DUET 3: cryptaknight and rivertempest
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Title: Rewritten
Author: cryptaknight
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5307
Summary: When Hermione's in a world she doesn't recognize, she must put the puzzle pieces together to find out why, and how it can be fixed… and if she wants to fix it at all.
Warnings: Alternative universe
Author's Note(s): Thank you, duet partner, for making me write something outside of my usual box. I had fun imagining how this story could be told, and revisiting canon to see how things might change if only one moment was different. I hope you enjoy it, too! Thanks go to K for the superb beta. If there are any mistakes they are my fault and not hers ;)
The baby's sharp, high pitched cry startles Hermione out of a sound sleep. Her response is automatic, and she shoves the covers away and has her feet on the floor before she realizes that something isn't right.
Hermione doesn't have a baby.
She's certain of this. While her busy schedule sometimes has her forgetting things like picking up cat food on the way home or her keys in her office or sometimes her own name, she is very sure she would remember having a child. None of her friends have babies, either, which makes the wailing she's currently being subjected to even more exceedingly odd. Another oddity is that Hermione is also certain she lives in a one bedroom flat, yet the crying is clearly emanating from down the hall.
There's no help for it but to investigate. Hermione has spent enough time in the world of magic to develop the ability to handle curious situations with aplomb. She stands and pads to the doorway, her head swivelling as she looks both ways, acknowledging that instead of the narrow hallway that should be there, leading right out to the living area, she sees a long, wide expanse with several doors leading off both sides.
She racks her brain, trying to recall what she was doing last night that might have led to her staying the night in a stranger's home - a stranger, she is sure, because she has never seen this house before, and because of the wailing infant. Hermione can't remember anything more exciting than falling asleep in her armchair while reading over a treatise on the inclusion of Muggle Studies at Hogwarts several centuries prior. In any case, the crying compels her to move. She can solve this mystery after dealing with what seems to be a very distressed creature.
Hermione nearly reaches the source of the sound when it abruptly stops, replaced by a soft, snuggly sort of sound, and the addition of a low, soothing murmur. Her curiosity is what propels her forward now. She finds the doorway, which is cracked open and this is no doubt why the sound carried all the way to her ear and into her deep sleep. She knows she should probably knock, but she doesn't, just gently nudges the door inward until she can see the occupants of the room.
Draco Malfoy turns to face her, a swaddled baby in his arms. He looks uncharacteristically dishevelled, though he smiles, and Hermione doesn't even have time to process this shocking sight before he says, "Oh, darling, I'm sorry he woke you. I tried to get to him as quickly as I could."
Hermione's mouth opens and closes soundlessly, and then she steps back and pulls the door firmly shut, putting the solid oak between herself and what is clearly the onset of some sort of dementia.
She is back in the room from whence she emerged, sitting on the edge of what she now realizes is a very large bed with her head in her hands when Malfoy locates her. Mercifully, he does not have the mysterious child with him. It is easier to deal with the shocking sight of him when he is more or less as she expects him to be, though his hair is ruffled and sticking up in a way that she would have assumed no other human would ever be permitted to lay eyes upon.
"I'm not certain what is going on," she says peremptorily, not allowing him the chance to drop any more baffling terms of endearment in her direction. "I would have left but I can't seem to locate the exit. Perhaps you can tell me where my clothing is, and then you can be quit of me before I disturb your family further."
She would quite like to know how she came to be in what is evidently Malfoy's home - in her pyjamas, no less - but that can wait until the more immediate concerns are addressed, chiefly attiring herself properly and removing herself from the premises. Hermione doesn't much like the way Malfoy is looking at her, with deep concern etching frown lines into his forehead and a certain softness in his eyes that she's chosen to ignore.
"Of course," Malfoy says after a beat, his tone cautious in a way Hermione doesn't understand. He points a long finger toward a door in the interior of the room. "The closet is over there."
"Thank you." Hermione stands, striding over to the closet. She yanks the door open, only to once again find herself drawing up short. One side of the closet is full of the suits and dress shirts that she'd expect to find in Malfoy's closet. The other side, however, is filled with sensible office wear, comfy looking jumpers, and most unexpectedly, denim trousers. She steps closer, reaching for the nearest item, a button-down shirt. It is her size. She frowns, then abruptly rifles through a good selection of the things hanging within the closet. All of it is her size, and even stranger, to her taste. She backs out slowly, not taking anything with her, and whirls to face Malfoy, who has not moved from the spot in which she'd left him.
"What on earth is all that?" she demands, suddenly furious.
His face is placid as he answers. "It's your clothing."
She could scream. She feels the urge to do so. But it will get her nowhere. Through her teeth, she says, "I should like to use your fireplace."
Several minutes later, Harry's face comes to life in the fires of what appears to be Malfoy's library. To Hermione's surprise (although what was not a surprise on this irritating morning?) Malfoy had issued no objection to her intention to call Harry. He'd simply handed her the Floo powder and withdrawn, presumably to see to the child.
"What's up, Hermione?" Harry seems cheerful, if a little startled to hear from her. Hermione supposes it was bit early in the morning for her to firecall.
"Harry," she says, her voice hissing between her teeth as she was attempting to be discreet. "I believe Malfoy has abducted me. Possibly to care for his child. Or perhaps he has abducted the child as well. Perhaps he's gone mad. I don't know. But he has a closet full of clothes in my size and I have no recollection of how I came to be here."
"Alright, alright, slow down. What is it you think Draco has done?" Harry's face looks confused, then suspicious. "Are the two of you playing a prank on me?"
Hermione shakes her head violently, her curls hitting her in the face from the force of the movement. "Harry! No! Why would we? Why would I even be associating with Malfoy?"
This is maddening. Harry is behaving very strangely. Calling Malfoy by his first name. Assuming she and Malfoy were colluding in some fashion. Not being at all concerned that she had potentially been kidnapped.
"Okay." Harry speaks in a slow careful tone that was so similar to the one Malfoy had used earlier that it sets Hermione's teeth on edge. "Wow. Um. Draco's mum said women can get a bit mad after giving birth, but I didn't realize that included this sort of delusion."
"What!?" Hermione screeches, her breath picking up pace. "Draco's mum? What on earth are you on about? Who's given birth?"
