Chapter Text
Hermione groaned and rolled onto her back.
Her body felt heavy. Her mind sluggish, like she was waking from a deep, dreamless sleep.
She took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of freshly mown grass, new parchment and something…something minty? Where am I? She slid her hands out to either side of her body, the feel of silky satin surrounding her. She couldn’t see anything. It was dark as pitch.
She stretched her arms and legs out, feeling all around. Blankets. She was surrounded by the softest blankets. She rolled in the other direction and suddenly she was falling off what must be a bed, landing in a heap on the hard ground with a soft “oof!”
Why is everything so dark?
She stretched her arms out, feeling around as she crawled across the floor before banging her forehead on something hard. “Ow!”
Slowly rising to stand, her hands traveling along the wood… dresser? Why the hell was it so bloody dark? Just as she reached the smooth surface of the top of the chest of drawers, she realized her vision was obscured by a flimsy piece of fabric covering her eyes. She reached up and slipped the covering up to her forehead, blinking in the light and froze at the person staring back at her.
She sucked in a surprised breath and ducked back down in disbelief. No. It couldn’t be. She blinked a few more times and pulled herself back up to stare at the woman who continued to stare at her in equal shock. She snapped upright from her crouched position, the woman mirroring her movement, and she gasped aloud. “No,” she breathed, placing her hands on the dresser and leaning closer to the mirror. She hardly recognized the girl staring back at her, no the woman. She was a woman.
“What?” She whispered, patting her cheeks as she examined her reflection.
Gone was the rounded face of her youth with a crown of frizzy hair and buckteeth. She had a more elongated face with a smattering of freckles along the tops of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She looked darker than she remembered, as though she’d recently spent some time in the sun. Her eyes were still brown, but they appeared older somehow…wiser maybe as she leaned closer to peer into the dark depths. It was as if she had years of knowledge hidden in her gaze, yet she had no recollection of obtaining that knowledge. Her hair was, miraculously, smooth and long. Longer than she’d ever worn it. The perfectly curled strands covered her… she looked down in shock. “I have boobs!” She cried, clutching the perky mounds adorning her chest. When did she get boobs?
She examined her body further, noting she was barefoot and wearing a dusty pink silk slip edged with black lace and…and nothing else. Well, except the blind fold. Wait, why was she wearing a blindfold? She pulled the fabric off her forehead and tossed it to the floor just as something on her forearm caught her eye.
She sucked in a breath, running her fingers along her inner forearm where a line of red letters was etched into her skin. When did I get this? How did I get this? She looked around and finally took in her surroundings. Where am I?
She was in a bedroom, though one she had never seen before. Everything within screamed expensive, from the décor to the matching furniture to the ornate silver mirror she had just been looking at. On the opposite side of the room, there were three floor-to-ceiling windows draped in heavy curtains that blocked the view beyond. Was she in a hotel? Was there an ocean view outside that window? She thought she heard the gentle push and pull of ocean waves somewhere nearby.
She made her way toward the windows, dazed and confused as she padded across the lush carpet. Then the soothing background noise of what she thought was the sound of the ocean suddenly ceased.
She heard movement behind her, and in a sudden panic, she reached for the closest thing she could find to use as a weapon. She twisted around, holding a firm pillow high as she prepared to throw it at… “Malfoy?!” She shrieked.
But this was not the Malfoy she remembered. No, not at all. This was the grown-up version, and he looked nothing like the young Malfoy she had last seen. She only knew it to be Malfoy because of his unmistakable white-blond hair, pale complexion, and cold blue eyes. But while those features were distinctly Malfoy, his frame and build were not what she would associate with the bully of her youth. This man was…well, a man. And he was…
“Your naked!” She gasped, quickly looking anywhere but at the wizard before her clothed only in a white towel that hung far too low on his hips. He must have just come from the shower. The ocean sound she’d heard suddenly made so much sense.
He chuckled softly. “Not quite, but I can be.”
Hermione’s eyes were wide as her gaze returned to him. She was unable to connect the deep, smooth voice to the boy who only hissed dirty names and sneered insults at her.
