She had no recollection whatsoever of the night before. Although, judging from the amount of Galleons that were strewn all over the floor and her black suit that suspiciously smelled like wine around the leg section gave it all away – she definitely had the time of her life last night. Her hair was also unusually straight when she woke up, something the other one liked to do. It was pin-straight and so very red. The red hair she could accept, as she thought it went well with her curls but the straight hair was … well, not her, obviously.
Her head was pounding once more, it felt as if someone was knocking her head with a hammer and she began to sense a pattern of hangovers and money whenever she switched to the other her. As she looked around for her hangover potion, she saw something on the bedside table and her heart instantly warmed.
There was a glass of dark liquid with a note attached to it, written in messy print style – completely the opposite of Hermione's usual gentle and seamless cursive writing.
She reached out and tore the note off the glass and read:
I prepared this for the morning, just in case. Lots of love.
Smiling a little, she grabbed the glass and lifted it to her lips. Maybe her other self wasn't bad, sometimes. She could be thoughtful, careful if she wanted to –
And then Hermione coughed violently, almost spitting the liquid out at the surprisingly burning sensation that took over her throat, nose and chest.
She glared at the glass and gripped it with a strength that made her hands shake, she swore under her breath.
It was fucking Firewhiskey.
The other Hermione was such an asshole. She could imagine her other self cackling evilly, and it was easy to do so – just plaster on a twisted, sadistic smile and a dark chuckle on Hermione, something completely unlike the normal Hermione who laughed airily and whose eyes crinkled instead of widening with malicious glee.
Stomping out of bed, she found the real hangover potion and downed it in one go. Headache gone, she jumped into the shower and washed off some unfamiliar, masculine cologne that was teasing her nostrils ever since she woke up and prayed to Merlin that the other her had not done anything naughty with some strange man the night before. Oh, dear. That woman needed to be controlled; otherwise she would ceaselessly worry herself to death every morning when she wakes.
That was it. Another trip to the Healer. Clearly her strong dosage was not quite strong enough.
The extra extra strong dosage seemed to work, as Hermione had a quiet weekend – waking up with no suspicious amount of Galleons and a hangover and most certainly not a wine-drenched outfit. No mystifying, attractive cologne, as well.
She walked into Gringotts the following Monday with an extra bounce in her step and her fiery red curls. Swinging her bag in her right hand, she hummed a tuneless song and made a turn towards the lift. She spotted one closing with a person inside it and she called out, "Oh, hello! Hold it for me, please!"
The person obliged, a gloved hand reaching out to stop the doors from shutting.
She sped into the lift and managed to get in just as the door shut once more.
"Thank you very much," she said, straightening her coat and looked up at the person who was so kind as to – "Draco Malfoy?"
He nodded slightly and tapped his black dapper hat, one that somehow didn't make him look silly like the other wizards but gave him a classy, proper finish that went alone with his black trench coat. He reminded Hermione of those detectives in Muggle movies and she quite liked it.
Her heart skipped for no reason, and she was a hundred percent sure it wasn't out of excitement or nervousness. It was dread – although she couldn't place why she was dreading this.
"How are you?" she asked.
"Never better," he offered a half-smile as he glanced at her and then back at the blinking numbers on the lift, "Considering I've been robbed twice in two weeks, I'm feeling really grand."
She visibly winced at that, she knew she was responsible for the first one and she hoped to Merlin that he didn't notice her sudden stiffness.
"Twice? What happened?" she blurt, and immediately regretted it, "No, I'm sorry. I'm being nosey."
"When were you ever not?" he said, but there wasn't any malice in his tone – it was more reminiscent if anything, and then continued, "My house was broken into just last week. One of my dad's prized paintings was stolen."
"Oh, shame, I'm sorry," Hermione said, mustering a face full of contrition. "You must be devastated."
"On the contrary, no," he shrugged, "I hated that painting."
For the briefest moment, there was a flashback of Malfoy saying the exact thing.
"Yeah you said that," she blurt out of nowhere. Funny, she seemed to recall …
"Did I?" Malfoy turned towards her and slightly arched an eyebrow.
Hermione felt herself turn cold at a sudden realization that he did not say that before and had not even spoken to her before today and –
She swallowed. Fuck. It wasn't her that had that conversation with Malfoy. Well, it was her but … you know, the other her. Crap, crap. Bitch sticks and cunt biscuits. She did rob Malfoy for the second time – that's why she got that reward money from Pearson.
"I meant your expression said it all," Hermione smiled and waved her hand flippantly, hoping that Malfoy would just drop the issue.
Mercifully, he did and they both continued their journey underground in silence. Silence that was broken by Draco Malfoy, surprisingly.
