February 1938
The sound of small feet hitting ancient floorboards echoed through the empty halls of Lestrange Manor. "It's finally here!" The young girl cheered, unbothered by the scowling portraits lining the tall walls as she rushed past them.
Hermione was ecstatic. Her letter had finally arrived.
Before Winny could stop her Mistress from running around the chilly corridors in her flimsy nightgown, Hermione had already stormed past the confused elf on a mission to apparently even wake the dead.
"You'll finally have to get me a new wand!" Hermione exclaimed as she shoved open the doors to Rodolphus' private sitting room, not surprised to see him already awake and dressed for the day.
At her entrance, he looked up from the book he was reading.
Hermione drew a sick kind of pleasure from his pursed lips, aware of how much the man loathed to be disturbed in his quarters. Rabastan had once told her after a few too many drinks how it had something to do with him not having any place to retreat to during their time in Azkaban.
He regarded her with a nasty glare. "I told you not to come to this part of the manor a hundred times."
Hermione, meanwhile, paid no mind to his remark, practically shoving her letter into his face. "Give me money to get all the things I need for school," she sang. "I also want to get some more books before I leave."
The witch knew that her supposed father would rather give her the keys to their Gringotts vaults than have to accompany her to Diagon Alley.
Rodolphus pursed his lips at her apparent lack of respect. "One would think that after nearly six months, you'd have grown out of your rebellious phase, " he murmured, reaching into his pocket for their vault key.
Hermione scowled at the man and snatched the item from his outstretched hand. "I'll lose the attitude when you're six feet under." She turned on her heels, satisfied with the man's irritated huff after her retreating form.
Over the past months, Hermione had become quite adept at pushing the man's buttons without getting hexed into the next century. She'd even consider it a hobby since she only had so many other things to do. Following the incident, a few weeks before Christmas, she wasn't allowed to leave the house without Winny shadowing her every move.
And even with the elf constantly hovering over her shoulders, Rodolphus had forbidden her from leaving the Lestrange estate altogether.
So, the only things she could do, other than talking to the two death eaters at dinner, were reading or exploring the gardens, the latter quickly becoming one of Hermione's favourite pastime activities. As someone who'd grown up in a busy London suburb, Hermione had only ever seen pictures of the highlands on the telly or some travel magazine her parents had bought.
Her new home was perched atop seemingly endless rolling emerald hills, with a small muggle hamlet situated to the south of it. Although she enjoyed the solitude most times, she still caught herself tense up at the smallest of sounds. No matter how much time had passed since her year on the run, the memories of those vile Snatchers closing in on their camp one too many times still clung heavily to her subconscious.
Once the first snow had covered everything under a heavy layer of sparkling white, Hermione managed to keep her paranoia to the bare minimum and spent hours strolling through the different areas of the estate.
Her favourite place was a small garden hidden behind tall evergreen hedges.
Just like the manor itself, the grounds brimmed with the magic of countless generations of wizards and witches who had inhabited them over the past centuries.
"Does Mistress need Winny to assist her with dressing the Miss?"
Hermione looked down at her elf and shook her head, distracted from her inner musings. She would never get used to being waited upon every second of the day.
"Thanks, but I'll be all right. Meet me in ten minutes in Diagon Alley." She put everything she needed for her trip into her little handbag, humming excitedly.
Hermione skipped down the stairs to the fireplace in the grand entrance hall, positively giddy to finally buy another wand.
"Winny informed me that she will accompany you on your trip." The deep voice of her supposed father stopped Hermione in her tracks. "I expect you to behave yourself accordingly."
Rolling her eyes, she turned around to look at the man. "It's the first time I'm allowed to leave this dreary place in months," she spoke. "I for sure won't mess this up."
She looked him straight in the eyes. After a few seconds, the man nodded, seemingly satisfied with what he saw and left without another word. Both knew that Winny would report everything Hermione did back to Rodolphus.
"Diagon Alley!" she spoke clearly and vanished into the green flames...
"Pear with a dragon heartstring, quite an interesting choice, Miss Lestrange." A disturbingly young Ollivander explained while watching Hermione swing her new wand with a big smile plastered on her face.
The girl in question looked up from the golden-toned wood. "Really? How so?" she asked, still toying with her new wand.
"Well, the wand itself is quite powerful"- he paused, looking at the girl in front of him with an excited gleam in his eyes. Hermione certainly did not like that look. "-For someone from such an 'old family to be chosen by a wand of this kind," he hesitated. "Well, I don't know of a single instance where a pear wand has been discovered in the possession of a dark witch or wizard." He carefully watched the girl's reaction to his words.
