Once Fallen Sequel Outline
!Ridiculously (long, but) important A/N: I have decided to just post up the bullet point version of my outline rather than taking years to write the sequel because my priorities have shifted. Though, I do admit there are a lot of plotholes, lack of buildup, and general inconsistencies and such; however, they will remain as such because I will do little to no editing on this without prompting from anyone else. I apologize. Mostly time constraints are the problem here, but there's also the issue of motivation. I also feel like my writing style has changed a lot since then, about three year difference since the last time I updated it (hell, it changed in the middle of me writing it), so I would feel compelled to overhaul the first story before I finished the sequel anyway. Anyway, I'm sorry to everyone who's been patiently waiting for the real sequel. Perhaps, one day, but I highly doubt it. If I do write more dramione, it'd probably be an entirely new story. Thanks for everyone's support. I hope you enjoy my peace offering! Chapters 1 and 2 are significantly more detailed than the rest of the story because I had them worked out a bit more than the rest.
Chapter 1
.
Hermione was still running from the Death Eaters.
She was panting and on the move again. Her last hiding spot was on the outskirts of a small, unknown muggle port town off the east shore of Ireland. She swore she lost them in Bangladesh, and it'd have been safe to return to the Europe since it should've been the last place they'd expect her, but the two Death Eaters she caught following her proved otherwise.
She had been fishing for her own meals and heading back with her catch when she saw two and bolted. They must have found out where she was living somehow, but she didn't remember doing any remarkable magic recently or saying Voldemort's name. She concluded that her wards must have failed. She'd been so tired lately from all the stress and hunger; her skills were severely falling short of what they had once been.
She aimed for the more populated areas of the town, finding the business section. She hoped to plead for asylum from an innkeeper or anyone really; she was desperate and couldn't afford to be picky regarding whom she wanted to save her.
Unfortunately, the Death Eaters gave chase. She hadn't even reached the center of the busy quarter before she was pulled into a muddy alleyway and in through what she had surmised was the back entrance of a small shop filled with an eclectic collection of oddities. She'd never seen the place or anything quite like it before.
"Who are you running from, my child?"
"I'm not running from anyone," she immediately replied, wanting to leave despite the looming threat of the Death Eaters.
"Oh, dear, there are few reasons as to why someone would be running so wildly through these streets."
"It's none of your business," she said rudely, eying the woman. She was clothed in draped fabrics and glittery chains. She looked like a stereotypical gypsy fortune teller, and Hermione cursed her bad luck—her worse luck—at encountering the likes of her, still remembering the old hack at her old school.
"It is if you plan to stay here."
Looking out the rather dirty windows, Hermione replied resolutely, "I won't stay then."
"Stubborn as always but not quite as smart as I remembered," the other woman mumbled.
"What?"
"You're a liar. You need me."
"Excuse me?"
"You're running from them," she whispered, afraid to say more but already saying more than enough for Hermione to catch on.
"You know who's been following me," Hermione stated without question.
The woman moved around and pulled a small cauldron from one of the piles of what Hermione assumed was merchandise and began to boil water using it. "I do. I also know there's a bounty on your head. Something I sorely need," she said casually.
She tensed immediately, mind calculating and planning already six steps ahead of the present. She didn't want to do any magic and alert the Death Eaters, so she'd have to go with hand to hand combat. Preparing herself, Hermione was about to knock the other woman out, when she said something else.
"You're a fool, Hermione Granger, and if you dare try to hit me, I'll tell everyone that like to sleep with a pink, stuffed elephant."
Hermione was practically shocked into submission. "Who are you?" She asked softly. There were few people outside of her family who knew that.
"Or, I guess I should say, you used to sleep with that damned thing anyway. I don't know what you do now. I don't imagine you sleep much what with those bags under your eyes. I've told you time and time again that you need beauty rest, but you never listen," she said, tsking at her.
"Who are you?" Hermione repeats more boldly. This person obviously knew her, but she could not identify the other woman without ripping the cloth draped over her head off.
"I will tell you in time," she promised. "But first… a reading?"
She sat down in a chair in front of the cauldron and gestured for Hermione to sit across from her in the chair she already had out nearby.
Numbly, Hermione decided to play along but still ran through all the possible exit strategies in her mind. This person knew her. That was dangerous enough. That was enough reason for her to kill.
Taking the palm that Hermione wasn't going to willingly offer, the woman traced the lines upon it, and declared, "There's something wrong in your reality right now."
Hermione snorted. She never did very much like these things.
"Oh, don't get uppity. It's true. Things are out of place. Things are out of place because you don't belong in this reality."
"What are you talking about, you old bat? This is ridiculous. Things are out of place because he has been winning."
"He has won, dear Hermione," she said, casting a pitying glance at her. "You wouldn't be on the run otherwise." Looking back down at her palm, she opened it further, "Each action a person takes leads them down a certain path. However, there are not as many realities as one would believe… or as one would like to believe if they believed in free will. There are the insignificant decisions, of course, such as combing one's hair, of course. But, then there are the bigger decisions, such as choosing to fight for good or evil. Those are stickier."
The woman looked straight into Hermione's eyes when she said it, as if trying to impress something important on her.
Continuing, the woman moistened her lips and said, "The gods have had everything planned out for us already. They don't trust us to choose properly. They expect us to mess up. But, then why even give us life, right? Still, it is not my place to question the gods' judgment. They do as they please to entertain themselves, I suppose."
"What gods are you talking about?"
She paused, thinking carefully before answering. "Our creators? The divine beings. Our superiors. I suppose the best representation of them would have to be the Roman gods, but that may be because I'm quite partial to Roman mythology. Whatever name they have, it doesn't matter. What matters is that they exist. And, they have already predetermined what everyone is going to do before everyone would even know." She sighed sadly, closing Hermione's palm and placing it back in her lap before adding a mixture of unidentifiable ingredients into the cauldron. "Which is why everyone has just one life tapestry."
