Chapter Three
The intruder stood frozen in the door way. His gaze was hard and locked on Draco's unmoving figure in front of the fireplace. The quiet stretched heavily as his grey eyes scanned the still form before him, his chest heaving visibly beneath the long black robes.
Hermione held her own wand out in front of her, noticing with some surprise the steadiness of her arm as she rose quietly from the bed. She strode quickly and purposefully towards the intruder, sacrificing the element of surprise as her footsteps echoed unevenly off the polished wood.
The intruder been so transfixed by the figure of Draco by the fireplace that he had neglected to spare so much as a glance in her direction, his eyes landing on her for the first time as she pressed the point of her wand to his neck, and widening in shock and recognition as they flitted over her face.
Hermione held his gaze, taking in his familiar features, identical to those of the boy across the room, but wearing them so differently, like a poorly crafted imitation of the face she had so very recently become familiar with.
'Put that down,' Hermione said, trying to inject her voice with a calm authority that she did not feel. She could feel her blood rushing in her ears, heartbeat thudding at her throat as she held her wand to the neck of Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, who had burst into his bedroom and with vicious efficiency had disarmed and stunned a mirror image of himself and was now looking down at that unconscious form with nothing more than a detached curiosity in his gaze.
His hair was long and unkempt, straying into his line of sight as he turned and bent his head to consider her. He was thinner than the Draco she knew, the hollow of his cheeks tipping his face from sharp to gaunt, the skin too thin below his narrowed eyes. The man before Hermione had been made in the same mold as Draco, from clay taken from the same earth and warmed and shaped by the same soft hands. His nose was long and regal, his cheekbones high and sharp, but something had gone amiss in the kiln, the heat too high or left too long. This version of Draco was fractured and hollow, unglazed and cracked, without the symmetry or grace his features suggested.
'I don't think so, Granger.' His arm moved quickly across his body so his wand was digging into her ribs. 'Care to tell me who the fuck this is, and what the fuck you're both doing in my house.' His words came out as a hiss, and were filled with a malice she was unfamiliar with in the Draco she knew.
Hermione, realising her perusal of his face had lasted too long, exhaled slowly.
'This is Draco Malfoy,' Hermione replied evenly. 'And you know me, obviously.'
'Ha fucking ha, Granger.' The unfamiliar Draco's fingers tightened on his wand, still pointed at her, although his eyes never left her face. 'Is it Potter? Or Weasley? You'd better fucking hope it's not Potter.'
'Why would it be Potter, or Weasley?' Herrmione asked, frowning. She blinked. 'Please. Drop the wand-'
'I should give you up,' he stated blankly. In contrast to only moments before, his face and voice were devoid of any hint of emotion; and she couldn't tell if the sentiment should alarm her or not.
'You would do that?' she asked quietly, peering at his stormy eyes for any indication of his real intent.
'I should.' His mask of indifference fell. 'Why the fuck would you come here, Granger?' The volume of his voice remained low but his tone dripped with a quiet fury that sent a shiver up her spine. He stepped away from her, keeping his wand trained on her whilst turning back to the open door and shutting the door behind him before moving further into the room. 'He lives here! Why would you bring the Chosen One right to him?'
'Look Dr-' she bit back the words. She couldn't bring herself to call this boy by the same name as the boy she had only that day begun to know. She saw no hint of warmth in his eyes; he was a complete stranger to her. 'I don't know what has happened, but that really is Draco Malfoy. He thinks we've managed to stumble into an alternative universe after an incident at the Department of Mysteries.'
The intruder Draco's lips thinned into a sneer as he slashed his wand at Draco. 'Finite incantatem.' His eyes narrowed further when nothing happened. 'Polyjuice then.'
'It's not Polyjuice,' Hermione said to him. 'I told you.'
'Look Granger, I don't know how you got in here, or for what reason. But you need to leave. Now. The Dark Lord could return at any moment, and if he catches you,' he paused here, swallowing thickly, eyes darting around the room, 'I'll give you to him. I will. I have too much to lose.' On the last word, his haughty veneer dropped, just for a faction of a second, his brows raised and lips downturned before resuming his cold stare.
Hermione's attention was drawn to Draco; at the spell to end the previous incantation, his eyelashes had begun to flutter softly and his fingers were pressing sporadically into the rug below him.
