Chapter Text
Today wasn’t a spectacularly special day. It was a Thursday. Over the hump with the end of the week in sight. Hermione had a rather dull morning, routine stuck with and no potholes in the road, her Thursday had started much like her Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays.
Wake up to her wand alarm at 7. Turn it off then turn over for another 10 minutes until her muggle alarm clock went off. Lay in bed contemplating her life choices for 5 minutes (today had been that she should have gone with the other bedsheets, even if they were six quid more expensive). Shower. Brush teeth while in said shower. Feed Crookshanks in just her towel (Harry was away till Sunday so there was no chance of an awkward run in), so by the time it came to dressing herself, she was dry. Body lotion, then face moisturiser, left earring, right earring, hair scraped back off her face (todays choice was a ponytail) and then whatever clothes she pulled out of her wardrobe.
It wasn’t that Hermione needed to stick to routine, it’s just that the routine worked. The witch would have welcomed any change; whenever Harry was home and not gallivanting around the world for his job, he would always be still asleep when she woke. He didn’t have to be at the ministry till 9- well, neither did Hermione but if she got there for 8, she could leave at 4:30 and be back home and in comfier clothes by 5, dinner ready by 6 so she could have 4 hours of reading- unless it was a Monday nights when Harry would drag her to dinner at the Weasleys for muggle Mondays where Arthur chose a dinner of the week that they never had until they met Hermione. A little oblivious to the irony of it all but the sentiment was sweet. This week had been a Chinese- a particular favourite of the Weasley household.
If Hermione was lucky and Harry wasn’t home till a Tuesday, her Mondays continued like every other weekday evening.
The only change up of her morning was what breakfast she decided to eat. Harry was always spending rather too much money on rather fancy foods for the house- not that Hermione minded. It meant less money she had to spend on food as Harry was insistent of buying the shopping since Hermione did most of the cleaning.
Harry didn’t need to know she rarely cleaned the muggle way.
Today's choice has been of half an avocado on toast with an egg. Soft boiled. Salty butter. Two twists of pepper as she was feeling daring.
Hermione’s monotony of her morning’s was normally okay, it made up for the chaos that usually ensued in her job. Hermione (usually) never knew what she was walking into when she walked into her chambers. An eclectic of numerous varieties could occur and well, yes it was part of the job, but Hermione really didn’t know how she ended up here.
It had been accident.
Having one day fighting for Centaur rights, she had stumbled across an ancient ritualistic crystal set up in the forest where she had been requested by the pack lead to inform them of how she was making way in gaining them protection in the Forrest of Dean. Hermione had been sure she was walking the right way to the apparation point when she came across the ancient crystals. Mistakingly (and in hindsight, rather stupidly), she tapped her wand to what she thought was an amethyst and the next thing she knew, it was three days later she woke; bright eyes violet and had to spend time in the chamber of purity to make sure none of the crystal energy remained.
Instead of being obliviated for her new knowledge, Hermione, suddenly exposed to all new magic and the endless possibilities of new things to learn, she made sure her centaurs were protected before transferring departments.
That had been three years ago.
Hermione was used to chaos. She was also used to the repercussions.
Currently on desk and admin duty due to a slight malfunction. The waters of Atlantis being exposed to her through a charmed jewellery box, flooding the charms room and near drowning her. That had been the easy part. The jewellery box not only transporting the waters of Atlantis into the chamber, but along with it a rare type of mermaid that was the size of a pixie which supposedly liked to curse pretty things. Apparently, Hermione had been deemed pretty enough. When they managed to conjure away the water and the pixies-mermaid hybrid away from Hermione’s floating self, they had left her with sparkly skin that shimmered too brightly in the sunlight for the bare eye.
It had been her first week back in the office, second out of three on admin duty until she was cleared that the sparkly skin wouldn’t make a full reappearance.
Ginny said she reminded her of Edward Cullen.
Hermione had probably sent one too many hexes at the insult.