"You're trying to tell me that the Fates exist?" Hermione scoffed.
"No, I'm trying to tell you that they exist, and someone messed up what they've done with your tapestry. And, they're not happy, but that part isn't your problem."
"This doesn't make sense. That means that this really is where I'm supposed to be then, charlatan. What are you after?" Hermione exclaimed, jumping up from the chair in a ready stance once more.
"I told you someone messed up what they've woven," she said simply, stirring clockwise exactly three and a half times and blowing into it softly. "But, you always were the special one," she spat bitterly. "I tried divining to see who the person was, but they were blocked from my powers." Looking down, she added with a frown, "That usually means a divinity is involved, but I have no idea who would…"
Hermione thought back to Mark and his interference. He had warned her not to go with Draco; that she'd regret it.
"I think it's time you've told me who you are."
"I'm surprised you haven't guessed yet. Time really has taken its toll on you. Or was it all the running away? Hmm?" She said, almost mockingly. Pushing back her hood, the woman revealed her face in the scattered light of the shop. "See now?"
Hermione's eyes focused in and out of the woman's features. It couldn't have been. It was so long. She figured she'd died. Though, she considered all her friends and past acquaintances dead at this point. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered to keep running when those thoughts popped up. But, then she remembered, this was why.
The dark blonde hair used to be light, she observed, and less dirty. Something that the woman had to have once taken pride in during better times. The slight annoyance in her eyes. The blatant annoyance in her words. The curve of her lips.
"Lavender?" She half-sobbed and half-choked out. "I can't—I refuse to believe this. Who are you?!" She screamed.
"Quiet down, Hermione. It's me. It's really me. I've been hiding hear for a week now, waiting for you."
"Waiting for me? As if you knew I would be here? I don't believe one bit of that story!"
"You always were such a skeptic," she said in that disapproving tone again. "Some of us can do things you can't. Get over it." Suddenly, her voice grew less childish, and she urgently threw in a handful of crystals that caused the solution to turn curiously grainy, like fine sand but still of liquid state.
"Still haven't gotten rid of that inferiority complex?"
"Shut up, Granger. I am putting aside our difference for the good of this world!" She grabbed Hermione by her arms. "Can you do the same?! Or would you rather be selfish?"
Her eyes burned intensely. "You sound like you have a plan."
"I do," she stated confidently. "Ever since that night at school… I've felt out of sorts. That night, I ran to Trelawney's tower to talk to her." She ignored the inelegant snort that came from Hermione. "She was rushing to get down to the grounds, but she told me as much as she could on her way there. She said that it was because things did not go as they should have that day. This was not the correct reality they were to be in. I told her that we could have fixed things. But, Trelawney told me that she was destined to fight with the other professors when the time came. She said she had to help you. I didn't know what she meant until I started reading more about divination. I had to learn more so that my powers could expand, and they did. I grew stronger, and soon, I could see into my own future. I knew you were coming today. That's why I'm here. That's why I prepared this."
Lavender pulled out a small cup and scooped some of the potion solution into it. "Granted, I hadn't really tested it, and my potions skills were never as good as yours, but only my efforts could make it work… one of those things, you know. Still, it's our best chance."
"What are you talking about?" She eyed the offered cup. "What is this going to do to me?"
"It'll make things right. It will let you travel back in time," she revealed.
"Impossible," Hermione challenged.
"Oh, really? What about your time turner?"
"How'd you know about that?"
It was Lavender's turn to scoff, "Did you really think no one had a clue about your odd appearances everywhere? That, and I saw you. I researched time turners as well and found out that the 'sand' within the turners weren't truly sand, but a potion, frozen into particles, and put into the hourglass. I… acquired the proper instructions to make the potion from the ministry archives. However, one molecule falling to the bottom of the hourglass meant the wearer would go only one minute back. Mathematically, you'd either have to turn back a turner an uncountable number of times at this point to go back to the proper time, or you'd need a lot of the potion. Unfortunately, unicorn dust is quite rare, especially now, as I'm sure you'd know. I could only make so much. Then, I thought I'd combine my seer skills with the effects of the potion so that the potion would be in tune with the drinker's mindset and allow the drinker to go to the exact place and time the drinker was thinking about. Impressed?" She finished with a smirked.
"Floored," she said flatly. Secretly, she was incredibly impressed with the former Gryffindor. Never would she have believed that the airheaded girl she had known so long ago would think of something so clever or accomplish something of that magnitude… assuming it didn't actually kill her.
Finally taking hold of the cup, Lavender touched her arm. Her expression was unreadable, but she seemed reserved.
"Just one last question… Is Ronald with you still?"
"No…"
"Is he… alive?" She whispered with her eyes closed, as if not really wanting to hear the answer.
So, Hermione didn't answer, and that was enough for Lavender.
"I assume you know to think of that night at Hogwarts. I suspect that you should have taken Draco and gone as far away as possible until the war was over."
"How'd you know that I had that choice?"
"Seer," she answered with a smile. "I do what I can to get as much information as I need. Now, focus, the potion's effects are in place as of now. Think back to that night, Hermione. You have to."
Nodding, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She felt uneasy about the entire thing. But, arm now free, Hermione emptied the cup and swallowed quickly. It was tasteless, not like how she'd expected it at all. Then, she remembered she should've been focusing on a specific moment in time. The moment when she decided not to go with Draco. Why would Mark tell her to stay? Was he really the divinity that had interfered with Lavender's divinations? Did she even believe divinities still existed while living as a witch?
