Chapter 2: The River

Narcissa tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as she hurried down the marble hallway that lay deep within the bowels of the Ministry. She still had friends in high places, but even they would not be able to help her if she got caught. The Department of Mysteries was a high security branch of the government; the secrets it housed were guarded even more closely than the Minister. Thankfully, she was well-versed in the art of clandestine undertakings; being a deatheater's wife had trained her in that.

Stopping, she looked both ways before taking from her pocket the key she had been given. Pressing it into the lock, she felt it when the pin tumblers released. As she entered the dark circular room, she gazed at the series of doors and called to mind what she had been told.

No handles, just curving
Dimensions and shade
All turning, revolving
A blue midnight glade
One gateway is cosmos
Two gets into time
Three opens up heartbreak
Four holds whispered rhyme

Her confidant, a retired Unspeakable, had written the poem just for her.

"As you already know, I am bound to secrecy for the rest of my life," he'd said. "There are things I can never divulge. However, as with everything else, there are always loopholes. Nothing prevents me from writing poetry, despite how bad I may be at it." He grinned, then patted her hand with his old, weathered one. "It is the best I can do to help you, Narcissa. I hope you know enough to be able to decipher it."

She hoped so, too.

But now as she surveyed the room, the problem was….how would she know where to begin counting? In a circular room, which door was first?

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath to steady herself. Anxiety does not a good choice make, Narcissa. Relax. Trust your intuition; let magic guide you.

She opened her eyes and made a decision. Left. Walking in the direction toward what she hoped was the second door, she gingerly pushed against the smooth wood; all at once the magic inside the entrance latched onto her hand and yanked her into an enormous, rectangular room whose length seemed to have no end. Startled by the sudden surprise, it took her a moment before she realized what she was seeing; when she did, she began to grin. Her fears had been for naught, for there before her was the object of fairy tales, a subject often fantasized in works of literature and art; a large channel of water, filling one side of the massive room and running as far as the eye could see, its source bubbling up from underneath a desk that held a large, bell-shaped jar.

The River of Time.

A bright light emanating from the jar cast diamond sparkles upon the stream. Moving closer, Narcissa leaned over to gaze into its depths. Strangely enough, she couldn't see her reflection, although she could see all the way to the bottom of the riverbed. The crystal water acted as a magnifier, making the view remarkably clear. Perfect for observation.

Glancing further down the river, waves were breaking against large rocks that jutted up from the water. Strong swells caused by some unseen force were whitecapping along the banks. A fog hovered downstream beneath a waterfall.

It was all very pretty, and if it had been a setting for a picnic or a hike, Narcissa would have been charmed. Yet…... something seemed….off. She always trusted her instincts and right then, they were niggling her, causing a growing unease, making her feel as if there was something she was missing.

Then it hit her; the entire room was quiet. Too quiet. There was no noise of any kind. Splashing waves should be heard. Waterfalls should be heard. So should her footsteps, but ever since she'd entered the room, she'd been surrounded by silence. It was as if she were in a vacuum; a void. Alarmed, she turned to look back at the door.

A door that was no longer there.

Swallowing hard, she fought against a rising anxiety.

Stop this! she told herself. You're in no danger. Nothing is threatening your life.

But her mind wasn't having it. Her next thought left her reeling.

Life, as humans knew it, existed in Time. And right now, in this room, she was outside it. Her eyes darted to the river.

Outside the river…..outside life.

She looked at nothing for a moment as the enormity of that possibility barreled over her; then she gazed at the stream again, this time with new eyes.

No wonder she had cast no reflection.

Narcissa's heart began to race. Dear Merlin, what have I done?

Now she understood why Unspeakables had to enter into an unbreakable vow of confidentiality about what was studied there. And why the department was so heavily guarded.

Instinctively, she backed up and barely caught herself before tripping over a branch.

So caught up in her panic, she'd not noticed that the entire room had undergone a sudden transformation. Instead of walls, a forest, thick with trees and brush, stood on either side of the river. Instead of the marble flooring that had been present when she'd entered the room, she now found herself standing on scraggly undergrowth. The only pathway that was now navigable was the one by the river's edge.

The invitation was clear…..the room was giving her no choice but to walk its banks.