Hermione beamed at his explanation, and he knew then and there that this girl would go far in life. The only other person he had met in the past years that had given him that particular feeling had been young Druella Black.
"You can't believe how happy this fact makes me, Mr Ollivander. Thank you," Hermione paid for her new wand before leaving the store, regarding the young wandmaker with another smile.
Satisfied with her new purchase, she pulled out her list of things she needed for school, quickly reading over the remaining items on the parchment. She decided to pick up her uniform next, given that Ollivander's Shop sat right across from Madam Malkin's.
Winny, who had been waiting for her, silently followed Hermione, already carrying a few boxes from Amanuensis Quills and Flourish & Blotts, insisting that she didn't need any help.
"Good day. I require a new school uniform," Hermione told the petite woman behind the shop counter.
The woman's eyes wandered over Hermione's unruly hair and raven robes before taking notice of the tiny elf behind her. She immediately straightened herself up and hurried around the counter, eager to show Hermione her most expensive sets of uniforms. She was adept at spotting a pureblood with no spending limit in her store.
Much to Hermione's dismay, she dragged the girl to the nearest fitting area. She proceeded to take her measurements while explaining the numerous charms embedded in the school robes.
"These robes, for example, come with heating and cooling charms to keep you warm during the winter," the magical measuring tape curled back into the seamstress's belt. "And refreshed during the summer," she said. "The anti-wrinkle enchantments ensure that your blouse will never sit anything but perfect."
Hermione tried to look interested in the woman's ramblings. However, she felt like she was losing an IQ point every time the woman listed another reason a young witch should only wear the most pristine robes.
"Thank you, Miss Malkins." She managed to interrupt. "I will gladly take three pairs of the robes you suggested." She hoped that amount was enough to make the woman stop talking, and indeed she closed her mouth and rushed to pack up the items Hermione picked.
Grateful, the girl pulled out her heavy coin bag, enjoying the thought of Rodolphus' face once he saw how much she had withdrawn from Gringotts.
Paying for everything, Hermione waited for Winny to pick up her new bags before exiting the store.
As she reached for the door, it swung open, and she found herself face to face with a boy who, judging by his pale blond hair, could only be one of Draco's ancestors.
Blue eyes locked with her amber ones. "Pardon me, I didn't see you there," he said, stepping back a little to let Hermione pass through.
Behind him stood a man that looked like a taller, broader version of Lucius Malfoy. Hermione was equally fascinated as she was disgusted by how easily one could identify the sacred houses. Generations of careful breeding had certainly ensured shared characteristics that were passed on over decades, if not centuries.
In the Malfoys' case, those being their slightly too fair hair and steely eyes to be completely natural, hinting at hundreds of years of ancestral magicks irreversibly woven into their genetic makeup.
"It's all right. I should've been more aware of my surroundings." Hermione eventually managed to say and was about to walk away when the older man's voice stopped her.
"Are you here all by yourself?" he asked nonchalantly. "Where are your parents?"
Hermione forced a sheepish smile on her face, suddenly reminded of a particular policeman who had asked her the same question a few months ago.
"My father is a very busy man, so I went with my house elf instead." Hermione tried to take full advantage of her disarming young face, knowing that most adults quickly fell for a little girl's innocent smile.
Especially other fathers…Well, except her own, but Rodolphus didn't really count, seeing as he was an insane war criminal.
And as she had expected, the man's eyes softened a little at her timid voice.
"I see. Who is your father?" he asked. "I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting him," he inclined his head. "My name is Septimus Malfoy, and this is my son Abraxas."
I knew it. The Malfoy hair can only be hereditary. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr Malfoy." Hermione curtsied, just as the Lestrange brothers had taught her. "We just moved back from the continent and don't know many other people yet."
Mister Malfoy seemed quite pleased with her while his son nodded in acknowledgement.
She paused to push back some of the curls that had escaped her hairband over the day, aware that she must've looked…eccentric, judging by the younger Malfoy's stolen glances at her hair.
"Hermione Lestrange," she finished. "I live with my father, Rodolphus and uncle Rabastan in our ancestral family home in Scotland."
Mr Malfoy's eyes lit up at the mention of her last name. "Lestrange? That's a name I haven't heard in a while." He spoke. "Will you be attending Hogwarts this year?"
Hermione nodded.
"Wonderful, my son will leave for his first year as well. I'm sure he'll gladly accompany you during the train ride." At his words, the older Malfoy expectantly glanced down at his son. The latter looked annoyed for a second before schooling his features.
"Of course. Can't leave Miss Lestrange all by herself on her first day, can I now?"