She was confused. What did she do to deserve this? What did any of them do? Maybe it was karma. She had done something so catastrophically wrong that the world had to be punished. It was so very confusing, and her tongue was growing thick in her mouth. Her head started pounding. It must've been the potion. Turning the time turner back however many times it would've taken seemed like a more appealing option at this point.
She heard a scream, and she wasn't exactly sure, but it could've been her. For a moment, she thought she'd died, and she immediately regretted trusting Lavender Brown or even someone who had pretended to be Lavender Brown. No good could've come from her at all.
She couldn't focus at all. The pain was growing too intense for her to handle, and she felt herself hit the floor without really feeling the impact. She couldn't help but think that she had to have done something wrong. Or someone had cursed her. Someone had done this to her as revenge, maybe. What had she done to deserve this?
She must have done something bad. It had to be it. She fixated on that idea, and begged to whatever deity, existing or not, for the chance to fix things. She wanted to go back and fix things before things were so irrevocably doomed for them all.
Then, she really did hear a scream, one that was not hers.
It was Lavender.
She was screaming at her to focus. Focus on what? She had forgotten. It was too late anyway.
Hermione Granger was no longer of that time or place.
.
Chapter 2
.
Alone in her shop, Lavender sighed. She saw it coming. She wondered why she even bothered. Or, why she hadn't taken more precautious measures, but she supposed she had to play her part. It was Hermione's journey. Her wrong to right. She wished her all the luck in the world.
With her part in it all done, she sipped the tea she had put aside before Hermione arrived calmly. They would be here soon, she thought. Putting the teacup down onto its proper saucer plate, she rubbed the scar on the back of her hand from days past and remembered. Damn that girl and her birds.
Then, she cried. She cried for all the suffering people, for the memories, for the future, for Hermione, for herself.
She cried for Ronald. All the treasured memories she had tucked away in the recesses of her mind to think of fondly when times were harder had come flooding back mercilessly.
She sat and cried up until the Death Eaters burst into her shop.
She saw this coming, too. Though, it really didn't take a seer to see through this.
Still, foresight was tricky, but she'd always straddled the line, making judgment calls and trying to not look into her future too often. That's why she knew she had nothing left to accomplish. She'd done as her Professor had told her, and she now knew the fate of her beloved. There was no way to deny that particular fact now either.
She refused to answer their questions and was rewarded with green light kissing her skin. With her last breath, she sighed. In her lifetime of being able to know what was to come next in life, she welcomed not knowing what was there for her in the afterlife.
.
The tugging behind her navel left her, but she still felt like she was falling. Not, it wasn't only a sensation. She really was falling. Panicking, she groped the air.
So, down and down she fell. And, she did the only thing she could do, brace for impact.
The ground she landed on felt surprisingly soft. Relatively softer than she was expecting anyway. And, she was so tired. She let her eyes close briefly.
.
Her eyes fluttered open and she murmured, "What happened?"
Laying there, open for an attack, she wasn't prepared for a reply.
"That's my question, little miss. What were you doing back 'ere?"
Hermione fully opened her eyes. An old man stood in front of her. Not quite old, but past middle aged. A farmer by the looks of it. Though, he also looked to be quite big in her eyes.
She had landed in hay. Hay in the back of someone's cart. Pulled by an oddly large horse. Where was she? Had she inadvertently landed in the countryside? She needed to know immediately if the plan was to work.
"I don't know," she answered honestly. "Where am I? What time is it?"
The old man looked at her, concern painted his features.
"I can't remember anything," she lied. It was best that they not know too much in case something happened. She willed tears to come forth from her eyes. It wasn't too hard considering her past situation. It wasn't hard at all.
The man took Hermione in his cart to the main house and brought her to his wife. The wife, too, was rather taller than Hermione expected.
"Nothing, dear?"
"Nothing, ma'am."
"Not even your ma or pa?"
"No," she said quietly. They had placed her in a rather oddly sized bed. She was in no danger of falling off anytime soon.
The man looked pityingly at her and exchanged glances with his wife.
All the while, Hermione observed them from her place on the bed. She figured he was kind, but she still didn't completely trust him. Of course, she hadn't really trusted anyone since her school days. What a foolish person she was.
A voice from behind the man piped up, and she inwardly groaned. More people meant more problems. Something Hermione couldn't really handle at this point. She had already messed up quite a lot by the looks of it. Though, Hogwarts was located in the countryside as well. Perhaps this was just miles down from her intended destination.
"If can't remember anything, does that mean you're crazy or dumb?" He'd asked her innocently.
She looked down at him, and he looked up at her with round eyes full of innocence. He was but a child. Brunet with brown eyes like his parents.
The old man admonished him, and Hermione remained quiet.
"Nothing wrong with her other than her memories," he told his boy.
"But, I saw her flying! That's not very normal. She can fly just like mmmpf."
His mother had kindly covered his mouth with her hand and apologized. "Overactive imagination. We tell him to watch his language often," she said sternly.
The man, too, apologized to Hermione. He explained that he didn't want his son to over stimulate a patient who'd just woken up. Ushering the boy outside, his wife left and came back with some soup. Tucking her in, she spoon fed Hermione slowly.
She put her rather large hand on Hermione's forehead and said that Hermione wasn't feeling feverish and remarked how unfortunate she had to have been to forget everything.
"Poor child. Can't remember your ma or pa. We'll care for you, though, just like you're our own until we can find your real parents. Can't put a babe like you out in the cold world. That sound alright, dear?"
Hermione nodded best she could while laying down.
"You speak very polite like, dear. Perhaps you're from a noble family?" She suggested.
"I don't know," Hermione repeated, quirking an eye at that. She didn't speak too differently than anyone else she knew. Perhaps it was just this area. Disrespectful children, maybe.
