Blood and Books, Prelude: Humble Beginnings

Author: Misty McMist Monster

Fandom: Harry Potter

Claim: Harry Potter/Hermione Granger

Notes: This story is AU. The author plans to continue it into a full length story on his page.

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"Granger!" A voice shouted from the other side of the door, startling the mouse haired teenage girl who sat reading on a lone stool inside. The girl -- Hermione was her name-- jumped from the stool as her head snapped up, the color draining from her face. She'd left the front unattended…again. Quickly, she slammed the aged tome she was holding shut, wincing slightly as she did (she hated being rough with her books, but had no alternative), before darting quickly to the cabinet on the far side of the room she was in.

She slipped the tome behind an empty bottle of brandy she used to hide the book with just in time for the back door of the tavern to slam open—it's hinges squealing in protest.

"Granger! There you are!" The local barkeep, a grizzled old man that went by the name of "Moody" stepped through the door, his only remaining eye zeroing in on Hermione, pate covered in sweat from the heat of the grill, apron covered in either blood from the food, or wine from the drinks, "Dammit girl, I've got twenty customers dying of thirst and hunger, a load of dishes to be washed, and a missing barmaid! Any idea what I could do about that problem?"

"Er, sorry sir. I—I was jus—" Hermione started but Moody cut her off with a slash of his hand, " Bah! You were slacking off again is what! Don't lie to me girl, you know better." His wizened eye trailed over the now blushing girl. Finally, he stepped all the way into the room, letting the door he was holding swing shut. When he spoke next, his voice was softer, tender, "Hermione, I know you want to go. I know you want to study. But dammit girl, you've got to prioritize your life! You've got to think realistically here!" He said, and Hermione's heart sank. She knew this conversation, had had it time and time again with her father since she first decided that she wanted to leave the village of Pivot, and head for the big city, maybe even Hogwarts.

That had been when she was just six years old, and had barely been able to hold a book upright, much less understand what she was reading. She was seventeen now, well past marrying age, and still her ambition had never changed. Hogwarts was where she wanted to go.

Moody sighed, watching her face as she relived the age-old conversation, before shaking his head and sticking his hand out, " The book, Granger."

"B—but sir, I—" She stuttered frantically, but the look in his eye quelled all resistance. Hanging her head as she fidgeted the end of her apron with her hands, she turned back to the cabinet and retrieved the tome. It was an old spell book, one her Father had given her two years ago on her birthday. She'd treasured it ever since, even if the runes in it were slightly beyond her.

She could feel the tears forming at the of her eyes corners, but refused to shed them, refused to show any sign of weakness. Stubbornly, she lifted her chin as she handed the book over, trying to look as strong as possible. Moody only smiled slightly, (a rather frightening thing given the number of scars contorting his face) taking the book firmly in his hand as he nodded. " I'll give it back after your shift tonight Granger. Promise." With that, he turned and strode out of the storage room and back to the tavern itself. Hermione could hear his loud voice booming as he greeted visitors and the like over the din of the patrons.

Gathering herself back together, she shook her head, brushing lightly at her eyes. It wouldn't be long before her shift was over, and then she'd get her father's book back. Moody would be good to his word, she knew. Stepping up to the door, she took one last deep breath of fresh air, before stepping back into the permanent haze of pipe smoke that permeated the establishment.

The night dragged on as Hermione darted between the tables, carrying drinks and food to and fro. Every twenty or so minutes, she would have to stop long enough to clean out the dishes for the next bit of food. Moody's Tavern, the Headless Hippogriff, was the only tavern for miles, and was therefore the main hub of entertainment, food, or anything else for the entirety of the village of Pivot. People came and went constantly, and while normally nearly ten different servers manned the Hippogriff, barmaids and keeps-- tonight was different. Two of the barmaids were expecting, and their husbands, the barkeeps, had refused to leave their side. Another had been killed two days before when he went to restock the wood for his family's house.

Or at least, it was believed he was killed. No one knew what happened when someone was dragged off into the Dark Forest. Two more had taken ill, and been confined to their houses. As for the final one, Lavender, she had been fired after being caught whoring about.

For the tenth time.