"Uh. You did?" Harry sounds a bit frightened, but it was probably because Hermione's temper could be fearsome and she could hear that the edge was showing in her raised voice. "You and, ah, Draco? Not that he gave birth, of course, but he's the new father and all."
Hermione opens her mouth to really yell, to deny it, but she snaps it shut before the words can escape. She doesn't want to find herself carted off to St Mungo's, and it's clear that Harry believes what he is saying. She takes a deep breath, then forces a laugh.
"Ahahaha, of course, I see there's no fooling you!" Hermione's voice is perhaps a bit high and thin, but she thinks she's pulled it off well enough. "Sorry to wake you!"
She douses the fire before Harry can say anything else, or worse, ask to speak to Malfoy.
~.~.~.~
Several hours later, Hermione stands at another fireplace, this time the one in The Hogs Head. She'd played along, apologizing stiffly to Malfoy for her earlier 'silliness'. She'd then locked herself in the loo, using the time while she showered and put herself to rights to mull over the entire confounding situation. She still has no idea of the how of it all, but she's concluded that however improbable it seems, she has awoken in a world where she is indeed mother to Draco Malfoy's child. Perhaps she would have been less accepting if she hadn't engaged in her own time travel shenanigans throughout her school years, but Hermione knows that the smallest change can convert a whole timeline. Obviously, something had happened to shift the stream around her. She isn't sure either why she is aware of it, though she supposes she's glad that's the case, so she can attempt to right things.
Once she'd emerged from the bathroom, Hermione had very calmly told Draco that she'd an appointment with Professor McGonagall. Evidently her career path in this time stream is not too far off from the one in her own time, because Malfoy had accepted this unquestioningly. Before leaving, however, she had been unable to resist taking another peek at the child, which is after all in some strange way hers. The infant, which Hermione judges to be no more than three months old, is a strange blend of herself and Malfoy, and it is this that has convinced her of the reality of her circumstances. He has nearly a full head of brown hair, finer than her own, and slate coloured eyes, with Malfoy's sharply angled chin and the shape of her mouth. Malfoy has informed her that the child's name is Julius Orion Malfoy, which Hermione supposes is not as awful as it might be, though she does have a hard time imagining herself agreeing to it.
The child evokes a response in Hermione that she is not prepared for and is not certain she appreciates. She cannot allow herself any feeling for Julius, as she intends to erase his existence.
Which is why she's decided to pay McGonagall a visit. The headmistress was the one who had taught Hermione the intricacies of time travel in her third year at Hogwarts, and if anyone can solve the current conundrum, it will be the most powerful witch Hermione has ever known.
~.~.~.~
The scene is nearly as Hermione remembers it. Harry, Ron, and herself, standing in the Room of Requirement, facing Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. They are looking for the diadem in this giant pocket of a room while the battle rages around them at the school. They've squared off, three and three, wands held at attention, the tension in the room thick. A small spark will be all it takes to create Fiendfyre, so necessary to the destruction of the Horcrux. If this is the point where the timeline has diverged, Hermione cannot do much to change the course of history. She's concealed herself, but it is difficult to watch things play out, knowing someone will be dead by the time they leave this room, even if it is the thoroughly reprehensible Vincent Crabbe.
Something extraordinary happens. Malfoy turns his head slightly, so he is looking over his shoulder. His fine, pale hair has fallen rakishly over his forehead, and he winks. He winks at Harry, Ron, and the younger version of herself, and Hermione could not be more surprised if he'd stripped naked and begun dancing the Charleston in the middle of the Room of Hidden Things. And then suddenly he is with them, his wand arm swinging offensively up over his head.
Unfortunately, Malfoy casts the disarming spell at Goyle first. Hermione wants to cry out that he is not the threat, that Crabbe will be the problem, but she must remain hidden and silent. It is entirely frustrating.
Surely enough, the Fiendfyre erupts from Crabbe's wand, and from there the scene plays out nearly identically to the one in Hermione's memory, except that Draco is running with them, and when Harry zooms by on his broom, Ron is not shouting that he will kill Harry if they all die saving Malfoy. Instead Ron yells out that if Harry doesn't save Malfoy, Hermione will never forgive him.
Hermione knows it is no use, not here. Things are already different. She will have to try another time. She twists the time turner hanging from her neck, and feels herself pulled forward. She opens her eyes in the bedroom at Malfoy's house. Her house, as well, she supposes, for now.
McGonagall has warned her that for these big trips through time, only one can be made in a twenty four hour period. Which means she must wait until tomorrow before making another attempt. In the meantime…
Malfoy's voice floats up the stairs. "Dinner is ready, Hermione! Are you coming down?"
"Just a moment," she calls. She supposes she must.
She is not certain what she will do at bedtime. She can probably beg a headache tonight, but that excuse will wear thin quickly. She will just have to find the divergence as soon as she possibly can.
~.~.~.~
That proves easier said than done. Hermione makes her jump daily, but is no closer to finding the moment that changes everything she knows to be true.
She'd had some hope for that moment in sixth year, one she'd never been privy to but had heard about from Harry so many times. Draco and Dumbledore, at the top of the Astronomy Tower. It had seemed such a likely opportunity. But in the borrowed invisibility cloak (which was now also existing in the same temporal location twice, making Hermione feel an immediate fondness for it) she'd overheard a frantic, whispered conversation between Draco and Harry before Harry had hidden himself and Draco had ascended the stairs.
"You agreed with me taking the mark, Harry. You liked the idea of having an inside man. And I was happy to do it, for you. But my family, my mum…"
"I know, Draco. I understand, I do. If I could have saved my mum from him, I would do it. But Dumbledore!"
"I'll figure something out. Besides, Snape has been up my arse about this. He'll stop it."
Evidently Draco hadn't known about Snape's vow with his mother. A pity, for Dumbledore's sake. Hermione had seen that Draco was just as horrified and stricken as the rest of them, when he'd cast a sickened look back at Harry before Snape whisked him away.
Her jump to fifth year proves much the same. Malfoy is at the Ministry of Magic, ostensibly with his father but communicating with Harry the entire time. In the Department of Mysteries, Hermione watches as Malfoy subtly flicks his wand, sending glass encased prophecies skittering in his father's direction.
