A/N: Hey guys! It's been a while since I updated, sorry about the delay. I took a bit of a Hiatus for many reasons, but I feel back to normal and ready to write again, so hopefully I'll get a few chapters out at a relatively decent pace :)

Thanks to everyone who has read so far, and thank you for my reviews. I hope you continue to read and stick with me to the end of the adventure :)

xBx

Chapter 3

Hermione followed Alara cautiously into the next room, which turned out to be an extensive dressing room. The Wardrobe that Alara spoke of was one of a pair, both of which were large and ornate. There was a large fireplace, at which Alara pointed her wand and immediately filled it with a roaring blaze. There was also a bed barely big enough for one, as well as a large folding screen, and a large chest of drawers. There was also a good sized vanity table, complete with a china bowl and ewer, exactly the same - though a little smaller - as the one back in the bedroom. Alara stepped up to one of the wardrobes and pulled out a dress, much the same style as the one Alara was wearing herself but instead of muslin, the ruby creation was a rich ensemble of silk, satin and lace.

Alara held the dress up to Hermione, "hmm, we may have to adjust the fit a little, nothing a little wand work won't fix. But the colour will certainly suit." She handed the dress to Hermione and then proceeded to rummage through the large drawers, pulling out a handful of garments.

"Put these on," Alara commanded, handing over the clothes - which Hermione quickly realised were undergarments typical of the century. "I'll help you with the corset, and then we'll fit the dress."

Hermione went behind the screen and did as she was bid. As Alara laced Hermione's corset, she pointed Hermione's attention to a handy concealment that was stitched on the inside of the corset. It was the perfect place to slip a wand where no one would see it, nor would it be damaged. When the corset was fastened as tight as was comfortable (which was apparently rather loose according to Alara's standards) Alara helped Hermione into the dress, adjusting and fastening with a wave her wand so it became a perfect fit. When they were done, Alara picked up Hermione's discarded modern clothing with one hand and took Hermione's hand in the other and dragged her back into the other room where Draco was just buttoning up the long coat of his ensemble.

"Oh my," Hermione grinned. "Don't you look dashing?"

"Quit the sarcasm, Curly," Draco snapped. "It's not appreciated."

"Now, now, children, I think you both look wonderful," Alara interrupted, stopping an argument before it could begin. "Alaric, give me your old clothes, we need to burn them - we don't want them found, or the questions will be endless and unanswerable."

Draco didn't react right away, almost forgetting his new alias, but when he finally caught up he tossed his suit over to Alara who caught it deftly and headed to the fireplace.

"Wait!"

Alara halted at Hermione's outburst and looked at her confused. Hermione didn't answer but moved to retrieve the remnants of the time turner still in her jacket pocket.

"What is that?" Alara asked, curiously.

"It's what brought us here. I intend to study it; hopefully it can help us find a way to take us back."

Alara nodded, "I'll find something safe for you to keep it in." She threw the clothes onto the fire and stood back to watch them burn momentarily. When the clothes were an unidentifiable mess, Alara stepped back from the fire and made to leave.

"I need to dress, and quickly. I'll send Sarah up to fix your hair - she's a witch, so you won't have to watch what you say around her; you can trust her. I'll return to escort you down to dinner," she announced, before leaving Draco and Hermione alone.

They stared at each other for a moment, in a stunned and slightly overwhelmed silence, before Hermione suddenly began to laugh, causing Draco to frown.

"What's so funny, Granger?"

"Look at us!" Hermione managed to gasp out, as she became hysterical. "We look ridiculous!"

"Speak for yourself," Draco muttered with a frown, suddenly becoming rather self-conscious and beginning to tug and mess with his new clothes.

Hermione wiped her eyes and managed to regain some measure of control; "I'm sorry," she said, sobering up. "But I just can't believe this is real, that this is actually happening - I mean we're about to dine with King Charles, the Second, for Merlin's sake!"

Draco let out a chuckle, "yeah, that is slightly surreal. Not to mention Malfoy Manor is apparently full of Muggles."

