Chapter Two
Seasons are Made for Change
Hermione didn’t open her eyes. She held still for several long moments, willing whatever that happened to disappear and call off the joke before she opened her eyes and accepted it as reality.
She lay on her back, her hands splayed on the floor, and she could tell it was still the same stone floor of the room she had been in before…before”No, she won’t admit that even to herself. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t. She couldn’t believe her stupidity.
“Merlin, Morgana, Circe! Oh my god, oh no, I can’t believe this!”
Hermione’s eyes flew open at those words. She regretted it.
“Oh, you’re alright, thank goodness,” her other self said, only to contradict her professed relief by pulling at her hair.
Hermione sat up and looked around, unwilling to panic yet. She was in the same room, or hall”now she could see it properly in its real grandeur. The…the Century-Crosser”(Merlin!) was not here. Instead, there was only the shiniest expanse of marble floor, and on the walls, portraits, landscapes and murals, which just reminded her all the more of why and how she was here. She returned her other self’s wince.
“Why are there two of us here? Was there a problem with the...Century-Crosser?” the other Hermione asked.
“I think you were sent here before being given this journal. Mr Rashleigh went back in time to give it to me.”
“Alright, let’s read it.”
“Shouldn’t we hide first? What if someone walks in on us?” Hermione asked, and at the same time, she was conscious of how weird it was consulting with her self. They also stared at each other a lot. It was with satisfaction that she noted she had plucked her eyebrows just perfectly and that her skin shone like cream in the morning light. Morning. Great.
“My”our”Disillusionment Charm,” the other Hermione said, taking out her wand and rapping her at the top of the head with it. She did the same to her.
This was Hermione’s own invention. She tweaked the spell so that the one who Disillusioned you can still see you. It had been convenient loads of times.
“Whose journal is this anyway?”
“Hermione Rashleigh?”
“So that’s why he seemed assured sending us here. I’ll wager she also has brown hair like me”us.”
“Look! ‘Cicely Prewett, the prettiest and sweetest friend I’ve had so far, is a witch. I can’t believe it, but it is true. I feel safe writing about it here because, who will believe me anyway? I laugh at imagining how Leon’s face would look if ever he came upon this entry, he’s always snooping upon my diary, though I forgive him, now that I have suspicion that he snoops for love of Cicely. Oh, wouldn’t I just love her to be my sister! But I digress. Cicely is a witch. She showed me her wand. That was sweet. They use wands! Long fingers with ghastly nails are now banished from my imagination. And our friendship is sound as ever. At first, I was astonished and shocked, I thought she was only about to tell me she has feelings for Leontes as well when she told me she has something to confess! But, Cicely had always been sweet and gentle that if she says she’s a demoness I would only have been momentarily alarmed….’”
“Thank you, but I could have read it myself, you know.”
Hermione’s incredulous look was replaced by a scowl. The other Hermione just impatiently waved her nearer, pointing at another passage in the journal.
‘November 4th, 1730
‘Papa is being obtuse and Mama isn’t helping with her fussing over my cold. I shall go to London for the season. And Cicely will take me, if Leontes will not…………………………………………………………………………….’
“That’s a lot of ellipses. I think she is hinting that there’s more to this entry. She’s perhaps too skittish to risk being found out, hence, she didn’t write it down.”
The other Hermione nodded. “And this is the last entry. This is where we come in. This escape to London. Oh, my.”
“Oh and Hermione Rashleigh is a Muggle. Why would Cicely take her? The Prewetts are purebloods. Surely, they would be with our people in London?”
They both held in their gasps just then, as the doors at the end of the hall swung open. A girl looked in, in visage she was a perfect third of the two Hermiones, her brown hair in a big coif that was like a dome over her head. Locks of curls fell on her bare shoulders. Her white chest was also revealed by the low neck of her gown, which billowed from the ridiculously small waist in a ridiculously large bell. It swung about her as she walked in and whirled around. And then, with a giggle, she rushed to the doors at the other end of the hall.