Flooing directly into her office, leaving behind a sad looking Crookshanks, she dusted herself off and sighed at the sight of the work on her desk. Her boss, Reynolds, had decided that Hermione’s desk duty jobs consisted of doing textual research on the pixie-mermaid hybrids that almost, most definitely didn’t currently exist in their catalogue of magical creatures that Hermione still kept tabs on after these several years.
Combining her interests was never a negative, it just wasn’t a positive when she was limited to only local libraries and waiting on correspondence.
Typically, unspeakables weren’t aware of the other’s names- they were given down names which Hermione deemed rather stupid but what did she know? Unfortunately for her, being the best friend of the man who defeated the dark lord and the ex of the other best friend (Hermione hated being reduced to ‘best friend’ and ‘ex’), her name was rather well known. Unspeakable Granger was often called her way and after a year of failed attempts at her name not being used, she had caved but made it a mission to figure out everyone else’s names and call them by their own.
Though, that wasn’t so hard when your own office was directly opposite the floor to someone you once shared classes with.
Luckily, it wasn’t often Hermione ran into Unspeakable Malfoy. They were on neutral terms most of the time- having been paired a few times on solving riddles, rhymes and finding reasons to mysteries and fiddles, Hermione had nothing untoward him (again, most of the time), but was he someone she would willingly spend time with? Not particularly.
It hadn’t crossed her mind once.
No, not even that one time late at night where she and Ginny had watched a particular film that had a certain scene that intrigued her, but the dark-haired handsome muggle didn’t do it for her and neither usually did blondes, but it had done the job.
Hermione tried to erase that night's charades from her memory and most of the time, she forgot it even happened.
Smoothing back the few strands of hair that had already escaped their pony-tail prison, the witch settled down at her desk and turned the book open to the page she had left it at yesterday. The ancient wonders of the magical world. Missing, lost or simply hiding? – the book of the moment that currently, Hermione was pouring through for any hint of the magical hybrid creature that if lucky, she could protect even before they were threatened.
Annoyingly, Hermione still had somewhat of a slightly glittery sheen to her skin- highlighted by the window behind her. Sighing as she caught sight of the few sparkles on her arm, she turned round, eyeing the said window, debating whether she should shut it; the pickle that Hermione was in would happen whether she was being illuminated by real sunlight or the light of her office. Though not much of an issue to the naked eye anymore, it still caught hers every so often as she turned pages, and it was annoyingly distracting but it was rather warm to put on her cardigan over herself.
Trying to ignore her own skin, she shook her head and tried to refocus on the book, not getting too far when she was distracted by a knock on the door.
There was only one person who knocked three times then left a two second gap before rapping their knuckles twice more.
Sitting back, she used her wand and flicked the door open, it swinging to reveal a somewhat stoic looking Draco Malfoy. Usually quite straightly groomed, the only thing out-of-sorts was his hair; she had seen it look a little tussled when they had particular issues trying to solve a conundrum. Whatever his current one was, Hermione didn’t care for it.
“How can I help unspeakable Malfoy?”
Malfoy actively swallowed as his hand curled round her doorframe- making his black unspeakable robes, ripple. “Are you busy?”
Hermione gestured to her book, seeing the slightly shimmer of her skin in the sunlight. She bit back her huff, not wanting to think it was aimed at him. “Yes. Clearly. What are you needing?”
She caught his eyes looking at her arm and when he realised, they widened ever so slightly before quickly dropping back to neutral. “Are you able to step into my office?”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. I’m busy.”
“Clearly. But this is of importance.”
“Well, it can’t be that important if you’re refusing to tell me in my own office.”
Face, hard, the only reaction she got was a slight nostril flare of annoyance before his back straightened. “Right.” Voice, also neutral. Malfoy continued to stare at her in what Hermione assumed was him thinking of a hundred and one ways to annoy her and after a singular blink, Hermione was now watching him retreat back into the office floor.
With a swish of her wand once more, the door closed, and she looked back down at her book.