Back when she'd first decided to infiltrate the Time Room, Narcissa realized she would be up against an unknown in time travel since she wouldn't be using a time turner. That device could be controlled by the number of spins and turns one gave it; but how would she go about programming a portal? It would be suicide to blindly saunter into an opening to time; with the way the Malfoy luck had been, she would probably find herself in Pompeii the day Mount Vesuvius erupted. No, she needed a means of control; a way to pinpoint an exact moment. A personal one. What she needed was access to Hermione Granger's timeline.

Narcissa puzzled over how she could do that. She finally decided it might take offering something that had belonged to the witch. Unfortunately, she could think of only one thing she might have of hers.

Climbing a small outcropping that jutted out beyond the banks of the river, Narcissa braced her knee against a large rock to steady herself. Then leaning over the water, she pulled out a small vial from inside her robe.

It was filled with a dark, powdery substance.

Hermione's blood.

It had taken several powerful accios, but she'd been able to draw from the manor's floor the stubborn stains where Hermione had died. Popping the vial open, she tipped it over to allow the dried flakes to fall into the river. In a blink of an eye, shadowy figures began to emerge, their appearance spreading like ink blots dropped on wet paper. One by one they took shape and tumbled down the riverbed.

Narcissa's pulse quickened. She hoped that her hunch was right and that she would be shown a visual summary of Hermione's life.

She quickly scrambled down the rocks and let out a breath of relief at the watery images waiting her inspection. Following the progression of muted scenes, she smiled at the first one she came to; a toothless baby who had one curl rising from the top of her head like a question mark. At the next scene, she watched with a mother's interest as Hermione took her first wobbly steps with the help of her father holding her hands. Some scenes later, Narcissa couldn't help but snicker when the little witch, now a few years older, had with a mulish pout levitated candy bars from the store shelves to her mother's shopping cart despite the woman adamantly shaking her head no. At the next scene she stopped, watching intently as Professor McGonagall tried to make Hermione's parents understand the special magic their daughter had. Hermione was there beside them, bouncing up and down in her excitement while appearing to ask a multitude of questions, her lips never stilling for a second.

Hermione had been such a precious child. Not filthy or impure but cute and precocious and totally adorable.

There had been absolutely nothing wrong with her.

Conscience-stricken, Narcissa hurried to the next scene that showed Draco and Hermione together in a train compartment. She had no idea what Hermione had said to Draco, but she hadn't stayed long. They'd obviously not known what they were to the other, but when Draco left his seat to stare down the corridor in the direction the witch had gone, Narcissa felt an inexpressible sadness. By his body language she could tell that even then he had felt something.

Further down, she frowned when she witnessed a student rolling their eyes behind the small witch's back while saying something cutting…...that is, if their twisted, mocking face and Hermione's tear-filled eyes were anything to go by. Narcissa didn't understand. It looked like Hermione had only been guilty of raising her hand in class. She watched with growing agitation as variations of this treatment were repeated again and again by different classmates. Harry Potter seemed to genuinely care for her. So did the young Weasley boy. But few others did. There was something ugly, something dark in their actions. Especially from those wearing green.

She hastily moved on to the next section. The river was calm here, as still and as glassy as a pond on a midsummer eve. In it was a scene that involved Draco and Hermione interacting outside in the castle's courtyard. It appeared they were having an argument, but the older witch didn't zero in on that; it was what was happening around them that grabbed her attention. A pearl-white shimmer was enfolding the pair, brightening the air. Hermione and Draco were too far gone in their bickering to notice, but the same could not be said of the others. Narcissa watched Harry Potter blink; taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes as if they were the cause of what he was seeing. In contrast, Ronald Weasley gaped in surprise, then pursed his lips in what could only be described as…..bitterness? Jealousy?

No.

Suspicion.

The fact that he had kept his silence on what he'd witnessed spoke volumes. Being a pureblood, he would've had to have known what he'd just seen; the combined aura of soulmates.

Was it that he feared for Mr. Potter's safety? Or did he fear for Hermione's?

Narcissa huffed. Finding one's twin soul was an honor afforded to few. Despite her heritage, they would have treasured her. Protected her, far better than the Weasley's precious headmaster had. She wanted to jump into the river, grab the young man by the ear and chide him for being so judgmental.

But honesty compelled her to look closer. Deeper.

He wouldn't have known that about them. All he'd known was what he'd been told. And what he'd seen.