To Hermione's astonishment, he smiled cheekily at her while crossing his arms. "I'll introduce you to my friends. They're all nice blokes. Except for Antonin, he's quite boring."
Hermione smiled a little at his last words. "We are acquainted. He seemed nice."
Abraxas furrowed his brows at her statement before laughing. "He was probably just scared because a girl talked to him."
Hermione rolled her eyes at his childish antics, suddenly reminded of how young they truly were.
Mr Malfoy cleared his throat, still looking as aloof as his future grandson. "As pleasant as this conversation might be, we still have things to do"-
Hermione, fully expecting the older Malfoy to excuse himself and his son, was surprised when he held out his hand, beckoning Hermione to take it.
"-I don't feel comfortable letting a respectable young witch wander by herself, house-elf or not. Back on the continent, this might be acceptable," he scowled. "But here, we still uphold certain standards."
Hermione scoffed; she could do without his condescending tone. "If you insist, Mr Malfoy, I only need a few more things." She grabbed his hand, feeling more than a little awkward about holding hands with Draco's great-grandfather...
"You never mentioned your mother, Lestrange. Is she not staying with you?" Abraxas questioned innocently.
"I don't know," Hermione stiffened. "To be honest, father doesn't talk much about her. My uncle mentioned that she left me with them right after she had me." Hermione tried to sound as clueless and naive as possible.
She felt Mr Malfoy's hand tighten around hers and wondered what the man was thinking. The possibility that he was maybe helping a half-blood? Hermione wished that was the case, just to watch him choke on his prejudices.
"Merlin, that's terrible. I'm sorry. I can't imagine life without my mother." Abraxas told her with a severe expression, his blue eyes full of pity.
"Abraxas! You know better than to speak like that." his father lectured, and his son quickly looked down with reddened cheeks.
"I'm sorry, Lestrange; I meant no offence."
"It's all right. My parents are "- she tapped her index finger against her lips as if in deep thought, "estranged. Father gets rather upset when I ask about her."
Maybe that makes them stop asking questions. No one like to get involved in personal matters. And indeed, her last comment had rendered her tall escort speechless. They walked into one of the two apothecaries in Diagon Alley to purchase everything for their potion lessons. While Mister Malfoy had been quiet during their stay in the shop, he invited the two children for tea right after they exited the store. After they sat down, he continued his interrogation, much to Hermione's dismay.
"So, Miss Lestrange, tell me, was your mother married to your father?"
Hermione sipped on her tea before answering. "No. Uncle Rab told me they were still too young back then." Let him think we're the product of a short fling. An accident that she did not need in her life.
Mr Malfoy seemed taken aback by Hermione's answer, his eyebrows nearly disappearing under his hairline. "So, they were still in school when she had you," he leaned back in his chair. "My, things are sure different on the continent."
Hermione looked at the man with big eyes as if he'd just said the most unbelievable thing, not paying attention to the gaping younger Malfoy.
"My father always said the only good things he got out of this were a pureblood heir and the freedom to never have to bother with another witch again."
At her words, Mr Malfoy looked positively scandalised.
Hermione had to suppress the quiet snicker that was threatening to spill from her lips. Rodolphus might've told me to befriend Voldemort and his followers, but that doesn't mean I can't still have a little fun with them. Hermione watched, quite satisfied, how Malfoy Sr. seemed to question his decision to associate himself with her family...
Septimus Malfoy subtly glanced over to his son, who thankfully didn't seem to have fully comprehended Hermione's words, before his gaze wandered back to the pale girl demurely sitting across from him in that hideous black dress of hers. It was apparent to him now that she'd grown up in a household without another witch. No respectable pureblood mother would've let her daughter walk around looking like Hermione did. So, deciding to help the young witch a little before she could become the target of the other girls in her year, he invited her to meet his wife.
"I think she would be thrilled to meet you, Miss Lestrange. She knows a lot about how a pure-blooded witch your age should present herself." But, to his surprise, Hermione only chuckled at his offer.
"I'm grateful, Mr Malfoy, but I have to respectfully decline your offer."
He tutted at her answer, not used to a girl speaking her mind so freely. He was confident that this was the result of her father's incapability and not because the girl had an unfortunate personality. He decided that it was not proper to judge the man, knowing how hard it was to raise a child, especially under young Mr Lestrange's circumstances.
"Miss Lestrange, I meant no offence. Your father obviously doesn't know how to ensure his daughter will end up with a favourable match after Hogwarts." He tried to explain, not expecting the girl to actually roll her eyes at him. Definitely too much spirit.
"I don't plan on marrying ever," she spoke pointedly. "My uncle is young enough to start a family of his own and continue the family name."