Where had she been on the page?
With a sigh, Hermione flicked back to the start of the chapter and tried to refocus.
‘With the legend of Atlantis being whispered to the mere muggle world, the legendary lost city is no more lost than the monster of Loch Ness and no less magical than the likes of you or me. After the attempted demise on the city, Atlantis moved beneath the surface of its waters and eventually overtime, magicals became mythical and with many-‘
Malfoy never came to her for help.
It was a rare cause.
Hermione knew that out of everyone here on the office floor, he constitutes to being the closest to her academically, rivalling her on their work performance. Others came to her for advice or help, but rarely Malfoy.
Why?
Huffing, Hermione shook the thoughts out of her head and tried to refocus on the page again.
‘-overtime, magicals became mythical and with many attempts over the years to make contact, it seems the people and creatures of Atlantis have been content in their own world and tend to fight off anyone who they even perceive as a threat. There have been very few attempts overtime to make contact- having to use a combination of muggle technology, combined with magical infusions, some lucky magicals have been able to get close enough to-.’
Should she go see what he wanted?
No. Surely it couldn’t have been that important as he hadn’t come back. There was no one else on their floor that he would ask so it couldn’t have been that much of a bother.
There was no one else on their floor that he would ask.
Huffing as the thought echoed around her mind, she sat back and let her head fall back, facing the Venetian plastered ceiling, she tried not to think about it.
Hermione knew the only reason it was playing on her mind was because she was bored. Usually, she would be in the deserts of time chamber or the astronomy reservation chamber (one she was particularly fond of) or out in the field, looking at ways to get to bloody Atlantis. This was the first bit of intrigue that had tickled at her pickle in two weeks.
Two. Weeks.
That was a lifetime to Hermione.
Two weeks of doing nothing.
6 more days of desk duty. 9 if the weekends were counted.
Which they were as Hermione was more than happy to work her weekends away if Harry or Ginny or Ron didn’t drag her somewhere.
With a rub to her eyes, hard enough to cause her own array of fireworks behind her lids, Hermione tried to refocus once more. She couldn’t remember anything that she had just read.
With a frustrated mental slap to the wrist, Hermione clicked her neck before going back to the start of the chapter again.
‘With the legend of Atlantis being whispered to the mere muggle world, the legendary lost city is no more lost than the monster of Loch Ness and no less magical than the likes of you or me. After the attempted demise on the city, Atlantis moved beneath the surface of its waters and eventually overtime, magicals became mythical and with many attempts over the years to make contact, it seems the people and creatures of Atlantis have been content in their own world and tend to fight off anyone who they even perceive as a threat. There have been very few attempts overtime to make contact- having to use a combination of muggle technology, combined with magical infusions, some lucky magicals have been able to get close enough to to document some of the creatures that defend their once popular city.
One diver, a particular witch who lived on the island of Gibraltar had been fascinated with the lore behind magical creatures seen in the local straight waters. Upon using a modified bubblehead charm (see section 2.1A for more information), they were able to use modified muggle technology to snap some photos, though blurry, it clearly shows something of the mermaid kind- large in size and-’
Tea.
Or coffee.
Something to re-focus.
This is getting ridiculous.
If she was just allowed to go into active duty, she would get more work done looking around bloody Gibraltar herself than this stupid book that wasn’t written in any informative format.
Tea or coffee or something would also be a minor distraction.
She was bored. That was it.
But Malfoy never came to her for help outside of a case, ever. Not in the entire three years she had worked for the department of Mysteries.
The last time the pair had worked together was a year ago- trying to piece together a possible part of the harp of Lyre. It turned out to be a charmed harp from a collective of leprechauns who were happy to exchange their harp for field freedom of their local farmer's field. Delegations with the British muggle prime minister had taken place- much to Hermione’s amusement as Malfoy had seemed to out of his depth. He had kept overly quiet the entire time and though not technically part of their job, Hermione had rallied for the Leprechauns.