Then she realized something was very wrong. They kept calling her 'child' or 'babe' or 'little'. She showed no outward alarm, but finally took the time to look at herself. Ignoring the seemingly good natured woman, she slowly examined herself. Her fingers seemed rather stubby. She then pulled off the blankets. There were makeshift bandages all around her.
The woman stopped her chattering to watch her.
She had shrunk.
Or, rather, she was a child!
When she had travelled back into the past, she didn't exactly know what she was expecting, especially with Lavender's modified potion, but she definitely had not expected this.
The woman scolded her and told her to keep warm, but she was too preoccupied to care. She put up no resistance as the woman forced her back down and under the covers.
"I'm hurt?" She managed to ask.
"Nothing bad," the wife responded. "No scars or nothing like that."
"Okay," she replied, still shocked.
Her body looked like it belonged to an eight year old. This could not be happening.
"Are you alright, dear? Anything wrong?"
"No, I'm fine," she said, forehead creasing in worry.
"Oh, my mind must be going. Earlier, my boy, Caleb—the one you saw—, said he saw a metal buckle thing with you. Had an 'H' and a 'G' on 'em and some other pretty things. Your family's crest, dear? Your name?"
"I really do not know," she said again. But, of course she knew. It was her head girl's badge, lovingly kept with her while she was on the run, one of her comforts. It appeared everything she had on her came with her. A startling thought came to her. She had hidden her wand in the lining of her thick coat. She couldn't be too sure the woman had not felt the odd stiffness in the right pocket. She had a feeling that the woman enjoyed snooping and was an old hand at gossipmongering.
.
The day came when she could leave the bed, and she had already warmed up to the old man and woman. She had no choice. That day she had woken up, she had finally pried the date and place from her hosts, and it absolutely floored her. She was not just a few years into the past, she was hundreds of years into the past.
At that point, she had no idea what to do. She was a child as well. What could she do but stay with the man and woman until their hospitality ran out? She cursed herself when she realized it was all her fault for not focusing like Lavender told her to.
When she got a better look at their son, their only son it seemed, she was quite shocked. He looked terribly like how she imagined Draco to look when he was younger, and it made her chest ache. Though missing the trademark Malfoy platinum blond hair, the boy had an uncanny resemblance to Draco regardless. The slight pout to his mouth and almost regal nose and bearing. It was so similar, but also implausible. The family obviously did not enjoy the splendors that the Malfoys she had known had always professed their ancestors to enjoy.
Still, she selfishly spent time with the boy based on that fond and supposed resemblance.
For months, she lived with them, trying to adjust and wrap her mind around how this happened. To avoid calling her 'girl' all the time, the woman had given her the name, 'Heloise'—for she had insisted the metal pin stood for her name—and advised she call the woman and man, 'mother' and 'father,' something she did out of respect for the two who so willingly cared for her.
She had found out that the man and woman could not bear children save for Caleb—who had been given a name from the Bible due to his miraculous arrival—, so she figured this was their way of fulfilling their dreams in a way. And, as Hermione had fully expected, no one had come for her.
She settled in quite well and genuinely enjoyed it at times, not having to look behind her back for impending doom but often times looking anyway. She also enjoyed being taken care of in a platonic fashion. Though, she suspected they enjoyed her presence more than she enjoyed theirs and doted on her accordingly. There was something the old man and woman were hiding, however. She discovered what it was approximately four months after her arrival. She had to hand it to them. They were quite crafty and skilled. She never would have suspected if not by accident.
One day, the monthly tax collector had come by the farm. Hermione had watched him curiously from afar every time and hid as the couple asked her to along with Caleb. From their hiding spot, the wind carried a few words down so they could hear. It wasn't much, but that time, it was enough. The tax collector had been attempting to extort more money than was normally required and the old man began yelling, enough so she and Caleb could clearly understand what was going on.
Watching the scene unfold, Hermione was sorely tempted to pull out her wand from under the small dress the woman had given her but could only helplessly watch instead. It would do no good for something suspicious to happen in a time when witchcraft was so heavily considered criminal by the church. Still, her eyes grew wide when she saw the next thing. The roof of the collector's cart caught on fire!
Casting a glance to Caleb and seeing his little face filled with fury, she immediately concluded what had happened. An act of wandless magic. An act of pyromancy born from anger. Caleb was a wizard.
Not panicking, she watched as the couple and the collector spring into action, all simultaneously trying to calm the horses and bring water to douse the fire. Meanwhile, she took it upon herself to keep Caleb in their hiding spot.
Later, when the ashen collector was sent on his way with only the required amount and the coerced promise of more to come the next time around, Hermione had not so innocently asked the couple what had happened. From the way they tried to brush things off, Hermione knew that they knew about Caleb. Still, Hermione let the subject drop, keeping the knowledge to herself.
She spent a lot of her time reading what little was in the house and asked the man if he had any more. When asked why she was reading so much, she cited, "Words are powerful in their own way," to which the man nodded but she wasn't sure he understood. At that, the wife fussed over Hermione more, clucking and telling her fanciful ideas that Hermione must have been of noble blood. She let the woman talk but didn't say anything because her thoughts on blood and bearing were rather strong.
Nevertheless, while Hermione didn't bring up what happened that day again, more curious goings on around the farm increased in frequency. It was getting harder and harder for them to explain away everything. Finally, to ease their minds, Hermione let her own bit of magic show in front of all three and even acted shocked and scared for their benefit.
"Look, daddy! Helly made my cup move! I saw it!" Caleb had exclaimed excitedly, jumping up and down in his seat. They had been eating dinner, and she thought it was the best time to show her powers since they were all together.