It is a bit breathtaking, in a way, and she grudgingly admires Malfoy's bravery. To defy his parents the way that she is seeing him do is not an easy thing, she knows. Not for someone to whom tradition and family are so important. And it seems to be a bit of a habit for him, because his loyalty to Harry in this timeline is clear. Hermione wonders what inspires it, and she is determined to discover it. She feels slight qualms at the thought of breaking the bonds she is already seeing, but she wants her life back.
Fourth year is a bit boring. Hermione makes several jumps there, trying to think of anything odd that occurred during each of the Triwizard tasks. But all she finds is Malfoy helping at each step of the way, researching dragons in the library with her younger self, practising Accio! with Harry, and in a moment that makes her stomach feel oddly fluttery, dancing with her at the Yule Ball. Hermione is grateful for the absence of those infuriating Potter Stinks! badges, at the least. Perhaps Malfoy's friendship is not so terrible.
If only it had not changed her own future so drastically.
Third year is a bit tricky, of course, given her own Time-Turner antics to begin with. Hermione decides to avoid them completely, knowing it still would have just been her and Harry saving Sirius and Buckbeak. She doubts Malfoy has lost his fear of the hippogriff, and the chain of her Time-Turner would only have carried two. And she is correct, because it seems that Draco was adamantly against them going to the Shrieking Shack at all, logically objecting to them chasing after a known werewolf into an unknown situation. He will never be an impulsive Gryffindor, but ever the calculating Slytherin, wherever his loyalties might lie.
She conceals herself instead in the hospital wing, assuming Malfoy will come to lecture the injured Ron. It is what she would do in his shoes. She is discovering they are much alike in some ways, ways she might have realized prior had there not always been deep enmity placing them on opposite sides of just about everything.
Malfoy and Ron's conversation is not long, since in the grand scheme of things Harry and her thirteen year old self are back rather quickly. But he intimates that it was he who roused Snape and sent him to protect them from their idiotic selves. And then he worriedly asks where she and Harry are, Ron shrugging his shoulders in his typical I dunno fashion. Their reunion is happy, and Malfoy hugs her tightly after yelling a bit about how dangerous what they'd done was.
Second year, however, is the worst. Her visit there leaves Hermione feeling incredibly guilty, her stomach in knots regarding her own intentions.
Draco does not leave her side in the hospital wing. He sits next to the petrified twelve year old Hermione, reading aloud to her. Telling her what she is missing in class. He has to be forced from the room by Madam Pomfrey. Hermione can't stand it. She knows she shouldn't interfere, but from under the invisibility cloak she reaches out, knocking the scrap of parchment clutched in the frozen hand to the floor. The motion of the paper fluttering to the ground catches Draco's eye, and he snatches it up, his eyes widening as he is propelled out by the nurse.
She is not sure what she has done, if she has cemented the new timeline further by her behaviour, but somehow it still feels like the right thing.
By the time she gets to their adventures in first year, she is ready to cry when she spots an eleven year old Malfoy, small and imperious even as a child, playing a violin for Fluffy. No doubt she and Ron and Harry are already inside the series of challenges that awaits them, while Draco stands guard by the fearsome beast, serenading him with a Bach piece. Knowing Malfoy's fear of large creatures only makes the moment more poignant, and Hermione leaves nearly as quickly as she arrived.
~.~.~.~
It proves impossible to avoid present day Malfoy - and his child - during the hours when Hermione is not leaping about through time revisiting her school years. She hasn't changed anything, either. Every time she makes the return trip, Draco and Julius are there. Or at least Julius is. Malfoy does go to work, something or other at the Wizengamot, for a good portion of the day. Hermione has ascertained that she is still on maternity leave from her own position, whatever it may be, and thankfully there is a kindly older witch who comes round to help with the baby, who is on the bottle, to Hermione's everlasting gratitude.
It hasn't escaped Hermione's notice that there is not a single house-elf in their household. That fact alone softened her toward Malfoy a bit.
Malfoy does pop up for dinner, of course. To her shock, it hasn't been entirely unpleasant conversing with him about his work and other goings on in the magical world, or about whatever milestone Julius has accomplished during the day. Given what Hermione has seen in her visits to the past, she supposes she shouldn't be surprised. It seems Draco Malfoy is only unpleasant to those he's not friends with, and she cannot find a time when he was not her friend. She wishes she would, because it's entirely too easy to fall into this daily rhythm with him, with the child, with her life here. The only reason she can still think of to fix the timeline is her stubborn insistence that the one she remembers is the correct one.
One night, as they lounge in the sitting room after dinner, Hermione with some knitting spread across her lap and Draco cradling Julius in his arms, Draco finally asks her if everything is all right.
She is startled. "Everything is fine."
Draco's tone is careful when he says, "You just look a bit peaky." He pauses, his teeth catching his lower lip in a way she has learned is habitual. "I haven't seen you so tired since your time turner adventures back in third year."
Hermione draws in a sharp breath, her needles going still. This is too close to the truth. She hasn't wanted to hurt Draco by telling him that she doesn't remember any of their life together. She still doesn't want to, and she wonders when she started caring how Draco Malfoy feels about anything.
"Well. I am still getting used to this whole mum thing," she answers lightly. She finds herself curious, however, and can't help saying, "That was a wild time, though, wasn't it?"
Draco laughs, which makes the baby startle. He smiles down softly at Julius, then looks back over at Hermione, his slate-coloured eyes dancing as he looks up at her through the fringe of hair that has fallen across his forehead. She feels that look deep in the pit of her stomach, and she catches herself smiling impishly back before she looks away, down at what is soon to be a blanket.
"It was. I was so furious when I found out how you were getting more top marks than I was. Unfair advantage, taking two classes in the same hour." He stands, taking Julius over to the portable cot in the corner of the room, settling the sleeping infant inside. "I yelled at you that I regretted ever befriending you lot on the train that first year. You soothed the savage beast with a kiss, if I recall. Our first."
Hermione's hand begins shaking so hard she has to put down her needles again, to prevent them clacking together. She does not know if it is the talk of kissing, which intrigues her more than she would like to admit, or if it's because Draco has just revealed the answer she's been searching for all along.
"You brilliant man," she says, unthinking, jumping to her feet to throw her arms around him.
Of course, throwing oneself at one's husband can have consequences, which Hermione realizes too late, as Draco's mouth finds hers, kissing her soundly before she can extract herself. It is nice, too nice, and she allows it to go on far too long. His lips are soft, and warm, and know expertly how to kiss her. He's had years of experience, she supposes, given what he's just told her. Finally he lifts his head to breathe, and Hermione is able to pull back slightly.