'I don't know what else to tell you. It's the truth. I have no idea who this Dark Lord is but I think Draco must be right. These things just are not happening where we come from.''
He regarded her coldly. 'I have no reason to believe anything you say, Mudblood. I should have already taken you to Bellatrix. I'm risking my fucking life by even stopping for this little chat.'
At the insult, Hermione had stilled, tears collecting at the corners of her eyes. She had long suspected Draco's parents and those like them held her and other Muggle-borns in low regard; they were known for their conservative political views and restricted themselves to socialising only with other Purebloods. It was the quiet sort of prejudice that was never spoken aloud, but communicated through the discreet exchange of rolled eyes, the firm barring of her entry into certain spaces, the unmentioned crossing of palms with gold. She was familiar with the slur, but had heard it used against her only a handful of times, and never from Draco's mouth.
Draco was stirring on the floor and Hermione took a moment to collect herself. She eyed the wand aimed at her as the Draco wielding it took two steps away from her.
'Look at his wand. The one you took. That will tell you who he is,' she told him.
He pulled the wand from where he had slipped it into his robes. His sneer dropped almost instantly, his brow furrowed as he held the Hawthorn wand next to his own, identical in every way.
'Hawthorn. Ten Inches. Unicorn Hair.' Draco grunted from the floor, fussing at his robes and peering up cautiously at the other version of himself.
Malfoy continued to stare at the two wands in his hands. 'I can feel it. That's impossible, no two wands are ever the same.' He was clearly thrown, holding the wand in his palm and gazing at it in wonderment. He looked across the room at Draco. 'What's your middle name?'
Draco sighed and glanced at Hermione. 'Abraxas. After my grandfather, but I tell everyone it's Lucuis.'
'Why?'
Draco shrugged, 'I don't know.'
'Why did you take the Mark?' At Draco's blank stare and slow shaking of his head, Malfoy uncuffed his sleeve and rolled it up slowly to reveal an inky black tattoo which crawled over most of his forearm. The contrast was even more stark because of the pallor of his skin.
Hermione's Draco shook his head slowly. 'I don't know anything about that.' Draco matched his other self's gesture, revealing an unblemished canvas of muscled forearm.
Malfoy blinked before nodding, and pointed his chin at his bedside table. 'What will you find in there?' He asked.
Draco laughed. 'I can't be sure, but most likely some sour-apple chews and a stash of muggle pornography, if you're anything like me.'
The other boy's jaw dropped slightly in surprise but didn't contradict did him.
'Thanks for making me admit that in front of her.' Draco nodded at Hermione. 'Anything else? Or is our muggle porn stash the biggest secret we have?'
'I don't believe it,' he muttered, 'you don't have a Mark?'
'Look,' said Draco, 'I can recite the entire family tree of both the Black and Malfoy families if that would help. Or I could take you downstairs, and use my blood to pass into the room where the tapestry is kept. I would say you can use legilimency on me, but I'm a naturally gifted Occlumens. Or you could save us both some fucking time, and accept that the only way I could have apparated directly into this room is because the wards accept me as a Malfoy.'
'I don't think Potter or Weasley have ever strung that many sentences together before.' the other boy muttered, and Draco laughed. 'Let's say I believe you. How the fuck are there two versions of me here? And why on earth would I be with Granger, of all people? Have you used a time-turner?'
'What date is it?' Hermione asked.
His glare was sharp.'It's the 3rd of April,' replied this strange Draco Malfoy, who looked at her with barely concealed contempt. He frowned. 'Nineteen ninety eight.'
'Same date,' Hermione breathed, 'so we haven't travelled through time. Would you mind lowering your wand?'
He shook his head, looking away from her. 'I can't. Granger, and whoever he is, you can't be here. I should have stunned and bound you the second I saw you.' He didn't sound particularly threatening.
'Right,' Hermione replied, 'well I'm lowering mine,' and to the obvious shock of both Dracos, she did, tucking her wand into her back pocket and sitting casually on the bed.
'Are you fucking insane, Granger? I am not a person to let your guard down around. I tried to kill Dumbledore or have you conveniently forgotten that?'
Hermione's breath caught in her throat. 'You what?' she whispered.
'I tried to kill him. I failed even in that task. Snape had to step in-'
'Snape?' interrupted Hermione's Draco incredulously. 'He's no killer.'
