Chapter 1
Hermione should be more surprised… more shocked to have ended up in her current predicament… But she wasn’t. Quite frankly, life was already so completely opposite to how she envisioned it going, it would be far more strange to have something go her way. Hermione had been certain that her research was solid. So certain, she hadn’t even bothered to arrange for backup to ensure that there would be someone to look out for her in case something went wrong. Besides, the Unspeakeables worked alone. They each had their place, and Hermione was the only one in her field trained to save her own ass in any case. Life was certainly not what she had expected it to be.
Hermione thought she would make her way through the creature law department of the Ministry with a crash, a bang, and a blaze of equality and glory. They wouldn’t even hire her. They cited budgets and other such nonsense. Hermione fought it… but what could she really do? Pull a Malfoy? Run to Harry or Kingsley or both and lose what little pride she did have left? So, Hermione had taken the position that would hire her and joined the Auror department with Ron and Harry. It wasn’t all that bad… until she broke up with Ron, that is.
Hermione and Ron’s relationship had been a trainwreck in the making. There was too much that was lost during the war. Ron had abandoned them and Hermione could hardly forget it…and Ron couldn’t forgive Hermione for not immediately doing so for his benefit. And the more they fought, the more Harry withdrew from Hermione especially. Hermione couldn’t really blame him because Ron would immediately begin to throw accusations of Harry and Hermione sleeping together, and if there was one thing that had changed about Harry after the war; it was that he was done with fighting. Harry was going to do what was best for Harry and go the path of the least resistance. Hermione understood even if it resulted in her near complete isolation. She had cut the cord of their once solid friendship a year into their new jobs.
“You requested a new partner AND you're moving?!” Hermione let out a resigned sigh as she walked through Grimmauld place and directed all the last of her belongings into her beaded purse.
“Yes. I requested Draco Malfoy.”
“Malfoy!!?” Ronald’s voice had a pitch only dogs could hear and Hermione winced before briskly walking away from him to meticulously go through each room to make sure that she had forgotten nothing, and Ronald followed with steam pouring out his ears. “Well, Hermione, I suspected many things over the years; but you sleeping with the ferret instead of me was not one of them.” Hermione stopped dead and turned with murder and rage brewing in the depths of her soul. Ronald actually had the sense to feel a cold jolt of terror.
“I am requesting Malfoy as my partner NOT because I am sleeping with him.” Hermione marched forward and jabbed her finger into his chest. “I’m requesting him because everyone refuses to be his partner, he ISN’T a complete moron, and he has the added benefit of being one of the few people YOU,” Hermione jabbed again for added emphasis. “...Actively avoid. Because I am breaking up with you, and as your ex,” Ronald’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “I don’t have the energy to deal with your bullshit any longer. I am moving out because Harry picked you over me long ago, and I would rather not force him to prove that fact by asking me to leave.” Hermione whirled back around and continued her search unhindered. She saw Ronald one more time as she rounded back with the last of the bits and bobs she had missed. Hermione felt a slight twinge of guilt at the despondent expression on his face.
“We were never really good together, Ron.” Hermione watched his passionless nod. “You deserve someone who loves the Chudley Cannons as much as you do, and willingly gets up at ungodly hours just to cheer while you play Quidditch and enjoys every minute of it.”
“Not read a book and say, ‘I showed up for you. Isn’t that what you wanted’?” Ron chuckled.
“And…” Hermione wryly smiled. “I deserve to have someone who likes reading or at least appreciates that I LOVE books and will always spend more time reading than drinking in pubs.”
“Or having sex. You couldn’t pick the Kama Sutra? THAT’S a book I would have immensely enjoyed you reading.”
“I have already read it Ronald,” Hermione snorted with a roll of her eyes.
“I don’t believe you,” Ron accused back. “I certainly didn’t see any evidence of it.”
“Because… I strongly believe no woman can hold even half of those positions. And…” Hermione held up a hand. “...I am CERTAIN you couldn’t either.”
“HEY! We’ve been broken up for FIVE MINUTES, and you are already ragging on me for being a bad lay? At least wait til I am gone so I can salvage SOME of my bruised ego.” Ron was smiling for the first time in a while and Hermione smiled even bigger back.
“See? We were never meant to be a couple. We have had more fun with the subject of sex in the last five minutes than we ever did ACTUALLY having sex.”
“We COULD have that much fun! Please Hermione.” Hermione slung her beaded bag across her chest and crossed her arms.
“Ron…” Hermione sighed. “Do you really want me or do you just not want to tell your Mother?” Ron froze.
“W-well…” he blustered.
“Ronald, did you know that Lavender Brown is still single.” Ron’s eyes widened. “And did you also know that she stares with ‘longing and desire for her precious Won-won?’ Not MY words, I ASSURE you. Lavender talks REALLY loud in the loo.” Hermione dreaded going to the loo. Heaven forbid she was on the toilet when that particular gaggle of women entered the bathroom. Being stuck while they extensively discussed Ronald’s assets (grossly exaggerated in her opinion) and how Hermione was clearly a terrible choice for him. They were not terribly wrong about that. “I know she can be a bit obnoxious, but Lavender clearly loved being with you. And for what it is worth, she was very good for your ego as I recall.” Hermione allowed herself a small smile of triumph as Ronald really considered it.
“You really think so?”