She looks up at Draco, feeling dazed, and more than a little fond of him.
It rocks her to the core.
She murmurs that she is tired, and flees back up to the bedroom. She must fix this, now, before she can become any further entangled in this life that is not really hers.
~.~.~.~
She slides onto the Hogwarts Express behind two girls in Ravenclaw kit, hidden under the invisibility cloak. Her intention is to find Harry, stick to him like glue, and make certain he rejects Draco's handshake. She's not sure what made him react differently, but if she has to cast an Imperius curse on him, Hermione means to set things right.
She remembers vividly which compartment Harry will be in, the one she will barge into later to lecture him about his own history and show off her knowledge of all things magic. She nearly winces at the thought; she'd only been so excited about the new adventure she was embarking on, and eager to share all she'd learned already. She is nearly there when she sees a large and shadowy adult figure in a spot where there ought not be one.
Her mouth turns down in a deep frown when the figure approaches an eleven year old Harry Potter. Harry is so small; she'd forgotten how thin and short he'd been when they'd first met, swimming in his hand-me-down clothing. She feels a sharp pang of affection for him, and her concern about the person taking him aside intensifies. Hermione can't quite make out any facial features. Disillusionment charm, she supposes. She follows the pair down the length of the train to an empty compartment in the very back.
She sees the figure - male, she thinks - whispering intently to young Harry but she only catches one snippet of conversation before Harry nods seriously and makes off for his own compartment and Ron, who is surely awaiting him.
Be certain to shake his hand, no matter how much of a pillock he's being. The fate of the wizarding world depends on it.
Which was a bit melodramatic, she thinks. Things had been pretty much the same, really. Except for poor Draco and herself. Poor Draco. She shakes the thought away, and outraged, steps into the compartment, giving the shadowy man a hard shove. As she does so, two things happen. The hood of the invisibility cloak falls from her head. And the disillusionment charm breaks.
"Hermione?" The voice, as well as the face, is wretchedly dear.
"You. You. You did this? Why?"
Harry shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs in the most infuriating way. "Why not?"
"Why not?" Hermione splutters. "I'm married to Malfoy, that's why! And I have a baby! With him!"
"Do you?" Harry seems surprised but not very perturbed by the idea. "This must go really well, then. You'll have to tell me all about it when we meet back up."
Another thought occurs to Hermione. "So when I firecalled you, you knew I wasn't going mad or suffering postpartum depression or whatever you made me think you thought."
Her tone is accusatory, but Harry just laughs. "Dunno. Hasn't happened yet, for me. Suppose so."
"But, Harry! You can't do this. We have to fix it."
"Why? Does it all go sideways, then? Voldemort wins, world collapses, Hogwarts burns to the ground, that sort of thing?" Now he does look concerned, the prat.
"No," she admits, folding her arms over her chest and harrumphing. "But I've married Malfoy."
"Yeah, you said." Harry's lips twist, and Hermione knows whatever he's going to say will irritate her. "But it's good, right? He's nice? How is the baby?"
Hermione is right, she is irritated, but she is also deflated, the righteous indignation whooshing right out of her.
"He's perfectly lovely." Her voice takes on a high note, not quite a wail, but edging very close to one. "And the baby - Julius - he's adorable. But they're not really mine!"
"Seems to me they are, though. I doubt this is your first stop on the Change the Timeline Back tour. I'm going to guess that Malfoy earned what he's got. I know you."
He does know her. Well enough to know what her actions would have been upon discovering the alternate timeline, and well enough to know she wouldn't have fallen in love with Draco Malfoy if he wasn't worthy of it.
"But -"
Harry interrupts her. "But nothing. I don't know why you're even aware things have changed. Probably because of all the larking about you've already done with time turners in your life. But I'm not going to let you in there and stop that handshake. Everything you've told me means everything is better. You need to let it be."
Hermione's frown is etched deeply. She can't help asking, "Why? Why even change things, Harry?"
Harry leans against the side of the compartment and heaves a sigh. "I ran into him. At some dark little bar in Knockturn Alley where I popped in to have a drink after a tough arrest. I didn't want to go home yet, unload all that darkness on Ginny. Malfoy was sitting there at the bar, hunched over a glass of firewhisky, and it was clear it wasn't his first. He was so sad, Hermione. So sad." Harry's eyes lift to meet hers, so clear and green and imploring her to understand. "And do you know what he said to me? He said, 'I never wanted to hurt anyone, Potter. I just wanted to matter.' He told me he wished I'd just shaken his hand on the train. That if we couldn't be friends, at least we hadn't had to be enemies."
"What if the changes had been bad, though?" Hermione has to ask.
"Mc - er… someone told me they reckoned it would be okay. When I was looking to get the Time-Turner to do this. And it is okay. So all's well that ends well."
"Even for me?" she says challengingly.
"Especially for you." Harry pushes off from the wall, wrapping one arm around Hermione. "Just go home, Hermione. Go home to the family you've fallen in love with. We can talk about this later."
It sounds like the best idea in the world, despite her misgivings. Despite how selfish she feels. So she kisses Harry on the cheek, promises to scold him soundly the next time they talk, thumps him one on the shoulder, and then gives her own Time-Turner a twist.
~.~.~.~
When she returns back, she can hear Draco coming up the stairs. She pokes her head out of the door, and sees that he's ascending with Julius in his arms, no doubt to put the baby to bed.
"Oh, sorry, love. I didn't mean to wake you." His voice is a whisper, so as not to wake the sleeping infant.
"It's fine," she whispers back. "I'll come with you two."
Draco is so gentle as he lays the baby in his bassinet. Hermione slides an arm around Draco's waist, tucking her head against his shoulder as they gaze down at their child.
Draco presses a kiss to the top of Hermione's head. "Shall we go to bed?"
"It has been a long day," she says, though the corners of her mouth turn up in a slight smile.
She turns to face him, her eyes taking in the face that has somehow become so important to her. Then she stretches upward, pressing her lips against his. It feels right, like his mouth has always been meant to fit with hers. Hermione realizes dimly that she is done resisting. This life is happier than the one she is letting go of.
Besides, if it all goes sideways, she knows exactly how to fix it now.
She draws back, a private smile on her face. "Yes, Draco. Let's go to bed."