Speechless, Mr Malfoy tried to wrap his head around the things the little girl had just declared, unsure if he was imagining things.
"But girls aren't supposed to work. Mother says a witch that has to earn her own money is married to the wrong wizard." Abraxas Malfoy chimed in, confused by the girl's words...
Hermione's head snapped back to where the younger Malfoy was sitting. Is this kid serious right now? She had to remind herself that she was an eleven-year-old girl. She wasn't supposed to argue back, especially not with people like Malfoy Sr., who would investigate her family's story if she stood out too much. Get your act together, Mione. These are the 30s.
"I hope I didn't offend you with my words, Mr Malfoy. I tend to speak first before thinking." Hermione tried her best to look apologetic, praying that the older Malfoy would just think her to be some spoiled pureblood heiress that wasn't used to hearing No.
He wrinkled his nose at her display before quickly schooling his features. "No offence taken. I'd quite like to meet your father soon, child."
Grinding her teeth, she gave him a strained smile. She quickly finished her tea so that she could leave before she lost to her inner voice yelling at her to just throw her cup at the older Malfoy for belittling her. I'm nearly twenty. For Merlin's sake, what am I doing here?
"He'd be delighted. Thanks for inviting me for tea Mr Malfoy. It was nice getting to know another student before school." She pushed her chair back and curtsied before grabbing her little purse and signing to Winny that they were leaving.
"The pleasure was ours, Miss Lestrange. I will send an owl soon. Then, you and Abraxas can catch up again later."
His son just nodded. "Definitely, you're way more entertaining than Walburga and Druella," Abraxas called after her.
Hermione turned around, waving at the boy. He seemed nice, given that he'd become one of Voldemort's most trusted followers in the future. He's eleven. He wasn't born evil. The traitorous voice in her head whispered as the blond boy waved back, and Hermione's suddenly felt wretched. It was so easy to forget what would happen in the future when all she saw here were young children who somehow ended up on the wrong side of the war...
April 1938
"I'll kill that little witch when I get my hands on her!" yelled a furious Rodolphus while simultaneously trying to get rid of the boils covering his face.
Rabastan attempted to calm the seething man after another dinner had ended in chaos.
"Since she got that cursed wand, she thinks she can get away with everything!" Rodolphus hissed as his brother tried another counter charm to Hermione's admittedly impressive spell work.
"It's easy to forget she was the brains behind Potter's plans when you look at her now," Rabastan muttered.
"She just got lucky today," his brother muttered. "One second more, and I would've cursed her to Avalon and back."
Rabastan just rolled his eyes at his brother's dramatic antics. It was amusing that if his brother had an actual daughter, she probably would've turned out just like Hermione.
They had quite a lot in common. Both were notoriously loyal to the men they decided to follow, be it the Dark Lord or Potter and wickedly fast with their wands. Not to mention that despite her insufferable righteousness, Hermione could be a vicious little kid. The boils on his brother's face serving as a painful reminder.
"I don't think I can help you much with those. I'll tell Winny to fetch a doctor."
"Screw the doctor! Get a damned curse-breaker. He'd certainly be more helpful." Rodolphus snapped and growled when he felt another boil grow on his neck...
Hermione listened to the man cursing her name from the safety of her own room and snickered. Serves him right.
The witch silently opened her door with her new wand still tightly clasped in her hand. She snuck as quietly as she could towards the end of the stairs, gleefully watching her livid father being escorted to the fireplace by his brother.
"When we're back, I'll kill her for sure, Rab."
Merely nodding at his brother's furious words, the younger Lestrange steered him towards the direction of the fireplace. "Do what you must," Rabastan threw some Floo powder into the fire. "But first, let's get someone to help you with this."
Hermione watched them disappear in the green flames. Yes, today really had been a fantastic day...
June 1938
As the days grew longer, Hermione once again found herself enchanted with the manor's gardens. The myriad of beautiful colours starkly contrasted the house she resided in.
One warm evening, she was nibbling on a tray of snacks, reminiscing about her new reality.
"It's already been ten months. " Hermione told her house-elf, who quietly stood beside her, ignoring Hermione's countless attempts to make her sit with her at the table.
"Winny is happy that Mistress is here. Winny never had such a nice Mistress before."
Hermione smiled and grabbed another sandwich from the tray. "Can't you just call me Hermione already, Winny?"
"Winny cannot possibly do that, Mistress Lestrange."
Hermione cringed. "How about just Miss then?"
Winny seemed to think it over for a second before nodding. "As Miss Lestrange wishes."
Emboldened by her success, Hermione tried to take it a little further. " How about Miss Hermione?" she asked slyly. "I feel like you know me well enough to call me by my first name, Winny."