Just as well as she had, for the charmed harp was actually a gateway to cross boundaries, leading to whoever played its strings to the richest room nearby. Hermione and Malfoy had the honour of being teleported straight inside a muggle bank and it took far too many auror’s and liaising again with the muggle prime minister as well as their own, to get them out of trouble.
It had been a particularly trivial case once the pair had figured out how to deactivate the harp and send it into storage.
Hermione’s fingers had been numb for week trying to pull the magic from the strings.
They hadn’t been paired, since.
Most people on the floor had their partners, but being in their position, they were given the option and Hermione preferred to work alone if proposed the opportunity. If there was anything her boss wanted her to work on that was assumed exceptionally difficult, then she would be assigned a partner whom of which, tended to be mostly Malfoy.
Though the harp case had finished on a dull note, it had seemed especially sharp at the start.
Since then, she and Unspeakable Malfoy had mostly only exchanged brief nod’s if they crossed paths, silent. Polite. Civil.
Sometimes, Hermione could see him from her window in her office. Malfoy was never overly animated, he kept to himself in the office and though Hermione would happily talk to the others on the floor, Malfoy kept to his office.
Polite and silent nods were the easiest route for them. The few times they had been paired; it was all too easy to fall into a spitting routine if the opportunity was easy to grasp. They would disagree on routes to get to the same destination. What chamber they would try and dismantle whatever it was they were given to solve. It was an easy back and forth that never overly escalated beyond slightly elevated voices and looks that could kill behind the other’s back. Only a few hexes had been sent toward the other but after they had both been threatened by Reynolds. Now, it was an untoward that only burned when kindled. It was an annoyance that would disappear by the next day.
Were they friendly? No. Did Hermione think they were enemies of sorts? Also no.
Malfoy was far different from the man who she would have bickered with at school.
Hermione found it somewhat admirable. It was just his personality she found herself clashing with sometimes, but it wasn’t ever something she had to worry about since the hex ban. She knew he found her somewhat frustrating, but she didn’t care much for his opinion.
Which is how, despite the lack of care, the witch was staring out the window of her office, across the office floor into what should have been the clear window of Malfoy’s office. Instead, his blinds were drawn.
Nope. None of her business. She didn’t care.
He would make a comment under his breath if she went to him now and offered him her help and Hermione and her Cullen-like skin, were not in the mood today.
She just wanted to read about her manic mermaid-pixie hybrid and go home.
But first, caffeine.
Pushing her chair back, Hermione pulled open her top drawer, selecting a muggle instant coffee powder sachet and poured it into her mug. Keeping it in her top drawer seemed a bit extreme but the last time she had left her mug in the office kitchenette, had been after a particular difficult night trying to solve what the harp did. She came into the office the next morning and found Malfoy using her mug, all smirks above the said daisy mug as he sipped away. He knew he was purposely winding her up so in retaliation, she charmed his hair ginger. He didn’t notice for three hours.
That, unfortunately, was the start of the end of their magical spats.
It was fine.
She didn’t have to wonder what on earth the blonde wanted. She was just bored.
That was all.
Coffee. Book. Apply again to have a more controlled look at the jewellery box.
Simple.
It was easy enough.
With an exaggerated sigh at her displacement, much to her own carelessness, Hermione exited her office and made a left towards the staff kitchenette, the smell of the cheap muggle coffee already tickling her nose and she knew she was making the right move. It would put her back on track and hopefully, all potholes for the rest of her journey had been filled otherwise Hermione really was going to lose her last tyre (and maybe, marbles).
“Do you not know who I am- will you- well excuse you how dare-.”
Hermione stilled; a cold recognition being shocked through her spine as she heard a whiny voice that didn’t belong. That was 17ish years too young.
She had been so close to the kitchenette.
Blinking a few times, she tried to process what she had just heard. It couldn’t be right.
It wasn’t possible.
“Can someone tell me exactly where I am! This is all ridiculous! Oh! You, you look familiar.”