She sighed with shameful acknowledgement. It was tempting to want to place the blame on the boy, but she knew he had only been a child; one who had been influenced by his parents. Taught at his father's knee.

Just like Draco had been.

Sighing once more, she recalled a saying Andromeda had always been fond of…..prejudice cannot see the things that are because it is always looking for things that aren't.

She wondered if Fate was enjoying taking the mickey out of them now.

Nearing the end of the river, Narissa came upon water that was churning dangerously. No longer bright and sparkling, it seemed full of wreckage caused by a storm; torn limbs…...leaves. Then she saw that it wasn't tree limbs that were in the water but broken wands.

Muggleborn registration.

Shuddering, she hastened along the path until she came to the most violent part of the stream; a swirling maelstrom. Right beyond the deadly whirlpool, the river abruptly stopped.

The end of Hermione's timeline.

Narcissa could only assume she had reached the correct point to enter, for she was no longer able to see into the river's depths. It had become too muddy, too filled with debris. The water was now tinged a familiar green; a color she'd seen too often displayed in the night sky after a kill.

She pulled her wand from her robe pocket, then with a deep breath, touched the tip of it to the water.

And was instantly pulled in.

At first, all she could see were blurs. Then came the screams. The noise was shocking, considering she had been in total silence until that point.

She found herself behind one of the large Roman columns in the manor. She cast a spell to silence her footsteps. Then she stealthily moved forward. When she entered the drawing room, the first thing she noticed was Draco, his face ashen, his eyes sharing the torture Miss Granger was currently going through. This was it.

Raising her wand, she aimed directly at her sister's heart. "Avada Kedavra," she said in barely above a whisper, her heart aching. Even though she'd known what she would have to do, it was no small thing to end her life.

Bellatrix had only a second to turn at the sound of those words, her face showing wide-eyed surprise before she collapsed like a soggy house of cards. Narcissa took a breath as the broken bond of sisterhood snapped against her magic. She forced her mind away from the grief and pain of it. Ignoring the gasps around her, Narcissa raced to Hermione's side and cast a stasis spell upon the barely-conscious girl. Her life was the one that mattered.

She looked up to find the Narcissa of that time studying her with something like understanding.

"The war did not go well?" It was a statement more than a question.

"The war ended as it should," she responded. "But it came at too high a price."

The other Narcissa paled. "Draco?"

Instead of answering, she turned to her son who was looking at her with something akin to horror. "Draco, my little dragon, don't be afraid. Hermione is your other half; your soul mate. You must help me save her. Go downstairs and free the prisoners there. Bring Mr. Potter to me. I need to see him at once."

Just as soon as she was finished with that statement, she turned to address her husband who was pulling up his sleeve in an attempt to get at his mark.

Is he actually…..oh, he is. Enraged that her husband would even think about summoning the Dark Lord, Narcissa snapped.

"Lucius Malfoy, don't you dare. You got us into this mess. I'm getting us out of it. I'm saving my son. And if you choose to be a problem, I will take care of you as handedly as I did my own sister. Do. Not. Test. Me."

She waited as his eyes studied her. She didn't need to explain. He wasn't truly stupid, just blinded by the prejudice of generations. In the space of breaths, their eyes locked.

The older wizard's face went through a series of emotions; alarm, distrust, anger. But then it finally cleared, and he looked over to the other Narcissa. He gazed deeply into the eyes of the only woman he had ever wanted, however imperfectly he may have demonstrated it over the years. Seeing her give him an encouraging nod, he slowly pushed his sleeve back down.

By that time, a thundering of foot falls could be heard. Draco was returning with Harry; Ron Weasley was following angrily after them.

"Don't trust the ferret, Harry! It's a trap!" he yelled.

Narcissa knew if she were to be successful, she would need to end the hostility that had gone on for too long between House Weasley and Malfoy. She could think of only one way to do that.

"Mr. Weasley," she called out to the furious redhead, "I know you have no cause to trust me right now. But I am not the Narcissa Malfoy you think you know."
"Bloody right you're not," he sneered. "I see you there," he pointed to the side, "and here," he looked at her, glaring. "I'm not that thick; one of you is an imposter."

She was tempted to roll her eyes, although she couldn't fault his logic. He probably thought she was a death eater who had been polyjuiced. "Take your wand. Test my magical signature. See for yourself."