"Is red hair the current trend these days?" hebegan. "Or are you just really excited about becoming a Weasley?"
"Oh, please, Malfoy. Those days were long gone. This was more of an … experiment."
"Really? You're the second girl I've seen with that same shade of red," he glanced at her hair again.
"Well, it is a nice colour."
Malfoy hummed noncommittally.
"What brings you here?" she asked.
"I need to sign some damages and compensation documents, something like that," he said and then sighed heavily, "It feels as if an entire team of thieves just decided to make me the victim of the month."
"Well, I'm sure you have no trouble there. If anything, you're only grumbling about the trouble they've put you through, what with the extra security and the signing of various documents … having to get out of your lavish bed every morning to sort these things out, I'm sure of it. Rumours are that you're quite loaded," she shrugged and looked straight at the lift doors. Somehow, the lifts seem to be moving extra slow today. They've renovated Gringotts all the way down, where the other departments are, but still …
"And how did you catch wind of such humour, Granger? Do you like men with money?" Malfoy turned to her curiously, a smirk in place.
Then, all of a sudden, she felt as if she was knocked back – but she was still standing. Her hearing was off and everything was sort of … strange, like she was in a dream, staring at Malfoy's face that was growing with interest. She felt her mouth moving but she could hear nothing and move nothing. Her gesture, posture and the way she positioned her head while she was talking changed. It was like she was hearing someone converse through a pillow … or underwater.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow, and within seconds, the spell was broken and her hearing and command of her own body returned. Everything was clear and she could move and she could blink –
"And why do you say that?"
She looked down and inspected her hands, moving them as she pleased and she frowned in confusion.
"Hmm?" she asked Malfoy distractedly, "Why do I say what?"
"What you just said," Malfoy said. What the hell was he on about? Why was he speaking in riddles?
"And what did I just say?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"Is this a game?"
"No, what did I say?"
"You just told me – you looked as if you turned into a different person with the same face. Your voice lowered, your expression changed and then you said – never mind, move over, people are coming in," Malfoy gestured for her to move away from the door as the lift opened, revealing four people who greeted them as they got in.
Again, Hermione felt something cold trickle down her spine and she began to sweat.
Fuck. Were the potions not working again? Did it somehow make it worse? Based on what Malfoy just said, she was positive that she had just changed without any prompting whatsoever and in the middle of a conversation – just like a switch. This was getting out of hand and it scared the crap out of her.
A colleague noticed her (nervously) sweating and chuckled.
"You'd think that after all the renovations, they'd focus on the lifts, too," Jim, a portly man, chuckled. "It can get quite stuffy in here, eh?"
Hermione laughed politely and nodded. "I agree. I'm melting."
She fanned herself for show and flipped her hair so that she could cool her now sweaty neck.
Malfoy immediately whipped his head towards her and stared. And stared. And continued to stared even as the other people stepped out to head to their offices.
"What perfume are you using?" Malfoy asked suddenly.
"Um," Hermione stammered. That was quite an odd question, "It's something by Crabtree and Evelyn. Tarocco or something. Why do you ask?"
"It seems … familiar," he frowned a little. "Oranges."
Hermione stared at him and her brain was whirring, conjuring possibility after possibility.
"Did you also meet another woman who uses the same perfume? I think it was on sale a few weeks ago," she giggled nervously.
"Maybe. The person who stole my father's painting also smelled like oranges. Except it was more concentrated. Yours is lighter."
Of course the other one was more concentrated. That other idiot uses her perfume in great amounts, spraying herself probably a thousand times, only to have Hermione notice that her favourite perfume was rapidly receding in volume.
"Your thief was a woman?" she asked, looking at the numbers on the lift again. Just two more floors …
"Hmm," he nodded. "A strange one."
"Right. It was nice seeing you, Malfoy," she said as the lifts opened to reveal her department corridor, "Have a good day!"
"You too."
She tried not to walk away awkwardly, but ran like the wind as soon as she heard the lifts close. She ran and ran into her office and slammed the door, clutching her hair tightly.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
She needed to buy a new perfume now and make sure she didn't get too close to Malfoy, and well – what about her hair?
"Oh, Merlin," she pulled her cheeks and whined, "Why did you do it, why did you fucking do it."
And that was hardly as bad as the fact that she had completely switched personalities right in front of Malfoy – without warning, without anything. Shit.
To add to that, she'd robbed Malfoy twice. Twice. Oh shit. Imagine the repercussions if she was actually caught. Penalty – no, penitentiary – no, asylum. Everythingatonce. She could imagine it right now – the Daily Prophet, GOLDEN GIRL GONE NUTTY: SCHIZOPHRENIA PROMPTS IMPULSIVE THIEVERY.
That was not good.