"Winny doesn't know Missy Lestrange." The elf nervously played with the hem of her dirty uniform.
Hermione put on her best pouting face, gleefully watching her elf's resolve crumble.
"Don't cry, Miss Hermione! Winny is sorry," The elf fretted. "Winny will call Miss Lestrange Miss Hermione from now!"
Hermione happily dropped her act. "Thanks, Winny!"
The little elf looked proud of herself for pleasing her Miss, and Hermione counted this as another win on her quest to befriend her magical companion.
Later that day, Hermione found herself in Rodolphus' study again. Knowing that nothing good ever happened in that room, Hermione braced herself for another argument, her wand ready to be drawn from under her sleeves.
"You will attend Hogwarts in less than two months," he began. "I just got a letter from Septimus who asked on Abraxas' behalf if you'd like to meet up with the boy this weekend."
Taken aback by his words, Hermione struggled to find an appropriate answer. "I'd rather not?" she eventually replied in a voice that sounded more like a question.
She could see her father's right eye beginning to twitch.
"I didn't actually ask you, Hermione."
Shuddering at his use of her name, Hermione frowned. "Why? For Merlin's sake, I don't want to hang out with Draco's grandfather."
"Because I say so." Rodolphus rolled his eyes at the girl. "I even got Septimus to overlook your ridiculous behaviour from last time." He poured himself another glass of whiskey.
Something he liked to do a little too often, in Hermione's opinion.
Annoyed, she sat a little straighter in her chair. "I already apologised for that ages ago," she crossed her arms. "You can't imagine how awful it feels to know that you aren't worth shit to them just because you're a woman."
"Boohoo, finally not a mudblood anymore but still not treated equally. Life must be so hard for you." Her mockery of a father taunted over the rim of his glass as he watched Hermione's hair getting frizzier by the second.
"It is. Not that you would understand with you coming from old money and being a man on top of that," she answered bitterly.
Hermione knew she would always have to work at least twice as hard to be recognised by her male peers in this era.
"Well, look at it this way," Rodolphus drawled, spinning his little yarn, a threatening cat's cradle. "At least now you have my name and wealth to back you up"-
Hermione scoffed.
"-This alone will open doors; you didn't even know existed before, little witch."
"I'd rather have stayed dead."
"Oh, I believe that!" Rodolphus crooned. "Regrettably, this isn't an option anymore." He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving her own. "So cease your incessant whining and give Abraxas your prettiest smile when he arrives."
Hermione felt bile rising up her throat. "They're coming to our house?"
Rodolphus nodded. "We can't avoid social calls forever if we want to establish ourselves in society." he drawled while folding his legs, looking like he didn't have a care in the world.
Hermione felt like the walls of the room were closing in on her. Suffocating the witch with every breath she took. The thought of someone actually stepping foot into her room or strolling through 'her' gardens was suddenly unbearable.
"I really don't feel comfortable with visitors just yet." she choked out, praying that Rodolphus would change his mind.
"Do you really think I care how you feel about this?" he questioned incredulously.
Against her will, tears started to blur Hermione's vision.
Rodolphus noticed her quivering lips and slammed one hand loudly on his desk. The sound rattled her bones, making Hermione jump.
"Don't you dare to start crying now," he sneered. "I don't care if you don't want to see the Malfoy boy. You'll behave like the perfect little pureblood witch you are now and entertain the boy."
Hermione wanted to scream. Throw herself at the man and tear that cold gaze from his face. "Of course, I look forward to it," she spoke instead.
"Good." He turned back to his paperwork. "You are excused."
Hermione didn't waste another second, bolting out of her chair and practically running from his study. She hated feeling so utterly powerless. Next time I won't just leave it at boils...
"Lestrange, wait up! This isn't a race, for Merlin's sake!" A red-faced Abraxas called after Hermione, who hurriedly walked a few meters in front of the panting boy.
"We're nearly there, Malfoy, do keep up." She continued her mad dash towards the gardens.
Since he and his father had arrived nearly an hour ago, Hermione had felt like hiding somewhere dark and quiet, but Rodolphus, of course, wouldn't have that. So, she'd excused herself from the conversation in the sitting room, offering Abraxas to show him around the gardens. And if they were to lose each other somewhere on the way, then so be it.
Once the boy caught up with her, Hermione realised that her clever scheme had failed.
"These gardens are stunning. Even we don't have that much parkland back home," he said breathlessly, taking in the myriads of blossoming flowers.
Against her better judgement, Hermione felt a pride swell in her chest, pleased that finally, someone else seemed to appreciate the scenery around them as much as she did.
"Thanks. I spend much of the day outside just exploring them," she answered with a small smile.