The two Hermione’s, under the Disillusionment Charm, followed.
The hall connected to the other they had left was just as big, though this one held an ornate long table that could seat at least thirty. Matching ornate chairs lined the table. On one such chair was seated a young man with the same shade of hair as Hermione Rashleigh. But his eyes were blue instead of hazel, blue eyes which glowed like a light as it looked intently on the canvas he was holding before him.
“My dear brother, if it was Cicely walked in, I wonder if you would ignore her as much.”
The young man’s head jerked up at the mention of Cicely’s name. Hermione Rashleigh laughed.
“I think this is Leontes,” Hermione’s other self whispered. Hermione frantically shushed her, and earned a glare.
“You call her Cicely all the time, have you no shame? She is your superior not just in age,” the young man said, running a hand through his hair. He wore a blue waistcoat embroidered with silver and a full tie of cream lace bloomed at his neck. He touched it and Hermione Rashleigh yelped at the smudge of green his fingers left there.
“We’re friends, Leon,” she said, ruffling the cravat expertly to hide the stain. “And she’s only two years older than I. Don’t be so hideously puritanical.” She laughed again when her brother grimaced at her choice of words. “I wager you call her Cicely, too.”
Leontes blushed so fiercely that his sister quieted and the two Hermiones exchanged looks. With a sniff, he picked at a spot on his canvas. “Why am I even enduring your wild tongue? I thought you were breakfasting with Miss Prewett.”
“You’re right, do you not have eyes? Do I look like I’m remaining here in this empty cave?” And the girl turned fancifully, showing off her golden gown and matching ankle boots. “Cicely and I will just go for a stroll, since the MacMillans are come early and the whole family’s having breakfast now together.”
“Walking?”
“Don’t even try to stop me. These shoes are sturdy enough, however dainty they look. And the walks between here and the Grange are quite clean.”
“What? No, no, not that. I’ve no objection to your shoes. Can I come with you? I”I won’t exactly accompany you; just let me look at you both. I’ve a picture in mind.”
“Indeed? You’re always welcome, brother mine.”
“Do stop grinning like an imp. Please leave me for now. I can’t concentrate with you babbling in the same room.”
“Is that our quarry? Come on, let’s look,” Hermione whispered. They inched toward William’s back, careful not to make the slightest sound on the gleaming wooden floor. Hermione Rashleigh had flounced out. But then she flew back in and kissed her brother, her hoop skirt hitting the two other Hermiones in the shins.
When the whirlwind had gone, they let out their breath and moved closer to face the canvas.
No, it was only a landscape. The moor. Leontes shifted to take a draft from the goblet beside him. And they saw the tiniest silhouette of a woman sitting among the blooms of the heather.
“I’m beginning to think it’s fortunate there are two of us here, you know. One of us can keep an eye on Leontes, the other on Cicely. Our other Hermione is obviously the one whose place we’ll take.”
The other Hermione nodded, pacing. “Do you know any spells to change our clothes?”
“If you don’t, I don’t.”
“There’s no call for being snappy.”
“Are you forgetting I’m”we’re”newly married? And that my”our”husband must be losing his mind looking for me”us”right now?”
“Are you forgetting you have traveled time before? This is just the same as that. Though two centuries overboard. We’ll go back. We’ll just have to make our way to it. And it doesn’t help griping. Calm down.”
Hermione took a deep fortifying breath. “Thank you, you’re right.” She looked in on the door of Hermione Rashleigh’s sitting room. The girl was grumbling to herself in front of her mirror, fixing a ‘buffont’ over her chest, pushed to it by her mother, who had looked in a moment ago and was scandalized at her daughter’s daring to walk out with her chest bare after her cold. The buffont was a large diaphanous scarf. It was rather pretty, Hermione thought. She couldn’t understand why Hermione Rashleigh grumbled. It was swathed around the neck and shoulders, puffed out at the front.