THE END
Title: Rewritten
Author: cryptaknight
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5307
Summary: When Hermione's in a world she doesn't recognize, she must put the puzzle pieces together to find out why, and how it can be fixed… and if she wants to fix it at all.
Warnings: Alternative universe
Author's Note(s): Thank you, duet partner, for making me write something outside of my usual box. I had fun imagining how this story could be told, and revisiting canon to see how things might change if only one moment was different. I hope you enjoy it, too! Thanks go to K for the superb beta. If there are any mistakes they are my fault and not hers ;)
The baby's sharp, high pitched cry startles Hermione out of a sound sleep. Her response is automatic, and she shoves the covers away and has her feet on the floor before she realizes that something isn't right.
Hermione doesn't have a baby.
She's certain of this. While her busy schedule sometimes has her forgetting things like picking up cat food on the way home or her keys in her office or sometimes her own name, she is very sure she would remember having a child. None of her friends have babies, either, which makes the wailing she's currently being subjected to even more exceedingly odd. Another oddity is that Hermione is also certain she lives in a one bedroom flat, yet the crying is clearly emanating from down the hall.
There's no help for it but to investigate. Hermione has spent enough time in the world of magic to develop the ability to handle curious situations with aplomb. She stands and pads to the doorway, her head swivelling as she looks both ways, acknowledging that instead of the narrow hallway that should be there, leading right out to the living area, she sees a long, wide expanse with several doors leading off both sides.
She racks her brain, trying to recall what she was doing last night that might have led to her staying the night in a stranger's home - a stranger, she is sure, because she has never seen this house before, and because of the wailing infant. Hermione can't remember anything more exciting than falling asleep in her armchair while reading over a treatise on the inclusion of Muggle Studies at Hogwarts several centuries prior. In any case, the crying compels her to move. She can solve this mystery after dealing with what seems to be a very distressed creature.
Hermione nearly reaches the source of the sound when it abruptly stops, replaced by a soft, snuggly sort of sound, and the addition of a low, soothing murmur. Her curiosity is what propels her forward now. She finds the doorway, which is cracked open and this is no doubt why the sound carried all the way to her ear and into her deep sleep. She knows she should probably knock, but she doesn't, just gently nudges the door inward until she can see the occupants of the room.
Draco Malfoy turns to face her, a swaddled baby in his arms. He looks uncharacteristically dishevelled, though he smiles, and Hermione doesn't even have time to process this shocking sight before he says, "Oh, darling, I'm sorry he woke you. I tried to get to him as quickly as I could."
Hermione's mouth opens and closes soundlessly, and then she steps back and pulls the door firmly shut, putting the solid oak between herself and what is clearly the onset of some sort of dementia.
She is back in the room from whence she emerged, sitting on the edge of what she now realizes is a very large bed with her head in her hands when Malfoy locates her. Mercifully, he does not have the mysterious child with him. It is easier to deal with the shocking sight of him when he is more or less as she expects him to be, though his hair is ruffled and sticking up in a way that she would have assumed no other human would ever be permitted to lay eyes upon.
"I'm not certain what is going on," she says peremptorily, not allowing him the chance to drop any more baffling terms of endearment in her direction. "I would have left but I can't seem to locate the exit. Perhaps you can tell me where my clothing is, and then you can be quit of me before I disturb your family further."
She would quite like to know how she came to be in what is evidently Malfoy's home - in her pyjamas, no less - but that can wait until the more immediate concerns are addressed, chiefly attiring herself properly and removing herself from the premises. Hermione doesn't much like the way Malfoy is looking at her, with deep concern etching frown lines into his forehead and a certain softness in his eyes that she's chosen to ignore.
"Of course," Malfoy says after a beat, his tone cautious in a way Hermione doesn't understand. He points a long finger toward a door in the interior of the room. "The closet is over there."
"Thank you." Hermione stands, striding over to the closet. She yanks the door open, only to once again find herself drawing up short. One side of the closet is full of the suits and dress shirts that she'd expect to find in Malfoy's closet. The other side, however, is filled with sensible office wear, comfy looking jumpers, and most unexpectedly, denim trousers. She steps closer, reaching for the nearest item, a button-down shirt. It is her size. She frowns, then abruptly rifles through a good selection of the things hanging within the closet. All of it is her size, and even stranger, to her taste. She backs out slowly, not taking anything with her, and whirls to face Malfoy, who has not moved from the spot in which she'd left him.
"What on earth is all that?" she demands, suddenly furious.
His face is placid as he answers. "It's your clothing."
She could scream. She feels the urge to do so. But it will get her nowhere. Through her teeth, she says, "I should like to use your fireplace."
Several minutes later, Harry's face comes to life in the fires of what appears to be Malfoy's library. To Hermione's surprise (although what was not a surprise on this irritating morning?) Malfoy had issued no objection to her intention to call Harry. He'd simply handed her the Floo powder and withdrawn, presumably to see to the child.
"What's up, Hermione?" Harry seems cheerful, if a little startled to hear from her. Hermione supposes it was bit early in the morning for her to firecall.
"Harry," she says, her voice hissing between her teeth as she was attempting to be discreet. "I believe Malfoy has abducted me. Possibly to care for his child. Or perhaps he has abducted the child as well. Perhaps he's gone mad. I don't know. But he has a closet full of clothes in my size and I have no recollection of how I came to be here."
"Alright, alright, slow down. What is it you think Draco has done?" Harry's face looks confused, then suspicious. "Are the two of you playing a prank on me?"
Hermione shakes her head violently, her curls hitting her in the face from the force of the movement. "Harry! No! Why would we? Why would I even be associating with Malfoy?"
This is maddening. Harry is behaving very strangely. Calling Malfoy by his first name. Assuming she and Malfoy were colluding in some fashion. Not being at all concerned that she had potentially been kidnapped.
"Okay." Harry speaks in a slow careful tone that was so similar to the one Malfoy had used earlier that it sets Hermione's teeth on edge. "Wow. Um. Draco's mum said women can get a bit mad after giving birth, but I didn't realize that included this sort of delusion."
"What!?" Hermione screeches, her breath picking up pace. "Draco's mum? What on earth are you on about? Who's given birth?"
"Uh. You did?" Harry sounds a bit frightened, but it was probably because Hermione's temper could be fearsome and she could hear that the edge was showing in her raised voice. "You and, ah, Draco? Not that he gave birth, of course, but he's the new father and all."
