Hi! Welcome to my other other WIP. I LOVE a Time Travel vibe, and the 1940s aren't fitting into my other Dramione, so the solution was obviously to just write another thing...
Anyway, here is my contribution to the Time Travel world. As always, Hermione is Black and plus-sized and unapologetic about it! There isn't a huge build up here, no slow-burn in sight. I don't anticipate this being super long, maybe 10 chapters?
As always, let me know what you think! Without further ado:
Monday, November 15, 2004
Hermione stood and stretched her arms above her head groaning as her spine cracked. She looked over at Bill who chuckled, "I told you not to hunch over your desk!"
She stuck her tongue out at him and then grinned. "The print on this document is so small, how else am I supposed to read it without hunching?"
Bill waved his wand in her direction, conjuring a piece of magnifying glass and smirking at her. "You have a new client this afternoon. He explicitly requested you."
After she'd graduated from her Eighth Year, Hermione had wanted to join the Ministry of Magic in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. They didn't have any openings, so she made do with the Improper Use of Magic Office which was a division of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She'd flourished. One day she'd been partnered with a Gringott's Cursebreaker. When Bill Weasley popped into her office, she was exceptionally pleased.
She'd always felt closer to the oldest Weasley and his wife. Fleur and Hermione had connected over Molly and her…judgemental nature. They often felt like the outsiders at Weasley gatherings. Harry had been soaked into their family, but the two women, who had their own families, had always been held at arm's length by the Weasley Matriarch. After Malfoy Manor, she'd only felt a stronger bond with the pair of them.
She'd stayed in Shell Cottage over the summer before Eighth Year. She'd gone to Australia and found her parents but even with the help of some Mind Healers they hadn't been able to bring their memories back. It was heartbreaking for Hermione, knowing that she'd never be able to talk to her mum again. Thankfully, Bill and Fleur were willing to let her stay with them and helped shelter her from prying eyes.
In 2003, Bill had approached Hermione about going into business as Freelance Curse Breakers. They'd be able to take more complex cases and wouldn't have as much bureaucracy as the Ministry and Gringotts entailed. They'd opened the Coiled Carmine Cursebreaking in September of 2003, and the past year their business had flourished.
Harry had let them handle all the work at Grimmauld Place. They'd opened a small shop in Diagon Alley and were kept busy with all sorts of interesting cases. Because they didn't have to report any of their work, many of their clients brought more unsavoury things that they didn't want to get out.
"A new client?" she asked offhandedly.
Fleur, who worked with them part-time when their children were with Molly, popped her head into the room. "Yes, zey requested you explicitly, 'ermione!"
"My reputation precedes me, I see," she snorted. Fleur rolled her eyes good naturedly and moved back into the front room. The rest of the morning flew by in quiet work. The three of them broke for lunch and moved to eat together. Hermione always appreciated the days that Fleur was with them. She always brought gourmet lunches that they lingered over.
At two, Hermione made her way to the consultation room, arranging her notebook and pen in front of her. She began to think about who could be the newest client. She felt as though she knew most of the people who would bring in Cursed Objects. She crossed her legs and found herself bouncing her ankle anxiously.
A few minutes later, Fleur opened the door and ushered in a tall wizard. Hermione blinked a few times in shock. Before her stood Draco Malfoy. She couldn't stop herself from taking a full inventory of the man in front of her as Fleur shut the door softly behind him.
He was quite tall, at least 182 cm (6ft), and his hair was artfully arranged to look purposefully messy. He was wearing a grey suit that was influenced by Muggle fashion, although the legs were much tighter than the current style. He had a pair of glasses on that framed his eyes perfectly. He had a large scar that crossed the left side of his face from right above his eyebrow down to the bottom right side of his lip.
"Granger," he said, quietly with a soft nod. He placed a paper bag on the table and sat across from her.
The silence was uncomfortable. Malfoy had made his apologies to Harry early on and had struck up a sort of friendship with him. He was a Healer now, specialising in Dark Curses. She knew that he'd often partnered with the Auror's office on different cases when his expertise was needed. She'd seen him at quite a few dinners and pub nights over the years, but had adamantly avoided him. She didn't necessarily hold him accountable for his actions in the war, even she could see that he hadn't had a choice, but that didn't make her suddenly alright with his bullying.