“I’ve got some time before work,” he remarked lowly, taking a step toward her as his hand reached for the knot at his hip.
She sucked in a breath and tossed the pillow at him right as he whipped the towel off. He caught the pillow, effectively blocking his nakedness, and she bolted for the bedroom door.
“Hey! Where are you going?” He called after her.
Hermione raced through a super posh flat, hardly taking in the details as she frantically searched for the front door. There appeared to be a trail of discarded clothes along the way, and, with a shout of glee, she spotted her Vinewood wand lying on the floor beside a sparkly red dress.
She scooped up her wand, hardly slowing her stride. “I’m dreaming. This is a dream. A really weird dream, but I’ll wake up soon,” she muttered reassuringly to herself, finding what looked like an exit surrounded by shining marble. There was a pair of black, knee-high heeled boots on the floor that she hastily pulled on her bare feet, followed by a soft black cloak that was hanging on a coat rack. She wrenched the door open and flew down a brightly lit hallway to an elevator, tucking her wand in her cloak pocket as she went.
Her breathing was quick and erratic, her heart racing in confusion and bewilderment as she smashed a finger to call the elevator. Wake up. Come on, wake up! The elevator doors slid open, and she hurried inside, pressing the button for the first floor. She closed her eyes and pinched her arm, praying she would wake up from this bizarre dream. A ding! had her opening her eyes to find the elevator doors sliding back to reveal a sleek lobby with white columns lining the walls. She hurried through the vast space, her heeled boots clicking on the marble floors and echoing too loudly in her ears.
A portly doorman smiled brightly as she neared the exit and pushed open the door for her. “Have a good day!”
She didn’t have it in her to respond as she hurried out the door, desperate to understand where in the world she was. A blast of cool air hit her face as she stepped outside, and her jaw unhinged as she gazed around at her surroundings. London. She was in muggle London. But why? Her parents lived in Hampstead Garden, and if she wasn’t mistaken, this looked to be London proper. Maybe even the up-scale part of the city. What am I doing here?
“Hermione!”
She twisted around, looking for the person who had called her name.
“I don’t care, Jenna. He made a commitment, and he needs to be there.” A woman with black hair in a sleek bob held a cell phone to her ear and a cup of coffee in her other hand. “Hermione, can you come over here?”
Hermione looked around, unsure if the woman was talking to her or the person on the phone. The woman met her eyes, lifting her brows expectantly. “Hurry up.” She looked away and said sharply, “I don’t care if you have to grab him by his testicles—” Hermione’s eyes went wide— “He needs to be at the party. This is important. Hold on a minute.” The woman handed her the coffee cup and gestured to a black town car parked on the curb behind her, its windows heavily tinted. “Can you get in the car?”
Hermione instantly shook her head. “No, I can’t get in the car.”
“You can get in the car,” the strange woman insisted.
“No, I don’t want to get in the car.”
The woman came forward and started pushing her toward the vehicle. “You need to get in the car.”
“No, no I don’t get in cars with strangers,” Hermione rushed out, shaking her head resolutely as she planted her feet on the sidewalk.
The woman sighed. “Hermione, darling. Please get in the car, I have very little time for this,” she pleaded.
“No! I don’t know you!” Hermione cried, trying to back away as the woman continued to push her forward.
“You’re being ridiculous,” the woman huffed, abandoning her attempts to push her toward the car as she walked to the vehicle and opened the back door. “No, I’m still here,” the woman declared into the phone. Hermione examined the mobile device curiously. She had never seen such a small cell phone. Her parents had only ever used a big, clunky device and only for their patient’s dental emergencies.
“Hermione!”
Hermione startled at the sound of her name, looking back to find Malfoy—fully clothed—striding through the lobby toward the exit with something in his hand.
“Yes, I can do that,” the strange woman declared to whoever she was on the phone with. “Hermione, get in the damn car! James and Albus will be up any minute and you know I live for these brief few minutes of normalcy,” she hissed, gesturing to the open car door.