Draco laughed as soon as those words left his lips, and Hermione's hysterics returned. Draco fell onto the bed and Hermione clutched the bedpost with one hand, her side with other - the corset restricted her from echoing Draco's movements, prevented her from moving much at all, really. The pair laughed long and hard at their predicament, as the alternative would be falling apart at the seemingly hopeless situation, until the door opened and the arrival of the maid brought them back to sobriety.

"I'm Sarah," she announced, as if she had walked in on nothing more than two people sat quietly awaiting her arrival. "Alara sent me to do your hair, Miss Anamaria."

Hermione cleared her throat, ridding the last of her laughter; "yes, of course. Thank you," she said, moving to the seat at the oversized vanity. "And please, call me Ana - Anamaria is such a mouthful."

"Right you are, Miss Ana," Sara smiled shyly, coming to stand behind Hermione and picking up a brush.

"You hair is beautiful," Sarah said after a moment and Hermione saw Draco - who was lounging back against the pillows, looking artfully disarrayed, and yet refined - give a raised eyebrow, and look of wonderment at such a sentence. "How do you get it so big? Most ladies would kill for curls like yours," she added, sounding wistful.

Hermione couldn't help but smile; her hair was not the bushy abomination it used to be at school, but there were still a lot of curls and a lot of volume - just considerably less frizz. "It's just naturally like this."

Sarah was silent for a moment as she finished running the brush through Hermione's hair, making it smooth and glossy. "Usually I would pin up by hand, but as time is short would you mind terribly if I used my wand? Alara assured me you were a witch, otherwise I wouldn't presume to do magic in front of you," Sarah said, still sounding rather timid.

Hermione smiled, "by all means, go right ahead."

In a matter of minutes, and a few complicated wand waves, Hermione's hair was in an elaborate up-do, much the same as Alara's. However, the front tresses left to fall gracefully to her shoulders were causing Sarah to frown as they didn't sit quite right, thanks to Hermione's modern hairstyle.

"May I adjust the length?" Sarah asked, her shyness lost in the frown. Hermione simply nodded and Sarah did what was needed to make the hair look perfect.

As Sarah was making the final adjustments to Hermione's hair, the door opened and Alara re-entered wearing an emerald and silver ensemble almost identical to Hermione's own.

"Excellent work, Sarah," Alara smiled as she entered. "Could you run down to the kitchens and tell them we will be ready for dinner to be served in twenty minutes? Give them my apologies for the delay this evening."

Sarah smiled and curtseyed; "yes, My Lady," she said, before disappearing from the room, closing the door behind her.

Alara came further into the room, holding something out for Hermione who stood from the dressing table and took the offering.

"I found this pouch in my jewel box," Alara explained. "It can be worn around your neck; the filigree chain makes it appear as a necklace, while the leather pouch stays hidden in your corset."

"It's perfect. Thank you," Hermione smiled, retrieving the Time-Turner fragments and the vial of sand, and putting them into the pouch before slipping the chain about her neck.

"Well, now that you are all dressed properly, how about we go down to dinner?"

Draco stood from the bed, with no trace of emotion on his face, but Hermione's smile disappeared and was replaced with a look of nerves.

"Don't worry," Alara smiled as she led them through the Manor and back downstairs. "You'll be fine; a majority of the crowd are Muggles, however, so you might want to watch what you say – though most do know about magic. Now, we need a reason as to why you are here," she declared as she led them back down to the dining hall, where the party was gathered.

"I don't know how society stands, in your time, but here a single gentleman and a single lady do not travel together alone," Alara's eyes suddenly shone with excitement once more, as she turned suddenly to face them bringing them all to a halt. "I have it! You've eloped!"

"Beg pardon?" Draco said, while Hermione simply stared.

"It's perfect!" Alara continued. "Beautifully scandalous, yet romantic: My cousin Alaric Malfoy, whose family disapprove of his romantic attachment to the vivacious Anamaria Granger, has come to me for refuge. You intend to marry her, in secret if need be, and have thrown off all claims to your inheritance in the name of love. Come, it is the only plausible explanation," Alara assured them.

"Erm, no," Draco said bluntly, and Hermione rolled her eyes at his lack of tact. "There has to be something more plausible," he practically begged.

