Kingdom.1

"Hermione!"

Hermione Granger jolted upwards, a scream tearing, half-formed, from her throat. Her hands clawed futilely at coarse sheets, bile rising as she struggled to identify her surroundings.

"Hermione!" a pair of small hands gripped her arms, forcing her down as she thrashed, her brown eyes wide and unseeing. A wave of black hair appeared, mottled through with white spots that spun at dizzying speeds, and Hermione moaned, trying to escape -

She was dimly aware of someone else rushing into the room.

"Get off of her!"

The hands released their grip on her arms, and slowly, slowly Hermione stilled as the room swam into focus. She stared at the ceiling, which was low and off-white.

Where was she?

"Are you alright?"

She knew that voice - Ginny.

Ginny!

Hermione bolted into a seated position, her hand flying to her chest as she remembered the events of last night. When her hand came back dry, she let out a half-strangled noise. She was in an unfamiliar room, dim and unadorned. The only light came from a flickering wooden torch mounted to the wall and a small, square window situated above a wooden desk. Perhaps Ron and Harry had found her and brought her to the nearest inn?

"Where are Harry and Ron?" Hermione demanded.

She met Ginny's bright brown eyes before looking at her friend's clothes. Hermione's brows furrowed as she took in Ginny's finely spun wool gown and the jauntily placed ostrich feathers protruding from her bonnet. She caught a glimpse of Ginny's freckled neck as the woman blushed furiously, ducking her head. Her neck - Crowe!

She was even more surprised when, after slipping her hand underneath the odd, scratchy cotton of her nightgown, she failed to find a gaping wound. The man had stabbed her - of that, she was certain. Her finger caught on a slight ridge just below her collarbone, and she hissed in surprise. She craned her neck, catching a glimpse of a dark, angry red marking, and her stomach dropped. A rune.

Fighting panic, Hermione forced herself to assess her situation in a logical manner. This rune had obviously transported her into an elaborate hallucination. Aside from this marking and her foreign surroundings, she felt almost perfectly normal, save for a nagging empty sensation deep in her chest, like some unidentifiable yet vital piece of her had vanished.

Ginny's cheeks were flushed a delicate red. "Why would I know where Lord Harr-er, they are," she spluttered. "That would be improper!"

Someone giggled from the other side of the bed, and Hermione looked wildly at the second occupant of the room - Parvati? She hadn't seen the woman for years, now; why was Parvati appearing in her hallucination?

"You'd like to know where Lord Harry is, though, wouldn't you?" Parvati teased, her mouth pulled into a mischievous grin. Although she was dressed in the same, oddly medieval attire as Ginny, she otherwise looked the same as always.

Ginny's blush deepened, and she scowled angrily in reply.

Hermione watched the exchange with wide eyes. What in bloody Merlin's beard was going on?

Hermione surreptitiously pinched herself underneath the covers, trying to suppress a surge of panic when her two companions did not disappear. Was this an elaborate enchantment and, if so, why had Crowe conjured Ginny and Parvati? None of this made any sense at all.

She took another deep breath. "Where am I?" she asked, her voice trembling only slightly.

Ginny and Parvati glanced at each other.

Ginny leaned forward, placing a cool, freckled hand against Hermione's forehead. "We're in the castle for Princess Lavender's wedding, of course. Are you sure you're alright?"

Hermione closed her eyes. Counted to ten. Logic would help. Logic always helped. She forced herself to recount everything she knew.

Facts: Ginny and Parvati were in her - no, she saw two other beds along the other wall, so their - room. Ginny and Parvati were dressed in medieval garb. Ginny and Parvati had either suddenly become fantastic actors, or they were telling the truth and they really were in a bloody castle for Princess Lavender Brown's wedding.

Facts: Hermione Granger had officially lost it. Cause? Perhaps the stress of her job - Ron had always joked that she was going to work herself to her grave. She'd resented him slightly for those comments, but perhaps he'd been right, after all.

Her hand touched the mark on her chest again, and her stomach soured. She'd almost prefer the other explanation - at least then she could have prescribed herself rest or a month in the Caribbean. No, her reality was something far more frightening.

Sensing Ginny's worried gaze, Hermione forced a smile. "Right, the wedding!" she said, albeit a bit too loudly.

"Perhaps you ought to stay in bed, Hermione," Parvati said. "We can ready Princess Lavender for the day ourselves."

Hermione was sorely tempted to say yes. She wanted desperately to hide underneath the covers until she was returned to her home. She, however, needed answers, and so, setting her chin resolutely, she said, "No, I'm fine. Let's go."

