Narcissa's Time Turner

Chapter 4: Helen's Daughter, Hermione

The tornado subsided and nothing but white emptiness was left of the painting. The veela led him by the hand, out of her dreamscape and into the real world. It seemed as though her lover could not walk the line between time and the void as the veela could. Perhaps this was why only a veela could use the Black family turner. In a flurry of white sand, he heard her voice echo, "Say hello to Narcissa for me!"

Draco found himself at Madam Malkin's shop, looking at himself wearing forest green robes as they shopped to prepare for his sixth year. His mother was standing next to him admiring his reflection, and Madam Malkin was sticking pins into the sleeve to tailor the robe for him. This must be what his father was always calling the perils of presumption. He was so certain that his mate was not at his school that he didn't even consider the possibility that using this device could undo the fall of the Dark Lord. Would he have to be an accomplice to Dumbledore's death a second time, to ensure time flowed correctly? He wanted to rush to his mother but that was not what he was here for. He had to focus, there would be no third chances. 

As he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw her enter the store in the reflection. He truly saw her for what she was, for the first time. 

Hermione, no other name could suit her so well. Hermione must be the daughter of Helen. She could not be Helen herself for Helen was not intelligent enough to match Hermione's wit, but from whom other than Helen of Troy could this beauty be born? She must have hatched from a swan's egg. She must have transcended her own dimension to occupy this one. His inner veela was ranting and raving so much in his mind that he couldn't make sense of his thoughts anymore. This was a sweeter kind of madness than when his veela was running in circles despairing over never seeing the mate. For her, he would do more than simply launch a thousand ships. He would kill his own family to ensure she was safe. He would burn down the world to protect her from its evil. He would lay his own beating heart at her feet if she said this were the only way to make her happy. 

Her brown curly hair was pulled back and she had a big, beautiful smile on her face. Draco desperately wished it was him she was smiling so lovingly at. She had care and compassion in her eyes as she looked at Potter standing beside her. Hermione wasn't wearing makeup but everything from her skin to her eyelashes was perfect. 

Hermione felt Draco's stare and turned towards him. The first time this happened, he said "If you're wondering what the smell is, mother, a mudblood just walked in." That was what he had said at fate's perfect moment for him to lessen her hatred. His inner veela he had mistaken for his conscience had said at the time, how dare you call her that? You vile, disgusting boy. She is not only not below you, she is above you. She is smarter than you, kinder than you, braver than you. His veela seemed to agree with his inner thoughts a lot of the time. Maybe the two were more similar than he thought. After all, it was nothing more than a part of himself. 

On the outside corner of her left eye, there was a slight bruise. His past words, "Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers," echoed in his mind and he cursed his past self. The Draco of today was, however, extraordinarily proficient at healing spells. His mother had insisted he practice his healing more and more after the Dark Lord's fall, as former death eaters were still trying to hunt down those who defected and renounced Voldemort after the war.  

Draco asked his mother for her wand, who wordlessly handed it over, and swiftly walked over to the trio. He remembered how he had stumbled on the overlong robes last time and took care not to do so now. Potter and Weasley drew their wands at his approach. 

"Watch yourself, Malfoy," Potter spat at him. Hermione shrunk back behind the boys. 

Madam Malkin gasped, "I don't want wands drawn in my shop!"

"That looks like it hurts. Here."

Draco waved Narcissa's wand over her face and cast Episkey nonverbally. The boys looked back at Hermione with worried looks in their eyes, wondering what evil thing Draco had done to the girl he loved to bully. To their surprise, the faint bruise slowly faded until her pale skin was once again unblemished. Madam Malkin let out an audible sigh of relief. Hermione touched her eye in shock, and felt no pain.

"T-thank you."

"No problem. I have practice with black eyes, after that punch in third year." 

Narcissa narrowed her eyes at the mention of her son getting hurt. She remembered the incident, of course, as he had run right to his father about it. Draco smirked at his own joke and Hermione gave a small smile back. 

Ron stammered, "wha-what?" He was still searching for how Draco had hurt her with that last wave of his wand. 

Draco managed to avoid any repercussions for doing magic outside of school by using Narcissa's wand, so long as none of the golden trio blabbed, and just walked back to Madam Malkin. Draco said warmly, "That looks good, we'll take them." He looked back at his mother who wasn't at all ruffled by this turn of events, or perhaps just didn't show it. 

"Yes, they do look quite dashing on you. But it's still too long."

Draco moved from in front of the mirror and Madam Malkin went to work moving the pins in Draco's robes as a shop assistant showed Harry, Ron, and Hermione robes within their various price ranges. Hermione came out of the dressing room first and stood to Draco's left to admire herself. 

She looked divine. The robes clung to her petite frame perfectly, the red and gold on them accenting her warm brown eyes and honey-chestnut hair. Draco realized he couldn't say what he wanted to say, because too dramatic a shift in personality would be either suspicious or frightening. His earlier healing of her eye was already extremely out of character. 

"Those robes look nice, Granger. Well, better than last year's, anyway," Draco sneered. 

She looked over at him out of the corner of her eye. That should be good, he thought. Not sweet enough to show just yet how much he fancied her, but certainly a compliment even if it was backhanded. 

"Those look nice, too. Well, you might look better in red, though." 

There she went with that Gryffindor bravery. He was taken aback she said this in front of his mother, too. The girl really had guts. 

"Is that so? Perhaps you'd look better in blue."

Another comment he hoped wasn't too out of character, but he regretted it as soon as he said it. He could only hope she wasn't suspicious of his motives. She was so intelligent there's no way she didn't understand the hidden meaning of his words, that is, You're smart as a ravenclaw, so ditch those boys that are one part brave two parts stupid. At least the second meaning, of Green doesn't suit me? Then red doesn't suit you either, was probably still a possibility in her mind.