Hermione was raised in a Mixed Race home in the 80s. She'd grown up watching Naomi Campbell and Diane Abbott make waves in fashion and politics respectively, but she wasn't naive. She'd hoped that Hogwarts would be better than the Muggle London she grew up in, but from the moment she raised her hand in class she knew she would be considered just as weird in the Wizarding World. When Malfoy had called her Mudblood for the first time, well she learned that prejudice was apparently human nature.
"Uh-Uhm hello! Thank you for coming to The Coiled Carmine. What have you brought in today?"
He opened the bag and slid out a small grandfather clock. She waved her wand over it, pulling up the diagnostic charm and sorting through the threads. It was complex. "This is fascinating!" she said softly, forgetting who was in the room with her. "Why did you bring it in?"
When he didn't respond right away, she looked up from the clock. He had the most curious look on his face. She'd never been very good at reading people, but if she had to describe his face it would be curious and fond, which obviously couldn't be true.
She raised an eyebrow at him and a light pink blush bloomed on his cheeks. "Oh I uh- well I wanted to get it working again. It's been in the study for years and whenever other watches or clocks come near it they stop and obviously it's not great form to ask everyone to take off their watches before entering the study…"
"Curious! Do the other timepieces stay stopped or do they restart once they've left the perimeter?" she asked.
"If it's made before the time on the clock they continue to work, but anything after stays broken. It caused quite a scene a few years ago when I had a client who was wearing a brand new Rolex…"
She snorted. "Why me?"
"I've heard you're the best, and I wanted to invite you to dinner so that I can apologise to you. I'm afraid a few words won't be enough. I've made an exhaustive list and I hope to apologise for all of it. Would you be willing to have dinner with me?"
She stared at him stunned, but nodded stupidly.
He looked relieved. "Friday at 7?"
With that he got up and made to leave. Her brain suddenly jumped back into gear, and Professional Hermione came back with full force. "Oh um I think I should have some more information next Wednesday, would you set up an appointment with Fleur for that day?" He nods curtly and then leaves the room.
Hermione levitated the clock to the work room, making sure to cast a protective ward around it. She set it on her station and continued to sort through the web of magic that was surrounding it. The magic felt heavy, not necessarily evil, just very heavy. It was quite a beautiful piece with rich mahogany wood and a pearlescent face. The clock was stuck at 5:43, September 7, 1940. She cleared the Anti-Muggleborn Curse that was placed on it and then reached in to touch it. If anything it felt familiar, but that couldn't be right, could it? She attempted to wind the mechanism at the back, but was met with resistance.
She pulled out a piece of parchment and drafted a quick note to a friend who worked with antiques to see if he had a connection to a Watch or Clockmaker. She placed it in the outbox once it was addressed and then went back to work on the clock.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
The week was absolutely flying by, Bill and Hermione had had an influx of new cases, but when she found extra time she would go back to working on Malfoy's clock. On Tuesday afternoon she'd received a response from her antiques contact who'd connected her with a Clockmaker.
Amarantha Zaman was eccentric. Hermione counted Luna Lovegood as a very close friend, so the fact that she was surprised by the Witch's appearance should have clued her in immediately. Amarantha wore a scarf over her hair, but it looked like about 15 different scarves all with different patterns all sewn together. Her outfit was full of mismatched, bulky clothing and she had a set of gigantic glasses with white plastic frames over her eyes, making her look quite owlish. The glasses had four different magnifying glass options on them that were pushed off to the side. She was a sort of ageless looking older woman. She could have been 40 or she could have been 80, but Hermione couldn't pinpoint it. It was almost like she looked one age from one angle and the next she looked totally different.
Hermione greeted the woman at the door and ushered her into the conference room where the clock was sitting. "I haven't been able to figure out why it won't work, nor why it won't let me move the hands. I've taken off all the nasty curses that were attached to it, but I'm a bit at a loss, I figured I'd ask a professional."
