19. Chapter 19: I Don't Belong Here

O you,

Who came upon me once

Stretched under apple-trees just after bathing,

Why did you not strangle me before speaking

Rather than fill me with the wild honey of your words

And then leave me to the mercy

Of the forest bees?

Chapter 19: I Don't Belong Here

Father Lorenzo vacated the pulpit after mass so that Lord Granger could address the servants of the manor.

"I have two announcements to make" said Lord Granger, from the pulpit. The servants looked at each other curiously.

"The first is that Lady Granger is with child again." The congregation broke into rapturous applause. Lord Granger waited for it to die down. There was an expectant silence.

Hermione, seated in the first pew next to her mother, clenched her fists.

"The second is that my daughter has accepted Baron Burnel of Lancashire as her husband. The wedding will be in three weeks."

There was stunned silence. Then slowly, people began to clap. Lord Granger again waited for the applause to die down.

"I want nothing to get in the way of this wedding. You know I have planned for this my whole life," Lord Granger was speaking very forcefully. "You will all watch my daughter closely to see that she does nothing that might spoil her…happy occasion. She must be well looked after- do not let her leave the inner compound of the manor, do not leave her on her own, make sure we have a well and happy bride." He gave the servants a meaningful glare. Audley, Fanhope and the under-servants who had been involved in the previous night's search understood what he meant.

"Meanwhile, you will all prepare for Baron Burnel's visit. He will arrive in a week. That is all."

Father Lorenzo resumed his place at his pulpit. His expression was grave. Raising his hand, he slowly made the sign of the cross over the congregation. "Dóminus vobíscum."

"Et cum spíritu tuo" replied the congregation.

"Ite, Missa est."

"Deo grátias."

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"She still refuses to eat" whispered the Mary to Hermione's mother. As she brought yet another untouched tray of food out of Hermione's room.

Hermione's mother looked sadly at her daughter. Hermione sat curled on the bench by the window. It looked like she was asleep, but her mother knew she was not.

"Hermione," Lady Granger drew up a chair and sat next to her daughter.

The girl said nothing.

"How long are you going to fight this?"

The girl still said nothing.

"Do you think your father will let you starve yourself to death?"

Hermione hardly heard Lady Granger's voice. Her thoughts were faraway – five hundred years ahead – to a scene the grounds of Hogwarts. Harry and Ron were swinging her by the arms and they were singing a ridiculous song. Draco was watching them from under a tree. I want to go back. I want to go back.

"If you go on with this willfulness, I will be forced to inform your father."

Everything had gone horribly wrong. What had seemed like an exciting adventure had turned into a nightmare. First, she had let herself get involved with, of all people, Draco Malfoy. Did he love her? He had never said it. Did she love him? She wasn't sure. Worse, she had asked him to break up his engagement- what could she have been thinking! Had the side-effects of the potion affected her memory and judgment that much? Then she had disgraced herself in front of her father and all the servants. She had put Draco's life in danger and would probably never see him again. She was to be married in three weeks to some strange man she had never met before. And worst of all, she had completely ruined her chances of returning to the future.

"I was married when I was thirteen, Hermione. I was scared of your father too. It was frightening, the first time, but then it becomes bearable. If you're afraid, you can talk to me about it."

If only Draco were with her, it would give her some hope! Draco was probably furious with her. She should have turned against her parents that night, told them to go to hell and left with him, but she had been overwhelmed by it all. She knew nothing outside these walls – she had nearly collapsed at the medieval fair, how could she have left just like that? Now it was too late- Draco was alone out there, and he was probably going to return to the future without her. She would die here all alone, and goodness knows what mess that would create for the people of the future.

She felt someone touch her arm.

"You haven't heard a word I've been saying, have you, daughter?"

She turned to look at her mother. Lady Granger saw that Hermione's eyes were full of tears.

"Let me go." she said quietly to Lady Granger. "Let me go. You don't understand, but I don't belong here, I never did."

A pained look crossed Lady Granger's face. "Don't say that, Hermione" she whispered.

Hermione was on the verge of telling her secret to Lady Granger. Anything to escape the marriage.

"If you let me go, I promise that I will never disgrace this family again. You will never hear from me or see me again."

Lady Granger turned white. Hermione was surprised to see fear in her eyes. But she continued, "Mother, you will have another child soon. That is the child that belongs here- not I. My brother or sister will do this family proud and make you and my father happy. Let me go."

Lady Granger's face wore a haunted expression. The look on her face was distressing enough to frighten Hermione. Without a word, Lady Granger got up and crossed herself. She left the room quickly and locked the door.

Her heart beating fast, Lady Granger hurried towards her husband's study. She paused outside his door and raised her hand to knock. But at that moment, she changed her mind. Swiftly, she turned and made her way towards the chapel. She needed to speak to Father Lorenzo.