Hermione felt as tug at her sleeve and as she looked down to her right, following the whiny voice that really shouldn’t be here, she decided really had lost her final tyre and her marbles.
“Oh.” The blonde boy screwed his nose up, “eurgh,” he scoffed, grimacing up at her, “surely that can’t be right.” He wiped his hand against his black robe as he took a step back. “Surely you’re not Hermione Granger-you’re far too old.”
Hermione felt all the wires in her brain, burn out temporarily as she stared down at a very eleven-year-old looking Draco Malfoy, who, in turn, seemed disgusted by her presence.
He looked up at her in distaste, nose screwed up with the familiar overly slicked back blonde hair. The face of the little boy who bullied her, who told her it was a shame she didn’t die instead. Who laughed at her. Who gave her buck teeth because he thought it would be funny.
But that was years ago. And yet, that little boy was standing in front of her, now.
“Malfoy?” Hermione breathed out as the wires in her brain roared back to life.
“Obviously.” He made a face, “where am I? Why are there so ma-.”
Hermione didn’t know why she did what she did, but whatever was going on, she seemed to become overly aware that an eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy was standing in the middle of the department of the mysteries, currently, probably the biggest mystery of them all.
Her hand was clamped around his mouth.
Hermione’s eyes widened as she stared down at him, his eyes possibly even rounder as he stared up at her.
“Shh.” Hermione hissed, half to him but also to herself.
If this was what Malfoy was on about then he should have been a bit more persistent in the urgency of his situation!
“Malfoy?” Hermione narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out if this was her-or well, current day Malfoy, or it really was eleven-year-old him.
The boy narrowed his eyes back before rolling them and before Hermione had another moment of panic, she sent her mug flying back to her office as she noticed people started noticing the slight conundrum going on. Hermione sent the few passersby’s fake smiles, half laughing as she looked back down at Malfoy.
“That’s such a good impersonation Teddy.” Hermione forced out a laugh as with her other hand, she started steering him by the head towards what she hoped was current day Malfoy’s office- highly aware at just how much hair gel was in this child’s hair and now on her hand. “Such a good look-alike!” She removed her hand from his mouth now as her voice dropped. “I don’t know what is going on but Malfoy you have to stay quiet.” She breathed, concerned he wouldn’t care but he didn’t say anything, just remained quiet as he wiped his face with his robe sleeve.
Hermione was painfully aware that she had never been a good actress but weirder things had happened in this department so she hoped no one would overly bat an eye if she just tried to get him back to his-or current day Malfoy’s office.
She really hoped he was in there and this wasn’t some sort of time loop thing going on and actually he had reverted into an eleven-year-old boy. No matter how offensive this version of him was (she had spotted how he wiped his hand), she couldn’t be rude to a little boy. Not when she was twice his age and some.
What the fuck was going on.
“Oh, Unspeakable Granger I didn’t know Teddy was visiting?” Florence, another unspeakable asked as Hermione passed her desk, looking a little confused at the boy. Florence had been two years below them in school- she never would have seen this version of Malfoy.
Though the blonde hair was a giveaway.
Hermione forced out a singular laugh, “me either! Hah, this is uh, very unexpected Teddy, I think he’s having a few issues at school aren’t you.” Hermione looked down at Malfoy who looked at like she was crazy, but something about her must have troubled him as he just nodded.
“Well, make sure he gets back to Hogwarts safely. Say hello to Headmaster McGonagall for me!” Florence gave an unsure smile as Hermione continued steering past.
“Huh?”
“Shh.” Hermione breathed again as his office door came into view. “Just until we get behind that door.”
Hermione could vaguely hear her name being called but she ignored it- it couldn’t be more pressing than what she was currently steering with her hand. Waving a hand noncommittally towards the call, Hermione pulled her wand from her hair and flew the door open, her heart racing as they neared.
