Disclaimer: I own neither Merlin nor Harry Potter.

A/N: This is the sequel to 'A Hope, A Riddle & Destiny in the Making'. Enjoy & all praises be to GOD!

Snippet Nine

Title: A Stranger in a Land of Myth

Merlin knew he's being paranoid. Kilgarrah himself doesn't seem too worried. In fact, he even sounded smug and excited at the girl's presence. Merlin knew he should take it as a good sign. However he's had a lot of experiences to know that what amuses the great dragon could end up catastrophic for the kingdom, and Merlin, of course, had to be the one to pick up the pieces and do the clean-up.

The job was never fun, no matter how many times he'd done it.

He was so lost in anxiousness that he all but jumped in fright when Arthur walked in through the door, the sod not even bothering to hide a grin when Merlin stubbed his toe in the process.

"Really, Merlin? Your clumsiness sees no end," the prince commented teasingly much to the warlock's grimace.

"Oh, just cut me some slack, will you? I'm too busy trying to solve Kilgarrah's stupid riddle!"

Arthur hummed, crossing his arms as he stands on the side. "Let me guess. Two nights of no sleep, and still no luck?"

The glare Merlin gave him would have obliterated him on the spot if it wasn't done in their usual banter. As it was, the warlock waved him off and returned to his seat, returning to flipping the magical book they borrowed from the druid camp.

"Found anything useful?" he asked, eyes kept on the book even as the prince joined him, having pulled a chair for himself.

"The council wasn't aware of King Lot having an heir, but they believe it's a likely possibility. Essetir has a lot of enemies after all, given the time of Cenred's reign. It would make sense if they kept her hidden to protect her."

Merlin's brows knitted in thought. "And her magic? How do you explain that? Doesn't King Lot share Uther's beliefs of how magic is a curse?" he asks, looking up to see Arthur, elbows plopped on the table and with his chin resting atop his joined hands.

"He could have gotten involved with a sorceress," Arthur theorized, blue eyes turning darker the more the conversation reminded him of an old dear friend who turned against them. "I'd hate to say it, but it isn't uncommon for royals to hide their misconduct. To this day, I still could not believe Morgana's actually my half-sister."

Merlin's gaze softened in sympathy, but then a thought came to mind and knew he needed Arthur to know.

"Her magic isn't like anything I've encountered before. It's an unknown to me. Not even Nimue's or Morgana's magic can compare to it. With them, I can easily feel their power. It changes the atmosphere. It makes the earth sing. But hers," Merlin pauses to bring out the wooden stick he'd been keeping while their guest slept. "It's so extraordinary and yet hidden. It feels like the earth, like fire, like water and wind and more when out in the open, but now that she's sleeping, she may as well be a non-magical person. Also, I swear this piece of wood has magic of its own, and yet I can feel her own magic lingering in it. It feels like-" Merlin stopped himself, unsure of how else to describe the concept of good and evil mixing into one. Instead he says, "You saw how she defeated the mummies with the fire bird. I'd be too dangerous if she ends up working on the other side."

Arthur nodded, choosing not to voice his agreement. Between the two of them, he's no expert in sorcery. If Merlin says she's dangerous, then he'd have no choice but to believe him. Still, he could put in his own two cents in their situation.

"She saved my life. She doesn't seem to believe I'm the prince. She even seemed confused on why she's in Essetir, but I tried to convince her all the same, and when it came down to the fight, she could have let me die but she didn't. That has to count for something."

Merlin looked torn when their eyes met, but nodded in acquiesce. "Let's hope that stays true when she wakes," he says.

What he couldn't tell Arthur was that for all his worrying and stressing, he'd already told the girl that he'd keep her safe. He doesn't know how or why he made such a promise when she's on the peak of a nightmare, but he did it anyway because deep down, no matter how he tries to deny it, there's that one word that comes to mind when he thinks about her magic, the balance of light and dark, the line that connects good and evil.