Hermione opens her mouth to really yell, to deny it, but she snaps it shut before the words can escape. She doesn't want to find herself carted off to St Mungo's, and it's clear that Harry believes what he is saying. She takes a deep breath, then forces a laugh.
"Ahahaha, of course, I see there's no fooling you!" Hermione's voice is perhaps a bit high and thin, but she thinks she's pulled it off well enough. "Sorry to wake you!"
She douses the fire before Harry can say anything else, or worse, ask to speak to Malfoy.
~.~.~.~
Several hours later, Hermione stands at another fireplace, this time the one in The Hogs Head. She'd played along, apologizing stiffly to Malfoy for her earlier 'silliness'. She'd then locked herself in the loo, using the time while she showered and put herself to rights to mull over the entire confounding situation. She still has no idea of the how of it all, but she's concluded that however improbable it seems, she has awoken in a world where she is indeed mother to Draco Malfoy's child. Perhaps she would have been less accepting if she hadn't engaged in her own time travel shenanigans throughout her school years, but Hermione knows that the smallest change can convert a whole timeline. Obviously, something had happened to shift the stream around her. She isn't sure either why she is aware of it, though she supposes she's glad that's the case, so she can attempt to right things.
Once she'd emerged from the bathroom, Hermione had very calmly told Draco that she'd an appointment with Professor McGonagall. Evidently her career path in this time stream is not too far off from the one in her own time, because Malfoy had accepted this unquestioningly. Before leaving, however, she had been unable to resist taking another peek at the child, which is after all in some strange way hers. The infant, which Hermione judges to be no more than three months old, is a strange blend of herself and Malfoy, and it is this that has convinced her of the reality of her circumstances. He has nearly a full head of brown hair, finer than her own, and slate coloured eyes, with Malfoy's sharply angled chin and the shape of her mouth. Malfoy has informed her that the child's name is Julius Orion Malfoy, which Hermione supposes is not as awful as it might be, though she does have a hard time imagining herself agreeing to it.
The child evokes a response in Hermione that she is not prepared for and is not certain she appreciates. She cannot allow herself any feeling for Julius, as she intends to erase his existence.
Which is why she's decided to pay McGonagall a visit. The headmistress was the one who had taught Hermione the intricacies of time travel in her third year at Hogwarts, and if anyone can solve the current conundrum, it will be the most powerful witch Hermione has ever known.
~.~.~.~
The scene is nearly as Hermione remembers it. Harry, Ron, and herself, standing in the Room of Requirement, facing Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. They are looking for the diadem in this giant pocket of a room while the battle rages around them at the school. They've squared off, three and three, wands held at attention, the tension in the room thick. A small spark will be all it takes to create Fiendfyre, so necessary to the destruction of the Horcrux. If this is the point where the timeline has diverged, Hermione cannot do much to change the course of history. She's concealed herself, but it is difficult to watch things play out, knowing someone will be dead by the time they leave this room, even if it is the thoroughly reprehensible Vincent Crabbe.
Something extraordinary happens. Malfoy turns his head slightly, so he is looking over his shoulder. His fine, pale hair has fallen rakishly over his forehead, and he winks. He winks at Harry, Ron, and the younger version of herself, and Hermione could not be more surprised if he'd stripped naked and begun dancing the Charleston in the middle of the Room of Hidden Things. And then suddenly he is with them, his wand arm swinging offensively up over his head.
Unfortunately, Malfoy casts the disarming spell at Goyle first. Hermione wants to cry out that he is not the threat, that Crabbe will be the problem, but she must remain hidden and silent. It is entirely frustrating.
Surely enough, the Fiendfyre erupts from Crabbe's wand, and from there the scene plays out nearly identically to the one in Hermione's memory, except that Draco is running with them, and when Harry zooms by on his broom, Ron is not shouting that he will kill Harry if they all die saving Malfoy. Instead Ron yells out that if Harry doesn't save Malfoy, Hermione will never forgive him.
Hermione knows it is no use, not here. Things are already different. She will have to try another time. She twists the time turner hanging from her neck, and feels herself pulled forward. She opens her eyes in the bedroom at Malfoy's house. Her house, as well, she supposes, for now.
McGonagall has warned her that for these big trips through time, only one can be made in a twenty four hour period. Which means she must wait until tomorrow before making another attempt. In the meantime…
Malfoy's voice floats up the stairs. "Dinner is ready, Hermione! Are you coming down?"
"Just a moment," she calls. She supposes she must.
She is not certain what she will do at bedtime. She can probably beg a headache tonight, but that excuse will wear thin quickly. She will just have to find the divergence as soon as she possibly can.
~.~.~.~
That proves easier said than done. Hermione makes her jump daily, but is no closer to finding the moment that changes everything she knows to be true.
She'd had some hope for that moment in sixth year, one she'd never been privy to but had heard about from Harry so many times. Draco and Dumbledore, at the top of the Astronomy Tower. It had seemed such a likely opportunity. But in the borrowed invisibility cloak (which was now also existing in the same temporal location twice, making Hermione feel an immediate fondness for it) she'd overheard a frantic, whispered conversation between Draco and Harry before Harry had hidden himself and Draco had ascended the stairs.
"You agreed with me taking the mark, Harry. You liked the idea of having an inside man. And I was happy to do it, for you. But my family, my mum…"
"I know, Draco. I understand, I do. If I could have saved my mum from him, I would do it. But Dumbledore!"
"I'll figure something out. Besides, Snape has been up my arse about this. He'll stop it."
Evidently Draco hadn't known about Snape's vow with his mother. A pity, for Dumbledore's sake. Hermione had seen that Draco was just as horrified and stricken as the rest of them, when he'd cast a sickened look back at Harry before Snape whisked him away.
Her jump to fifth year proves much the same. Malfoy is at the Ministry of Magic, ostensibly with his father but communicating with Harry the entire time. In the Department of Mysteries, Hermione watches as Malfoy subtly flicks his wand, sending glass encased prophecies skittering in his father's direction.
It is a bit breathtaking, in a way, and she grudgingly admires Malfoy's bravery. To defy his parents the way that she is seeing him do is not an easy thing, she knows. Not for someone to whom tradition and family are so important. And it seems to be a bit of a habit for him, because his loyalty to Harry in this timeline is clear. Hermione wonders what inspires it, and she is determined to discover it. She feels slight qualms at the thought of breaking the bonds she is already seeing, but she wants her life back.
