Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Wednesday morning dawned way too early for Hermione. It had been four days since she'd heard from him. She'd thought there was something there, but maybe it was just sex? She groaned and rolled over, shouting into the pillow and kicking her legs a few times, temper tantrum style.
She'd called Gabrielle the night before and forced her to come over to talk about it. "'ermione! If zee sex was zhat good, zere is no way ee 'asn't wanted to talk to you!" she'd said over and over again. Hermione groaned again. She was no stranger to casual sex, but it'd felt like more than that. Maybe she'd read too far into it?
When she finally convinced herself to get up, she found the most professional robes she could. They were a delightful burgundy and were quite a modern style when it came to Wizarding Robes, sort of reminiscent of a 1940's dress and cape set. She swished the skirt around a few times and adjusted her hair into a high bun, finishing up the last touches on her lipstick.
He was supposed to arrive right when they opened, so Hermione made sure she was early. Hermione set her tea mug and notes on the table, and couldn't stop fiddling with them as she sat and waited. She couldn't stop fidgeting and couldn't decide if she should stand or sit while he was entering, or should she look like she was coming in from the back room, looking over her shoulder like she was talking to Bill. After a moment's thought, that's what she decided to do. She stepped into the back room, with one leg in the new room and turned to Bill.
"Pretend like you're talking to me about something!" she hissed.
"Victore was just asking if she could spend the night at your flat," he said, eyes twinkling.
"Of course, I'm always happy to have her!" she said, hearing the door opening in the conference room. "I'll look at my calendar and see what's the best day for a sleepover with Auntie Mi," she added with a chuckle and turned to enter the room fully. He was standing behind the chair gripping the back with white knuckles.
"Granger," he said quietly, taking in her outfit.
"Good Morning, Dr-er Malfoy," she said, blushing.
"You can call me Draco," he whispered, all of his confidence draining out of him.
"You didn't reach out," she said, trying to hold back her nerves.
"Y-you wanted me to?" he asked, choking on his words. "I-I thought you wouldn't…"
She looked down at her notes for a moment, and then sat at the table. "Thank you for coming in, Malfoy. I don't have much news about the clock, unfortunately. I reached out to a few experts and they didn't have anything to say. I did wipe all the more nefarious curses from it, so it shouldn't harm anyone and I added a ward to prevent it from stopping other clocks, but unless you can find the maker of this clock I'm afraid it can't be fi-"
"Granger, I don't care about the bloody clock," he said firmly. "You can keep it if you want, I just-"
"I couldn't keep this, it's obviously an heirloom, I promise I did everything I could. Here are my notes, I can track down a few more leads if you'd like, but-"
"Granger, please," he cut in, coming around the table and hovering over her, finally crouching down next to her seat. "Please tell me you felt it too…"
"I don't know what I felt," she said softly, refusing to look at him. "I didn't hear from you and I thought…"
"You thought what, Granger?" He reached out and touched her arm.
"I thought that I deserved to be chased," she said, looking in the opposite direction, blinking away tears.
"Gr- Hermione," he said with a sigh, "you do, I-" he groaned. "I thought when you left that you were trying to get out of there with an excuse and that you were embarrassed, I-I didn't realise you wanted me to reach out."
When he said her name, she let out a small gasp and bit her lip. "Hermione I'll chase you, I'll do whatever you want, please look at me."
She finally turned to him and took in his face. There were bags under his eyes, and she could tell that he'd been just as nervous about this meeting as she had. She nodded softly. "Not here, this is my work."
He deflated, all of the tension leaving him. "Can I take you to lunch?" he asked.
"Yes, I can do lunch. Today?" she asked, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering around her stomach.
"I'll come at 1?" he asked, standing. She stood at the same time and they found that they were closer than she'd thought, she cleared her throat and turned to the clock, lifting it to hand to him.
"Here is your clock, like I said I cou-"
The moment he touched the clock, a burst of light exploded from it. Hermione felt like she was in a vehicle moving much too fast. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sensation. When she opened them, she was standing across from Draco in a room that looked like it had been demolished. She could see the street through the hole in the wall and it was utter chaos.
A loud noise came not far away, followed by a large aftershock. Draco pulled Hermione into his body, pulling her away from the window as debris started falling around them. The clock was clutched between them as they crouched closer to the floor and made their way to the doorframe.
The noises and aftershocks continued for another 20 minutes. Finally, when it was silent for a while, Hermione pulled out her wand. "Tempus." She murmured. The two of them gasped when they saw the reading:
Saturday, September 7, 1940, 6:15pm
"That can't be right," he whispered. "Tempus!" next to Hermione's reading appeared his own, exactly mirroring her own.
"No no no no no no!" she groaned, leaning further into him and resting her forehead against his shoulder. "Unless both of our magic is out we've travelled back to the beginning of the Blitz."
"The Blitz?" he asked, confused.
"Fucking Wizards!" she chided. "Yes World War Two? The beginning of the worst bombing in London's history?" When he just looked at her blankly she sighed. "Grindelwald? He used the Muggle World War to cover his tracks."
"Well this doesn't bode well," he said shortly. "My ancestors were quite well known during this time. We'll have to sort out how to get home, it probably has to do with this clock, yes?"
She nodded looking down at the clock in question.
Hermione had slid down against the wall and pulled out the notebook she always carried with her. She started to quickly draft a timeline of the events that directly surrounded the first day of the Blitz.