It feels like shelter in the storm, like the comforting hand of a friend in times of great turmoil. It's safe and it's serene, yet at the same time, it's uncontrollable and mortifying, like a hurricane ready to devour or an angry lioness when its cubs are threatened. It's something that calls to him, and yet he wants to run away from. Something he wants to protect and fears to lose. It feels like everything and more, and it scares him immensely to not know why he feels so strongly for something so strangely unfamiliar. Because if there's ever a word to sum everything the sleeping girl and her magic make him feel, only one comes to mind.

Mystifyingly and indubitably, it's an odd reminiscent of home.

Empty tables and chairs surround them, leaving the soothing jazz, and their own movements the only noise in the whole restaurant. Hermione would complain about wasteful extravagance if she doesn't already know it would only fall on deaf ears.

At least this time, she's already gotten used to his gentlemanly behaviour enough to let him pull the chair for her without protest. They both know it annoys her whenever he treats her like a damsel in distress. But if he's kind enough to leave her to her quirks then she'll be polite enough to tolerate his.

"You know Granger, for the brightest witch of her age, I never pegged you for a masochist," he stated as soon as they were both seated.

Hermione scoffed, glaring at his amused chuckle when she went to grab the knife and began to stab the steak.

'Better the dead meat than the ferret's face,' she thought.

Draco didn't seem to get the gist of her temper though, or if he did, was determined to ignore it.

"You know you're only going there to get tortured, right?" he continues to taunt, adding how he could make swirling a glass of wine look so elegant to the list of why she hates him.

She blames his pureblood upbringing for how he makes everything look so easy while she had to sit in muggle etiquette classes, spending weeks and months under the mentoring of the devil herself, Madame Vivian, who'd made her ears bleed with the amounts of 'No, Hermione. Ladies don't stomp, they glide. No, Hermione. Ladies don't slurp, they sip.' The happiness she felt when she'd graduated was only slightly below what she felt when she got Skeeter trapped in the jar.

"I mean, think of it. Weasley's screeching poor excuse of a wife and Potter's overly protective bride to be, both in one place and jealous of you. Add a couple of Weaslette's Holy Harpies' sidekicks and fanclub, and Salazar, woman," Draco pauses for a dramatic effect that only made her roll her eyes. "I won't be surprised if I don't see your name plastered in the Daily Prophet's obituary tomorrow. Are you really that desperate for female companionship that you'd suffer being stuck in a room with birds who hate you and wants to murder you in your sleep?"

Hermione fought the urge to throw a stinging hex at the blonde.

Newfound friendship or not, Draco Lucius Malfoy, no matter where or when, would always be a blunt, annoying and arrogant little ferret. The only difference from before and now was that now, she know how to read his concern for her well-being in between his mockery.

But of course, she couldn't just give him away. Far be it that she calls on him for being soft. The whole Wizengamot would be supporting S.P.E.W. before the sod would admit to ever feeling anything close to caring for another human being.

"Tell you what, just so you won't get bored missing my company while I suffer in Ginny's bridal shower, why don't I arrange a get together with you, Harry and Ron?" she suggests chirpily, not even trying to hide her satisfaction for her own brilliant idea at seeing the mortified on his face.

"That'd be the day," he scrunched his nose, disgusted.

A minute passed before she'd finally caught her breath from laughing too hard and she finally decided to placate him. "You know I'm only going for Harry's sake. It would mean a lot to him if I at least try to get along with Ginny. He's family and he loves her. That means if I have to endure being in the same breathing space as my ex's wife and my best friend's lover who's convinced her stupid mind I'm out to steal his future groom, then I'll do it. No questions asked," she says and immediately hated how the words sounded unconvincing even to her own ears.

If she's being honest, it still hurts every time she remembers of how they used to be.

There was a time when Ginny was her little sister, and Lavender was at least a good dorm mate even if they didn't talk often. But then they grew up. Insecurities and jealousy got in the way and it made them see her closeness with Harry and Ron as a threat to their happiness. After that, they'd seen her as nothing but the enemy.

She's only appreciative that Draco's nice enough to not call her lies when they both know they were there.