She rushed to her office restroom's mirror and gazed at herself.
"You need to stop this nonsense. I've had no qualms about you doing whatever you wanted when you took over, but this time you need to be careful!" she snarled and pointed at herself. "You need to control your impulse and your need for danger and excitement! Stop it; otherwise we will both be fried! You hear me?!"
Hermione's mind was silent for the whole day after that, and she managed to finish her day without any problems, and without forgetting her potions.
She rang the doorbell twice, and smiled gleefully. She ran her tongue through her teeth, just to make sure that the smile she was going to offer wasn't going to be stained deep red.
The heavy, white door swung open and out popped Draco Malfoy's head. His expression changed from surprise to bewilderment and then finally, exasperation. Funny, she hadn't imagined Draco Malfoy to be this expressive. It must seem strange, to get a masked visitor in the middle of the night.
"Hello, baby," Hermione beamed, leaned in and kissed Malfoy on the cheek, leaving a deep red kiss mark on it. Then, she pushed the bouquet of flowers onto Malfoy's arms, "I got you flowers."
Malfoy sighed and raised an eyebrow, "I'm not a woman. What will I do with flowers?"
"It's alright. You can throw them out after or keep them in a vase if you like. I was on my way here when I caught sight of them, and I thought that these red, red roses go well with your beautiful alabaster skin. So pretty. Imagine what they would look like, all flushed and red under me."
This time, Malfoy frowned deeply.
"I think you're confusing me for a woman."
"Of course not! I'm just really forward," Hermione grinned again, and tapped her foot impatiently, "May I come in?"
"Why should you?" Malfoy argued and crossed his arms, and Hermione took that as leeway for her to squeeze through and into Malfoy's mansion.
A bright, lovely Christmas tree of silver and blue colours stood in the middle of the hall, and Hermione clapped her hands gleefully.
"Ah! I see you've set up your Christmas tree! Let's see … there's something missing though," she turned to Malfoy and sent him a sly look, "What's missing is me, under your Christmas tree, wrapped in ribbon and only ribbon."
Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose and then sighed heavily before throwing the flowers onto a table nearby.
"Look, I'm not even going to bother about being polite, but kindly get the hell out of my house before I make you. This is trespassing, and I didn't mind so much about the painting but really, you're not welcome here. So get out before I make you."
"Oooooooooh," Hermione said in singsong tone, slinking towards Malfoy and pushed him against the wall, caressing his bathrobe (silver this time), "And how will you make me?"
"I will grab my wand and curse the shit out of you before binding you and send you off to the Aurors," Malfoy said, hardly containing his indifference at the proximity and the way Hermione was rubbing his collarbone and neck.
Hermione grimaced and pulled away a little before staring into Malfoy's eyes, "That's not very sexy."
"Good, because sexy is the last thing I ever want to sound to you. Get out," Malfoy pointed at the door.
Hermione walked away from him, but not towards the door. Instead, she ventured into the hallway that led to the dining hall. "I'm not averse to having some wine, however."
Malfoy sighed and there was a slight swoosh before his wand came flying into his hand. Instead of cursing her, however, he shut the door with his wand as he followed her.
"Why don't you just steal them and leave?" Malfoy offered.
Hermione glanced at him through her shoulder. "Because I want to spend time with you. I came all this way just to see you, you know."
"I'm flattered but I really don't need a masked thief to have wine with me in the middle of the night."
"Well I don't have to have wine with you. I can always have it on you, either way is fine. You choose," Hermione shrugged and turned into the den instead of the dining hall.
"Fine. One glass, and it's either you tell me what you want or you get the hell out," Malfoy said before summoning a bottle and two glasses.
"It's great to see that you've finally set up the entire place. It looks very … cozy," Hermione commented before collapsing onto an armchair.
Malfoy ignored her and poured a glass of wine grumpily before shoving it towards her. Hermione accepted with an amused face.
Malfoy poured himself a glass and sat opposite her, crossing his legs, watching her like an eagle.
"What do you want?" he demanded.
"Well, initially I wanted the painting, then the wine," she sipped some wine and cleared her throat at the lovely burn in her throat, "Now I just want you."
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Cut the crap."
"Why? Is it so difficult to understand that someone wants you? I mean, look at you," Hermione said blithely, "You looked especially ravishing in the lift today."
Pausing immediately mid-sip, Malfoy pinned her with a serious look.
"In the lift?"
"In the lift," Hermione nodded and grabbed an opened book next to her.
"In the morning or in the evening?"
"Hmm?" Hermione thumbed through the pages.
"So does that mean you were in Gringotts today? Do you work there?" Malfoy shot question after question, seemingly taken aback with this new information.