“Merlin Malfoy please tell me what on earth is going on.” Hermione almost begged as she turned to close the door behind her, not yet looking up at him. “Because why the hell is first year you, wondering the of-.”
Hermione lost her words as she turned to face the rest of the office.
If she thought she had lost her tyres and marbles when she saw small Malfoy, she was wrong.
It was now, that they had gone.
All thoughts had left her head.
Someone could have screamed inside her brain and it would have echoed because there was absolutely no logic for the scene she was looking at. No rhyme or reason or riddle at play. Just utter nonsense. Some sort of foul play as it was rather inconceivable what the witch was now faced with. Hermione had seen a lot in her near thirty years of life. She had helped fight men with God-like power. She had battled for her life, for her friend's life. She had been exposed to a whole new world that she never new existed until she was thrusted into it. She had seen creatures that were unimaginable, wonders of the world that were thing of fairy tales and stories.
Hermione had believed from the moment her new life begun, to believe in all possibilities as who knew what could be. To never think something was quite unimaginable. In her job, Hermione had to open up herself to the existence of things unfathomable.
But some things really were quite unimaginable.
Some things shouldn’t exist.
Some things really were unfathomable.
Some things really were unspeakable.
It wasn’t often that Hermione’s brain stopped working but with logic faltering as there really wasn’t any logic could make sense of the scene before her. Nothing in the archives. Nothing in the astronomy room. Nothing in the seven sea’s chamber nor the love chamber, the brain room, hall of prophecies, the death chamber or even the bloody chamber of secrets.
It didn’t make any sense.
It wasn’t senseless nor sensical.
There were four Draco Malfoy’s staring at her.
None of them, Hermione quickly deduced, was the Malfoy she saw however many minutes ago.
“What the fuck is going on.” Hermione breathed before her hand clamped over her own mouth at the realisation of swearing in front of a child.
Young Malfoy just stared at her, probably deeply offended at her language and Hermione half expected a jibe from him. Her eyes slowly drifted from him to the one standing a few meters away from him.
Hermione tasted sour as she recognised where this version of him was from. Azkaban was never kind to anyone, especially those who didn’t deserve to be there. This version of him she had only seen once- though the battered and frail looking version of him looked rather worse for wear than when she had seen him when Malfoy had served his small sentence in Azkaban. This version was gaunt, tired with a distinct lack of hair and clearly loosing his will. He was still, staring at her with an emptiness in his eyes that Hermione found slightly off-putting. His Azkaban robes, loose and hanging off him as he stood with his back against the back wall behind current Malfoy’s desk. A small gust of wind could have blown him over.
Inhaling slowly, her eyes then found the next one. This version of Malfoy she had seen near daily. She knew instantly that he had come from their sixth year. Not quite as gaunt as the man beside him, but instead a tired boy. His black suit and black turtle-neck jumper telling her how…small he was. The boy that they later found out was trying to infiltrate Hogwarts, just to keep his parents alive. To keep himself alive. He was staring at her, though expressionless, Hermione knew him well enough now to know what his brain was probably racing.
The last and final Malfoy was far different to the other three.
He was older.
Older than what she currently was and easily by a good decade.
He was the version that seemed most different out of the four, the one who made Hermione feel out of her depth.
Older Malfoy was perched on the edge of the wooden desk looking far more relaxed and, in his element, than the other three. Legs crossed at the ankles and weight dispersed between his hands as he leant back against them, he looked at her in a way that she didn’t know how to feel. A familiar smirk plastered on his face but there was something else behind it, something Hermione couldn’t quite figure out and she didn’t know if she wanted too. This version of him was dressed far more casually than the others; never did she think she would ever see a Malfoy in muggle jeans and though he was still adoring an oxford shit, the crisp white thing was clearly too small as it was rather…tight…fitting around his arms.
“My my Granger, what a mouth.” The eldest one quirked as he raised a brow, his smirk only growing as he cocked his head. Hermione didn’t not notice how his eyes dropped to look over her before coming back up.
Hermione ignored how it made her skin feel.