Which left Hermione and the owner stuck with the monumental task of manning the entire establishment, alone. Normally, Hermione would have at least a few minutes to sneak off to the back room and steal a few precious minutes gazing over her tome, trying to decipher the runes, but tonight was not that night—especially now.

Thankfully though, the night had proved a slow one, with very little of interest happening. That said though, there were two new faces in the tavern, both cowled from head to toe, though one currently had his cowl thrown back, his flaming red hair spilling about his face haphazardly. His blue eyes shined mischievously when he caught sight of Hermione nearing their table, and he leaned back from his conversation with his companion to smile up at Hermione.

" Good evening, mi lady." He said in a lazy, rumbling voice, nodding to her.

"My lords." She said with a slight courtesy. Though she hated the maid's outfit she was required to wear for work, it did have the effect of seemingly being able to catch the attention of any male. She looked back up, a small smile on her face as her eyes met the redheads, and found herself doing something wholly uncharacteristic—blushing. "I—is there anything I can get for you, my lords?" She said after a moment, breaking the charm of the man's dazzling eyes by directing her attention to his companion.

He remained leaned forward, his cowl drawn down, and Hermione could see nothing of him save a sliver of one pale hand. It bore a gem on it, one of crimson red inlaid in a gold setting of two gryphons. For some reason, the setting seemed strangely familiar to Hermione, though she couldn't place where from for the life of her. The redhead spoke up then, disturbing her examination of the cowled man, " Two fire-wines, mi Lady, and keep 'em coming. We'll be here awhile, so if I might ask, do you have any beddings available?"

Hermione knew it was a perfectly reasonable question, nothing special to it. Yet, for whatever reason it was, something about what he asked drew yet another blush to her cheeks. Perhaps it was the curve of his soft lips, or the dimples that accented his smile. The life and vibrancy she saw in his eyes. "U-um, I can c-check for you, sir."

He smiled again, begging for the devil, and nodded, " Thank you, my kind lady. Perhaps I'm being too bold, but might I have a name to put with such a beautiful face?"

"H-h-hermione, mi Lord." She whispered breathlessly, then turned and darted away from the table. She took a few minutes to catch her breath back at the bar, where Moody simply shook his head at her. He set up the drinks for her, then said to inform the two that bedding was available—for two sickles more than he usually charged per night.

"Don't go lettin' him mess with your head girl, it's not worth it." Moody stated firmly to her when he handed her the drink tray. She nodded, and then made her way back to the table with the gorgeous redhead.

He smiled again the moment he saw her, and stood to take the drinks from her, but she insisted that she place them on the table. After retaking his seat, she informed the pair of the cost of a nights room. "Hmm…" he said as he scratched at the day's growth on his chin, " Seems a bit much, but I suppose it'll be worth it if I can see such a fine lass every mornin'."

Again Hermione blushed, until there was a dull thwack from under the table, and the redhead yelped in pain, " Ow—dammit man! Do ya havtta' spoil mah' fun like tha'?!" He growled, his voice suddenly taking on a distinct accent. When his voice did that, there was a slight pop, then a ringing in Hermione's ears, leaving her suddenly very woozy. She turned and started away from the table, needing to be away from the redhead.

It was then that the doors burst open, and a group of nearly twenty men overtook the patrons of the tavern. One in particular, a man with flowing red robes, a bare fuzz of hair on top of his head and a day's growth of beard covering his strong jaw, stepped to the front. He spoke in a deep, rumbling voice that carried about the small tavern.

"Greetings, friends. I am sir Krum, Knight-commander of our Lord Voldemort. My men and I seek shelter here tonight, and request kindly the use of several of your tables, as well as your mead and food. Do you comply?" He snarled the last words cruelly, letting it be known that his was not a request but a demand, and he would brook no interference. And even if he hadn't, dropping a name like Lord Voldemort meant you had almost unlimited power. Voldemort, King of the Neatherlands, an area spanning the entire southern half of the continent, was a vicious ruler, gaining his crown through usurpitation and war.

Now, anyone and everyone feared him, and knew not to trifle with his men. Therefore, in a matter of moments, every table in the bar was emptied, save the redhead and his silent companion's. At first, Hermione feared this might cause a problem, but the knight-commander and his men took no note of the two shady characters.

