Disclaimer: Don't own HP or FFXV
I'm trying a HP reincarnation fic in the FFXV world, though not using Harry.
On September 19 M.E. 735 the Empire celebrated the birth of Emperor Iedolas Aldercapt's first and only child. At sixty, he was old to be fathering his first child, but he had never shown any interest in producing an heir. The birth was an accident, the woman he had slept with had missed a dose of contraceptive. Once the pregnancy was known of she was elevated to the rank of Imperial Concubine, her every need seen too. The people rejoiced at the idea of a secure succession, especially when the next Lucian heir had been born a month before the Imperial birth.
Hermione Celestia Aldercapt was born at 3:19pm and her Mother, the Lady Clarissa, died at 5:37pm.
Iedolas accepted the small bundle, staring down at his daughter critically. He could already tell she had inherited her Mother's chestnut locks, but her eyes were blue like his own. He was disappointed, having decided that if he were to have an heir then a boy was definitely preferable. A daughter could still be useful, he could marry her off to someone one day, perhaps even the Lucian Prince. He passed her back to the nurse and returned to his office after giving instructions for a wet-nurse to be hired. He had more important things to do then look after some brat.
Hermione was a quiet, contemplative, child. She was utterly content to sit and read, first picture books but she was quickly able to read, shocking her nurse with how quickly she mastered the skill. She attended all of her lessons without complaint and never had to be scolded for dirtying her dresses, especially considering they were all in Imperial white.
She had no friends, just tutors and her nurse, as there were no children in the Imperial Palace. She learnt fast, earning a lot of praise from her tutors, but she wasn't just learning what they wanted. She knew propaganda when she heard it after all. She had grown up being exposed to pureblood supremacy from the age of eleven to seventeen. By the age of six she was well aware that her Father was no better than Voldemort but there was nothing she could do.
Hermione Celestia Aldercapt may be her name now, but she was still Hermione Jean Granger, with all of the memories and powers that name implied. She had once worked for the Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures where she played an important role in improving the quality of life for house-elves and other disenfranchised creatures. Later, she had worked for Department of Magical Law Enforcement where she worked to put an end to pro-pureblood laws that had been so entrenched in Wizarding society. It was the final position she had held that she believed had prepared her best for this strange new world…as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries.
She had no idea why she had come to this world that was so different to the one she had known, and yet shared some similarities. She did have one possibility but no way to prove or disprove it, though if she was right they would be having words one day. She had studied in the Death Chamber; she had kept that from Harry though considering what had happened to Sirius. She had heard Harry's account of what had happened after he died at Voldemort's hand as well. Then there was Harry's strange disappearance three years later, he hadn't been seen since, but the Potter invisibility cloak had vanished, as had the broken wand in Dumbledore's grave. That had driven her research, searching for her best friend, her brother. Nothing she had learnt had ever implied reincarnation was possible and yet that was obviously what had happened to her.
Thankfully, she had her memories and her magic. Her memories had come back slowly, she hadn't remembered anything as a baby, thankfully. She'd had them all back by the time she was five. Controlling her magic was not easy, as an Unspeakable she had been encouraged to hone her skills with wandless magic, but that control had vanished when she became a child. She had never been as good at it as Harry or Dumbledore, but she had been able to manage. Now she was forced to relearn that level of control all while working in secret since the only mentions of magic she could find in this world was that of the Lucis Caelum line and the Oracle who lived in Tenebrae. She knew better than to let someone as power hungry as her Father know she had magic.
Her Father was not a young man, but she had no doubt that he would not step down for her but would die while Emperor. From what she had read, he had once been a very different man and ruler but as he aged he had grown ruthless, determined to rule the whole world. She wished she could have known the man he was before, perhaps if she'd been born then she could have helped keep him from becoming what he was now. As it was, she rarely saw him. They would stand and sit together at the public celebrations for each of their birthdays as well as Solstice, other than that she occasionally passed him in the hall. She was the Imperial Princess, heir to the Throne…but she had no power. She was expected to be the perfect Princess, a doll, someone to be sold off in marriage when it was convenient for her Father. She played her part well, remembering the lessons Daphne had given her after the war. The ice Princess of Slytherin would have fit in well and so Hermione emulated her in public. Maybe when she was older she would be able to do more but for now all she could do was wait.
The news spread quickly, everyone proud of what had happened even while publicly denying any part in it. Personally, it made Hermione sick. She understood they were at war and had been for longer than she had lived in either world combined. What she did not understand was the targeting of a child, even the heir to the Throne. That was something she could never stand, especially considering Harry had been her best friend. Prince Noctis had almost been killed by a daemon, one that had been sent after him by her Father. Reports stated that King Regis had arrived in time to save his son, but that the boy was grievously wounded and now in a coma. She could not celebrate such an event, even if she had believed in the war, which she didn't. She wished she could help him, but they would never accept help from the Imperial Heir. What could she do, enchant something and send it? Apparate and hope to reach Insomnia before she was missed? No, all she could do was pray he recovered.
