Chapter 8
Hermione opened her eyes with a jolt. She had been dreaming but she couldn’t remember what it had been about now, having been woken so suddenly. She realized belatedly the thing that had awoken her was the house elf named Peeper. He was standing next to her bed, holding an armful of clothing. Was it already the next day? She recalled crying until her eyes felt like they were void of anymore tears; she must have fallen asleep shortly after.
“Master Lucius says ye is to be changin’ yer clothes, and Peeper is to banish yer trousers straight away,” the little elf also spoke with a squeaky Scottish accent, it was actually quite charming. “Come out when yer done, Master is waitin’ for ye.” He didn’t wait for a reply from Hermione, dropping her new clothes on the foot of her bed and scurrying out through the curtains.
Hermione gingerly began to look through what Peeper had brought her. Merlin, I don’t even know how to put half of this nonsense on, she thought bitterly. There was a set of stays, a corset, and a petticoat, she knew what those were. There was a large arisaid, lightly woven with green and gray thread, she noted quickly. She had absolutely no idea how to wear one of those properly. What was this rounded, lumpy piece of fabric with strings attached? And was this an apron, or was it supposed to be a bonnet of sorts?
“And what is it exactly that’s takin’ ye so long to dress, witch?” Hermione jumped when Lucius’ voice cut through her thoughts.
She slowly came through the drapery, quietly responding, “erm, I’m not quite sure I know how to put them on, that is, I’ve never dressed myself.” She hoped it was still a time when most ladies had a maid or some form of lady-in-waiting meant to help dress the women of the house, among other duties. Hermione was putting a lot on the line, not truly knowing the way things worked in this time period. All she had to go on were muggle history lessons, and only then up until year six before she had been accepted to Hogwarts.
As she came through the curtain, she saw Peeper in the mini kitchen cooking up something delicious smelling for breakfast. Then she noticed Draco. He was sitting in one of the chairs sprawled around the center table. His gray eyes were not milky today, and they were gazing into Hermione’s with intense curiosity. She attempted a half hearted smile in his direction, but he instantly looked shocked and broke eye contact, looking down at the map in front of him.
Lucius glared at Hermione for a moment longer than she felt comfortable with and then said, “Draco, go, get out of the tent. Do something… useful.” He couldn’t have sounded like he cared any less about where Draco went off to. Why bother keeping him under control at times and letting him wander freely at others? Hermione could not decipher the working dynamic between these two, nor what they stood to gain from each other. Although, it didn’t seem as though Draco had much of a say in the matter.
Draco stood as soon as he was addressed and immediately replied, “yes, Colonel, as ye wish.” He made his way out the door but he paused for a moment before passing Hermione and said, “I bid ye good day, my lady.”
He met her eyes again and at this close distance, she was struck by how intense they were. It felt like he was trying to speak to her, to say something important, but she was dumbstruck and could only smile back at him, blushing slightly. This was the first time he had acknowledged her presence outside of a curse or just simple eye contact.
Aside from his eyes, Hermione was also struck by how tall he was. Ron was tall too, taller than most people, but something about Draco’s presence was different. His shoulders were wide and from what little she could see under his uniform and kilt, he was pure muscle. Ron had grown into his gangliness eventually, but ‘muscular’ would never be the first word Hermione would choose to describe him.
Hermione Jean Granger, stop ogling this man right now. You are an engaged woman, she chastised herself quickly after her inspection. She still watched him until he was out of the tent.
Lucius watched the interaction with thinly veiled suspicion, and only when Draco had been gone a full fifteen seconds did he speak again.
“PEARL!” he screeched into the air.
There was a pop, and a new house elf appeared next to Lucius, just as Peeper had. This one was definitely a girl elf though, her features were much more delicate than Peeper’s were. She had pale skin but a bright red nose, green eyes, and smaller, more rounded ears, pointed downward. She had a good deal more hair than Peeper did, it was dirty blonde and grew in cowlicks all over her head. Pearl also seemed to be wearing garments made of the same material as her fellow elf, but she had decorated it with small, brightly colored pebbles and other pretty bits of nature. Hermione was instantly enamored with her.
“Dress this witch, banish her trousers when ye’re done, then go back to where ye belong,” Lucius said through gritted teeth to the new elf.
“Aye, yes, Master,” Pearl pipped in an equally adorable Scottish elf accent, and she promptly dragged Hermione back behind her curtains.
Pearl wasted no time in banishing not only Hermione’s trousers, but all of her clothing, underthings included.
“Bloody hell!” Hermione shrieked and quickly attempted to cover herself with her hands.
“Miss please dinnae fash, Pearl has birthed many a Malfoy bairn over her years,” the elf was rifling through the clothing as she spoke, organizing them from first to last to put on. “One woman’s body isna unlike every other, Pearl has seen it all already.”
This did nothing to comfort Hermione, knowing Lucius was only mere feet away in the next room, and the only thing separating them was a simple silk curtain. She quickly thrust her arms into the first thing Pearl handed her way, pulling the simple stays down over her naked body.
Eventually, the outfit was coming together, although when Pearl explained that the lumpy piece of fabric was a bum roll, Hermione flat out refused to put it on. She also refused to wear a bonnet or kerch of any sort, she had come to love her untamed, curly hair over the years and would not bind and hide it for anyone else’s comfort.
Ridiculous notion anyway, Hermione pouted to herself as Pearl finished tying off the back of her dress. The house elf then showed Hermione how to wear the arisaid, and how to put it on herself. It was quite a useful thing, transforming from long skirt to shawl to hood with simple flips and folds.
Finally she was dressed, Pearl apparated away with a quiet, “Good day miss, Pearl hopes to see ye again soon,” and Hermione had no choice but to go back into the main room and face Lucius.