Hermione ignored him and continued reading. Malfoy, impatient as he was, lifted his wand and pointed it at his face. He cast a spell that was meant to eradicate the mask Hermione had on, but Hermione merely sat back and watched as his spell faltered just as it hit Hermione's mask.
"You think I wasn't prepared for that? You're so cute, Draco," Hermione chuckled, "Nothing can remove this mask except for me."
"A name, at least," he bargained.
"Mrs Draco Malfoy," Hermione giggled coquettishly and burst out laughing at Malfoy's irritated expression, "I'm kidding. Well, not really, but we'll get there."
"You've finished your glass of wine, now tell me, or so help me Merlin I will kick you out of this house," Malfoy said grimly.
Hermione sighed and stood up, walking to the portraits that now hung on the walls. "I told you, Draco, all I really want is you."
"I'm not into one-night-stands with a masked person."
Hermione laughed again, "Of course not!"
"So … what? Do you want to ask me out?"
"That would be … ideal," Hermione turned towards him and rubbed her chin, "That, however, would complicate things and … well; my other half wouldn't enjoy that too much."
"What? You're married?" Malfoy scoffed.
"Of course not. It's just that she gets a little crabby and might seek other ways to control me."
"She? You're gay?" Malfoy asked, getting more and more confused and aggravated at the same time.
"No, Draco, I'm not gay nor am I attached."
Malfoy stared at her for long moments before he seemingly gave up and rubbed his eyes.
"I'm tired, and I'm going to bed. See you never."
"Aw," Hermione pouted as Malfoy stood up. "Don't be like that."
And just like a cat, Hermione jumped onto Malfoy, effectively pushing him back onto the armchair as she straddled him, his wand falling to the floor and rolling away from him.
Hermione muttered a charm under her breath, a charm to conceal the true colour of her eyes as she leaned towards Malfoy.
"Don't be so difficult."
Malfoy was stiff in her arms and his gaze relentless, but he didn't move. He was simply observing, and making mental notes in his mind – that much Hermione could see. She didn't mind, even the most brilliant of minds could not figure out who she was and her affiliation with Hermione Granger (if any).
"Just one kiss and I'll be off," Hermione said. For the day went unsaid.
He nodded mutely – reluctantly, and Hermione smiled as she leaned in, and in and … just as their lips were about to touch, Hermione was pulled back by her suit hood and Malfoy's hand was clutching the back of her head hard.
Something was poking her neck and she realized it was her own wand.
"Tell me who you are," Malfoy hissed, and pushed the wand harder, "Now."
Hermione's shocked expression twisted into a devious one as her heart skipped with excitement, "Hmm, I knew there was a reason why I liked you."
This time, catching Malfoy off-guard, she grabbed the back of his head with hands, pulled him towards her and kissed him hard.
Malfoy was shocked, obviously, but the time spent kissing him was enough to make him decide whether he would like to respond or remain limp like he was, and he evidently chose the latter. His clear, grey eyes were trained on her the entire time and were unblinking.
Hermione pulled away and grabbed her wand and stood up so fast that it all seemed like a big blur.
"Well, goodnight, darling. Till next time," she fixed her straight ponytail and walked towards the door. Malfoy was silent, but Hermione continued, "Have sweet dreams of me!"
Hermione awoke the next day, tasting wine on her tongue, and that attractive cologne was all over her this time.
Money was all over the bedroom again, and before she hit the snooze button on her alarm clock, she had half a mind to just check herself in a mental institute.
Her mind was everywhere that morning and just as she arrived at work, she found that she may or may not have left her enchanted iPod that she wanted to listen to during one of their boring conference meetings later.
"Shit, did I bring it?" she stopped in the atrium and began to rummage through her handbag. She couldn't find it and began to take out things – one by one, there were a lot of small papers (tickets to London, mostly), and then pens and quills and her wallet and – huh? There was that red lipstick the other one loved to wear but how the hell did it end up in here?
Then it slipped from her hands, fell onto the floor and began rolling away. Just as she was about to chase after it, a shiny boot lightly stepped on it.
Hermione saw white-blond hair and gulped.
Malfoy bent down and picked it up, examined it for a bit before walking up to Hermione to return it.
"Thanks, Malfoy."
"Didn't think you'd be taken with this colour," Malfoy said. "Too bold for you, despite your current hair colour."
"No, it's not mine … it's umm, a colleague's," she answered.
"I see. It's an interesting colour. It doesn't get in the way of kissing; like most men would say, but … it's quite tough to take out after."
Hermione frowned at that.
"Huh?"
Hermione was genuinely confused as Malfoy watched her face for long moments.
"That was so random, Malfoy," she shook her head and placed everything back in her bag. "Anyway, got to run. Have a good day."
What was that all about?