'Stop. Stop!' Hermione shouted. 'So, here and now, Draco, you're an attempted murderer, and Dumbledore is dead?. When did that happen? And somehow, I am the wanted criminal?'
'Fucking ages ago, Granger. After the Dark Lord returned. Has your brain finally run out of room to store your endless tidbits of information?'
'Draco,' she said, tearing her gaze from the gaunt and angry boy in front of her to the concerned looking one now gripping the fireplace mantel. 'You must be right. We're on a different timeline. This isn't our world.'
The Draco Malfoy of Lord Voldemort's world was sitting on his bed, his elbows balancing on his knees with his head in his hands. His eyes were closed and his breathing was audible in the quiet room. Hermione had moved to stand beside Draco, her hand gripping his forearm as they watched from beside the fireplace.
Malfoy had explained the rise of a maniacal blood purist, who could apparently not be named verbally (he had scribbled the name on a piece of parchment pulled from the alledged pornography drawer), who neither Draco nor Hermione had ever heard of.
'So he just doesn't exist in our world?' Draco asked.
'I've never heard of him and neither have you. Maybe he was never born.' Hermione replied.
'And one person can change this much?' he asked incredulously.
'So much for your fatalistic view of time,' Hermione smiled thinly at him, 'This is my fault Draco.' She looked up at him through watery eyes. 'I think it must have been the spinning wheel.'
Draco squeezed her shoulder, not commenting. 'So, er, Malfoy? Why is Hermione an Undesirable?' Draco asked awkwardly, unsure of how to address himself.
Malfoy looked up at her, scowling. 'She and Potter have been on the run since the beginning of the school year. All Mudbloods were meant to register with the Ministry and she also failed to do that. Potter is wanted officially due to his involvement in Dumbledore's death, but in actuality because of a prophecy that says he's the only one who can defeat the Dark Lord.'
'Dumbledore, who you killed,' Hermione stated.
'I didn't fucking kill him.' Malfoy snapped. 'Couldn't even do that right.'
'And that's a bad thing?' She asked, incredulous.
'I didn't say that, did I? Good to know you're a bitch in every timeline, Granger.'
Draco was staring unfocused at a patch of patterned rug, not hearing their conversation. 'Is Mother okay with all of this?' he asked. 'Him being here, hating Muggle-borns? Everything?'
'She doesn't really have a choice,' Malfoy sighed. 'Father has been knee deep in this shit since before I was born.' He stood from the bed, and buttoned his jacket, standing up straight, an illusion of calm settling over him as he did so. 'As fascinating as all of this is, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Word will have got out by now about your dash through the Ministry, and I'm sure I'm about to receive a few rounds of the cruciatus as a result. If anyone finds you here you will be killed, Granger. No questions asked.'
He looked directly at her, and for the first time Hermione thought she could see some kind of concern on his features.
'Where is there for me to go?' she asked him.
He rolled his eyes. 'I honestly never took you to be this dense, Granger. We're fighting on opposing sides of a war. If I had any idea where you could go, we would have looked for you there already.' He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, an echo of Draco's posture from earlier that afternoon. 'You should probably go to the Weasleys. I'd imagine they will help you.'
'But I don't know them.' She actually stamped her foot in frustration. 'Honestly, Ron Weasley, a paragon of light and heroism. I don't believe it.'
Malfoy actually laughed as Draco continued to stare silently at the floor.
'Draco,' Hermione asked softly, squeezing his arm.
'It's just a lot to take in.' he said, not looking at her. 'I know my parents are traditional, but I never imagined they would advocate for removal of Muggle-borns from our world. That I would advocate for that.' He stared at Malfoy in disbelief.
'Well colour me surprised that there is a version of me out there somewhere that frolics about the Ministry with Granger, unconcerned about the potential for infectious disease and the side effects of her abhorrent personality,' Malfoy hissed.
'Fuck you, Malfoy.' Hermione said, with as much dignity as she could muster. 'We need to get back to the Ministry. Back to the Time Room to try and get back on the same timeline.'
'That won't be possible,' Malfoy said flatly. 'You'll have to lay low until the war is resolved. You'd better hope Potter wins.'
Hermione scoffed, 'We can't just wait around for a war to end. There must be another way.'