Minerva would probably love them as well. The thought came to her so unexpected that Hermione nearly stumbled over her own feet. She hadn't thought about the girl in months, and wasn't that just awful of her.
"Merlin, that sounds kinda lonely after some time," Abraxas replied.
"I like being by myself," Hermione shrugged. "It's easier."
The boy didn't seem convinced but thankfully didn't argue back. Instead, they stepped into the clearing with the small fountain Hermione had discovered a couple of months ago and sat on one of the wooden benches around the edges.
"What house do you think you'll be in?" Abraxas finally asked, enjoying the warm rays of the afternoon sun shining down on their faces.
"Gryffindor, of course."
Taken aback, Abraxas looked at the pale girl beside him. "I should've guessed," he pursed his lips. "Naturally, you'd choose whatever house would aggravate your family the most."
Hermione snorted at his answer and turned around to face him. "What about you?"
The boy looked up to the sky with a thoughtful expression. "Slytherin. Father wouldn't accept anything else." He said a little too casually.
Hermione decided to probe a little further. "And you agree with his choice?"
"I wouldn't mind getting sorted into Ravenclaw either," Abraxas wrinkled his forehead. "But Slytherin would be my first choice."
Hermione inclined her head and smiled. "That's good to hear."
The younger Malfoy regarded her with a solemn expression that didn't fit his face. "Our parents know what's best for us."
At that moment, Hermione realised Abraxas grew up in a household much like the one she was now living in. Well, without the blood rituals and duelling on the dining table, obviously, but still. From the moment he could speak, he probably had been taught to obey his parents' every word and adapt their views on the world.
Hermione knew from her pureblood peers in the future that corporal punishment was very much a thing in the nineties. Merlin knows how wizards raised their children fifty years prior.
"We should be allowed to make our own judgements sometimes." She desperately wanted the boy to understand. A fool's errand, no doubt.
"Now, I see why you want to be a Gryffindor," Abraxas sighed. "You wouldn't last a day with the snakes."
It was clear that he wanted to change the subject, but Hermione wasn't done just yet. "I know it can be difficult." But you have to stand your ground, or else everyone will just walk over you. So she thought, aware that she was being a hypocrite.
"You're a girl. Your father would certainly not punish you as mine does." he defended himself.
Hermione rolled her eyes. Another thing she wouldn't go along with forever was the blatant sexism that seemed to loom over every aspect of her life. For now, she was too young to change things, but she wouldn't be stuck under Rodolphus' thumb forever.
"Enough with these depressing thoughts." Abraxas finally said. "Fancy another walk around the gardens?"...
"It was a pleasure to meet you again, Rodolphus. I hope we can discuss your plans further at a later date." Malfoy Sr. spoke while shaking her father's hand.
Hermione lingered obediently at his side, waiting for the Malfoys to finally leave so she could lock herself in her room and enjoy her solitude.
It had been just the three of them for almost ten months. Entertaining another person and keeping up the facade of normalcy had been a draining ordeal, even for a few hours. Except for her few visits to Diagon Alley and her rare talks with Minerva, Hermione had kept to herself, reverting back to her pre-Hogwarts self that had hidden from her relentless bullies in the restrooms, praying that nothing weird would happen again.
Unfortunately, this time, her bullies were two notorious mass murderers. Rodolphus being an utter basket case on most days certainly didn't make things easier either.
"You're always welcome to visit. Your son, too, of course." Rodolphus added as an afterthought while tightly squeezing Hermione's shoulders.
She forced a thin smile on her lips. The older Malfoy looked her up and down approvingly as if it was somehow thanks to him that Hermione had suddenly acquired class. "You have a bright daughter, my friend. Finding a husband who can keep up with her will be difficult," he said, clearly meaning to offend.
Rodolphus, much to Hermione's astonishment, wasn't having any of it.
"I'm sure my daughter will do just fine, after all, she's a Lestrange."
Septimus looked as if he had bitten into something sour and Hermione had to try her hardest not to mimic his expression. "I can see now where she gets her ideas from. Well, I can't judge you. Without any male heirs to carry on the family name, I'd try to make the best out of a daughter as well."
Hermione could feel her father's grip tighten painfully, but she was too busy to control her sparking hair to shrug the man off. How was it that every Malfoy she met, no matter how far back she went, turned out to be a proper bastard? Maybe it's really in their genes…wait, does this mean Abraxas will eventually become just as bad as his father? That would be a pity.
"Thank you for your visit, Septimus, but you should leave now." Sounding, at least to Hermione, like he was about to hex the older Malfoy, Rodolphus pursed his lips.