Hermione glanced back at Malfoy who was nearly to the exit and quickly decided to take her chances with the strange lady rather than face her school bully in adult form. She slipped into the car, sliding across the leather seat to the opposite side as the stranger-woman followed her in and closed the car door.
The car immediately took off. Hermione took a deep breath, glancing around the expansive cabin. She concluded there must have been an extension charm on the interior because the inside was far bigger than a standard car.
“Okay. Tell him to call Pansy Potter if there’s a problem.”
Hermione’s gaze snapped back to the woman still speaking into the phone. She was unsure what to make of her. The woman looked very well put together, her clothes perfectly tailored, her nails trimmed and painted red. She was obviously a witch, unless the woman didn’t know the car had been magically extended. She wasn’t wearing wizard’s robes, the standard attire for the magical community. She was also using a cell phone, which was uncommon for witches. Perhaps she was a muggle, or maybe a muggle-born?
“Sounds great. I’ll talk to you later.” The woman pressed a button on her phone to end the call and turned to face Hermione, her lips pursing with judgement as she took in Hermione’s outfit. “Listen, Mione, I’m all about setting new fashion trends. Salazar knows the wizarding world could use a fashion update, but this slip dress is taking it a bit too far. As your best friend, I can’t allow you to go to work wearing your pajamas.”
“Are you really my best friend?” Hermione breathed, unable to make sense of anything but thankful that it was clear this woman was a witch.
Her head listed to the side, a resigned expression crossing her face. “Don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”
“What! No!” Hermione frowned and looked down at her flat stomach just to be sure. “No, I’m not pregnant.”
“Oh, thank Salazar!” the woman sighed, clutching her chest. “You scared me. If you get pregnant before Astoria, it just might be the death of poor Theo.”
Hermione’s brows drew closer together, trying to make sense of all the names. “Did you say your name is Pansy Potter?”
The witch narrowed her eyes. “Of course it is. What is wrong with you?” She looked Hermione up and down. “You’re acting really strange.”
Hermione blew out a breath. “See, that’s the thing. Something strange is going on right now. I slept in a flat I’ve never seen before and—and Malfoy was there and he…he was naked and I—I saw,” she leaned closer and whispered in a horrified tone, “I saw his thingy.”
“Oh no. Not his thingy,” Pansy replied flatly. She rolled her eyes and pulled out her wand. “I’m just going to fix—” she waved her free hand at Hermione’s general appearance— “all that.”
With a flick of her wrist, Hermione’s slip transformed into a modest work dress in the same pink shade while the black lace transformed into a belt that wrapped around her waist. “There. Now I don’t want to hear another word about Malfoy’s thingy. What you get up to with your husband is none of my business, unless it has to do with conception. But still, you two said you were waiting until—”
Hermione had stopped listening. “What did you just say?”
“I said we can talk about conception, but—”
“No, no, before that,” Hermione clarified. “About Malfoy?”
Pansy sighed, slipping her wand back into in her coat pocket. “Hermione, I know you two are in that sweet, newly-wedded bliss stage right now, but—”
“Me and Malfoy are married?” She shrieked, really starting to panic now.
Pansy started to look irritated. “What’s the matter with you?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Hermione cried, nearly in tears. “Something is really, really wrong with me! I have no idea what is going on right now. The last thing I remember is…” she trailed off, thinking back to the last memory she could confidently recall. “Um, school? Third year at Hogwarts maybe?” She closed her eyes, tears slipping out with the action. The panic was setting in as she wracked her brain for the last thing she could remember. “I was…I don’t know, I can’t remember!” She swiped her tears away and looked at the witch who was supposedly her best friend, afraid to admit the truth but having no idea what to do otherwise. “I don’t even know who you are.”
To her credit, Pansy’s irritation dissolved at this revelation as she scooted closer and began to rub Hermione’s back. “Okay, okay, calm down,” Pansy soothed. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get this sorted out. Don’t you worry.” She waved her wand and a shimmering, silver pug dog burst from the tip of her wand. “Find Theo and tell him I’m bringing Hermione to Mungo’s. Something has happened.”