Draco finally seemed to shake himself out of his moment of introspection. 'We're going to use the library. See if we can work out how to get back. I can't imagine anyone would barge in there, so we should be okay.'
'You're wrong. This isn't our house anymore,' Malfoy said. 'They come and go as they please.'
'Well regardless.' Draco replied. 'That's what we'll be doing.'
'Have you not listened to a word I've said?' Malfoy spat. 'You'll be endangering my life, your life and Granger's life. Not that I give a flying fuck about that right now.' The veins in his neck were raised with tension, but his voice had barely risen above speaking volume.
'It's a good idea. The books.' Hermione nodded. 'Get us the books and we'll be out of your hair. We'll go to the Weasleys.'
Malfoy snorted. 'They're going to love you,' he jabbed his chin towards Draco and rolled his eyes when he received no reply. 'All right. I'll get your fucking books.'
'Time travel and alternative universe theory,' Hermione said.
'I got that much, Granger.' Malfoy threw over his shoulder as he walked towards the door, placing Draco's wand on a chest of drawers as he went. 'Don't make any noise, and don't leave this room.' He closed the door quietly behind himself.
Hermione exhaled a breath, temporarily relieving the tension in her shoulders. 'Draco, I know this is a lot. I'm so sorry.' She searched for his gaze but he stubbornly avoided direct eye contact. His posture was crumpled, a ghost of the confident man she'd seen stride into the ministry earlier that morning.
'There's no need to apologise. It's me who should be apologising.'
'For what?' she asked, baffled.
'For him,' he replied, glaring at the door through which Malfoy had just left. 'He's despicable. I can't believe I have the potential to be so cruel.'
'Draco, you're totally different from him.'
'We're the same person, Hermione. Raised in the same way in the same world. The addition of one person to this world doesn't change the whole fabric of who I am.' He shook his head.
'Well obviously it does,' she countered, almost missing the way he'd used her first name. 'I don't know who this Dark Lord is, but it sounds like his existence has drastically altered everything about this timeline. It sounds like I'm a very different person here too. I would also point out that he hasn't actually given me up. Which given the circumstances, sounds like a fairly brave thing to do.' She was loath to defend the boy who'd just called her Mudblood, but really, she'd done it for Draco more than Malfoy.
Draco wandered to the chest of drawers and picked up his wand from the side, running his long fingers over the smooth wood absent-mindedly.
'The Weasley's are going to think I'm him.' He looked at her imploringly.
'We'll explain to them. I know Ginny, and I've met her mum. She's a nice woman. I won't let anything happen to you, Draco.'
He smiled unwillingly at that. 'How very Gryffindor of you.'
Their attention was re-directed by three sharp taps on the door. Meeting Draco's eyes, Hermione crossed the room to stand by the bathroom, removed from the sight of anyone standing in the door frame. She watched as Draco tugged down his cuffs, inhaled deeply and pulled open the door.
'Mr Malfoy,' came a familiar voice from beyond the door frame. 'Your mother requests your presence in the drawing room.'
'Thank you, ah, Mr Pettigrew. Please tell her I'll be with her shortly. I'm just finishing some personal correspondence.' She couldn't see him, but his voice sounded smooth and clear.
'I can wait,' Hermione heard Pettigrew respond, her heart thumping so enthusiastically in her chest she was convinced he would be able to hear it, as he tried to step past Draco and into the room.
'I must insist you wait outside,' he said firmly, bringing his arm to the doorframe to prevent Pettigrew's entrance. Hermione imagined he was towering over the smaller man.
He laughed reedily. 'That would be poor form indeed, Draco. Do you have someone in here? A lady friend perhaps? I'm sure the Dark Lord would be most interested-'
'There's nothing of interest to the Dark Lord in here, Pettigrew. And you're delaying me. Please relay my message to my Mother.'
Draco's voice was confident and authoritarian, giving away no sign of his mind-set.
'Step back, Mr Malfoy,' Pettigrew asked shakily. 'We have had news of an imposter running around the Ministry with Potter's Mudblood, but your behaviour is making me think perhaps it is no imposter at all.' His voice had increased in pitch as he spoke, to the extent that he had trailed into a squeak as he finished making his accusation. Hermione knew Pettigrew as the gamekeeper at Hogwarts, but her limited interaction with him left her unsurprised at his allegiance with those who wielded power in this world.