It surprises everyone who knew of their history, herself included, how her relationship with the blonde turned from mutual hate turn to one of the most genuine friendship she's ever had. They weren't the best of friends, no. That title still and will forever belong to Harry James Potter. But Draconis Lucius Malfoy, for all his pride and narcissism, was quickly becoming a close second. He was one of the few people she believes has her best interest at heart, albeit he has no qualms offending her with his opinions.

Even now when she'd laughed at his face, he's still making sure she doesn't choke on her own spit and hands her a glass of water. She hates that such a simple act makes her reconsider her life choices.

Will it be worth risking her sanity to make Harry happy?

Hermione sighed and hated herself for knowing and accepting that the answer would always be a yes. She would tolerate Ginny for Harry, just like she knows Harry's forcing himself to be civil with Draco for her sake.

Draco must have sensed her made up mind because he groaned in dismay.

"Fine," Draco accepts begrudgingly, and she watches with curiosity as he pulls out a box from his coat pocket before pushing it on the table towards her. "Then at least, give me the luxury of making sure their jaws drop in envy when you walk in. I know Weaslette picked a royal theme of all things, and I won't have you going there with a cheap looking tiara."

Hermione couldn't help but smile, secretly touched. "What is it?"

He shrugs like it was nothing, but she could feel his eyes on her as she opens the box only to gasp at the what looks to be a billion galleons worth of silver crown resting on the red pillow.

"Malfoy, this is too much," she expressed, voice breathy in amazement, but he wouldn't have any of it.

"They call it the Dragon's Whisperer," he tells her, knowing that the added history would entice her enough to distract her from the untold price. "I know, odd name for a tiara. It's been in the Malfoy vault for centuries now. I don't know if there's any truth to what the myths say, but it's meant to call and bring you to where you should be, where you're needed and could be your best. Destiny and all that hogwash, if you'd care to believe it."

Hermione looks at him warily. "It's not another horcrux, is it?" she asks, and snorts at how offended Draco looked at her insincere insinuation.

"Merlin, witch, I thought we're over this! No jokes about Voldie and his shenanigans!"

"I know, I know," she wheezes, biting her lip to keep from laughing. "I'm sorry. Just, well I can't help that it reminds me of Rowena's diadem, can I? You have to admit there's a queer resemblance."

Draco was frowning, and they both turned to look at the crown.

It looks innocent enough and she couldn't feel any trace of dark magic emitting from it. It's plain silver and made of intricate swirls that reminded her of the medieval time. It only has one stone, white and right at the centre. It's simple and elegant, an eye catcher that speaks royalty and demands authority without screaming for attention.

She knew the moment she saw it that he'd picked it knowing she'll find it tasteful.

"So, will you wear it?" he asks, trying and failing to sound anything near nonchalant.

Hermione beamed, plucked a grape from the fruit basket and threw it at his forehead. He yelped like a five year old but stared wide eyed at her bright smile. "Don't go throwing tantrums on me Draco Malfoy! It's a gift from my favorite ferret. Of course, I'll wear it."

Hermione had her own fair shares of people trying to prank her in her sleep. A few times it was Harry trying to find some fun in the middle of a war. But mostly, it was Fred and George and their infamous thirst for mischief.

One thing common in all three though was how easily they learned that a sleeping Hermione was not something to be trampled with.

Unfortunately for the prince of Camelot and the warlock, they had no way of getting the memo.

Arthur was dozing off, legs propped up on a tower of pillows, when Merlin heard her groan. Thinking that the patient's finally stirring into consciousness, he had been quick in shaking Arthur.

"What?" the prince grumbled, still half asleep.

"I think she's waking up," Merlin answered, eyes never leaving the girl. At the news, the prince seemed to startle and they both hurried to reach her side, stumbling a time or two along the way.

If they thought about it, it really wasn't their brightest idea to be hovering around her. They saw her doe eyes blink a few times into the light before they caught sight of them. They knew immediately that something was wrong when terror filled her face before an insurmountable amount of magic surged out of her and they were both blasted into the wall.

"What the-" Arthur groaned, grasping his head while Merlin tried to move his arms, crying in relief that it wasn't dislocated.

"WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" Hermione screeched in fright, clutching the blanket tightly to her chest and breathing in relief at the realization that she was still fully dressed. Her hand felt the mattress for her wand, and she frowned when it wasn't there.

Gaius walked in right in time to see the boys spread on the ground and trying to stand only to fall back again, grasping their heads and grumbling about concussion and dizziness.

"What happened here?" the old physician asked aloud, eyes widening at the sight of his frightened patient.

"Thank goodness," he sighed, coming to her side and putting aside the water basin he was holding to check on her. "How are you feeling now? We thought it'd be a week more before you wake, child. You really hurt yourself, draining your core like that." Then, seeing her confusion, he added quickly, "My name is Gaius by the way, I am the court physician and have been in charge of your recovery. I can say I am very pleased that you're looking rather healthy. A bit pale, but we'll just have to put food into you and get you into the sun."

Hermione for her part only blinked at the news. "I'm-" she paused, suddenly unsure what to address first. "I woke up to see those two staring. My magic slipped thinking I was in danger," she explained weakly, sounding just a bit guilty. "I-, where am I? Who are they? Why, why am I here?"

The old man, Gaius, he calls himself, looks at her with great concern. "Do you not remember, my lady? I believe you've met them, albeit shortly, when they found you in Essetir." Turning to the other two people in the room, he said, sounding stern, "Highness, Merlin, why don't you come in here and introduce yourself? I believe you owe her an apology for scaring the poor girl."

Hermiond stared uncomprehendingly at how he addressed the boys. Her mouth opened and closed and opened and closed as she tried to form words but couldn't. Gaius watched as she tried to disguise her obvious unease with fake laughter. "Please tell me this is all a very elaborate dream."

"I fear this is all real, my lady," Gaius confirmed sympathetically, exchanging knowing looks with the other two.

She felt a head ache coming and she pressed her forehead into hands as she groaned, eyes closing and rendering her defenceless as flashes after flashes barged into her mind and forced her to watch.

She and Draco having dinner, him giving her a crown and forcing her to sit still while Narcissa Malfoy's personal stylist and minions torture her, Draco's very smug look when she stepped out of the dressing room, her apparating to Godric's hollow feeling like another person, the look on the girls' face when she walked in, Ginny's forced smiles and Lavender's snide remarks, booze, boring chatter about boys and career and quidditch of all stupid things, more booze, more stupid things, feeling like she'd rather fight Voldemort himself than have to stay there for a few more hours, the girls' storytelling of failed relationships and disaster dates, booze, Padma handing her fire whiskey and a head ache potion, her excusing herself to the bathroom, hearing an ominous voice call out her name, her ignoring it only to hear it again, her instinct leading her to the library, a book falling, the page turning to the picture of a dragon and then…

Hermione gasps as she remembered waking up in the middle of nowhere and meeting a man in armour. She gasped and her eyes landed on the same blonde who was now looking at her warily. "It's you! We fought mummies together!" she exclaimed, and Arthur thanked the heavens that she finally recognized him.

"I'm guessing we won then?" Hermione found herself asking calmly as they approached, surprising even herself with how well she's handling her situation.

Truth be told, she'll probably freak out later when she's hand time to let everything sink in. For now, she'd do as she'd always done and just go with the flow. She still couldn't be certain if this is a dream or if she really got sucked into the pages of a book about dragons of all things if the picture she remember seeing was anything to go by. Is she really to believe she's in the presence of the greatest warlock of all time and the legendary king?

No, not yet, she couldn't let her mind take that path, else her know-it-all self would make an appearance and scare them away with her fangirling. She might even end up shelterless. She couldn't let that happen when she doesn't know what's really going on.

For now, she'd settle in learning as much as she could about wherever time and place this is. After all, this is hardly the most unbelievable thing that happened to her. She may as well call it the story of her life at this point. Hermione Granger, trouble magnet extraordinaire. She wanted to blame Harry, but really, it may just be her own luck that led her to him.

She was brought out of reverie when the blonde, Prince Arthur she had to remember, apologized sheepishly to her.