She climbed out of bed gingerly, expecting her ribs to protest, and frowned when the movement came unhindered. The stranger had stabbed her; why was she not experiencing the ramifications of that action?

With Ginny and Parvati's aid, she slipped, with considerable difficulty, into a similarly unwieldy dress ("Er, must have slept wrong - I'm very clumsy today").

As they walked down the stone corridor, Hermione's mind worked furiously to create logical explanations for her sudden transport into this bizarre world. Perhaps she was in a coma - she'd read several case studies of wizards who, once woken up from a magical coma, had reported living out entire lives as unicorns or other similarly odd entities. She could be in St. Mungo's at this very moment.

Still, that didn't explain the appearance of Ginny and Parvati. The comas reported often were completely new and contained no aspects of the wizards' prior lives.

More likely, this was a product of the runes - or the knife. She shivered, remember the searing pain of the blade - and, worse, her utter helplessness when faced with Crowe's voice.

Merlin, she'd been willing to do anything for Crowe. Hermione didn't know what she'd do - what she could do - if faced with the woman again. She glanced nervously around her, relaxing only very slightly when she saw only the occasional harried-looking servant.

Ginny and Parvati, thankfully, seemed to know where to go. She followed them dutifully as they led her through countless winding hallways. From their excited chatter, she gleaned that Lavendar was, indeed, the eldest daughter of the King. Hermione, Ginny, and Parvati were apparently Lavender's ladies-in-waiting, and they were to ready her for her wedding early the next morning. The castle, according to Ginny and Parvati, was tense with the impending arrival of Lavender's betrothed and his father, the King of the neighboring land, as the two kingdoms had had tense relations for years. From the sound of it, it seemed like both were on the verge of war and that this marriage was a last-minute effort at peace.

Hermione caught sight of a room full of books and candles through an open doorway and, her heart racing, quickly made mental note of its location. She glanced at her two companions again before coughing loudly. "Oh, I haven't seen the library in a while!" she said.

Ginny glanced at the room. "Oh, that," she said dismissively. "You're there all the time; I don't know who you're trying to fool."

Hermione laughed a bit too loudly and sighed inwardly with relief - so she was able to use the library, then. The reminder that there had been another Hermione, a Hermione who apparently used this library all the time, was disconcerting. Where was this Hermione now? Would she return when Hermione was hopefully returned to her proper world? Or would she remain gone forever?

She frowned, her head aching dully at the conundrum. She'd have to think on the matter later.

They came to a stop before a set of ornately carved double doors. Muffled, feminine shrieks came from within, and Ginny rolled her eyes. "Right, let's do this," she whispered and, taking a deep breath, knocked firmly.

"You're late!" came the answering yell.

Ginny pushed the door open, curtseying deeply before stepping into the room. Hermione copied the movement awkwardly, wobbling slightly on her way up.

The room was easily twice the size of theirs and housed a double bed with richly embroidered red silk covers. Two small stained-glass windows let in richly yellow light, which pooled lazily onto a thick, scarlet and gold carpet. A heart-wrenchingly familiar crest was emblazoned on a thick tapestry hanging beside the bed - Gryffindor. Hermione gazed at the lion longingly, thinking of all the nights she'd spent in the comfort of her dorm at Hogwarts.

"What took you so long?" came a shrill cry.

Hermione wrenched her gaze away from the tapestry, her eyes widening when she saw the beautiful woman seated in the center of the room. Her curly blonde hair was coiled into perfect ringlets, and a delicate band of gold graced her forehead. Her expression, however, was utterly dour.

Still, she was alive. Hermione stared at the woman, her heart aching for the dead Lavender Brown in her own world. Lavender Brown had died a hero, and Hermione had always regretted never giving her the chance she deserved.

"Apologies, Your Highness," Parvati murmured.

Lavender sniffed. "Well, don't be late for my wedding day."

Ginny rolled her eyes from behind Lavender. "Of course not, Your Highness," she said, brushing invisible dust off of Lavender's mauve gown.

Lavender looked down at her folded hands, her brow furrowing. "Thank you," she said quietly, her shoulders slumping somewhat.

Ginny paused, raising her brows at Hermione.

Hermione looked at Lavender, her heart sinking when she saw how young and fragile the girl looked. Hermione was by no means the world's expert on medieval history, but even she knew this marriage was probably arranged. Hell, even the modern Wizarding aristocrats still had arranged marriages.