Amarantha circled around the clock stroking her chin and shuffling between the different magnifying lenses on her glasses. Finally she looked up at Hermione. "It will work when it's meant to."
"Wh-What? What does that mean?" Hermione blustered.
"Just what I said, girl. You will know when it's meant to work when it begins to work." with that she spun on her heel and left the room, leaving Hermione gaping like a fish.
Friday, November 19, 2004
When Hermione woke up on Thursday morning it was like an ice cold bucket of water had been thrown over her. She was having dinner with Draco Malfoy the following evening. She wasn't even remotely ready for the event. She didn't have anything to wear. Knowing Malfoy he would take her to some stupid, expensive restaurant and she'd look like and absolute fool.
Before she could spiral too far, Hermione got out of bed and made herself a cup of tea and grabbed an almost stale scone and made her way to the office. Thankfully, it was a Fleur day. When she explained how she was feeling, Fleur grinned at her. "We weel have a weetches day tomorrow, 'ermione! Beel, 'ermione weel not be able to work tomorrow! We weel be spending zee day at zee spa!" Bill, in his endless patience for his wife just nodded and grinned at the horror that had painted itself onto Hermione's face.
On Friday, she woke up naturally. When Bill and Hermione had opened the Coiled Carmine, they had both agreed that mornings were not their forte. They'd agreed to open at 10, which they felt was reasonable as mostly people would drop by in the evenings. When she blinked her eyes open at 9:30, she heard Fleur already puttering around in the kitchen. When she made her way to the kitchen she saw both Fleur and Gabrielle sipping coffee in the kitchen.
"Good morning, mon chéri!" said Fleur brightly. The two women were radiant in ways that Hermione could only hope to be in the morning. As if she didn't stand out for being Muggleborn, she'd always felt self-conscious that her skin and body didn't look like the other girls. Books had always been easier. Thankfully, Fleur had taken her under her wing and introduced Hermione to all sorts of clothes that complimented her body. They'd done a deep dive into magical care for Black hair. They'd found a book written by a Witch who'd graduated from Uagadou in the mid 90s and they were off. Fleur was the older sister that Hermione had always wanted and Gabrielle the snarky younger sister.
Between the witches and Harry, Hermione hadn't felt totally devoid of family when her parent's memories couldn't be restored. When Fleur's family came into town the first time, they'd scooped Hermione into their orbit without a second thought. Pierre and Apolline Delcour were jovial in a way that Hermione hadn't experienced. Apolline was affectionate and was constantly hugging or kissing Hermione. Pierre always had a joke, but often couldn't remember the English translation. This of course made the jokes even funnier.
The three of them ate a light breakfast with their coffee before they made their way to the spa. Fleur had spent ages looking for a Salon and Spa that would know what to do with Hermione's skin and hair. She'd made it her mission to quiz all of the hairdressers about the proper care for her curls. For someone who'd always been very independent and taken care of everyone around her, Hermione had a hard time adjusting to feeling so protected. Fortunately, Fleur would never take no for an answer, so Hermione had never had much of a choice.
When they arrived all three of them were taken for massages, a sauna, and facials. When they were finished, it was lunch time. They ate lunch in the cafe that was next door, and finally made their way to the salon. Her usual stylist, Afiya, was standing in front of a chair grinning at the trio. Afiya had come up after the War from Uganda where she'd graduated from Ugadou and then apprenticed with a Traditional Braider.
"What are we doing today, girl?" she asked.
Before Hermione could even open her mouth, Fleur was speaking. "I think zat we should braid zee scalp eento a high queue de cheval-"
"Ponytail!" chirped Gabrielle.
"Oui, merci, Gabrielle. A ponytail and zen let eet fall in curls down her back."
"Anything special you want braided in?" Afiya asked, already pulling at Hermione's hair.
"Oui!" said Gabrielle. "Understanding, Patience, and Power!"
"I think I can do that. You two go and sit, Lorena has been working on a hair mask, you should let her practise on your hair as it responds so well and she can learn!"