“I’m almost sure she will go to London with Cicely, just as we’re sure the portrait we’re saving is Cicely’s. But we have to watch them first because we don’t know the plan. Then one of us can take Hermione’s place and go with Cicely.”
“Why is Cicely Prewett with the Macmillans? Maybe they intermarried?”
“Sounded like it.”
“I wonder why Ron never told me”us”that they’re related to Ernie.”
The two Hermione’s giggled softly.
“I’ve been wondering when my own mother will let me start wearing the contouche! How well you look in it, Cicely.”
“Clementine brought it for me.”
“And how are your sister and her husband, Miss Prewett?” Leontes asked.
“They’re very well, I thank you. They have brought gifts for your family, too. They are just now resting, though they hope to have the honor of calling on you later.”
“We will be delighted.”
The two Hermiones have followed the Rashleigh brother and sister to the gates of MacMillan Grange, where they were met by a rather beautiful young woman with strawberry blond hair and eyes so blue and so pale. It was no wonder Leontes was smitten. And it was no wonder his sister teased. He only had the courage to look at her when she was preoccupied with the ribbon that held her draped ensemble. When she looked up, he would suddenly turn his head as if a bird had shrieked somewhere.
“Ladies, you best take that walk now before we get cold here.”
Cicely gave a demure nod and smile and took Hermione’s hand. Leontes stood and just watched them for several seconds, before he almost ran to catch up, though they hadn’t gone far with those skirts. The two Hermiones followed.
“I’m sorry for startling you, ladies. I was just wondering, Miss Prewett, if I would see you later when your sister and brother calls.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m afraid not.” Cicely answered too quickly, plucking at her lace cuffs.
“Even if I entreat you to come?”
“Please don’t. I’m sorry.” Those cuffs were in danger of being ripped off now.
“Why won’t you come, my dear?” Hermione asked, looking between their flushed faces and looking alarmed.
“You know I’m going to London, Hermione. I’m…packing. Yes, packing.”
“You are intent on going?” Leontes asked.
This time, Cicely met his eyes. “There is no reason why I should not, is there?”
He nodded, bowed slightly, and left.
“Oh! Cicely, please tell me what just happened!” Hermione cried, taking both of Cicely’s gloved hands.
“Nothing, nothing, my dear. Please forgive me, but your brother and I have some misunderstandings. We’ll resolve them, don’t worry. Just not now.”
Hermione looked fretful. Cicely shook her hands. “Listen, the ribbon is ready. You have to be there at eight this evening, are you ready?”
Hermione’s face transformed to glee. “Oh! Yes, I’m all packed as well and””
“No, no, dear, you don’t have to bring anything””
“You’re jesting, Cicely! London and not bring anything?”
“Are you forgetting my wand?”
“Oh my! You mean”oh goodness, I’ll just have to see what you’ll do then.”
They were walking now and Hermione was almost skipping. The two Hermione Grangers behind her disapproved such childish behavior, but Cicely seemed charmed, because she smiled and looked like a nymph in her ecru gown, walking in the gardens clothed in the reds and golds of autumn.
While Earnest and Clementine Macmillan held court downstairs, Hermione Rashleigh dressed. And so did the two Hermione Grangers shadowing her. They had thought it best to do it with H. Rashleigh, so that they would know how.
Everything they touched was also Disillusioned, so it was not a problem when they picked clothes from H. Rashleigh’s open wardrobe. What she was wearing she had already laid out on the bed.
The two Hermiones each hunted a corset, a bodice, stockings, petticoats, a gown and ruffles. Aside from shoes. They had leisure choosing from H. Rashleigh’s collection of knee-high boots. And they rejoiced when the shoes were in their size.
“This has to be tight, breathe in,” Hermione whispered to her other self, lacing her corset at the back. Soon, she was the one grumbling when it was her corset being pulled.
And then they slipped on their gowns, exchanging dreamy looks at the feel of chiffon and silk and lace. But then they realized they had to stop moving. Their sleeve ruffles rustled too much. And when they wore their farthingales over their petticoats, they honestly considered levitating themselves to still be able to follow Hermione Rashleigh.