"Is it true?" Hermione demanded, walking into the room to find Aranea doing paperwork.
The eighteen year old sighed and straightened. "The attack on Tenebrae?" she asked, and Hermione nodded, sitting beside her, smoothing out her skirt automatically. "We just received conformation. We have officially annexed Tenebrae as part of the Empire, saving it from the influence of Lucis and King Regis who fled like a coward," she stated, and Hermione closed her eyes to remain calm. "Queen Sylva Via Fleuret was killed in the fight and her children have been named as wards of the Empire." Despite being double the Princess' age, Aranea liked the younger girl. She was smart, too smart really, she saw things others didn't want her to. If she had to choose who to follow, she would choose the Princess over the Emperor. Unfortunately, Hermione was far too young to rule an Empire.
Hermione brushed her hair before braiding it, sometimes she missed the bushy mess she'd once had. The colour was almost the same, but her hair was sleek and soft, easy to style. The blue eyes still caught her by surprise at times, as did the slightly different facial features. After nine years she had thought she would be used to it. She was just glad to be out of the fancy gown she'd been forced to wear all evening to celebrate her ninth birthday. She had never been a girl for dresses and yet they were all she wore in this life. She also wasn't a big fan of the white, gold and red that her Father wore and insisted she did as well. She left her dressing room to find her nurse, Marianna, waiting with a young boy who looked her own age. Marianna curtsied while the boy bowed stiffly. "Marianna?"
"Your Highness, this is Prompto Argentum, previously attached to Verstael Besithia. His Radiance has named him your companion. He will be your bodyguard from now on." Marianna shifted nervously. "His Radiance has decided you are too old to need a nurse."
"I see… you have been very good to me Marianna and I will miss you," she smiled at the woman who curtsied.
"Thank you, your Highness."
"Hello Prompto," she greeted the boy as Marianna left, looking him over. He was dressed in a uniform, blonde hair cut short. He had bright blue/violet eyes that seemed to almost stare through her. His nose was dusted with freckles and they were basically the same height.
"Your Highness," he bowed stiffly again, his body didn't seem to relax at all which struck her as odd.
"Do you know where you are to sleep?"
"Yes, Your Highness, I am to stay in the nurses room."
"There's no need to be so formal and stiff all of the time," she smiled at him, but he remained at attention. "I am going to bed; the party was rather exhausting. I will see you in the morning," she offered, and he bowed again, leaving the room for what had been Marianna's room.
Hermione retired to her bedroom and scrambled up into the massive bed, lying on her back to stare up at the canopy. She didn't like this at all. Why hadn't she been told Marianna was being let go? She'd been too old for a nurse for years, but she liked Marianna. This Prompto…there was something very off about him and it made her nervous. This had not been a good year at all and there were still a few months left.
Hermione observed her new body guard even as she attended to her studies. The boy stood rigidly against the wall, blue eyes staring straight ahead, the same as he had been for the last week. She was no closer to working out what was wrong with him either. It felt unnatural, whatever it was. He was like someone under the Imperious or one of those science fiction androids. He would obey orders and answer questions but other than that showed no signs of life or personality. It went beyond training, no training could account for the way he stood unmoving for hour after hour, not only was he young but it was impossible for someone to stand still for that long.
When she was done she stood and walked from the room, Prompto trailing her. She headed for the enclosed garden and chose a bench in the sun, feeling him move to stan behind her as she tipped her head back to enjoy the light. "Do you like the sunlight Prompto?"
"No, your Highness," he answered flatly.
"Why not?" she turned to look at him.
"It burns, your Highness."
She had the feeling he didn't mean a sunburn. "Is it burning now?"
"Yes, your Highness."
At his answer she stood and went inside, going to the library. He may unnerve her, but she would not knowingly cause him pain. She choose a book and moved to a seat that was in the sun but that provided him a good spot in the shade to guard her from.
Later that night she slipped from her bed and went to his room, opening the door silently. She sent a quick stunning spell at the bed and then approached to find him lying on top of the covers, only his shoes missing. He was lying straight, hands down at his sides and she shook her head but moved to sit beside him on the bed. She put her hand on his forehead and closed her eyes, letting her magic flow into a diagnostic charm, letting it feed her information and then struggling not to throw up. He was nine years old, a child! How could anyone… a lot of magic was about willpower and intent and right then she had a lot of intent, the intent to heal the boy lying on the bed next to her. She poured everything she could into his broken and abused body. Even stunned, his body convulsed on the bed, muscles spasming as he choked, and she rolled him onto his side as he vomited out black sludge. She pulled up his shirt to see the scars and bits of metal embedded in his skin. How could anyone do this to a child?