For her part, Hermione just stared wide eyed at the cup she had caused to move towards her and let them take care of the rest. Almost as excitedly as the boy, the couple couldn't believe they had the fortune of picking up a magical child. Of course, that grew to concern as the magical community was small in their area, though the town had a lot more witches and wizards in hiding. Their 'Helly' had to come from one of them. Almost reluctantly, they sent out an owl to the town with a notice that they had found a little girl with a vague description of Hermione.
However, Hermione wasn't worried; no one was looking for her in this time. So, she let them do as they pleased and thought about how she might return to that night she had intended to go to. Depressingly, she rationally knew that she had to wait until she grew up to actually be able to do something.
Chapter 3
There was little else excitement in the coming months. The couple had taken to showing the two young ones how to control themselves and teaching them the rules of the wizarding world. Caleb, for one, was very excited for reasons different from Hermione. Caleb was excited for the new experiences and opportunities while Hermione was excited that she'd be able to go to school most likely when Caleb did and have access to information that might get her out of her predicament.
At nine—for which Hermione had been arbitrarily assigned the same birthday as Caleb—, Caleb grew attached to Hermione, most likely due to her being the only person even remotely within his age range in the area. Were she not a decade older than him, she was quite sure she'd have fallen for the adorably inquisitive Caleb, who took to following her around and even reading with her.
At ten, Caleb continued to follow Hermione around but insisted they go off on adventures in the nearby woods as well, something expressly forbidden by the adults but still done by the children. Mainly, the reason Hermione acquiesced was because she could repay the old man and woman by watching Caleb and making sure he came out of his 'adventures' without too many markings.
At eleven, Hermione found out there were no institutionalized magical training for children. Usually, children were brought to get their wand, yes, but their parents would pass on what they learned from their parents and so on. To spare the family the extra expense of purchasing or bartering for a wand for her, Hermione pretended to find a wand in the woods during one of her adventures with Caleb. From then on, she needn't hide her dearest friend. Though, it was tricky trying not to correct the couple as they tried their best teaching the two of them their limited knowledge of magic.
At the same time, Hermione felt a little odd around Caleb when they spent time with each other, which was most of the time. He was growing more and more into how she remembered Draco to be in their first year. Fortunately, the similarities were only superficial and the Caleb she was fond of was not a bigot like Draco once was. She also knew that Caleb had a crush on her, which made things odd to say the least. Mentally, she was in her twenties after all, no matter what her appearances may suggest. Still, she occasionally caught herself swept up in all the trapping of a childhood sweetheart romance. Waking up to freshly picked flowers by her bed, shy glances, blushes, careful touches, and most of all, excitement.
To note, sometime after Caleb's eleventh birthday, there were messengers sent across the land with news from a noble family in a nearby estate. There was report of a missing child.
When the messenger departed, Hermione was intrigued to see the worry lining the couple's face. The messenger had said that the child went missing when it was just a babe, and it was obviously she wasn't when they found her, unless they thought she had somehow been lost for that long. That was the first warning flag of many others to come.
The next warning flag was when she could swear that she saw Caleb's hair color had quickly changed from dark to shocking blond when the two were helping their mother with the chickens. Her mother quickly had claimed it was a trick of the light, but was that why she thought his eyes gray as well? The urge to call him 'Draco' was on the tip of her tongue the entire day until she finally forced herself to swallow the impossibilities as she fell into a troubled sleep.
At fourteen, it wouldn't have been too odd for either teen to marry. Though, despite the 'subtle' hints the family dropped that a wedding between the two would be fortuitous, Hermione begged ignorance, always running off to practice her spells, something the man and woman had acknowledged was something she was strong in.
At fifteen, both children were in their awkward stages, but began to show the signs of maturity and began to bear its crosses as well. This year, the boy from the farm next to them had asked for Hermione's hand in marriage, something that was not well received from anyone in their family. However, her father became more vocal in his support of her and Caleb's marriage.
At seventeen, they were well into adulthood. Not being married or betrothed for their age was odd. But, that didn't matter anymore because at age seventeen, the old man and woman—whom Hermione had discovered did indeed have secrets but was just that kind as they appeared—died. Hermione found them first. In their beds, they looked as if they were still sleeping, but they were cold and stiff. She immediately thought of foul play and briefly prayed for the two.
When she went to wake Caleb to tell him of what had happened, she'd found another surprise. As she suspected, Caleb was indeed blond with gray eyes, like her Draco. Curiouser still, she determined that a glamour charm must have been placed on him since young. Additionally, taking into account the sudden change coupled with their parents' death, Hermione decided that one of her parents, maybe both, had been committed to keeping that glamour on him for one reason or another.
That reason made itself apparent when a messenger came around once more looking for the missing baby that had disappeared so many years ago. Only this time, the messenger knew that Caleb was the babe and asked him to come with him to the nobleman's estate to confirm his identity. Caleb initially wanted to refuse, but a thinly veiled threat regarding Hermione's safety from the messenger subdued him somewhat. Nevertheless, he insisted that Hermione go with him, a request which Hermione and the messenger both acquiesced to.
Chapter 4
The estate they arrived at was marked with grandeur, and the thoughts Hermione tried to keep in the recesses of her mind were forced to the forefront with the confrontation of Lord Malfoi. Whereas Caleb resembled Draco, Lord Malfoi resembled Lucius greatly. Were the Lady Malfoi still living, Hermione would not have found it surprising if she bore a resemblance to Narcissa as well.
The following show of confirmation through paternity potion was therefore of little use to Hermione as she already knew the outcome.
From that point on, Caleb—a name that Lord Malfoi had allowed him to keep only at his insistence—became the heir while Hermione was ushered off to live as a servant, something that was not negotiable if they wished to be in the same vicinity of the other.