Hermione One was in yellow and in that round coif, H. Rashleigh’s favorite colour and hairstyle. She was to follow H. Rashleigh and afterward stay with Cicely.
Hermione Two was in periwinkle blue, reminiscent of her first dress robes. When Hermione One sends her a certain otter, she would lift the Disillusionment charm and take the place of H. Rashleigh in the house, to keep a very keen eye on Leontes. Both Hermiones had a copy of the journal as reference against familial and fraternal blunders.
The whalebone was surprisingly light, Hermione found it easier than she had expected to walk and even speed-walk in her large skirt. H. Rashleigh wasn’t in a hurry. She had told her parents and attendant that she was only going out for a walk in the gardens. Hermione followed her with her wand out, prepared to hinder anyone who might hinder them.
They reached and exited the Rashleigh gates without incident. Instead of going toward the Macmillan Grange, however, H. Rashleigh turned left, heading to the little wood at the edge of the moor between the two neighboring estates.
When they arrived, Hermione noticed the ribbon attached to one tree. It pointed inward, toward the trees. Before she could wonder about this, there was a telltale POP of someone Apparating. Hermione flung out her wand hand. But it was only Cicely.
“What happened to you? You look…deflated!” H. Rashleigh giggled. Cicely joined her. Hermione smiled herself, because Cicely had apparently forgone her farthingale. Her skirt flowed down from her waist in great billowy folds like a hot-air balloon without air.
“Remove yours as well, my dear. And then I will shrink it and place it in our décolletage. Farthingales aren’t safe for portkeying.”
“Portkeying?” H. Rashleigh asked, already hoisting up her skirt to remove her whalebone.
“They’re newly invented. Floo is too grimy, carpets are too windy and ruins coifs, long-distance apparition is tiring, so we now have Portkeys. They’re all the rage, but Papa wouldn’t tell me the incantation. I got it from Chris and Cal instead.”
H. Rashleigh had been nodding vaguely, but on thos last words, she brightened with comprehension. “Oh, Chrisanty and Caledon, aren’t they coming then if this is from them?”
“They’ll be flayed alive when Papa finds out I wheedled the incantation from them,” Cicely grinned, pointing her wand at the bell-frame and shrinking it. True to her word, she then tucked it between H. Rashleigh’s breasts. “Now, here is our portkey.”
She brought out a brown boot lacing.
“What would it do?” H. Rashleigh asked. Hermione was now so close by them their skirts joined each other on the ground. She pointed her wand to the right, thought about her wedding day, and fired her Patronus. She had told it not to show itself until several yards off. When it shone through the gloom, Cicely jumped and ran to look at it. In several swift wand movements, H. Rashleigh was Stunned, the Disillusionment charm was placed on her, Hermione swapped their clothes and then Confunded the girl on the ground for good measure, so that she would just go home when she woke up.
When Cicely returned, she asked, “What was it?”
“I think I just saw a corporeal Patronus. Or perhaps it was only Cal and Chris and their tricks.” She shrugged, holding out the boot lace again. “This will take us to London. Portus.”
Hermione faked astonishment as the lacing glowed. Cicely smiled. “Now we touch it. This will be my first time as well, so just hold on, dear.”
Hermione nodded, her stomach clenching. She only liked a portkey when it transported her to her honeymoon.
They landed on their backsides in the wooden floor of a cozy sitting room. Cicely looked stunned. And she looked even more amazed when her ‘Muggle’ friend spoke.
“You said Floo was too grimy, carpets too windy. This is too undignified, isn’t it?”
Author’s Note: I don’t want to reveal my source just yet, but a contouche is that wide over-dress hung loose from the shoulders and gathered or fastened around the waist with bows of ribbon. It’s like… a modern-day peignoir, I know you can now imagine it, and lace corsets are worn under it to adorn the chest in contrasting colors to the contouche. It was in fashion from 1720 to 1730. The farthingale was reinstated at the same period.