"While I'm trying hard not to be offended by the underlying sentiments of that sentence-" Hermione scowled at Draco, before turning to Alara "-is there any way we could be travelling together without being romantically involved? What about relations? Cousins maybe?"

Alara shook her head, "you look nothing alike, we will convince no one you are family. But this will work; you are going to tell this story, it is the only one to be believed." There was a hint of finality in Alara's tone that brokered no argument, and so Draco and Hermione continued in resigned silence until they entered the dining hall.

There was a brief lull in the conversations as everyone took in the appearance of the newcomers, but normality soon reigned again as Alara meandered them through the long benches and the crowd.

"Oh my god," Hermione muttered, starting to look nervous yet excited, as she saw to whom Alara was leading them.

"What's wrong with you?" Draco asked quietly, and none too gently. Then looking at her line of sight, he asked, "Who is he?"

Hermione gave him a scathing look. "Unbelievable," was all she could utter before they came to the person in question.

"Your Majesty," Alara swept forward into a curtsey. "Forgive me for the delay with dinner - I had some unexpected guests. Allow me to introduce my cousin, Alaric Malfoy, and his betrothed, Anamaria Granger."

As Alara introduced them, Hermione stepped forward and imitated Alara's curtsey to perfection, though a blush was evidently forming across her cheeks. Draco bowed a second later, looking smooth and confident, although a little unsure of the correct seventeenth century etiquette.

"Alara, my darling, when the delay is as beautiful as this vision before me, all must be forgiven," Charles announced with flourish, taking Hermione's hand to assist her up from her curtsey, before pressing it to his lips.

Hermione smiled and blushed harder. "Your Majesty is too kind," she said, avoiding all eyes and missing the dark look that had flickered across Draco's face.

"You are only betrothed, not married," Charles repeated, looking now at Draco, who wasted no time in possessively taking up Hermione's hand as the King dropped it. "Yet you travel unchaperoned?"

"They eloped," Alara confided in a stage whisper of conspiracy, that all those closest could hear, and at which Charles' eyes sparkled with delight.

"What an entertaining story that will make, I don't doubt. I would very much like to hear it," Charles declared.

"I'm sure they will tell all, if your Majesty asks it, but dinner is ready whenever you are," Alara interrupted with good grace. "Ana, go with Rose, she will look after you. Alaric, you will eat with Peterson and the other gentlemen," she instructed, before being whisked away to the high table on the arm of the King.

Hermione and Draco had enough time to exchange a brief look of trepidation before being taken to their separate tables to enjoy the feast that was now being brought through the doors.

It didn't take long for Hermione's nerves to settle a little, though a slight underlying tension never left her. Rose turned out to be a rather chatty companion, filling Hermione in on who was in love with whom, which of the gentlemen had written sonnets - some rather good, some terribly poor - to which of the ladies, and whom the King's eyes were starting to stray to next. From what little Hermione gleaned that evening, King Charles II was more promiscuous than even Henry VIII had been.

"Now, do tell me," Rose begged, as platters of fruit were placed on the tables. "You eloped? I long to know everything. Why did you elope?"

Hermione smiled mischievously; here was something she could at least control, and she intended to exploit the situation.

"Our families do not approve of our attachment. I cannot truly say why for Ma- erm, Alaric's parents - no doubt they believe my family and I to be beneath them," Hermione said, knowing full well, that if Draco was asked this question, that would undoubtedly be his response. "But my father disapproved because he is rather prejudiced against the Malfoy family - he thinks them haughty, too proud for their own good, and their behaviour to anyone they think beneath them is less than courteous, to put it politely. He also doesn't like the French," Hermione added with a grin of inspiration. "And while the Malfoys have lived in England for generations now, the name still stirs those feelings of discontent."

"But you obviously do not agree?" Rose smiled. "Alaric cannot be everything your father thinks a Malfoy is, or else you would not be here."

"No," Hermione said thoughtfully, glancing over to the table where Draco was sat eating, drinking and talking, looking more comfortable than before. "He is nothing like his father, who does harbour most of the qualities I described," Hermione said truthfully. "Alaric can first seem haughty and proud, but that is only because he rarely speaks to those he doesn't know. He is not a very easy person to get to know, he is very reserved. But, once you get to know him, he's a completely different person to what you first thought."