Draco removed his arm from the door frame and stood aside to let him pass, catching Hermione's eye as he did so. As Pettigrew stepped into the room his eyes landed on her almost immediately, widening slightly before Draco's stunner hit him squarely in the back and he tipped forward, his nose hitting the floor with a sickening crunch.
'Do you know I'd never stunned a person before today,' Draco said conversationally, and Hermione almost laughed.
'Well, thank you. It's always nice to apply theoretical skills in a practical setting,' she replied. 'Shall we, ah move him?'
Draco shrugged. 'I'm guessing Malfoy is not going to be thrilled at this development. And if he's much longer there is a chance my Mother could come looking for me.' There was something about the set to his shoulders that told Hermione he wanted to avoid meeting either of his parents if he could help it.
'All right,' Hermione said, levitating Peter Pettrigrew with her wand into the bathroom, settling him in the bath. She was relieved to note her magic seemed to have returned to her in full after the incident at the Ministry.
She exited the bathroom at the same time as Malfoy returned to the room, stopping immediately at the spreading pool of blood on the floor. He looked questioningly at Draco who shrugged.
'We had a visitor.'
Malfoy gritted his teeth, his fingers tightening visibly around his wand. 'Who?' he ground out.
'Pettigrew,' Hermione supplied. 'He said your mother wants to see you.' She gestured to the bathroom behind her, and Malfoy marched in, cursing quietly as he quickly healed the unconscious man's nose.
'Thank you,' Malfoy seethed, 'for the steaming pile of shit you have left for me to clean-up after the two of you.' He walked past Hermione, shoving her none too gently in the shoulder as he pulled out a miniaturised briefcase, no larger than his palm, from the chest of drawers where Draco's wand had been placed. He handed it to Draco, along with a handful of what Hermione assumed were the shrunken books he had gone to collect. 'I really do need you to be on your way now, or so help me Merlin I will call the Dark Lord here directly myself to get you out of my way.'
'Malfoy,' Hermione started tentatively, taking a step towards him. 'You could come with us. If things are as bad as you say. Why would you stay here with these people?'
Malfoy laughed coldly, 'These are my people, Granger. My friends. My family. This is the choice I made. I don't need you to rescue me.'
'So you want to get rid of Muggleborns? You're willing to be crucioed to achieve that?' she asked, her eyes searching his, but he was looking directly at Draco.
'It stopped being about that a long time ago. But that doesn't mean I can leave. I can't-I won't leave my mother to bear the punishment for my mistakes. Now, I suggest you Apparate directly. There really is no more I can do for you.' His jaw was set and his eyes were hard as he looked over her head at Draco, who nodded silently.
'What's in here?' Draco asked, holding up the small case Malfoy had handed to him.
'Some money, clothes, potions. Things you might need,' he had turned his back on them now. Draco slipped the small bag into the pocket of his trousers.
'Thank you,' Hermione breathed.
'Please. Don't mention it,' he grunted.
Draco crossed the room and placed a hand on his shoulder. 'You've been dealt a bad hand here and I'm sorry for it, but I refuse to believe this is who you really are. I hope you can find a way out of this. For Mother as well.'
Malfoy nodded without turning and Draco approached Hermione with the now familiar offering of his open palm. As Hermione placed her hand in his, she felt rather than saw a shiver run through his body, his attention immediately directed back at Malfoy across the room.
'The wards-' he began.
'I know what it is,' Malfoy hissed, crossing the room to the large window overlooking the expansive gardens to the front of the Manor. Hermione pulled Draco to the window, keeping a firm grasp on his hand as they watched a small group emerging through the front gates.
It was clear from their slow progress that at least some of the party were not coming willingly. What looked like a girl was being dragged by her hair up the path. Hermione's body reacted to the information presented to her before her mind did, a cold sweat prickling the back of her neck, a shiver of dread creeping down her spine. Draco's hand tightened in her grip.
'Fuck,' he breathed, the whisper hanging in the air between them. 'Hermione.'
'Fuck,' she agreed in barely a breath, tearing her gaze away to meet his eyes and finding the horror she felt reflected back at her in monochrome.
A/N - Thanks for reading, if you're still here. Let me know any thoughts or theories, I love to hear them (as long as they're not pointlessly mean, in which case you may keep them to yourself, thank you.)