She reached out tentatively, resting a hand on Lavender's shoulder. "We'll be here for you," she said quietly. "Always."

Lavender smiled, her eyes watery.

"Besides, if he turns out to be awful, Ginny casts a mean Bat Bogey," Hermione continued jokingly.

Silence.

"-a what?" the princess demanded, eyes wide.

Hermione gestured helplessly. "You know, when your bogies turn into bats," she said slowly. Perhaps they had a different name for the jinx - when had the jinx even been invented? Maybe she was too early.

Still, that didn't explain the frightened expression on Ginny's face. "Hermione hasn't been feeling well, Your Highness," she said, turning hurriedly to Lavender.

Lavender stared at Hermione, her brown eyes narrowed, as her hand reached up to clasp something around her neck - a cross, Hermione realised with a start.

Oh. Oh.

Several choice words - her Ginny would be proud - ran through her head. Right, so this world lacked magic. In other words, Hermione had almost gotten herself killed; she doubted witches would be received well.

"That was an, uh, unfortunate joke, Your Highness," she said, hurrying to cover her mistake.

Lavender frowned, opening her mouth -

"Lavender!" came a booming voice.
Ginny and Parvati immediately executed twin curtsies. Hermione followed only a second later, peering up at the huge man striding towards them. He, too, wore a crown, but his was richly encrusted with rubies and just barely perched on his wild mass of red curls. He carried a sword at his hip, and Hermione gasped, recognizing its engraved hilt. The Sword of Gryffindor.

Hermione resisted the urge to let out a hysterical laugh. Well, if her dream had the power to bring back Lavender, why not throw in Godric bloody Gryffindor in for good measure?

"Father!" Lavender cried, throwing her arms around the founder of Gryffindor House.

Godric laughed, patting her head lovingly. "How is my only daughter doing?"

She pulled away, pouting. "I'm well, Father. Are they here yet? You said they'd arrive two days ago."

Godric's expression darkened. "They will arrive today," he said firmly, his hand straying to the hilt of his sword.

Hermione watched the exchange silently. Was the other family Slytherin? There was obviously ill blood between the two.

A clamor of metal against metal and beating hooves rose from outside, and Godric strode to the window, his face grim. When he turned to face his daughter, however, his face was as jovial as ever. "See? They're here already!"

Lavender smiled stiffly, her face pale, as she moved to the window. "Wonderful," she said, looking nervous.

"Wonderful, indeed," Ginny whispered darkly.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Godric Gryffindor sat on his throne, his right index finger idly tapping the gilded hilt of his sword. A lesser ruler would have been easily dwarfed by the large, golden grandeur of the throne, but the opulent seat merely enhanced Godric's imposing physical presence.

Lavender sat on the considerably smaller throne beside her father, but she, unlike Godric, could only stare at the ground.

Hermione, for her part, stood in between Ginny and Parvati at the far wall with the lords and ladies of the Gryffindor court. No one spoke. Everyone was too busy staring at the double doors at the far end of the throne room, waiting in tense anticipation for the arrival of the snakes.

The doors banged open, and Hermione flinched, her heart in her throat. What if Crowe was with them? She half-feared and half-wished for the woman to appear, for she both feared and needed the witch. Without her, Hermione was stuck in this magicless world, for with each passing moment she was more and more unable to deny the reality of her situation.

This wasn't a dream. This wasn't a coma. This was real, and Hermione Granger was, without her magic, in a very poor situation. Professor Babbling's words echoed jeeringly through her mind: a million universes out there.

She pushed these thoughts from her mind, instead scanning the solemn, silver and emerald clad crowd as they spilled into the room. The stately procession reminded her of the equally pompous processions of her fourth year at Hogwarts - how innocent she'd been, even then. That had been almost a full decade ago, and years of war and age had changed her.

The crowd of Slytherins parted, revealing two figures. A hawk-nosed man with a black mustache and long, equally dark hair pulled into an elegant ponytail strode forward, his heavy brows lowered over shrewd black eyes. So this was Salazar Slytherin.

Despite her perilous circumstances, it was all Hermione could manage to prevent herself from rushing forward to ask Salazar and Godric about their lives. Yes, these weren't the two men who had helped create her Hogwarts, but they were still Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor. When else was she going to have the chance to speak with them? She wanted to pick their brains, to learn everything they had to offer -

Her gaze landed on the lean man standing beside Salazar, and her breath caught. Not, as Parvati's did, because the man was terribly good looking. No, it was because she knew him. Or, at least, she knew him from photos and from her Ginny's frightened retellings.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Voldemort.