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"I brought ye the things ye asked for" said Thomas, handing Draco a small sack. Draco looked inside and was relieved to find the fernseed pouch and the dove feathers.

"Thank ye" he said.

Thomas looked worried. "Where'll ye be goin'? If the master finds ye, he'll have your life. I know ye have not a soul in the world, so why not ye stay here for a time? 'Tis the least I can do for a friend."

Draco was extremely touched. "Ye'd do that for me?"

"Aye" smiled Thomas. "Me mam said so to me this morn. She said ye were tired and starved - as if ye are worke'd too hard at the manor. If ye set out like this, she'd nivver forgive herself if ye caught the fever and died."

"Thank ye. I have no better plans myself. I have nowhere to go."

Thomas looked sympathetic, "Aye- when ye came to work on t'manor, they all said ye were orphaned. No one knew where ye came from. 'Twas your old gram that left ye when ye were a young boy, but I'd wager she'd be dead by now."

"My old gram?" Draco was surprised. No one had spoken to him of his past in this life before.

"Must be. She said 'twas time ye earned your living, said she couldn't afford your keep. No one ever saw her again. D'ye remember your gram?"

Draco shook his head.

"'Tis no surprise, ye were a young'un then. Full twelve year ago it was. And Fanhope took pity on ye and set ye to work on t'light chores. Least, that's what t'lads tell me back up at the manor. I only knew ye when I started this here year."

Thomas pulled out a chair and sat down at the rough wooden table next to Draco.

"They're a-talkin back at the manor. They're a-sayin Lady Hermione will be forced to marry some Baron before the next new moon"

Draco looked up, "What?!"

"Aye, and she is kept like a prisoner, under lock 'n key. They say Lord Granger is in a fearful temper." Thomas might have been a simple-minded sort of chap, but he was very perceptive. He didn't miss Draco's look of misery.

Thomas lowered his voice. "Give 'er up, Draco. Ye be a fine looking lad, there'll be lasses a'plenty elsewhere. I knew 'twas foolishness the first time I saw you two, I should've stopped ye, afore it came to this."

"You knew before?" Draco was surprised.

Thomas grinned, "I guessed. The first time she came to the gardin' lookin' for ye back in May. I guessed."

"She hated me then."

Thomas shrugged. ""Twas a hunch. But it grew. I was afear'd for ye. Whenever she was there, I made talk with Hibbings so ye could talk. And I saw ye at the fayre."

"Thomas, you are one clever lad." said Draco. Then he dropped his head into his hands. "I can't give her up."

"'Tis a romance. A fancy of yours. She's too good for the likes of us. She's lady of the manor, even if she deserted to leave wit' ye, she wouldn't be happy. She'd go running back."

"You're wrong." said Draco. "I'm good enough for her."

Thomas looked at him sympathetically. "P'raps you're touched" he said. "We are servants, common people. She is near royalty on her mother's side."

Draco was getting some of his nerve back. "That doesn't make her have to marry someone she doesn't love!"

"'Tis the way things are with the gentry."

"Thomas" Draco looked thoughtful. "You said she could desert- run away with me."

Thomas looked horrified. "I didn't mean it serious! There would be a price on your head if ye did that. And Lady Hermione would have shamed the whole family."

"But if she did it, and she didn't mind, it would work, wouldn't it?"

"Ye are too selfish, Draco" Thomas disapproved. "Leave the lady alone."

"Please Thomas," said Draco, "You have to help me. You don't understand, I'd explain but…I can't."

Thomas shook his head. "Nay, 'tis too dangerous. Lord Granger would have me flogged."

Draco looked thoughtful, "All right, you don't take a part then. All I ask is that you get Mary Ludlow her nursemaid to meet me- just once, I swear."

Thomas frowned even more deeply than before.

"And what makes ye think she will come?"

Draco fished a quill, ink and parchment out of his sack. He scribbled something on the small piece of parchment and handed it to Thomas. "Give this to her, she will come."

Thomas squinted at the paper. He could not read so it made no sense to him He sighed and put it in his pocket. "All right. But after that I'm not doin' ye any more kindnesses where Miss Hermione is concerned."

Draco nodded. "You won't have to."

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"Put your hand into the water and hold it there" said Lady Granger to her daughter.

Father Lorenzo held out the silver bowl to Hermione. Hermione looked surprised but didn't bother to argue. She had far greater problems than this. Obediently, she dipped her hand into the bowl. The water felt pleasantly cool.

"Can I take my hand out now? What is this for, mother?"

Lady Granger and Father Lorenzo exchanged looks.

"Deo Gratias" murmured the old priest, crossing himself.

Her mother began to cry.

The poem at the start of this chapter is "Carrefour" (French for 'crossroads') and it was written by Amy Lowell, a 19th C poet. I know this was a rather short chapter. The next one is much longer, and a crucial one, I promise.