Ron stared at the older witch with obvious skepticism but did what she asked. His expression quickly changed to one of confusion. "I…..I don't understand."

"The reason you see two of me is because I am not of this time. You see the proof of that with your wand. The rhythm of my magic is not in alignment, because I am from the future."

The silence in the room after that remark was deafening.

Narcissa slowly stood up. Raising her voice so all could hear, she said, "It is imperative that Mr. Potter defeats the Dark Lord. It is also imperative that Miss Granger lives. She and Draco are twin souls." She gave Ron a piercing look. "For some of you, that is not a surprise."

He glared back, but it was half-hearted at best.

"I knew it," said the little Lovegood girl who had come up the stairs after Ron. "Their magic would always sing when they were in close proximity to each other. I thought it was sweet, but the nargles hated it. I think it gave them a headache."

Narcissa bit down on her lip to keep an ill-timed laugh from upsetting the young witch. She couldn't afford offending anyone, especially one who had been a prisoner in her home, even if what she'd said had been the most absurd thing she'd ever heard. Instead, she turned to Ron and said, "I need your help, Mr. Weasley."

"Why should I help you?"

It was time to play her trump card. "So we can keep your brother from dying."

Ron blanched. "My….my brother? Which one?"

The horror on his face wrung her heart and made the compassion she showed sincere. "Fred."

Before Ron could respond to that bombshell, she turned and pointed her wand at her husband. "I am placing you in charge of making sure the twins are kept safe in the coming battle. Don't disappoint me."

"There's going to be a battle?" This came from Harry.

She nodded slowly. "Yes…..at Hogwarts. But I shouldn't say too much. I don't know how much my presence here has already changed things."

Then she knelt next to her son who had taken his place beside the injured witch. Lifting her stasis charm, Narcissa said to her double, "I need your help. We don't have much time."

They worked seamlessly together, weaving one powerful healing spell after another upon Hermione's tortured frame. They didn't stop until they had her stabilized. "She'll need further healing, especially on her arm, but we need to relocate before the others come back." She looked at Harry. "Would you give my family safe passage? We'll tell the Order everything we know. We'll help anyway we can; isn't that right?" she glared at Lucius. He gazed at her a long moment; then he nodded his head. He knew when he was beaten.

Ron swallowed. "Harry…...I….I don't know…"

Harry looked over at Hermione, still pale with blood trailing from her nose and mouth. Draco was doing what he could to gently clean it away. Every now and again he would touch her face, brushing a stray curl. Harry couldn't help but notice how Draco's hands trembled when he did it. When he saw his former enemy lean down to gently kiss her forehead, he reluctantly agreed to her request. "Alright," he said slowly. "But Merlin help you if you're lying."

Narcissa smiled. "His assistance won't be necessary. Oh, and Mr. Potter….one more thing….."

"Yes?"

"If you happen to see Vincent Crabbe at any point during the battle at Hogwarts, please be sure to hex him for me. Be as creative as you like."

Ron snorted. "Well now. That's the first thing you've said that's made sense."

Narcissa smiled back at the ginger. "Then by all means…...don't let Mr. Potter have all the fun."

Narcissa turned to Draco. Gently brushing his hair from his eyes, she leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. "My darling son, I love you. Never doubt that."

He looked up from his ministrations. "Mum….I…"

"I understand, love. It was something you could have never known before."

"I didn't. Not until right before you came. I started feeling this…..pull….but then it stopped."

Narcissa smiled. "Just as I'd hoped. The tie that binds you two wasn't broken. Take care of her, darling."

Then she stood up and pointed her wand to the ceiling. All at once,she felt herself being pulled up as if by a mighty hand and deposited on the river bank. When she looked back toward the water, she now saw that the river had calmed. And had lengthened for as far as she could see.

Hermione's timeline would continue.

She smiled, tears flooding her eyes. Her task was accomplished.

Now there was just one other thing to do.

Notes:

This chapter was mostly Narcissa, but the next chapter will have the Dramione HEA I promised.

There was no author credited for the quote about prejudice.

A heartfelt thank you to Annamonk for reading over this chapter and improving Narcissa's reaction to Bellatrix and Lucius. Just a little fleshing out from a master writer can make such a difference. Thank you, Sister Mine.