“Well, Ronald…” Hermione turned around to get her coat off the peg. “...I shall gladly leave you to pursue the lovely Lavender. Just promise me you won’t be a moron and tell her it was my idea. Hell, tell her you broke up with me because you couldn’t get her out of your head. I’ll reinforce it if she ever comes along gloating. Your mother will be happy that you already have prospects for a new daughter in law in her sights and I can focus on dealing with Malfoy as a working partner and direct all my focus to not killing the twit.” Hermione groaned.
“You really AREN’T sleeping with Malfoy?” Ron grinned.
“You’re an idiot, Ron,” Hermione deadpanned. “Tell Harry, we split amicably, and I’ll see him around.” Thankfully, Ron nodded and Hermione was able to leave the house relatively peacefully. She really should have waited for Harry, but she wasn’t about to test her luck by sticking around. Ron could do the explaining or Harry could man up and come find her himself. And, to his credit, Harry found her. But, aside from asking if her relationship was over, said almost nothing other than, “see you around.” Honestly, their friendship was a crumbling sand castle the minute they left school. Unlike everyone else, Hermione knew it was going to end.
Everyone was shocked. There had been more than a few articles that presented Hermione in a less than flattering light, not that she cared. It had a few benefits. Hermione no longer had to deal with as many “fans” of Harry Potter and the golden trio. They were idiots for believing the tripe in the newspaper and only gave her some glowering looks and glares for attempting to leave the loyal Ronald to be with the precious boy who lived. Reason number four that she had chosen Malfoy for a partner. They were officially the hated ones, and it wasn’t as bad as all that.
Draco Malfoy was much quieter than he had been when they were younger. He had welcomed Hermione with a raised eyebrow and that was it. They rarely argued because they rarely talked, and that was perfectly alright with Hermione. Lonely, but what else was new? Her loneliness was what Hermione strongly suspected led the Department of Mysteries to hire her and Malfoy. They didn’t have lives and neither of them had family or relationships to jeopardize their work. And they were brilliant. It was even better when they were sent to different departments.
Yes. Hermione’s life was completely different from what she had thought it would be. Hermione had originally wanted to make a difference and be one of the names to go down in history. Now? Her name would never be put on her research. She was one of the Unspeakables. Hermione spent her days researching and testing. No one knew what she did. No one would ever know that Hermione was the one behind her work, and that was strangely alright with her. All Hermione needed was her books and a cat and a cup of tea. Her position in life wasn’t the only change.
Hermione was a little weirded out that she became a young female version of Mad-eye Moody. Not that she had lost her eye or constantly yelled at people. Just…constant vigilance and all that. And weirdly fashion sense. In truth, it was probably just Auror culture that changed the way Hermione dressed. It was the perfect blend of Muggle and Wizard attire. The Auror black leather coat and vest and pocket watch. Never without her life’s belongings slung across her chest. Even when she slept. And, Hermione recognized how that was a sign that she was most likely suffering from PTSD. But, anyone who blamed her could shove their boot up their ass for all she cared. The profanity that had leaked into her daily conversation was also eerily similar to Moody. And if having her life strapped to her chest made her a paranoid mess, Hermione was alright with that. It gave her peace. And in light of recent events, Hermione would continue to do so until the day she died because it quite literally saved her from being stranded in the early 1900s with nothing but the clothes on her back and her wand. Still… needless to say, Hermione had found herself in yet another pickle and she was alone in this particular pickle with no one who knew exactly where the hell she was. Precisely because Hermione had no clue where the hell she was.
One minute Hermione was testing a time turner that she had been tasked to make and the next minute she was throwing up in a dusty back alley with a lump of shattered glass and melting metal hanging from her neck. Hermione had never felt worse in her life and that was saying a lot. Bellatrix Lestrange would be livid to be ousted as her worst experience. When Hermione had finally managed to extract the molten time turner from her neck, she was left with a nasty burn in the shape of it around her neck. Hermione checked her person and found that other than the time turner, everything was where it should be. And thankfully, Hermione had dropped where she had landed unnoticed.
Hermione drew her wand and held it out of sight behind her leg before advancing cautiously. She was in some sort of alley and sand filled every crevice and the heat… it was unbearable. Hermione finally made it to an opening to a busy street and her eyes widened. It was filled with men and women wearing turbans and coverings. There was the occasional white couple with parasols and straw hats dressed in more clothing than was clearly comfortable. In actuality, Hermione with her black jeans, dragonhide boots, vest and pocket watch almost fit in with what the men escorting those women were wearing. Aside from her dark color palate of course. Hermione spied a newspaper stand down the street. She buttoned up her long leather jacket to hide her pants and drew up her hood and walked calmly through the crowd. With her wand in her pocket and her purse under her coat, Hermione kept her head down and focused on making it through the crowd without jostling anyone else. She wasn’t entirely successful.
“Antabih ‘lilaa ‘ayn ‘ant dhahbi!” Hermione had accidentally bumped into a snarling smelly man with a full beard and red fez on his head.
“My apologies,” Hermione said quietly before again weaving in and out of the crowd as fast as she could to the news stand. She was mildly frustrated to find that the newspapers were clearly written in Arabic and Hermione had only ever learned French and a little bit of Russian. But the date, the date clearly said 1920. Well and truly screwed. That’s what Hermione was.