Quickly, Hermione and Moody went about taking care of their patrons, the tavern now dead silent due to the lack of people. Even the pipe smoke seemed to have started to abate when the soldiers began to get… rowdy.

Within minutes they grew to a loud and obnoxious bunch, and it wasn't long until their Knight-commander joined in the fun. "Wench!" He called, and Hermione gritted her teeth at the name, but attended to him none-the-less.

" You called, mi Lord?" She said in a cold, passionless voice.

He smiled up at her, his eyes dilated from too much alcohol, his breath vile, "Aye wench, I did. Are you perhaps in charge of the bedding?" He said in a low, husky voice, and Hermione's face started to flush. The nerve of him! "N—no sir, I'm no—"

"Well why not?! Come now wench, surely you've been with a man before?" When she didn't respond, repulsed by his words and what he was suggesting, his smile grew infinitely, " No? Do we have a wee flower in our midst boys? Will ya look at that!" He roared, and the men answered him, several cheering him on as he stood. When he did, Hermione became startlingly aware of just how massive he was, the size of his shoulders alone nearly twice that of her own.

"I—I'm sorry sir, but no! I—I don't do that!" She said, backing away as quickly as possible. He didn't seem to care though, advancing on her at a enormous, lumbering pace. When he reached for her, Moody shouted, but was quelled by two of the knight's men who had drawn swords. He grabbed hold of Hermione, who struggled frantically to be free.

"Come now wench, I promise you'll en—" He didn't even finish the sentence when a sense of anger, rage, and hatred stronger then anything she'd ever felt before roiled up inside her. She lashed out, slapping him solidly across the cheek and driving him back against one of the tables.

Silence hung over the entire bar at this, until he turned back to her, eyes aflame with rage, " You whore!" He roared before lunging at her, "How dare you disgra—" again, before he could even finish the sentence, he was interrupted. This time though, it was the cloaked figure, his hand solidly gripping the Knight-commander's wrist.

"Don't touch her." He whispered in a voice so cold and wrathful that even from where Hermione stood against the counter, she felt a shiver run down her spine. This was a man you did not want to mess with. And yet, he was defending her.

The knight-commander snarled and turned, lashing out with his free hand at the hooded man. For a moment, Hermione thought the blow would take the stranger's head from his shoulders, but he simply ducked under it and drove his palm into the belly of the Knight-commander.

Blood suddenly tore from the knight-commanders mouth, before he slumped to the ground, "Fool." The stranger said with a shake of his head, then turned to the men, " He's only unconscious. Take him back to your camp, and we'll forget this ever happened."

Those assembled though, had no intention of doing so, as more then twenty swords around the tavern were drawn, chairs screeching against the wood floors.

And then, all hell broke loose.

The first two soldiers lunged at the stranger, yet they were met with only air, the cloaked figure slipping around them easily. He struck out with a booted foot, catching one of the soldiers around the ankle, tripping him in such a way that he went face first into the floorboards. The second soldier whirled about at the hooded man, lashing out with his sword as he went, but again he missed, the cowled man dipping backwards and letting the blade pass cleanly over his face.

Catching himself on a chair, the stranger pushed himself back up and used the tripped soldier as a spring board, rolling over his back before delivering a swift roundhouse to the other soldier's stomach. There was a scream then, the second soldier went flying back into the bar of the tavern, his head cracking solidly against the wood before he slumped to the ground.

Hermione's eyes tracked each movement, enraptured by the man's movements. So when his cowl fell back after sending the soldier into the bar, Hermione found herself gasping in shock. His eyes darted to hers then, locking them together for several eternal moments. The moment it happened, she felt a lifetime played out before her. Pains, pleasures, trust and betrayal. His was a bloody tale, and Hermione found herself drawn to him.

And where the redhead had been beautiful, this man outshone him on every level. Strong of jaw and cold of eye, he had the look of a warrior about him, from the scar that started from the fringe of his hairline down over his left eye to end in a jagged bolt near his jaw, to the hitch in his nose where it had obviously been broken once upon a time. He wore a light peppering of a mustache about his face, and his hair had grown unruly, giving his features an ominous, wild look.