Fourth year is a bit boring. Hermione makes several jumps there, trying to think of anything odd that occurred during each of the Triwizard tasks. But all she finds is Malfoy helping at each step of the way, researching dragons in the library with her younger self, practising Accio! with Harry, and in a moment that makes her stomach feel oddly fluttery, dancing with her at the Yule Ball. Hermione is grateful for the absence of those infuriating Potter Stinks! badges, at the least. Perhaps Malfoy's friendship is not so terrible.
If only it had not changed her own future so drastically.
Third year is a bit tricky, of course, given her own Time-Turner antics to begin with. Hermione decides to avoid them completely, knowing it still would have just been her and Harry saving Sirius and Buckbeak. She doubts Malfoy has lost his fear of the hippogriff, and the chain of her Time-Turner would only have carried two. And she is correct, because it seems that Draco was adamantly against them going to the Shrieking Shack at all, logically objecting to them chasing after a known werewolf into an unknown situation. He will never be an impulsive Gryffindor, but ever the calculating Slytherin, wherever his loyalties might lie.
She conceals herself instead in the hospital wing, assuming Malfoy will come to lecture the injured Ron. It is what she would do in his shoes. She is discovering they are much alike in some ways, ways she might have realized prior had there not always been deep enmity placing them on opposite sides of just about everything.
Malfoy and Ron's conversation is not long, since in the grand scheme of things Harry and her thirteen year old self are back rather quickly. But he intimates that it was he who roused Snape and sent him to protect them from their idiotic selves. And then he worriedly asks where she and Harry are, Ron shrugging his shoulders in his typical I dunno fashion. Their reunion is happy, and Malfoy hugs her tightly after yelling a bit about how dangerous what they'd done was.
Second year, however, is the worst. Her visit there leaves Hermione feeling incredibly guilty, her stomach in knots regarding her own intentions.
Draco does not leave her side in the hospital wing. He sits next to the petrified twelve year old Hermione, reading aloud to her. Telling her what she is missing in class. He has to be forced from the room by Madam Pomfrey. Hermione can't stand it. She knows she shouldn't interfere, but from under the invisibility cloak she reaches out, knocking the scrap of parchment clutched in the frozen hand to the floor. The motion of the paper fluttering to the ground catches Draco's eye, and he snatches it up, his eyes widening as he is propelled out by the nurse.
She is not sure what she has done, if she has cemented the new timeline further by her behaviour, but somehow it still feels like the right thing.
By the time she gets to their adventures in first year, she is ready to cry when she spots an eleven year old Malfoy, small and imperious even as a child, playing a violin for Fluffy. No doubt she and Ron and Harry are already inside the series of challenges that awaits them, while Draco stands guard by the fearsome beast, serenading him with a Bach piece. Knowing Malfoy's fear of large creatures only makes the moment more poignant, and Hermione leaves nearly as quickly as she arrived.
~.~.~.~
It proves impossible to avoid present day Malfoy - and his child - during the hours when Hermione is not leaping about through time revisiting her school years. She hasn't changed anything, either. Every time she makes the return trip, Draco and Julius are there. Or at least Julius is. Malfoy does go to work, something or other at the Wizengamot, for a good portion of the day. Hermione has ascertained that she is still on maternity leave from her own position, whatever it may be, and thankfully there is a kindly older witch who comes round to help with the baby, who is on the bottle, to Hermione's everlasting gratitude.
It hasn't escaped Hermione's notice that there is not a single house-elf in their household. That fact alone softened her toward Malfoy a bit.
Malfoy does pop up for dinner, of course. To her shock, it hasn't been entirely unpleasant conversing with him about his work and other goings on in the magical world, or about whatever milestone Julius has accomplished during the day. Given what Hermione has seen in her visits to the past, she supposes she shouldn't be surprised. It seems Draco Malfoy is only unpleasant to those he's not friends with, and she cannot find a time when he was not her friend. She wishes she would, because it's entirely too easy to fall into this daily rhythm with him, with the child, with her life here. The only reason she can still think of to fix the timeline is her stubborn insistence that the one she remembers is the correct one.
One night, as they lounge in the sitting room after dinner, Hermione with some knitting spread across her lap and Draco cradling Julius in his arms, Draco finally asks her if everything is all right.
She is startled. "Everything is fine."
Draco's tone is careful when he says, "You just look a bit peaky." He pauses, his teeth catching his lower lip in a way she has learned is habitual. "I haven't seen you so tired since your time turner adventures back in third year."
Hermione draws in a sharp breath, her needles going still. This is too close to the truth. She hasn't wanted to hurt Draco by telling him that she doesn't remember any of their life together. She still doesn't want to, and she wonders when she started caring how Draco Malfoy feels about anything.
"Well. I am still getting used to this whole mum thing," she answers lightly. She finds herself curious, however, and can't help saying, "That was a wild time, though, wasn't it?"
Draco laughs, which makes the baby startle. He smiles down softly at Julius, then looks back over at Hermione, his slate-coloured eyes dancing as he looks up at her through the fringe of hair that has fallen across his forehead. She feels that look deep in the pit of her stomach, and she catches herself smiling impishly back before she looks away, down at what is soon to be a blanket.
"It was. I was so furious when I found out how you were getting more top marks than I was. Unfair advantage, taking two classes in the same hour." He stands, taking Julius over to the portable cot in the corner of the room, settling the sleeping infant inside. "I yelled at you that I regretted ever befriending you lot on the train that first year. You soothed the savage beast with a kiss, if I recall. Our first."
Hermione's hand begins shaking so hard she has to put down her needles again, to prevent them clacking together. She does not know if it is the talk of kissing, which intrigues her more than she would like to admit, or if it's because Draco has just revealed the answer she's been searching for all along.
"You brilliant man," she says, unthinking, jumping to her feet to throw her arms around him.
Of course, throwing oneself at one's husband can have consequences, which Hermione realizes too late, as Draco's mouth finds hers, kissing her soundly before she can extract herself. It is nice, too nice, and she allows it to go on far too long. His lips are soft, and warm, and know expertly how to kiss her. He's had years of experience, she supposes, given what he's just told her. Finally he lifts his head to breathe, and Hermione is able to pull back slightly.