Draco looked up then and met Hermione's eyes. His brow furrowed ever so slightly as he gave her a single nod, and Hermione knew he was asking if she was all right. Hermione smiled widely and nodded back, all fine here, she silently communicated, and Draco's face cleared.

As Hermione turned back to Rose, Draco turned his attention back to Peterson, who had just commented: "Your betrothed is a very beautiful lady, how did you woo her with such success?"

Draco grinned, ''I'm a Malfoy, it was easy."

"She doesn't look like a lady whose heart is easily won, nor one who would readily agree to an elopement," Peterson mused, glancing over to where she sat. Draco glanced back, wondering how he could tell that on so little an acquaintance, and watched for a moment. Every woman surrounding Hermione, though talking to each other, were continually glancing at the gentlemen and exchanging coquettish smiles and blushes. Hermione was the only woman who was completely uninterested in what the men were doing. And when Draco really looked at her he could see what Peterson meant: she had an air of self-assurance about her, that none of the other ladies had. Hermione was an independent woman, who clearly didn't depend on the attentions of men to define her, and her body language displayed this perfectly. In fact, the only other woman exhibiting the same levels of self-assurance was Alara.

"You make wooing her sound easy," Peterson continued, bringing Draco's attention back to their conversation. "But I would wager she was rather a challenge."

Draco couldn't help but laugh; "oh, she is certainly a challenge," he admitted with complete honesty.

"What made you elope? Did your families not approve?" Peterson asked, and when Draco nodded he asked a further, "why?"

Draco shrugged, but allowed himself a sly smile - much the same as the one Hermione had indulged in when asked the same question. "I can't say why her parents did not approve," Draco told him, hoping that Hermione would come up for her own family's story, should she be asked this question, and leave his own family story to him. "But with regards to my family's objections: the Grangers are socially inferior to the Malfoys, and while that means nothing to me anymore, my father has trouble shedding his pride," he said, taking inspiration from the truth.

Peterson stole a glance over at the woman they were discussing. "Granger is an English name, I believe, yet she has a slight look of the continent about her," he mused.

Draco glanced back over to Hermione's table; he had never thought her to look anything but English - truth be told, he had never actually given 'her look' much thought at all. But now that Peterson had pointed this out, Draco immediately noticed that every other woman in the room had the typical pale complexion of an English rose who had been kept out of the sun. However, thanks to the two week holiday Hermione had just returned from, she was sporting one hell of a tan. This, coupled with her dark hair and chocolate eyes, did indeed give her a rather foreign look.

"Her mother is Spanish," Draco said suddenly, almost surprising himself. "Another reason my father disapproved - according to him, Spanish women are too wild to be trusted."

Peterson laughed, "And does she have the wild, Spanish, blood in her?"

Draco couldn't help but grin; "she can be rather feisty when she wants to be," he said with complete honesty.

"But it only makes you love her more," Peterson observed.

"Apparently so,' Draco agreed with a slight frown.

The meal came to an end not long after, but the wine and mead continued to flow as the men and women were once again allowed to mix, and music filled the hall. It didn't take long for Hermione to seek out Draco, feeling a lot calmer once she was back in his presence.

The evening turned out to be rather enjoyable, though exceedingly long and Hermione was glad to get back to their rooms and enjoy the peace and quiet.

"My mother is Spanish?" She questioned Draco when he had shut the door behind them. "What on earth possessed you to say that? It's a good thing I can speak the language."

Draco smirked, "why do you think I chose Spain? I knew you were fluent."

This surprised Hermione and she turned on the stool, where she had been unpinning her hair in the mirror, to face Draco directly. "How?"

"A few weeks after we were first partnered together, you were pulled from our case and placed on another. The suspect had gone underground in Spain and they needed someone undercover, who could speak the language like a native, and draw the suspect out."

"Oh," Hermione said with surprise. "I forgot about that. But why say I'm Spanish at all? Granger is a very English name," she added as she turned back to the mirror.

"Because you don't look English," Draco said simply, as he rummaged around in drawers looking for something suitable to sleep in.