At one time, Hermione might have welcomed the break from Caleb in order to have private time in which to research for ways back to her own time, but she had regretfully grown attached to Caleb in a manner similar to the attachment she had Draco. Her hesitance of their connection during youth had given way to her own selfish desires. Fortunately, Caleb still felt the same. Their differing ranks held little sway over Caleb in determining who he would or would not spend his time with.
Chapter 5
Their time of contentedness was teasingly short before Lord Malfoi declared that Caleb would marry another nobleman's daughter. Through her short time working as a common maid, Hermione had learned enough of the Malfoi family to know that they were little different from their descendents, prejudiced and cruel. No doubt Caleb's betrothed would be pureblooded, something that Hermione didn't mind so much but the fact that it wasn't her drove her to irrationality.
She immaturely shorted his sheets twice, prepared cold baths for him, and refused to see him the entire week following the announcement.
The proclaimed safe arrival of the pureblooded princess brought little comfort to Hermione.
Caleb even had the nerve to tease her one evening when he caught her on her hard earned half day off.
"Should I expect another cold bath, Helly?" He asked when he caught her by her arm as she headed towards the servants' quarter.
"I'm sure your attending lady would take care of that for you should you desire it, sir," she replied with a bow as best she could as he hadn't relinquished the hold he had on her arm.
"Stop pouting, princess," he teased with a grin. He knew she'd be affected by his betrothal, but finding out just how affected brought him much joy, perverse though it were.
"I don't pout, sir. And I am no princess. I'm a lowly maid. Please, sir, I must retire now," she said, rudeness evident despite her careful words and gestures.
"Helly! Come on," he pulled her close. "You know I didn't choose this."
"Neither did I. You asked me to come with you," she told him, squirming to get away and jabbing a finger to his chest for emphasis.
"It was this, or we struggle on that farm and die as our parents did."
Hermione did not keep her suspicions a secret to Caleb, and Caleb believed her, not once completely trusting his birth father's words.
He pushed her untamed hair behind her ear, and cupped her cheek. She tried her best not to lean in, but he reminded her so much of her Draco, she often gave in like she was now. She closed her eyes, anticipating the brush of his lips against hers and was not disappointed.
She wondered how many doomed romances she was to repeat before she'd be able to at least have some minimum semblance of a happy medium. Indeed she considered her current romance with Caleb doomed. Despite his hope that he'd be able to convince his father that his current betrothed was not fitting, she seriously doubted Lord Malfoi would ever let his son marry her. Still, Caleb promised to stay true with her, and she clung to that promise foolishly.
She let his tongue dip into her eager mouth, sighing in abandon. Their affections were each other were hardly hidden from anyone in the castle, nor did they try to hide them either. She was certain even his betrothed knew.
That liberty came to a halting stop when the contracts were signed, and Hermione was assigned to work exclusively in the kitchens while Caleb was tasked with learning how to run the estate under his father's constant tutelage—on top of magic lessons and other general lessons to bring him up to their elite standards—and supervision, only given a break when meant to dine with his betrothed.
Chapter 6
The pair's separation was further pronounced upon the declaration that Caleb would be spending three months away at his betrothed's home.
Before leaving, Caleb had snuck away in the middle of the night and gave her a shock by showing up in the servants' quarters, stealthily waking her up and silencing her with his own lips over hers. It had been too long, but she recognized him immediately.
Somewhat believing it to be a dream, Hermione followed him into the courtyard to sit under the tree they often used to meet under when Hermione had free time.
"I'm leaving soon."
She yawned, "I know. Congratulations." She tried to make it sound as if she were indifferent to the entire thing. Still, he saw right through her, sweetly dropping a kiss to her forehead, as if promising her more things he couldn't possibly keep.
"We could leave."
"The alternative is to spend our lives barely surviving off whatever little we could earn or made." She added with sad eyes, "That's what you said."
"I reconsidered my stance. I figured what's a life of struggles if you're with someone you love," he declared with a confidence not normally seen in one of their age. "I can't even bring myself to touch her, to do the things required of me, when I know I could have you, Helly."
Hermione let her eyes fall shut.
"Let's run away," he said. His tone told her that this was something he thought long and hard about before telling her.
"To where?"
"Anywhere. We can go anywhere in the world. Malfoi's been teaching me more advanced magic. I can protect you better now," he told her excitedly. In a more thoughtful tone, he pondered aloud, "Back to our old home would be too risky, though; he'd definitely find us… with his knights. I don't know if I can hold my own against the lot of them. But, a tracker sent to find us, I can take care of those should they arise."
"Think about what you're saying, Caleb. Think about what you'd be losing."
"I am," he said, running his finger along her jaw line and to the nape of her neck. Hesitantly, he admitted, "I don't know how safe you'd be after the marriage, Helly. This is the best way."
"Why do you think that?"
"My betrothed is not fond of sharing and has intimated on more than one occasion that she would like nothing more than to get rid of you."
"Oh."
"So, we run away," he said resolutely.
It was crazy. She'd been on the run before, and it was not something she wanted to experience again. She could protect herself from whatever plan the impudent girl had in store for her, but running away together with him made the option appear a lot more appealing than it had any right to.
"Not now," she answered. "We need time to prepare."
His eyes lit up upon hearing her words. She could tell even in the waning moonlight.
"Not now," he confirmed eagerly. "I'll find what I can to sell so we'll have it easier when we start out."
"I'll do the same."
"Will we… would you… You're the only one for me, Helly," he began. "From the moment I saw you fall out of the sky—something I still swear by, my fallen angel, gift from the heavens—, I knew you were special. Though, I never knew how special you'd be to me," he paused before continuing, "You are so very special to me. Would you marry me? Not now, or soon, but later when we settle down somewhere safe?"