The man gazed proprietorially around the throne room, his gaze scanning the crowds of nobles. As he neared her place, Hermione tensed, her mouth curling unconsciously into a snarl. Her hand reached automatically for the wand that wasn't there, and she fought to suppress the overwhelming panic threatening to overtake her. A half-strangled noise escaped her throat, and he paused, his dark eyes narrowing slightly when he saw her.

Did - did he know her?

No, that was impossible. Even if Voldemort knew her, Riddle didn't.

Indeed, Riddle's gaze was on Parvati in the next moment - a fluke, then. She'd imagined it.

Still, she couldn't quite shake her unease.

"Salazar," Godric boomed.

Salazar bowed mockingly. "Godric," he greeted. He looked at Lavender, who was staring, open-mouthed, at Riddle.

Salazar smiled, his lips thinning in satisfaction. "This must be Lady Lavender," he said.

Lavender started, standing clumsily to duck into a curtsy. "Yes, Your Majesty," she said, regaining her composure. She looked the very picture of royalty in her floor-length gown and golden crown.

Salazar's smile widened, and he gestured lazily to the man at his side. "This is Prince Thomas," he said grandly.

Riddle bowed. "A pleasure," he said silkily, peering at Lavender from underneath sooty black lashes.

Parvati sighed, and Hermione resisted the urge to stomp on her heel. Didn't they see how fake he was? His excessive charm made her want to vomit. Then again, Hermione reminded herself, this version of Parvati didn't know what horrors Voldemort had committed in her own world. Perhaps she was being unfair to this Tom Riddle - perhaps he was good, and kind, and really only wished to raise a herd of kittens in peace.

She stifled a snort at the ludicrousness of that, reddening slightly when the sound drew Riddle's gaze. Hermione looked immediately at her feet and, when she chanced another glance, was relieved to see that the man had moved on.

As Riddle began to compliment Lavender's appearance, even Hermione had to admit that he was frighteningly charming - so charming, in fact, that if she hadn't been aware of his crimes, she, too, might have been enamored. She briefly remembered her infatuation with Lockhart and winced.

Riddle's eyes flicked towards hers once more. Hermione looked away, her cheeks flushing. She'd have to be careful. She needed to remain unnoticed while she searched for any books on runes - or, if that failed to be fruitful, Crowe.

Parvati tugged at her sleeve. Seeing the crowd slowly filtering out of the throne room - how long had she been standing there for? - she flashed Parvati a grateful smile and, collecting her skirts in her hands, said, "I think I will retire to bed. I'm still not feeling well."

She brushed off Parvati's offers of warm beverages, and, after waiting for the throne room to empty completely, hurried towards the library. As she retraced her steps, hugging close to the stone walls of the castle to better avoid notice, a flash of - something - caught her eye. Hermione paused, staring widely at the wall-length, stained glass window. The hallway was empty, as most of the servants and all of the two courts were gathering in the Great Hall for lunch.

Something shifted again through the vibrant red of the window, and Hermione caught a glimpse of something horrid - a flash of teeth, a bloodied jaw - and gasped. She crept towards the window, holding her breath, and leaned carefully against the cool glass, her eyelashes brushing the scarlet surface -

Through the window, she spotted the edge of a dark forest. Barren trees scraped the crimson sky, and shadows spilled from between the peeling trunks. She felt her heart pounding as she scanned the horizon for any sign of movement. When she saw nothing, she slid reluctantly from the window, a deep crease appearing between her brows. Perhaps she'd imagined it.

Perhaps she hadn't.

She allowed herself a moment to catch her breath. I can do this, she reminded herself. Then, lifting her skirts, she ran to the library.

Scrolls and books, at least, were constant. She allowed herself a moment to breathe in the familiar smell of parchment, her eyes fluttering shut. If she focused, she could pretend she was back in the Hogwarts library, about to finish another too-long Potions assignment -

She swiped angrily at her eyes.

"Come on, Hermione. You don't have time to wallow in self-pity," she muttered.

She strode briskly towards the ledger and, running her finger down the cramped script, searched for anything related to runes.

When that failed to prove fruitful, she searched instead for related, not-so-obviously-magical terms.

Nothing.

Well, perhaps the ledger was inaccurate. She surveyed the staggering stacks of scrolls lining the room determinedly and, grabbing a quill from a jar, began to work.

AN: Thank you very much for reading/reviewing/etc! Your support means the world to me :)