat and when she needed to get a breath of fresh air. But, by the end of the day, she managed to get a few yards (or what she calculated them to be) of different textures of cloth, a few yards of ribbon, some knickknacks that she figured could be used as decors and such.
She left the room, after extinguishing all the candles and went directly to take a bath. Once done, she slipped into white linen nightgown and brushed her hair as she sat on the vanity. The night breeze was cool and Hermione's skin broke out in gooseflesh.
"I wonder how Draco and the others are standing this cold?" Hermione muttered in a soft voice. "I just hope they'll be safe."
It was only then that Hermione wondered why Draco was so important to her.
"Let's sort out the facts." Hermione continued, getting into the whole deal of talking to herself. She used to do this a lot back then, when she was all alone in her apartment in London. "I'll admit that I am attracted to him." Who wouldn't? She thought. "And he is gentlemanly and sweet, well kind of, when he's with me. But..." She trailed off.
Why did she have to travel 600 hundred years into the past to find him?
That was precisely the million-pound question that she refused to ask out loud.
Sighing, she put down the comb and crawled into bed, sleep taking over her tired form.
* * *
The next few weeks for Hermione were spent either preparing the whole castle for Christmas and for the cold winter or writing.
Yes, she'd taken up the passion for writing yet again. She was now intent on writing a continuation on her second book. Yes, the manuscript was saved on her computer back home, but the main plot was still in her head. She'd only begun to write the first few chapters before she was whisked away to this place and time.
It's funny, Hermione thought as she paused in her writing during that sunny (yet still cold) Friday morning, all that time, I thought I was writing about this different character who wants more substance in her life... but now I realize that this book is me.
She smiled, shaking her head. She reread the passage she'd just written:
*Isn't it strange, I've asked myself for so many times, that I've never really thought about the meaning of my life? I've been there, I've certainly done that, but I could never find any satisfaction in my life. I know it is quite selfish of me to say this, but... how can you feel something about the things that you do when you've never learned HOW to recognize the feeling? For example, how would you know true love if you've never experienced it? Yes, a lot of my friends tell me that I'll feel it and know it when I encounter the man of my fondest dreams. But what exactly do you feel? Is it the feeling of your chest tightening when you see him, the pain you encounter when he's gone, or the sweaty palms and the constant biting of your lip when he looks at you? Maybe it's the exact way that he's supposed to hold you, touch you and kiss you. Maybe it's the exact way you're supposed to respond to his actions.
Maybe that's the problem here, it's not that I don't know how to feel... but I don't know what to feel. But either way, I am now determined to know what it takes to make my life substantial and important.*
Hermione smiled again. After countless drafts and trashed manuscripts, she'd finally found a good enough prologue to her story. Picking up the quill and dipping it in ink, she continued to write.
Maybe I'll make my male lead just like Draco... She mused absentmindedly.
There was only a few more days before he (and the others of course) came home, and Hermione was bubbling up with anticipation that she would see him again.
* * *
But as luck would have it. Exactly one month after they left, they didn't come home. On that day, Hermione was trying desperately not to think about them coming home and her seeing Draco again. But as nightfall came, no sounds of the barbican gate opening were heard and there were no thundering hooves on the soft earth.
Hermione stayed up all night, but still they didn't come. She reasoned that maybe they were caught up in bad weather or that Lord Phillip had a feast.
One week later, they were still nowhere to be found.
Hermione began to grow worried. It was the 28th day of their departure and they still didn't come home. What was worse, snow had begun to fall two days ago. This made her jumpy, afraid and extremely worried about their state.
Rose and Mathilde tried to comfort her, telling her that it was possible that the snow had hindered their arrival and Hermione did try her best to feel comforted and fine... but she couldn't. At least she couldn't when she was alone. Yes, there were times when she wanted to cry but she stopped herself each time.
During the day, she would go around with her chores. The decorations were now being slowly put up in the great hall where she's laid out tapestries on the floor and insisted on the few men that had nothing to do to make her a small couch where she could sit and watch the fire in the hall.
Sometimes during the day she would go up to Draco's tower and look out to the view the windows presented to her. But she still felt empty.
It went on like this for a few more days. Soon, Draco and his men were missing for 2 weeks. During that time, Hermione felt incredibly drained and weak. She wasn't eating that much and she wasn't sleeping that well either.
Both Rose and Mathilde tried to comfort her but they couldn't do anything except persuade her to eat and watch over her as she slept. Although Draco had been called to many battles before, he was not this late when he came home. They wondered what could be keeping him.
What they heard of, about the battle though, was that Lords Phillip and Draco were victorious. They obtained this through the people that bordered the castle gates. They did not, however, learn any information about the whereabouts of Draco and his men.
They expected the worst.
On the last day of the second week, Hermione was forced to spend the day in bed, seeing as she could not stand or sit without feeling dizzy. Rose had been called to watch over her, but Hermione being the stubborn girl and she was definitely concerned that neither Rose nor Mathilde had been getting a good night's sleep at her expense, ordered them to sleep in their respective rooms that night.
Though with much protest, Hermione remained firm in her decision and order. Mathilde and Rose had no choice but to leave her alone that night after bringing her supper.
And so, Hermione was alone in her room and almost unable to get up from bed. She did as she did almost every night since Draco's departure and prayed. She wished and prayed and hoped that they would all come back safe and sound.
With that short prayer, she rolled onto her side and drifted off to sleep.