She looks up at Draco, feeling dazed, and more than a little fond of him.
It rocks her to the core.
She murmurs that she is tired, and flees back up to the bedroom. She must fix this, now, before she can become any further entangled in this life that is not really hers.
~.~.~.~
She slides onto the Hogwarts Express behind two girls in Ravenclaw kit, hidden under the invisibility cloak. Her intention is to find Harry, stick to him like glue, and make certain he rejects Draco's handshake. She's not sure what made him react differently, but if she has to cast an Imperius curse on him, Hermione means to set things right.
She remembers vividly which compartment Harry will be in, the one she will barge into later to lecture him about his own history and show off her knowledge of all things magic. She nearly winces at the thought; she'd only been so excited about the new adventure she was embarking on, and eager to share all she'd learned already. She is nearly there when she sees a large and shadowy adult figure in a spot where there ought not be one.
Her mouth turns down in a deep frown when the figure approaches an eleven year old Harry Potter. Harry is so small; she'd forgotten how thin and short he'd been when they'd first met, swimming in his hand-me-down clothing. She feels a sharp pang of affection for him, and her concern about the person taking him aside intensifies. Hermione can't quite make out any facial features. Disillusionment charm, she supposes. She follows the pair down the length of the train to an empty compartment in the very back.
She sees the figure - male, she thinks - whispering intently to young Harry but she only catches one snippet of conversation before Harry nods seriously and makes off for his own compartment and Ron, who is surely awaiting him.
Be certain to shake his hand, no matter how much of a pillock he's being. The fate of the wizarding world depends on it.
Which was a bit melodramatic, she thinks. Things had been pretty much the same, really. Except for poor Draco and herself. Poor Draco. She shakes the thought away, and outraged, steps into the compartment, giving the shadowy man a hard shove. As she does so, two things happen. The hood of the invisibility cloak falls from her head. And the disillusionment charm breaks.
"Hermione?" The voice, as well as the face, is wretchedly dear.
"You. You. You did this? Why?"
Harry shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs in the most infuriating way. "Why not?"
"Why not?" Hermione splutters. "I'm married to Malfoy, that's why! And I have a baby! With him!"
"Do you?" Harry seems surprised but not very perturbed by the idea. "This must go really well, then. You'll have to tell me all about it when we meet back up."
Another thought occurs to Hermione. "So when I firecalled you, you knew I wasn't going mad or suffering postpartum depression or whatever you made me think you thought."
Her tone is accusatory, but Harry just laughs. "Dunno. Hasn't happened yet, for me. Suppose so."
"But, Harry! You can't do this. We have to fix it."
"Why? Does it all go sideways, then? Voldemort wins, world collapses, Hogwarts burns to the ground, that sort of thing?" Now he does look concerned, the prat.
"No," she admits, folding her arms over her chest and harrumphing. "But I've married Malfoy."
"Yeah, you said." Harry's lips twist, and Hermione knows whatever he's going to say will irritate her. "But it's good, right? He's nice? How is the baby?"
Hermione is right, she is irritated, but she is also deflated, the righteous indignation whooshing right out of her.
"He's perfectly lovely." Her voice takes on a high note, not quite a wail, but edging very close to one. "And the baby - Julius - he's adorable. But they're not really mine!"
"Seems to me they are, though. I doubt this is your first stop on the Change the Timeline Back tour. I'm going to guess that Malfoy earned what he's got. I know you."
He does know her. Well enough to know what her actions would have been upon discovering the alternate timeline, and well enough to know she wouldn't have fallen in love with Draco Malfoy if he wasn't worthy of it.
"But -"
Harry interrupts her. "But nothing. I don't know why you're even aware things have changed. Probably because of all the larking about you've already done with time turners in your life. But I'm not going to let you in there and stop that handshake. Everything you've told me means everything is better. You need to let it be."
Hermione's frown is etched deeply. She can't help asking, "Why? Why even change things, Harry?"
Harry leans against the side of the compartment and heaves a sigh. "I ran into him. At some dark little bar in Knockturn Alley where I popped in to have a drink after a tough arrest. I didn't want to go home yet, unload all that darkness on Ginny. Malfoy was sitting there at the bar, hunched over a glass of firewhisky, and it was clear it wasn't his first. He was so sad, Hermione. So sad." Harry's eyes lift to meet hers, so clear and green and imploring her to understand. "And do you know what he said to me? He said, 'I never wanted to hurt anyone, Potter. I just wanted to matter.' He told me he wished I'd just shaken his hand on the train. That if we couldn't be friends, at least we hadn't had to be enemies."
"What if the changes had been bad, though?" Hermione has to ask.
"Mc - er… someone told me they reckoned it would be okay. When I was looking to get the Time-Turner to do this. And it is okay. So all's well that ends well."
"Even for me?" she says challengingly.
"Especially for you." Harry pushes off from the wall, wrapping one arm around Hermione. "Just go home, Hermione. Go home to the family you've fallen in love with. We can talk about this later."
It sounds like the best idea in the world, despite her misgivings. Despite how selfish she feels. So she kisses Harry on the cheek, promises to scold him soundly the next time they talk, thumps him one on the shoulder, and then gives her own Time-Turner a twist.
~.~.~.~
When she returns back, she can hear Draco coming up the stairs. She pokes her head out of the door, and sees that he's ascending with Julius in his arms, no doubt to put the baby to bed.
"Oh, sorry, love. I didn't mean to wake you." His voice is a whisper, so as not to wake the sleeping infant.
"It's fine," she whispers back. "I'll come with you two."
Draco is so gentle as he lays the baby in his bassinet. Hermione slides an arm around Draco's waist, tucking her head against his shoulder as they gaze down at their child.
Draco presses a kiss to the top of Hermione's head. "Shall we go to bed?"
"It has been a long day," she says, though the corners of her mouth turn up in a slight smile.
She turns to face him, her eyes taking in the face that has somehow become so important to her. Then she stretches upward, pressing her lips against his. It feels right, like his mouth has always been meant to fit with hers. Hermione realizes dimly that she is done resisting. This life is happier than the one she is letting go of.
Besides, if it all goes sideways, she knows exactly how to fix it now.
She draws back, a private smile on her face. "Yes, Draco. Let's go to bed."
THE END