Hermione would've never thought that she'd agree with the man on anything but the fact that he seemed to dislike Malfoy Sr. just as much as she did proved her wrong.
"Naturally, we wouldn't want to overstay our welcome. Say goodbye, Abraxas."
The younger boy waved quietly at Hermione.
Once the two Malfoys were finally gone, Rodolphus grabbed his wand and aimed it at one of the vases at their backs.
"Morgana's tits. I hate this family," he growled and smashed the expensive item with an angry flick of his wand. "Lucius was just like his grandfather back in school. Posh little git!"
Hermione watched the ranting man for a few seconds, contemplating if she could sneak away without him noticing, when he suddenly turned around and looked at her with gleaming eyes.
"Forget what I told you earlier. I want you to shove it in their blond faces that you're superior to his son in any way - got it?"
Hermione raised both her eyebrows at the man's words.
"I want you to crush that Malfoy boy." He grabbed Hermione's arms, shaking her, not too gently.
Hermione, at this point, began to feel quite panicked and drew her own wand.
"And how exactly am I supposed to do that?" she asked through gritted teeth, ready to curse the man if he didn't let go of her.
"Use your brain, girl" he crooned. "Bring home Outstandings and win every cursed duel."
Hermione didn't want Abraxas to suffer his own father's wrath at his failures. He's a death eater. He deserves it. A voice that sounded like Ron hissed in her mind, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to think that way. He's just a child, at least for now. He doesn't deserve to get hurt.
"Whatever, Rodolphus." She was eager to get this conversation over with.
Even if her batty excuse for a parental figure wouldn't have told her, she had no intention of pretending to be a dim-witted little girl at Hogwarts. Instead, she would do just as well as she had in the future. She just couldn't bring herself to give up on her studious nature for the sake of fitting in.
"Good girl." he hummed, finally letting go of her.
Rubbing her burning arms, Hermione watched the man walk away from her. What a psycho.
September 1938
The train station was bustling with life as countless people rushed past them, chatting happily about everything and nothing. Hermione felt just as overwhelmed as she did in her first year as she watched the steaming red engine waiting for the students to board.
Older pupils in grey uniforms and billowing black robes helped the younger ones with their luggage as their frenzied mothers hovered over them, smothering them with a final show of affection.
"It's been quite a while since I've seen this train," Rabastan spoke up with something akin to melancholy in his voice while he followed Hermione through the bustling crowd.
Hermione paid him no mind, the freedom that came with being at Hogwarts seemingly within reach.
"Remember what my brother told you. Befriend the dark lord, don't stick out." Her escort reminded her, and Hermione nodded absentmindedly. Eager to finally get away from the man.
"I know, I know. I'll behave." She pushed her trolley past a couple of redheads, musing if they were perhaps Weasleys before they eventually arrived at one of the carriages. Then, without another word, Hermione grabbed the hand of an older Hufflepuff, that helped her climb up the steep steps of the train.
"Thanks!" she told him cheerfully while taking her enchanted luggage from him, her bags weighing close to nothing thanks to Winny's nifty spell work.
He gave her a curt nod before turning around to help another student. Hermione closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. She was finally safe. She opened her eyes and looked around the train. A group of excited Gryffindors passed by her.
For the first time in over a year, Hermione felt like she belonged again. With a silly grin, she searched for a free seat...
After a few minutes, she arrived at the last compartment in her carriage. She pushed the door open after a moment of hesitation. A familiar red-haired girl looked up to see who had entered.
"Hermione?" Minerva McGonagall looked surprised, before smiling broadly at the girl, forcefully pulling her out of her stupor.
"Hey Minerva, long-time no see," Hermione responded apologetically before being pulled into a tight hug.
She immediately flung both her arms around the other girl's shoulder, suppressing her bitter tears.
"Oh my god, I was so worried when you just stopped showing up," Minerva said when both girls finally sat opposite each other.
Hermione grimaced at the memory of the day Rodolphus had found out about their little meetings. "I'm so sorry, Minerva, something came up at home." She hoped the girl wouldn't ask any more questions.
"You look ghastly, Hermione. You're even paler than I remember, and it's summer. Also, is your hair darker?" With her stern voice, she sounded so much like her future self that Hermione had to physically restrain herself from answering her future teacher.
"You know how to cheer a girl up." Hermione tried to joke, but her friend didn't even think of leaving the issue alone before Hermione had given her a proper answer.
"Oh, come on, just tell me what's going on. We'll spend the next seven years together," Minerva lectured. "Might as well start being honest with each other now."
"It's really nothing, Minerva," Hermione glanced out of the window.
"Well," Minerva reluctantly dropped the issue. "Alright, I believe you."
