Surrounded by Snakes
Hermione awoke with a jolt, disoriented and confused. The first thing she noticed was the chill against her skin. She was lying on her back, on a smooth, polished floor, surrounded by shadows and soft murmurs. Blinking, she tried to focus, her mind foggy from the suddenness of her awakening.
A blur of Slytherin green met her eyes, and she stiffened, her first instinct to recoil. What’s going on?
“Is she awake?” a familiar voice—Pansy Parkinson’s—asked, filled with concern.
Hermione groaned softly and tried to sit up, but her head throbbed in protest. She was surrounded by a group she never thought she’d find herself near, let alone in such a vulnerable state: Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Daphne Greengrass. They were all dressed lavishly, and Hermione realized they were at some sort of party. Her chest tightened. Slytherins, she thought, and immediately assumed the worst—that they’d come to mock her or worse. It wouldn’t be the first time. But then, to her shock, Pansy leaned forward and extended a hand.
"Do you need help?" Pansy asked, her voice strangely soft. Hermione blinked up at her. Is she—?
“I’m fine,” Hermione muttered, though her voice was shaky. She wasn’t fine, not at all, but she didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of showing weakness.
“You’re not fine,” Pansy snapped, a hint of exasperation in her tone. “You’re on the floor, just—”
"Lay off, Pans," Malfoy interrupted, his voice calm yet firm. “Are you hurt, Hermione?” She froze, a strange sensation prickling down her spine. Draco Malfoy was standing so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. And then, before she could react, his fingers brushed against her temple. The warmth of his touch was unexpected, sending a wave of something unfamiliar and unsettling through her. What the hell? Her heart raced, her thoughts scattered. She opened her mouth to protest, but his touch was strangely comforting, grounding her in a way she couldn’t explain. But the fact that it was Draco Malfoy—Draco Malfoy, of all people—made her snap out of it, recoiling from his touch. Looking around the room she saw many familiar faces but none were the ones she needed in this moment.
“Where’s Harry?” she asked, her voice hoarse as she tried to push herself up, massaging the back of her neck. “Where’s Ron?” The group exchanged looks, their expressions unreadable. Hermione’s brow furrowed, and she glanced around in a panic.
"You want Harry… and Ron?" Daphne echoed, her voice laced with confusion. “You— why would we know?”
Hermione didn’t know how to respond to that. How would they know? She rubbed her back, trying to steady herself, but when her fingers brushed against something cold, her heart skipped a beat. She looked down at her hand. A ring. She froze. What the hell is this?
“I... I’m married?” she whispered, staring at the unfamiliar wedding band on her finger. Blaise snorted, and Hermione’s gaze snapped to him.
“How hard did you fall, Granger?” he asked, a hint of mockery in his voice. Hermione’s stomach churned. She could barely process the ring on her finger before the question escaped her lips again:
“Where’s Harry and Ron? What’s happening?” But this time, there was an odd sense of awkwardness in the air, a heaviness that seemed to settle over the room. Hermione’s gut twisted, and she suddenly felt nauseous. She ignored the growing unease in her chest and pushed herself up, ignoring the concerned glances of the Slytherins. "I need to find them," Hermione muttered, walking towards the nearest exit. The ballroom was full of people, their conversations and laughter filling the space in a way that made her feel more alien than ever. The moment her eyes landed on her two best friends, she felt a surge of relief. Hurrying toward them, her heart pounded.
"Harry! Ron!" she exclaimed, relieved to see them both standing near the refreshments table, though they both looked a little too… polished. She rushed up to them, her mind still reeling. “I fell, and when I woke up, I was surrounded by snakes,” she said quickly, trying to force a smile, though it felt like her face was made of stone. She waited for them to laugh, to joke about her being knocked out, but neither of them reacted as she expected. They just… stared at her.
“Snakes?” Ron asked slowly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. Hermione blinked.
“The Slytherins!” she explained, her voice rising in frustration. “Why are you looking at me like that?” The two men exchanged a glance before Ron cleared his throat, his hand scratching his chin.
“It’s just… you’re acting a bit strange, Hermione.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, and… you’ve called him Malfoy? I don’t think I’ve heard you call him that in years.”
Years? She stared at them, wide-eyed, unable to comprehend what they were saying. “What do you mean, years?”
Ron and Harry exchanged another glance, both of them looking uncomfortable. Hermione’s gaze shifted to the decorations around the room, her attention snapping to a banner near the entrance. Her heart dropped when she saw the large words displayed across it:
Class of 1999: 10th Anniversary Reunion.
Her eyes widened in horror. “Ten years?” she whispered. “What do you mean, ten years? I— I don’t understand.” Her mind raced, panic setting in as the weight of the words hit her. Ten years? She couldn’t remember the last decade of her life. It was as if a fog had swept over everything, leaving her with fragments of memories that didn’t make sense. And then, despite everything inside her screaming that it didn’t make sense, her eyes searched the room, and there he was. Draco Malfoy. When their gazes met, something shifted. He made his way toward her, his steps slow but deliberate. He reached her side, and before she could speak, his hand was gently placed on her forehead. The sensation was strange and soothing, a cooling comfort that made her stomach flutter unexpectedly. And then, she saw it. Draco was wearing a ring, a matching wedding band that mirrored her own. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Malfoy! You’re… married?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ron snorted behind her. “And so are you.”
She whipped her head around, eyes landing on Ron’s hand. No ring. She looked back down at her own finger, then back at Draco’s. They wore matching wedding bands. Draco Malfoy was married to her. Hermione's mind reeled. No… this doesn’t make sense. I’m not married to him. I’m not married to anyone. But before she could process more, Harry’s voice cut through the air, tinged with concern.
“How hard did you hit your head, Hermione?” he asked, popping a small appetizer into his mouth.
She had no idea. She didn’t remember falling, she didn’t remember marrying Malfoy- she didn’t remember anything. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she felt the bile rise in her throat. She turned away, feeling dizzy and lightheaded, and searching for some kind of sign that this was just a terrible dream. She reached out for Ron, who backed away like she might burn him.
She was hot. Boiling, hot. And still very dizzy. And- Her knees buckled, and the world spun around her before everything went black again.