When her magic could do no more she pulled it back and vanished all signs of the vomit and sweat on his body before undoing the stunning spell. She watched as his body relaxed more than she's seen the whole time he had been guarding her.
He shifted, mumbling in his sleep, before blue eyes slowly fluttered open. He blinked dazedly at her and then he was scrambling back and asway from her, an arm rising to protect his face. "P..pl…ease…"
"It's alright Prompto, I won't hurt you," she whispered, sitting still, hands in her lap.
He almost fell off the bed, clambering to his feet and cowering in the corner, pressing his back to the wall, blue eyes wide.
She slowly got off the bed and crawled across the floor to sit a few feet in front of him. She began humming softly, a tune she had heard Fleur humming to her children many times over the years. She waited as he slowly began breathing more steadily, the panic fading as he lowered his arms to watch her. "Hello Prompto," she greeted softly. "Do you know who I am?"
"H..hi..ghness..." he stammered, arms wrapping around his knees.
"And where you are?"
He glanced around, gaze darting, never settling. "Room."
"Your room, attached to my suite," she explained gently. "Would you like to move back to the bed? It's a lot more comfortable than the floor," she offered, slowly holding her hand out to him.
Prompto stared at her, obviously still terrified. "S..uite?" he frowned in confusion, shaking his head. "Bodyguard," he whispered, and she nodded. He stared at her hand, unsure what to do but then ever so slowly he lifted his hand.
She smiled at him as their hands brushed, gently interweaving their fingers before standing and gently tugging him up. She wrapped an arm around his waist, and he stiffened, waiting for the pain, but there was none. She slowly led him over to the bed and then up onto it, pulling back the covers and helping him under them. "There you go, much more comfortable," she gently ran her fingers through his short hair. "You're safe Prompto," she promised.
"Wh…what did you…do?" he asked carefully.
"I healed you as much as I could. You vomited up a lot of black sludge, sweated some out too. It looked like the Scourge," she told him, and he shivered, curling up under the nice warm covers.
"They…injected us, it hurt."
"Us?" she asked, and he lifted his right arm, pushing down his glove to reveal his wrist and the black marks there.
A barcode…he had a barcode marked into his skin. She gently took his hand and inspected it, it looked like a tattoo at first, but the lines were too even, too clean. She ran a finger over it, and he shivered again. "Can you tell me about it? I want to help." She shifted to lean against the headboard, gently wrapping an arm around his shoulders, listening as he shakily began to speak, gradually leaning into her as the night wore on until he fell asleep and she stayed to watch over him in case of nightmares. Everything he said had her fighting the urge to barge into her Father's rooms and curse him.
"What's happening?" Hermione called out as she spotted Aranea in the hallway, Prompto her ever faithful shadow. She'd thrown on a cloak normally only used in the depths of winter and she was still cold! She was wearing one of her heavier gowns as well, pure white edged in gold, the sleeves long and skirt full. Prompto had nothing more than a thin formal coat so she'd hit him with a warming charm before they had left her rooms.
Aranea slowed down to let them catch up. "Shiva woke up and wiped out a good portion of the army. Her corpse is outside, in Ghorovas Rift, which is why the temperature's plummeting," she quickly explained. "I have to go, stay safe and stay warm." She looked at them both, seeing the protectiveness flash in bright blue eyes. She had been sickened to hear what had been done to the kid and many others like him and that had put her even more firmly in the Princess' camp than ever. She commended him for staying, for being able to act as if nothing had changed, when she knew the Princess had offered to smuggle him to safety in Lucis.
Hermione nodded and continued walking towards her Father's Throne Room. She walked in and curtsied to the man before moving to stand in her place, below and to the side of the Throne, face composed as she listened to them celebrate the death of an Astral. She wasn't sure what she thought of that, how could you kill an actual god? What would it do to the balance of the world? She didn't think anything good would come of it, had they brought an unending winter upon their people? How could they celebrate? Were they all as mad as her Father? She could feel the fear from Prompto, standing loyally behind her and wished she could do or say something to help him. He'd come a long way from the terrified boy huddled in the corner almost six months before, but he was still only nine. When it was over she returned to her rooms and they sat on the couch together under a lot of blankets, huddling for warmth and comfort.
"What's going to happen?" he asked softly.
"I don't know," she admitted, as he burrowed closer to her. She hugged him close, unable to do anything else. How could anyone know what was going to happen next?
There's several possible pairings for this fic. It depends on which way I chose to go about the treaty. There is a possible threesome, but other than that, no slash pairings, and the three isn't a definite.