Down A Hole
By: Absinthe Dreams
"There is no point in driving yourself mad trying to stop yourself going mad. You might just as well give in and save your sanity for later. In an age of madness, to expect to be untouched by madness is a form of madness."
-Douglas Adams
Last Time:
Lightly, her fingers enclosed the handle, and she was surprised to feel a thrill of excitement pulse through her body.
The hairs on her arms raised like needles, her breath sucking into her lungs in a sharp gasp as she gripped the cool gold knob and twisted. She found no resistance, the door opened almost without her pulling it, and Hermione gaped at the scene beyond. What's more, the people gaped back at her, equally shocked by her sudden appearance.
Now:
There was such a dizzy opulence about the space the door opened to, she found herself blinking stupidly for a moment, before a moue of determination alit her mouth. Striding through the threshold, the amber eyed girl felt something warm and familiar wrap over her. Like a blanket she'd held as a child but had long forgotten, yet just a squeeze of that texture, a hint of it's scent, washed her in a overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. It helped her feel slightly better at her ragged appearance into such a decadent scenery.
"Announcing Miss Hermione Granger, the twelve hundred and fortieth Alice," a soft, airy female voice cut through the shocked silent throne room. It belonged to a girl with dreamy blue eyes, half lidded, she carried a cane which she used to lightly gesture towards Hermione with. Unnoticed, the door swung softly shut behind her of its own volition.
Large white pillars held in a domed ceiling. The room itself crowded with cool eyed gentry, each dressed in a chaotic outlandish fashion. Her neck stretched slightly as she gaped in a fish like fashion at the ceiling of the room. The night sky twinkled overhead, held aloft by the white pillars, but it was not a sky she knew. The stars were too bright and close, planets and moons she didn't recognize easily visible in its inky expanse.
The floor was a chessboard cascade of red and white squares, each colored marble slab larger than a person and leading up to a space that felt like it should have held a magnificent throne. Instead it held a brown leather lazy chair, a old man in bright red robes with a long tipped hat and grey hair down to his shoulders and a beard near to his belly, sat upon the chair. A gold crown with a single cut ruby in the center graced his temple, but other than that he seemed a affable grandfather, relaxing in his favorite chair and smoking a plain brown pipe. Periwinkle eyes twinkled magnanimously across the room of decadent red and white dressed courtiers before landing on the young girl with wild hair.
"A pleasure Miss Granger, my name is Albus Dumbledore, Steward of Hearts."
"It's nice to meet you at last. I think you're going to be simply wonderful, the best Alice yet," Dressed in a man's suite, complete with a coat with tails and top hat, the serene looking woman peered at Hermione in dreamy satisfaction. "Yes, you'll do very nicely."
"Luna, do give the girl a moment to collect herself," the man in the recliner suggested lightly, a bemused note to his tone. "She did just pass through her very first door, and she looks as if the journey was taxing."
"Not for her, the doors are hers to pass through, it's the journey to them that takes such a toll," Luna murmured, giving Hermione a small, secret smile, her white gloved fingers lightly griped Hermione's own. It didn't feel uncomfortable, this gesture of immediate friendship, despite her oddities, the girl made Hermione feel this deep peace, and that too, was almost familiar. She stared up at the taller blonde girl in wonder and confusion.
"Welcome home, Hermione Granger," Luna squeezed her fingers around hers and pecked the girls soft freckled cheek, her smile was as soft as kittens and clouds, "We have been waiting a long time."
"It seems you've charmed my Dormouse, Miss Granger," the old man seemed equally bemused and miffed, "A feat none so far can claim."
"She's here to play the game."
Hermione froze, turning away from the strange, kind eyed girl in man's clothes to stare at the voice she'd been hearing more and more lately. It just seemed so off, because this time it hadn't seemed to come from inside her head, but from behind her person. Sure enough, there he stood, but if pressed she couldn't say how, exactly, she picked him from the crowd of people leisurely gathered around the throne. It was simply him, and she knew it.
"Sirius, my dear boy," the man in the chair chided, looking uneasy, "Did you bring this girl here?"
The man with long, scraggly hair and a face of sharp features and engaging eyes was dressed more finely than any other in the room. His coat was a fine purple leather, such craftsmanship she had never seen in person, the color especially vivid and startling in a sea of red and white. His vest and shirt was black, with silver stitching, the ruffled sleeves pooling through his leather jacket to encase his wrists and bejeweled fingers. His dark grey eyes danced with mirth, although no one else seemed amused. He was also, the very voice she'd been hearing in her head.
"Yes," he grinned, looking rather cheeky as the elder man frowned down at him. Slate grey eyes landed on the girl standing in front of the giant red doors that seemingly lead to nowhere, the other side now empty, no room, just air. Sirius' expression brightened almost ferally in delight.