Relieved, Hermione smiled at the inquisitive girl. They chatted for nearly an hour, catching up on everything that had happened in the past months, when the compartment door opened again.
"I can't stand the noisy people in the other carriage, is one of the seats here still free?" An incredibly grumpy looking Antonin Dolohov asked while waving at the empty spaces next to Hermione and Minerva.
Before Hermione could say anything, Minerva invited the boy to stay in their compartment, much to Hermione's dismay.
"I'm Minerva McGonagall, first year. The girl beside you is"-
Dolohov interrupted her before she could finish her introductions. "-Hermione Lestrange, we met in Diagon Alley. Abraxas told me you're quite… odd." he concluded.
"I'm not surprised. I mean, with those dark robes she's always wearing, it's no wonder that some people find her scary." Minerva joked good-heartedly, and Antonin snickered. Actually, snickered!
Hermione felt her chest warm at their playful banter.
"It's easier to decide what to wear this way," she argued, but Minerva just laughed harder.
"Just continue telling yourself that, Hermione. The day will come when you'll want to burn those robes."
Hermione decided to give up on her quest to defend her style and joined Minerva's giggling.
Much to Hermione's surprise, Dolohov turned out to be a wickedly intelligent boy. The three spent the rest of the train ride discussing various topics they had read in Hogwarts a History...
"Cygnus Black." A scrawny-looking boy with rust-coloured hair hurried to the chair at the front of the great hall and sat down.
Hermione fidgeted next to Minerva, waiting for her name to be called.
Hogwarts hadn't changed much in the past five decades. The students still sat at the same tables she once had, wearing the same pointy hats and dark uniforms. Hundreds of candles floated above their heads, engulfing everything in a warm hue.
"Minerva McGonagall."
Her friend squeezed Hermione's hand excitedly before raising her chin and walking up to the sorting hat.
"Gryffindor!" The hat hollered after what must have been the longest amount of time in decades it had taken for a student to get sorted.
Hermione wasn't surprised at all that her headstrong Professor turned out to be a hatstall.
The young witch watched astonished as Antonin Dolohov got sorted into Ravenclaw before watching Abraxas naturally getting sorted into Slytherin.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle." At the call of this infamous name, her head snapped up.
With bated breath, she watched the familiar-looking boy pass by her. He sat down, and before the hat had even touched his head, it roared Slytherin. Could it really be?
Hermione's throat burned from the acids raising up its walls. Pyres on charred grounds as they watched the death eaters desecrate their school.
She'd shared her books with that boy. She'd sat next to the man who'd slaughtered hundreds of witches and wizards none the wiser. How could she have not recognised such evil sooner?
His porcelain face didn't betray any emotions as he sat at his new house table. This was the future Dark Lord? She couldn't wrap her head around the idea.
"Hermione Lestrange."
Hermione snapped out of her inner monologue at the mention of her name, hastily making her way up to the chair.
"Would you look at that?" the hat cackled. "There's something not quite right with your mind, girl. Curious, very curious."
The hat continued: "What a mad world we live in, don't you think? Haven't had a time traveller in centuries."
Hermione held her tongue and prayed that the hat wouldn't tell on her.
"Blowing your cover? Now, why would I do that? That'd be no fun. Well! No time to waste. Where to put you?" he seemed to think for a few seconds before speaking again. "You'll do best where you feel most at home, so"- A pause.
"-Gryffindor!" The hat hollered.
Hermione couldn't contain her sob. Surprised her body could still feel so much happiness.
Practically floating towards the cheering table, she sat next to a boy that kind of looked like Harry if you squinted your eyes. Minerva happily waved at her, having already found a free space a few seats away.
"Man, if Malfoy looks that pissed at someone, it can only mean that this person and I are destined to be best friends forever."
Hermione turned to look at the young Harry lookalike before looking over her shoulder to the Slytherin table, where a scowling Abraxas was indeed watching her.
He really seemed to have thought that Hermione would join him in Slytherin just like her father had wanted. In your dreams. She waggled her fingers at the boy before returning her attention back to the smirking boy next to her.
"He's just a little surprised. Don't think too highly of me," she joked, but the boy just shook his head.
"I hope he'll stay surprised for the next seven years then. The name's Charlus Potter, by the way."
Dumbfounded, Hermione grabbed the boy's outstretched hand. So, he really was related to Harry in some way that at least explained the similarities.
"Hermione Lestrange, nice to meet you, Potter..."
Thanks for all the follows and the lovely reviews :) I didn't want to spend too much time writing about her time before Hogwarts, so I split the chapter into a few parts, highlighting the key events before her departure. xoxo