He looked Hermione up and down and then nodded once and said, “That’ll do, I suppose. Ye are not to speak of Pearl to Draco. He does not know she is here and ye will not tell him. Most likely, ye will never see her again either.”
“Why don’t you just obliviate me?” Hermione asked suspiciously.
Lucius eyed her for another moment and then walked quickly towards her, “What’s yer name, witch? Who are ye and why are ye here?” he asked with a deadly whisper, just inches from her face.
She thought quickly, deciding if it would be worth it to lie about her name. Any other names that occurred to her were all wizarding surnames, and she didn’t know how far back their family lines went. She knew the Weasleys were ancient, among many others. No, she decided, her muggleborn name probably wouldn’t trigger anything in his mind.
“Hermione Granger,” she stated simply, providing no other answers.
“Hermione, eh. Yer parents had high hopes for ye, did they?” he replied sarcastically. “The daughter of Helen of Troy, aye? I would’ve expected ye to be bonnier.” The last part was said with a nasty grin, as he turned away from her and moved towards the table.
When she didn’t deign to reply to his sarcasm, he switched tactics yet again. Slamming his fists on the surface of the table, sending papers and candlesticks flying, he yelled, “Tell me why ye were spying at the edge of the field yesterday or I’ll crucio it out of ye, I swear it!”
Hermione was truly at a loss for words, she didn’t know what she could even begin to say that would sound plausible. Her confusion and apprehension must have been showing on her face, Lucius was watching her very closely indeed. Suddenly, he broke into an almost friendly grin, although it still didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Well of course, there is another way,” he began mysteriously, “have ye ever heard of Legilimency, Hermione?” She really did not like the way her name sounded coming from his lips. She should have faked her name for that reason alone.
Hermione certainly knew what Legilimency was. They had learned about it briefly in seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts class. The ‘mind reading’ technique wasn’t a Dark art per se, but it could be used for very nefarious purposes if the wrong person learned how to perform it. She had also learned a bit about it from the studying she did prior to coming back to Hogwarts. There were various side effects and injuries one could endure from both performing Legilimency and being on the receiving end of the mind reading. The brain was a delicate organ.
Becoming an Occlumens had intrigued Hermione; an Occlumens was someone who could organize and protect their mind and thoughts from any Legilimency invasions. She had tried it a few times just based on theory, in her alone time. She wasn’t sure it had ever worked though, not having an experienced Legilimens around to practice on her.
“Yes, I have, although I’ve never experienced it myself,” she began hesitantly.
“Well, well there’s certainly a first time for everything,” Lucius replied with an evil grin, as he walked towards Hermione like a lion stalking its prey.
She backed up until the back of her thighs bumped into one of the cabinets, and suddenly Lucius was on her, gripping her upper arms tightly. “Look at me!” he commanded.
As soon as Hermione turned her head to meet his eyes, she felt him break into her skull. Images flashed before her eyes; the day she had met Ron and Harry on the Hogwarts Express, her viewpoint of the battle she had witnessed, the panic she felt when she lost her magic and the relief she felt in getting it back, her thoughts about Draco when he had spoken to her this morning, a very quick snippet of Hermione riding a bike as a small child-
No, Lucius couldn’t be in her mind. He would see too much, he would know she was from the future. What would he do then, would he believe her? Would he think she was using some form of Dark magic, would he then believe his suspicions were correct in that she was a spy? Would he figure out how she had time traveled, could he, would he time travel too? She couldn’t imagine this man in her timeline, he was too dangerous, too violent. There was too much at stake, Hermione could not let him see anything besides what she had experienced in approximately the past 24 hours.
She slammed her mind shut. She could not have explained how she did it, but it worked. She felt Lucius attempting to reenter, trying to find a crack he could work his way into. Her mental walls held fast. Hermione could feel their strength, she knew Lucius wasn’t going to be able to penetrate her defenses no matter what strategy he used.
The feeling it gave her was… wonderful. Hermione had always been smart, always been clever, but she had always had to work at it. She needed to study and take impeccable notes, she needed time to process and retain information and magical techniques. This, this was different, Hermione thought to herself, this must be what it felt like when Harry rode a broomstick for the first time. She could do this without thinking or putting hardly any effort into it. This made her dangerous to Lucius. He seemed to come to that realization at the same time she did, and he suddenly dropped her.
Hermione nearly fell to her knees at the sudden release, and she felt her mental walls come down now that her brain wasn’t under attack anymore.
“Ye told me ye had never experienced Legilimency before, witch,” Lucius said with a growl. “What do ye have to hide?!” he was practically spitting with rage.
“I have nothing to hide, I just didn’t consent to you invading my brain so I kept you out,” Hermione replied with an air of uninterest, like that wasn’t the most powerful she had ever felt.
Lucius looked like he was about to explode when suddenly Draco rushed back into the tent.
“Sorry for interrupting, Colonel, sir, but it’s Weasley. We just found him buried under a pile o’ bodies. He’s alive but he’s in a bad way, and he says he’ll only talk to ye,” he rushed out quickly, before Lucius turned his evident rage in Draco’s direction. Weasley. Hermione heard the name and felt all the blood rush from her brain. She almost fainted on the spot but somehow managed to keep her composure, she needed to hear more.
“Damn Weasley, always a pain in my arse at the wrong time,” Lucius scowled. He turned his attention back to Hermione. “We are not done,” he said simply before turning to leave the tent. Then he stopped again, and it seemed a thought had occurred to him, “Actually witch, ye said ye were a healer, did ye not?” He spoke without looking back at her.
Her heart jumped, “Yes, yes I am, let me just grab my bag with my ingredients and-” she began to say.
“Fine, Draco, bring her along when she’s ready,” Lucius interrupted with finality, and he left the tent. Draco glanced at Hermione in surprise. They were alone together.