"Oh. You are here, I was afraid I was dreaming again. I've been dying to ask, and it seems as if Dumbly is set on being quite serious, but I simply must know," his voice was eager, his stride taking up the space between them as he spoke, a nearly fanatical gleam in his eye.
He pulled a card out of thin air, plucking it from the space above her left ear and holding it much too close to her face for proper inspection.
"Is this your card?"
Hermione frowned, stepping back and looking at the glossy play card held dramatically aloft in Sirius' hand, the Ace of Spades, all the girl could manage was to stare in bewilderment. Was she supposed to know what he was talking about?
"I don't know," she evaded politely, he seemed to be quite mad. There was a decidedly unhinged look in his pewter grey eyes, a manic feeling to his speech and movements. Deflating, and looking as if he was a small boy who was forced to watch as his puppy get kicked, the full grown man pouted as a child would, chin jutted, arms crossed.
"Well if you don't know, I suppose you can't say, but I really thought this was your card, I was nearly certain of it," he mumbled in petulant disappointment, staring at the card as if it could be blamed for his sudden upset. Luna stepped forward, offering her comfort in the form of a pat on his shoulder.
"There, there, it's not time for all that yet, silly Sirius," Luna consoled the sulking man, "Go and have some tea, and in time you'll remember when you are at the right moment, and I'll make sure you speak then."
"It seems so obvious, so now..." the man sighed, "But if you say so, it must be so, mustn't it?"
"Just so, and yet not always will it be, or has it ever been, but at this particular time you must trust me," Luna embraced the man and he stood there, allowing her hug, but not returning the gesture. She leaned in, whispering something in the taller man's ear and standing on the tip of her toes to do so.
"A pot of tea does sound nice," he allowed. Luna beamed at him, and he shuffled off, the entire court watching as the Mad Hatter took his leave.
"I'm afraid Sirius is not what he was," the old man explained sadly, "You must forgive him, dear girl, I'm sure he had no idea what it was he did, bringing you here in such a turbulent time."
"I'm sorry," Hermione began carefully, aware of so many sets of eyes focused on her, "but here is where, exactly?"
His smile was creased with sadness, he placed down his pipe and gave her a pitying look. "Here, my dear, is a subjective term, not an exact one. For instance, here is what was once known as Wonderland, a sanctuary and testing ground, but here is also Underland, a land upturned by war and darkness. Here could be said to be the Kingdom of Hearts, the land of Gryffindor, or merely my throne room. The question is not so simple."
"Forgive me sire, but we can't harbor a Alice, the Burrow can barely fend off the border as it is," a lean boy spoke, his hair the color of carrots and a pair of rabbit ears falling from his head. His ears were fluffier than the other man's had been, more likely from a long haired breed. His features were broad and freckled, as he turned towards her she saw his face more cleary. Hermione gasped as she recognized his warm brown eyes, his build, even the disgruntled cast to his features. But of course it wasn't truly Ronald Weasley, because this was only a dream. Still, the similarity was jarring. This Ronald was just a tad taller, with oranger hair and of course, fluffy red brown rabbit ears.
"Ronald, my boy, we won't turn away anyone in need of our help," Dumbledore spoke in his usual gravelly kind tone. The March Hare crossed his arms in a surly pout but offered no further comment, although his fluffy and bent ears twitched in irritation as he crossed his arms and adopted a mutinous expression.
"Now, you must have come a awfully long way, to be here so soon after coming to our world," Dumbledore offered kindly, "Perhaps you'd like to rest and freshen up?"
Hermione looked bashfully down at her grass stained dress and dirt smeared skin and boots.
"That would be lovely." Dream or not, a bath sounded nice, this was by far the most vivid dream she'd ever had. She felt tired, and dirty, sweat drying on her skin and her eyelids drooping. Navigating the long grass had been no easy task, and she'd faced so many shocks in such a short time she could barely hold on to her senses.
"You are welcome here, dear child," Dumbledore assured her, smiling magnanimously down at her from the dias on which his old recliner perched. "It may be a dark time you find us in, but all who pass through the Gryffindor's door have always had sanctuary in the Kingdom of Hearts."
"All hail Dumbledore, Steward of Hearts!" Every person in the room spoke the words at once, their voices a booming chorus.
"Perhaps when you feel better rested, we may speak again," he gestured idly and two people came to escort her from the room, due to their matching uniforms, so much less fine than the courtiers costumes, she judged them to be servants. Peculiarly, each had a suite of cards designed on their tunics, the man, with his large brown eyes and hooked nose had a seven of hearts stitched into his large white square tunic, and the girl with her lank brown hair and watery blue eyes wore a four of hearts on hers.
"Dobby and Mimsy, Miss Alice," the man spoke once they'd left the stifling watchful eyes of the throne room. "We will be helping you to your rooms, and getting you whatever you may need or want, Miss Alice."