"We have to find somewhere to go to gather ourselves," she said, looking at him. "Remember how I noted that people in the Muggle World were still a bit uncomfortable with biracial relationships?" he nodded. "They're almost totally unacceptable at this point. We'll have to have a cover story. We both went to school in Canada, interracial marriage is more acceptable there…'' She trailed off and continued taking notes. "We're both obviously British. Hmmm. You probably were in Medical School, that's why you didn't join the military…"
She looked up at him, still hovering over her. After a moment, he smirked. "Why Granger, are you asking me to marry you?"
She sputtered, "I- well I-"
"Won't this be the romantic tale to tell our grandchildren!" He dropped into a wheezy imitation of an old man, "Come 'round, come 'round my darlings. Let me tell you about when we got engaged! We'd just lived through a gigantic Muggle bombing and your grandmother just started listing facts as if they were nobodies business. She said, 'People in the Muggle World are a bit uncomfortable with biracial relationships. In fact, they're almost totally unacceptable at this point.' then she did that cute little nose wrinkled face she does when she's thinking and said: 'I've got it, Draco! We can pretend to be from Canada and that we're married. No one will know we haven't yet-'"
"That is not what I said, Dr-Malfoy!"
"Come on Princess, admit it, you imagined yourself in a white dress walking toward me, didn't you?" he teased, smirk ever present.
She huffed at him. "I did no such thing," she said primly. "Now are you going to help with the plan or not?"
He dropped next to her and took the notebook and pen from her hands, adding notes here and there.
"We obviously can't be Malfoys, but we can be Malcolms," he said as he wrote. "Drake and Mia Malcolm?" when she nodded he continued, "You can stay the same, but we'll have to glamour my hair. It's too well known. Do you have any thoughts on somewhere we can go to lay low for a couple of days and collect ourselves?"
"My Grandparents just got married and work in my Great-Grandparent's Inn. They were always very open-minded from what I remember and what Mum said. When she brought Dad to meet them, they were only mildly surprised, but rolled with it astoundingly better than she'd anticipated."
"Okay, great, perfect. Do we look appropriate?" he asked, gesturing to their clothing.
"With a few adjustments…" she said, standing and pulling him up. She waved her wand, changing the cut of his pants and turning a piece of fabric into a battered looking hat. She changed the cape part of her robes into a hat for herself, and drew lines up the back of her legs to imitate pantyhose. "Alright, Malf-"
"Please, call me Drake. We have to practice," he said softly.
"You're right Drake," she said blushing as she looked away. "I'll apparate us to the train station near their Inn, we can ask around for an Inn, and then make our way there."
"Wait!" he said, stopping her. "R-Rings. We need rings!"
"W-what?" she asked, choking.
He reached inside of his jacket pocket. "Rings, uh well this was my Mum's favourite ring, not her engagement ring, but…" he thrust a simple sapphire ring on a gold band at her.
"Y-you want me to wear your mother's ring?" she asked, blinking at it.
"Well it's not the Malfoy Engagement Ring so it's not… yes, Granger, you're supposed to be my wife."
When he started to transfigure a ring for himself, she touched his arm. "Men didn't always wear rings in this time, it wasn't neces-"
"It's necessary, Granger. We're equals. Partners. I won't have anyone think that I'm not yours as you are mine," he said firmly. She found herself strangely more comfortable with him than she'd been with any other man before.
"I- Thank you, Draco- Drake," she said, watching him transfigure his signet ring into a simple gold band.
She reached out her hand to him and apparated them to the train station.
When they arrived, it was quiet at the station. They'd been in the past for almost two hours. She knew that in the 90s, it was about an hour and a half train trip from Charing Cross to East Grinstead, their first train stop before Forest Row where the Inn was located. With the bombing, things would obviously be off, so she figured that when she saw the next train from London they could board the one to Forsest Row, so their cover story matched up. They hunkered down off to the side, she started pulling papers from her notebook, transfiguring them into the documents they needed.
Marriage License from the Ontario Courts for one Drake Malcolm and Miriam Granger. Medical Doctor licensure and diploma for Drake Malcolm. Nursing Certificate for Miriam Granger. Tickets for Drake and Miriam Malcolm for transport from Canada to the United Kingdom. Rations cards, a photo from their "Courthouse Ceremony," and letters letting them know about their housing situation and enlistment declaration.
Draco just watched her and took each document, placing it in the folder that he'd transfigured from another sheet of paper. When everything was completed, they sat in silence. "We have to talk about it," he said softly.
"I-not yet?" she tried asking.
"We can't put it off, there is nothing else to be done, Grang- Princess, please," he begged, pulling her hand to his.
"What is there to say? We can't do anything about anything now, we're here, we have to figure out how to-" he kissed her. She stiffened for a moment, but then melted into him.
"Tell me that doesn't feel better than any other kiss you've had and I won't bring it up again. Tell me and I'll pretend to be your husband and we can do whatever you want. But if you tell me that you feel how I do, I won't let you go."
"I-I can't…" she pressed her forehead against his.
"You can't what?" he asked, his voice breaking.
"I can't say that it doesn't feel perfect, I can't ask you to stop because if I did I don't know if I'd survive it," she whispered.
He chuckled against her lips and then pulled her into his side, laying a kiss on the top of her head, "Well, Mrs. Malcolm, it looks like it's you and I, doesn't it?" She smiled softly as a train came in, the first from London. They stood and moved over to the platform that would take them to Forest Row.
We've reached the point that I've written up to! Like I've said, hit me up if you're interested in Alpha/Beta work for a few different pieces!