“What is going on?” She demanded to know as she adjusted her grip on her wand.
“You can put your wand away. You’re safe.” His voice, calm. Unwavering.
Hermione stared at him, her breathing heavy as her fingers twisted it in her fingers before she looked between the other three. The Malfoy from Azkaban was staring at it. Hermione would have thought he was going to make a grab for it until he noticed his breathing was uneven. Instead, she slowly pushing it back through her pony.
“Why should I trust you?” Hermione’s voice, cold as she tore her eyes off Azkaban Malfoy and back to the eldest one.
The question seemed humorous to him. He straightened his back as he crossed his arms, his grey eyes squinting as he grinned. “You have no need to. It’s simply a choice of yours. Though, I trust in you that you will trust us, or at least me.”
Hermione narrowed her own, not liking his self-assurance. Though on brand for him, it was odd seeing it in a way that was aimed at her that seemed overly familiar to him. “And why would I do that? I don’t know you. Out of all four of you, I should trust you the least.” She gestured to the other three. “Whatever the hell is going on, I know these…” she waved her hand around in a circular motion, “you, I don’t.”
Malfoy swayed his head a little as she spoke. “I suppose. But I am them, they’re me eventually. So, we’re both right and neither, wrong.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Language. There’s a child.”
Hermione scoffed as she looked at the youngest Malfoy who was just looking at her like she was dirt before looking back at the eldest. “I’m currently assuming Im about to be called a slur by him, I’m sure he can handle a few swear words.” Hermione rolled her eyes, about to continue when she heard the smallest of breathy laughs. It seemed to come from Azkaban Draco.
The only tell tale was the smallest of upturns of his mouth.
“I’m not wrong.” Hermione huffed out in her defence before looking back at the eldest one. “Where is current Malfoy.”
“Technically we’re all current Malfoy’s.”
Hermione groaned, rubbing her forehead “Are you always this difficult?” She pinched the bridge of her nose as her eyes fell shut, wishing when she opened them this would all disappear. “No, of course you are. That’s a stupid question Hermione, it’s Draco Malfoy. Of course he’s always going to be difficult.” She half mumbled out to herself.
“Do you always talk to yourself?”
Hermione’s eyes snapped open to the sound. It was sixth year Malfoy. He was just staring at her, hands behind his back.
“Yes.” Hermione didn’t know why felt the need to answer. “Can someone please explain to me what is going on because currently I am standing in a room with four Malfoy’s and none of you are giving any answers.”
“Well, I wouldn’t expect much from him.” The eldest one gestured to the youngest who made a face with how offended he was.
“Now who’s being rude.” Hermione clicked her tongue. “Still no answers.’
“What do you think is going on?” He gestured to her with his chin.
Hermione inhaled deeply through her nose as she looked over them all as her brain tried to go into gear. Any gear. Even first gear would have been good enough. “My Malfoy has somehow triggered something and four versions of him have caught up with each other have been transported here. It’s the same versions of him and not from an alternative timeline because,” Hermione released her breath as her brain finally found its fuel, “I’ve seen these three with my own eyes, before, albeit it could be a possibility that you’re all from another timeline because as one should never disregard a possibility- though,” Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line, ‘it should be considered until I can confirm with present Malfoy that he doesn’t remember it from these point of view,” Hermione looked over the other three who were watching her. “But for now, my forward theory is that you’re all the same person, just displaced. I personally think you’re all one person, for nothing…messy is happening with time and space that I have noticed. If you were all from different realities then the the different magical signatures that you all would have, I presume would fight and be opposed against each other like the same sides of a magnet, thus, same man. Same magical signiture.”
The eldest started to smirk more now and Hermione didn’t like that he looked somewhat proud. “Ah, there she is, my bloody brilliantly smart wife.”
All the petrol was forcibly drained from her as she faltered once more. Her battery dying as she stared at him as his words left his mouth- just as the door opened beside her.
“My what?!”
“Your what?!”