Hermione froze mid-action and stared at Draco, dumbfounded, in the mirror, "How? I can trace my family tree back through nine generations of Englishmen, on both my mother's and father's side; I am as British as they come. How can I not look English?"

"Because, Miss England," Draco smirked, "while every other English woman in the room tonight was white as milk, you are sporting one hell of a tan thanks to your two week trip to Greece."

Hermione stood from the stool and moved behind the dressing screen, saying as she went: "you really do pay attention to me, when I speak, don't you?"

"Granger, you spoke of nothing else for three days - even a deaf man would know," Malfoy complained, but Hermione heard the smirk in his voice and laughed.

"What can I say? It was a wonderful trip."

Hermione emerged from behind the screen and moved to get into the large bed.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, stopping mid-fold of his shirt.

Hermione turned to him without lifting her head from the pillow, "what does it look like? I'm getting into bed."

"Yes, my bed."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "are you really going to be petulant, now? It's late, I've had a long day and I am exhausted-"

"There is a perfectly good bed in the next room," Draco interrupted.

"Have you seen the size of it? It's barely big enough for one person. This one, on the other hand, can fit about five people in with room to spare."

"Seriously? The bed next door is not that small,"

"Then you go sleep in it," Hermione snapped, rolling onto her side with her back to Draco.

"No way," Draco refused vehemently. "It's too small for me. And I need a good sleep too."

"Well, I'm in now and I'm not moving. You can either share this bed, or sleep in your own next door. Your move."

"That one is too small," Draco grumbled, tossing back the covers at the other side of the bed in poor grace, and climbing in. "And I suppose there is enough extra room here, that it's as if I have it to myself anyway."

"Besides, it's not like we haven't shared a bed before," Hermione reminded him with a chuckle. She rolled onto her back, keeping a large person's distance between them. "And that bed was considerably smaller."

"That hotel was so unorganised - who messes up reservations like that?"

Hermione laughed, "You really believed that? The department organised accommodation for us, as always, and they've never messed up before."

"You're saying they did that to us on purpose?" Draco asked looking across at her. "Why would they do that to us? What do we ever do to them?"

"You mean besides forever pushing the boundaries and crossing the lines?" Hermione joked. "Or maybe going beyond our jurisdiction and ignoring very direct orders?"

"We solve cases don't we?"

"Yes," Hermione conceded. "But I think our superiors would prefer it if we did it without going behind their backs and stepping on Aurors' toes. We really do get ourselves into more trouble than we should," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"I didn't hear you complaining, or protesting, at the time. In fact, you instigate it half the time," Draco defended himself.

"I never said I didn't, I was just reminding you that sometimes we are a pain in our departments ass, and the only reason we still have our jobs is because we are the best people they have - the department wouldn't last five minutes without us."

Draco snorted, "very modest, Granger."

"I've clearly been around you too long, you ego is rubbing off on me," Hermione smirked. "And you should probably start calling me Anamaria."

"Even when we're alone?"

Hermione nodded, "the more we get used to it, the less likely we are to accidentally slip up in front of people."

"All right," Draco said after a moment, seeing the logic in her suggestion. "Anamaria it is. I can do that until we find our way back."

"If we find our way back," Hermione whispered. "What if we don't? What if we're stuck here? Harry and Ginny are getting married in a week, and I'm their bridesmaid."

"We'll find a way - it may take a while, but we'll find it." Draco reassured her. "And the beauty of time travel is that we can return to the same day we left."

"But what if it's not possible?"

"You're the smartest witch of our generation, and I'm pretty damn smart too - if anyone can figure it out, we can. We'll take it one day at a time. And if it can't be done, we'll deal with it when we get to it. But for now, sleep - tomorrow we'll speak with Alara; maybe this Harry bloke will be able to help us, just like she said."

Hermione nodded and sighed. "A day at a time."

"A day at a time. Goodnight, Anamaria."

Hermione managed a small smile, "Goodnight, Alaric."

A/N: These first few chapters have been a little slow, just sort of setting the scene. They are going to start picking up now, and are probably going to bet a little bit longer as well. I've already made a start on the next chapter so I'll try and get it out over the weekend :)

Thanks for reading

xBx