She bit her lip from exclaiming. Then, she tried to hide her tears. This wasn't her Draco, but there was no reason why she shouldn't. "Yes," she said breathily.
No sooner had the word left her lips that he kissed her deep enough to reach her very core, tingles shooting up her spine.
She giggled when he released her. "Go," she urged. "They can't know we've got something planned if we're to be successful."
He nodded reluctantly, giving her one last kiss before stating, "I will only be yours, Helly."
"Good," she giggled again, the action so foreign for her but so naturally forthcoming.
The next day, he, Lord Malfoi, Caleb's betrothed, and their retinue left.
.
"Do you have the proper herbs to make the potion?"
"Yes. I'm having a potionsmaster make it especially. I won't trust something this important to just any servant," the haughty girl replied to her future father-in-law.
"Wonderful."
"You're sure it'll work, though? So few of these types of potions work how we want them."
"Man's base desires are only not acted upon due to man's inhibitions. This potion has taken care of many of man's inhibitions before. Slip it into his drink, and you will experience that firsthand."
She nodded. "It's a pleasure then, Lord Malfoi."
Walking away, Lord Malfoi swore at his imbecilic son who stupidly thought he'd be able to escape what he had ordained for him.
.
A fortnight short of Caleb's return, there was talk of the wedding being held at the bride's home due to the bride's apparent pregnancy.
A day after that, Hermione left in the direction that Caleb had in search for answers, bringing what little she had and had stolen with her.
The answer she found, however, was not what she expected or wanted.
She had waited until dark to search for him to avoid too many eyes that might remember her and even cast a glamour charm to disguise her unusual hair, turning it straight and red. The rain did well to hide the sounds of her footsteps should a curious guard decide to investigate. She found Caleb in a rather opulent room, common to those she saw in Lord Malfoi's estate. However, he was not alone.
He was not alone and was greatly enjoying it by the look and sounds of it.
"Do you have any decency?" Hermione screamed, brokenhearted.
Rushing out, she didn't stop for anyone or anything, not noticing the cruel smirk on Caleb's betrothed.
She ran until a familiar hand caught her.
"Let go, you cad!"
"Helly? It is you."
"So, you do remember me," she spat, scratching at his hands to let her go. He didn't, though, only tightening his hold.
"I've never forgotten."
"How sweet," she grunted. "Then what was that about?"
"I…I…," his eyes seemed to cloud over in searching for a justification. It was as if he didn't even realize he was doing something wrong until he saw her.
"Explain yourself!" She demanded. The weather thundered with her.
"I can't," he said in disbelief of his own actions. "I still want you, Helly. Only you. Honest, I do. I don't know what's been happening to me recently."
With insurmountable fire in her eyes and anger feeding it, Hermione almost broke her wand in her white knuckled grip and, in a voice she didn't know she possessed, hissed, "Then, may you always want me but can never have me."
At that, a snakelike sliver of ruby light grew from the end of her wand and reached into his chest, illuminating her own as well with the same ruby light. They were both shocked into silence, amazed at the turn of events. Though, for Hermione, her speechlessness may have been more due to the fact that things were beginning to line up in her mind.
While she drank the first potion that got her here, she was thinking about how she and Draco first began and why she why it was so. This seemed to be a good a reason as any. If she was right, she had just bound her and Draco together for as long as 'they' existed and cursed them to live and die in misery. It was her fault after all. She really did deserve everything.
In despair at the revelations of the hand she played in her own misfortunes, Hermione ran out into the rain. Even its cleansing power did nothing to calm her.
Following her, Caleb called out, "Come back, Helly! It's not safe out here!"
"I can't! It's all my fault," she sobbed. The wind howled, almost drowning her out. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her.
Still, Caleb followed. The weather here was more volatile than it was at Malfoi's estate. Hermione was not strong enough to withstand it. She might well be carried away by the wind before she found anyone willing to give her shelter.
Stubbornly, Hermione wracked her mind to remember a warming spell or something to help her, but she was too distraught. Her nerves felt like they were as exposed as she was. Her wand might as well have been a stick at this point for all the good that she could do with it.
She stumbled in a small river in the estate's large acres of untamed lands, trying to cross it. It was stronger than she thought. Her wand had been pulled from her. As useless to her as it was in that moment, Hermione couldn't lose one of the few things she had that was her connection to her old life. Though, why she wanted to be reminded of that even now was lost on her. She had little to return to anywhere during any time, and at that thought, Hermione stopped struggling.
She couldn't even hear Caleb anymore.
Chapter 7
Her eyes opened only after a conscious decision to open them. She didn't want to see that she was alive again, and she wasn't. What she saw was gray, gray, and more gray. Except for one, in one direction, she saw a man in the not too far distance and went to him.
"Who are you?" She asked, not bothering to help the man from his chains. Anyone in chains should not be approached without caution, and she stayed a fair distance away from him.
His head perked up, and she watched as he catalogued each of her features from her toes to her hair. She resisted the urge to shudder and show weakness.
She gasped sharply. She thought she'd never see him again. "Mark?"
Scrambling to get at his chains, Hermione pulled and clawed at it, making no progress.
Mark chuckled at her, taking her hand in his, "It's alright, Hermione."
With a troubled frown, she asked, "Where are we?"
"Purgatory."
"Why?" She pressed, wanting more information.
"I suspect you're here as a punishment for me, dear."
"What? I have no reason!" She protested.
"Not like that," he assured her. "You've died. That much is true. But, what I meant was, you're passing through here first because the gods have seen it fit to mock me at least once more."
"How is my being here mocking you?"
He was hesitant to answer until she urged him, "Please, Mark. Please tell me the truth. Please tell me everything."
"Everything, love?"
She shivered, "Everything."
If there were ever a chance to explain himself, it'd be now, he thought.