"I am so sorry we scared you, princess. You have to know we do not have ill intent. You are safe here. We both just were excited to see you waking up. You have been sleeping for a week and two days now and we were worried."

He seemed pleased to see her nod and accepting his explanation.

She decided to ignore her apparently new title in favor of more pressing matters.

"You're forgiven, but I have to ask, what happened after we burned them? How did I end up here?"

Arthur frowned and shared a look with the others. "You lost consciousness, my lady. And then we brought you here."

"Ah," she commented, biting her lip in thought. "I guess I owe you then. Thank you for bringing me here in-" she let the sentence hang for him to finish.

"We are in the palace of Camelot. My father, King Uther, had this room prepared for you the moment you were brought in."

Hermione looks around the room. Canopy bed, ornate table, chairs and cabinets, red drapes on the window, two crossed swords mounted on the wall side by side with a red mantel embroidered with a dragon. Her mind registered that she must be looking at the Pendragon's crest.

"That is, that is very generous of him," she remarked, forcing herself to be polite. "I would like to meet him later to relay my gratitude."

Arthur nodded easily, and she pretended not to notice him elbow the other boy. Deciding to throw them a leaf, she said, lifting her hand as she remembered her etiquette lessons. "He said your name is Merlin? It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Merlin looks surprised at being addressed. "The pleasure is mine, my lady," he said, taking her hand and looking at Arthur. Only when the prince gave an amused snort did he bent to plant a kiss on her knuckles.

Hermione wondered if such courtesy wasn't reserved for men of all statures.

The physician, Gaius, clapped his hands to call for their attention then. "Now that you are looking rather well, I will be preparing a list of meals to give the cook so she could prepare it for you. Is there anything you need to me consider, my lady?"

Hermione felt her cheeks straining for giving too many smiles right after waking up. "Nothing in particular. Thank you Gaius. I appreciate what you've done, and are doing for me."

Gaius nodded and meant to excuse himself out, but stopped when she turned to ask the two worriedly, "Would you mind telling me where my things are? You didn't throw them away, did you?"

Merlin, feeling a tinge of discomfort at the sound of her distress, tried to be helpful for once. His concerns on her being a crazy evil witch hell bent on harming Arthur flew out the window the moment she woke up looking lost and not knowing Arthur. He'll keep watch of course, and there were still a lot of things that need clarity but all that would have to be put on hold when she's feeling safe and comfortable enough.

The last thing they wanted is to scare her again. People do things when frightened, like blastering strangers into the wall.

"They're all safe. I'll go get them and bring them now if you want," he offered, trying to sound friendly, unprepared when his breath was knocked out of him at the relief that replaced the fearful look on the princess's face.

She was a sight for sore eyes asleep, but awake and smiling at them, she's easily the most beautiful princess he'd ever laid his eyes on, and that was saying something because he'd met Princess Mithian.

One look at Arthur and he knew he wasn't the only one entranced.

"Please," she pleaded, sparkling doe eyes looking up at him hopefully.

"Ahm," The warlock stuttered, blinking and trying his best not to stare too long. "I think it'd be good if I also bring you some food."

He saw Gaius nod, a proud and knowing look on his face as his eyes shifted between him and Arthur. "That is a good idea Merlin! Go get all of that while I prepare the list as well as some tonic for nutrients," the physician says before turning to the prince. "And Arthur, how about delaying informing Uther that his guest has woken for now? We do not want to overwhelm the girl."

Arthur caught on quickly that it was an excuse to give them a chance to talk to the girl without being interrupted. They needed to ensure that she doesn't get herself killed for being caught having magic. "That, that would be great Gaius. I'll do that."

Hermione stared, feeling left out at the sudden awkwardness that engulfed the room. She blinked as the three excused themselves, Prince Arthur and Merlin sprinting out the room so fast, they may as well be riding a broom.

"That was weird, but oh well."

A/N: I know it took a while to update but the drafts I wrote just weren't satisfying to me. I had to wait for the perfect timing to revise it into this. Here's the product :D Hope you like it! Thanks for reading!