Hermione settled in for the lengthy process that was getting her hair done. Afiya used some of the Traditional techniques, but every braid and placement had a meaning and she would weave Magic into the braids as she went. Whenever she got anything braided, Hermione always added Power, but would often circle through different other types depending on what would be happening. Watching Afiya work was its own type of Magic, she seamlessly blended her fingers and wand to create the patterns.
After she'd been working for a few hours, another stylist came and started doing Hermione's makeup. She chuckled to herself when she thought about what Hogwarts Hermione would have thought about her life now. She was in a salon with two of the most objectively beautiful women she'd ever seen getting her hair and makeup done for a dinner with Draco Malfoy of all people.
By the time they left the salon, it was nearing 6, and Hermione still had to get dressed. She patted at her head, loving the effect that Afiya had created. She'd keep this style for a while she thought, it still gave her her signature curls, but pulled them off her face quite nicely.
Fleur and Gabrielle dragged Hermione to the Floo and Floo'd into Hermione's flat. They bustled into Hermione's room, Gabrielle collapsing onto Hermione's bed while Fleur started throwing clothes at Hermione to change into.
Hermione looked at herself in the mirror again. Fleur looking at her over her shoulder. "You look very nice, 'ermione!" she tutted. "I know eet ees not what you are used to, but I know what I am doing!"
Hermione grinned at her and nodded. Fleur had dressed her in a classic A line velvet dress in a lovely dark green that verged on black. The sleeves were three-quarters, and Hermione could just see her scar poking out at the edge. Fleur adjusted the curls in her high ponytail so that they fell down her back just so.
Fleur was tall and willowy, something that a young Hermione had been jealous of, but as she'd aged, she'd come into her own. Her curves were generous, which in the neighbourhood she'd grown up in were quite the norm. At Hogwarts, she'd been surrounded by witches who looked classically British. She didn't want to go down that thought train this evening though.
Gabrielle, was lounging on Hermione's bed, texting on her pink cell phone. Gabrielle had recently begun courting Theodore Nott and he, like Hermione, was enveloped into the family without question. His father, who'd been a staunch Death Eater had died a few years before and Theo had utterly destroyed his Pureblood Upbringing.
"Stop texting Theo and tell me how I look? Do you think it's appropriate for dinner?" Hermione teased the younger woman. Gabrielle sat up and stuck her tongue out.
"You look great, 'ermione. You don't need to feesh for compliments, but I have a secret!" Hermione turned to look at the younger woman. "Oh I don't know eef I should share, Theo told me een confidence."
Hermione stalked over to the witch and held a pillow threateningly over her. "You'd better tell me, you bloody tease!" she shrieked.
"I don't know, eet is a very beeg secret!"
"GABRIELLE MARIE DELACOUR! If you ever want to become Lady Nott you will tell me!" Hermione shouted, hitting the girl with the pillow.
Through her giggles, Gabrielle said, "I give up! I give up! I weel tell you!" Hermione stopped hitting her immediately and raised an eyebrow. "I know a weezard who fancies you! Eet is -'' Gabrielle's hands shot to her mouth when the words cut off. "Ce putain de connard ! Il a jeté une malédiction sur le secret ! (That fucking asshole! He has put a curse on the secret!) I cannot tell you, 'ermione!" she stood abruptly, and began muttering as she stomped toward the fireplace. "Excusez-moi, j'ai un stupide et beau sorcier anglais à voir. (Excuse me, I have a stupid, handsome English wizard to see.) Good luck, 'ermione! I hope you have fun!"
Hermione turned to look at Fleur and both women burst into laughter. "Zat man ees too clever for hees own good!" Fleur giggled. "You do look very nice, 'ermione. He weel not be able to keep 'is eye off of you."
Hermione chuckled. "I just don't want him to be able to make fun of me, I've worked bloody hard on my self-confidence, I don't need the Original Wizarding Prat to ruin it now." Fleur pulled her into a hug when they heard a knock at the door.
I don't have any update schedule at the moment and am looking for an Alpha/Beta for this and my other Dramione so let me know if you're interested!