He explained that the time in the forest was not the first time he met her. Before that, she had been an angel he saved from reincarnation for a while to live with him. He raised her after that until she was ordered for reincarnation by the Council, who explained as more powerful than he. She didn't remember him after because all souls lose their memories after being reincarnated. Except, her case was special. The Council had decided she'd be reborn to relive the last life she had.
"Why?"
"Why what, love?"
Staring at the gray below her, she asked, "Why would they want me to relive that life again?"
"I have no idea. I was against it, and they'd tell me nothing. So, I assume their reasons were self serving."
She nodded, and allowed him to continue, not quite able to wrap her mind around everything he said.
"You mentioned an accident? What sort of accident was I in?"
He grinned, almost like a madman. "That, that was more tragedy than accident," he declared. "That night, in the Forbidden Forest."
"The night you came to me to help me with the decision?"
"Yes… Before I helped you, your original decision was to leave with that other boy."
"What would have happened if I left with him?"
"You would have died!" He said angrily. "Died young."
Her eyebrows knit together, as if she were piecing things together now. "And what of the war? Would Harry have won?"
"Had you told the boy you'd leave with me, he would've done whatever you asked. Stay. Fight. Win. But at what price?!" He yelled, staring in her eyes.
Anger bubbling, Hermione yelled as well, "At what price? If what you say is true, then I would have died for the cause! That… that was something I knew was more than likely. You… you knew that. You knew what would happen. And yet… yet you told me to stay!"
"I wanted what was best for you!"
"What I ended up doing and being was not what was best for me… I… I… I can't," she whispered, throat raw and sore. "I can't believe this!"
She locked eyes with him. His eyes were open in disbelief that she didn't agree with him, that much she knew.
"That's why you're really up here then?"
He was silent.
"You messed around with what should have happened… Lavender freaking Brown was right."
At her name, he whispered, "Yes… your seer friend. I hadn't accounted for her."
"I bet you didn't," she hissed vehemently. "Luckily, she knew what to do." Or, she tried anyway. It was Hermione's fault, she had screwed up so royally. And, Mark knew.
He grinned at her, despite how badly his explanation was received, "But, she didn't succeed, did she, love?"
"Why did you do it?" She asked, genuinely curious.
She narrowed her eyes and observed him in the chains that extended into the lackluster slab of rock behind him, also gray.
"I fell in love with you," he said simply, staring into her slitted eyes with love that she did not want. "I'm up here for many reasons. One of them being, falling in love with you and keeping you when I shouldn't have."
"What do you mean?" She asked, keeping the bile down in her throat.
"You magical types are meant to reincarnate immediately upon death. Only the people you call 'muggles' have a choice, really. Magical types don't belong in the heavens," he explained. "Once again, I was doing what was best for you."
She swore.
In the distance, bells rang, seeming eerily ominous in the way they broke through their surroundings from nowhere.
"Ah, they should be coming for you soon."
"How do you know?"
"The bells… they come for you now. They'll come for me later," he smiled wryly.
"How do I go?"
"Just wait. Like I said, you are my punishment. They wouldn't keep you here long without justification."
"Of course," she said uneasily. Then, all at once, she asked, almost pained, "If you really did love me, why would you do this?"
His smile grew thinner. "Love would make any person do irrational things in order to keep their love safe in the way they think is best."
She doesn't answer, and he doesn't expect her to. Instead, she stared at him blankly as she felt a tug at her naval.
In his last words to her, sadness evident in his entire being, he said, as if to repent, "Don't worry, love. The Council is foiling everything I've worked for as we speak. I don't suppose I can ask you to reconsider your answer once more, can I?" At her continued blank stare, he closed his eyes and grimaced, "I thought not."
Chapter 8
She found herself in the same position, about to grab Draco's hand, but she stopped herself. She was now back to the time and place she originally intended, and it was as if the other life she had lived for years was a passing daydream. Head pounding, she already knew what she had to do.
"Draco, you're going to have to trust me."
"I do," he said. "Of course I do! Come with me! I could care less about them when I could be saving you! I don't need to stay so long as you come with me. Now."
"No, Draco, trust me." She stood firm, urging him to listen. "We leave now, but we will come back to help them."
Then, boldly, as if she'd done it before, because by Merlin, she had done it before and she'd do it as many times as she could now that she knew she could easily lose it, she closed the gap between them and pressed her lips against him, as if she could persuade him thusly.
The lightheadedness came to her once more, but her head still hurt. Not able to keep up the pretenses of strength any longer, she leaned against him, touching her forehead to his as he propped her up.
"You… you care for them that much?"
"I do," she said sincerely, not wanting to get her hopes up too much.
"Then, we'll stay and fight."
"Thank you," she whispered, closing her eyes, not sure whom she was thanking but giving her thanks all the same. Things had worked out as they were meant to, and she was where she belonged, with him… albeit on a battlefield.
"As much as I enjoy this, I believe we should get going if you're still bent on us fighting, love," he whispered back into her ear.
Resolutely, she nodded, leading him back into the foray with the rest of them.
She knew she'd die, but she still wasn't ready for the killing spell that hit her, not that night, but many battles down. Though young, they died war heroes. As she was meant to. As he was meant to.
Chapter 9
One short lifetime later.
The two meet as a little girl with an overprotective, bordering on obsessive teenage brother and a little blonde boy. They're playing in a sandbox, not knowing what the future holds for them, yet already promising to be together forever.
The innocent are always the first casualties.
.
A/N: If you've made it this far, congratulations, cause wow. You are a trooper because this was terribly amateurishly written, especially towards the beginning and towards the end here. So, I'd like to thank everyone. I really do appreciate and cherish everything you guys do to show me your kindness and support. Words cannot express.