"Call me Hermione."
The man almost spasmed, fingering his numbered tunic nervously as he turned towards his counterpart in alarm before looking back to her and swallowing audibly.
"Miss Alice being your title, and no face card can be saying a Alice's name, no," he shook his head seriously, "Not allowed."
"What he saying be true," Mimsy added sternly, "Miss is a Alice, and Alice be noble, no mere peasant can be saying their names."
"Let us show you your rooms," Dobby suggested brightly, "The Alice rooms are second only to King Dumbledore's."
"Miss will have a bath, Miss Alice needs it, Mimsy will fetch hot water from the kitchens." The blonde girl informed her, despite the droop of her stature and the lankness of her hair and face she seemed quite determined. She curtseyed quickly and strode off.
The world she found herself in certainly wasn't the one she was familiar with. Every moment Hermione began to forget, lulled into a false sense of security by things vaguely familiar, such as a bed, even if the four poster monstrosity was so unlike the small bunk she occupied in Hogwarts. A dresser and vanity and wash basin, although these were so fine and grand she had never touched anything of their like. Dobby's nervous chattering, ever so polite and formal like the nobles well trained servants were at home, despite his tendency to drift off abruptly and apologize or reference things he expected her to know but she did not, was a soothing balm. He bowed to her, showing her the grand suite, no less than three rooms linked together in a neat chain. A drawing room, a sitting room and finally her bed and bath chamber combined as one large space that lay beyond her sitting room.
Lost in the monotony of the eager servant's bragging of the fine fixtures and elegance she was to expect as this strange Steward's guest, the brown eyed girl felt her mouth flop open in a very unladylike display of aplomb, amber eyes comically widened as the other servant returned from fetching water. As matter of fact as the nose on a person's face, Mimsy brought with her enough water to fill the tub. As in a great gob of it, steaming hot, if the misty tendrils escaping the warbling orb of water were to be trusted. A large mass that was floating mid air after the woman. No buckets, no tedious hauling, just a magnificent blob of water surrounded by nothing.
"E-excuse me," Hermione interrupted Dobby's enthusiastic description of the curtains, down to the thread used to stitch them, and the hooked nose man waited politely for her to continue.
"Is that water, er- levitating?" Her breathy words bellied the disbelief in which she held such a statement.
"Tis a basic spell," Mimsy scoffed, "As a Alice, you can do much more." Gulping, the girl eyed them both in stunned alarm.
"I can not," she denied, almost defensively. Is this what they thought of her then? That she was capable of such feats? Of things that appeared for lack of a better word, to be done by magic?
Mimsy curtseyed lowly, "Begging your pardon, Miss Alice, but you can. Else the Gryffindor would have struck you dead. I saw it myself, with the last one." She shuddered, before pointing to the tub, where the hot water immediately bobbed to, before it poured itself into the tub in a soft, steady stream. Hermione's mind boggled over such convenience. If only it was real and not just a product of her imagination.
"Don't listen to her, Miss. A Miss Alice shouldn't hear about thems that lost their way," Dobby advised, "They weren't Alices, no, not Alices at all."
"Just so," Mimsy nodded, before adding seriously, "You has shown the Miss enough of the fixtures and rooms, Miss be needing a bath. The Mad Hatter wants to see her, as soon as soon is possible, he says."
Dobby eyed the curious eyed girl standing between him and Mimsy in alarm, "Mustn't keep the Hatter waiting, Miss, he is rarely in one time or place for very long."
"So he is mad, then, that man Steward Dumbledore called Sirius? That's who you mean, is it not?" Hermione clarified.
"Yes Miss, he be the one, but he wasn't always Mad, the Hatter," Dobby confided, brown eyes mournful. "Once he was just Hatter."
"Shush, we not supposed to speak of such things. Thems nobles business," Mimsy chided sternly. Dobby flinched, and then hung his head.
"Don't worry, I'm not offended," she assured the man, rewarded as he brightened right back up. Sure, he was over fifty if he was a day, but something about his manner and speech was almost enduringly childlike.
"You is being my favorite Alice," Dobby beamed at her, "Dobby will bring you cake."
"Soup first, or else you be giving Miss a tummy ache, and only after she be seeing the Mad Hatter."
"Of course!" Dobby smiled widely at Hermione, "After the Hatter and the soup, Dobby promises."
"Yes, yes, now shoo," Mimsy instructed. "Miss needs her bath."
A/N: So you know when you have a plot bunny and it grows into a plot rabbit? That's this story. I've outlined everything but it keeps growing bigger and bigger the more I write. It may eat me. If I don't write, I've been devoured. Send help. Just kidding, I would totally keep writing in the belly of the beast. Regular updates to follow this chapter, promise. To everyone who kudos this story, I heart you too, to my only and therefore best ever commenter keeping an eye on this story, bless you, please stalk it.