Yet for all the danger she saw in him, there were other things, subtle hints. The softness of his full lips, lips that promised to drown one in glorious bliss for hours, to the hints of gold that flecked his emerald eyes. His eyes shown with a knowledge far beyond the years of his body, and something told her that he had seen his share of pains.

And then the next soldier lunged at him, breaking the moment. Quickly, Hermione backpedaled as the men fought the emerald eyed man, his movements once again flowing about them as easily as water through a trough. Yet, Hermione knew he couldn't take on all of the soldiers alone. Her eyes darted back to the redhead, seeking salvation.

She found a lazy bum, his feet up on the table, hands behind his head as he dozed off. She bolted to his side, screaming for him to wake up, "What, what is it ya need, lassie?!"

"Your friend is in danger! Or didn't you notice the fight?!" She screeched, yet the redhead only cleaned one ear lazily.

"Yer point, lass?" He looked past her then, " Far as I canna see it, he's fine." a random bottle of mead then flew towards him, and the redhead ducked under it, letting it shatter against the wall before shouting back, " Oy! Dammit, Lad, I saw that! Ya threw that, ya bastard!"

She stared down at the man, unbelieving what she was seeing and hearing. And to think, she'd found him intriguing not five minutes before! Frustrated and out of options, she turned and grabbed up a bottle of Fire Wine from the table, "Oy!" the red head said, but she paid him no attention, focusing on one of the soldiers.

His entire focus was on Emerald eyes, so he never saw the bottle coming until it crashed across the front of his face with enough force to snap his head back as though it'd been on a sling. He rocketed backwards, crashing into one of the tables-- just in time for the local garrison to walk through the doors.

All movement stopped dead in it's tracks as nearly twenty men, dressed in full battle armor, stepped into the disfigured tavern. Less than four of the men were left standing now, and emerald eyes had been mussed only enough to split his lip and rip some of his clothes. The garrison commander glared at all those present before asking, " What happened?"

Hermione was about to inform him exactly what had happened, but emerald eyes spoke up first. "These bastards ruined my evening. I figured I'd repay the favor."

She shot a stunned look at him, before shaking her head, "Excuse me, sir, but n--" yet suddenly, she found her words gone, her voice muted. She struggled to speak, willing her voice to work, yet found nothing.

The commander turned to her, watching her curiously before shaking his head, "Very well, will you come with us?" Again, emerald eye nodded, then shot a meaningful look at the redhead. Hermione's gaze followed his, and she found the redhead's blue eyes locked on her-- only his eyes were gold now. Suddenly, she understood what was happening, and wanted to strangle both men for their pigheadedness.

They were protecting her and her honor, even when she didn't ask for it, didn't want it. If it was brought out that then Knight Commander had taken a fancy to her, given her current state as a spinster, she would be forced legally to go with the man. Yet she would not let any foul cretin lay his hands on her, Knight Commander or not.

The commander then turned to his men, " Escort these soldiers to their camp. Get them out of my town. And you!" He said, turning to Hermione as the men went about their duties, emerald eyes being marched out by the Garrison soldiers, " I expect better from the Headless Hippogriff. So that you don't have to deal with reprisal later, you will supply the soldiers with food on the 'marrow. Do I make myself clear?"

Much as Hermione hated the idea, she knew the commander was right. The Hippogriff was going to have enough trouble repairing the damage, they didn't need the soldiers coming back and making more of a mess. She nodded in agreement, and was soon left to stand in a near silent tavern, Moody sitting behind the counter with a flask in hand, and a roaring fireplace the only sounds.

"And to all... a good night." The redhead mused absently from his table in the corner, then passed out.

The next day Hermione awoke to the horrid hacking of her father's cough. Though she was still rather sleepy, she pulled herself from her bed and pulled on a dress-gown to cover herself while she went to check on her father. He'd taken ill for the last few months, and his condition showed no sign of improving. Thus, Hermione had been forced to seek out a means of living for both of them, and had shortly come to work at the Headless Hippogriff.

Being the daughter of a pauper, and worse, a spinster, made life for Hermione incredibly hard, yet she did what she had to, and survived. She took the time to see to her father, making sure he was well enough for her to leave, then bathed and changed into a warm dress before stopping in at the Hippogriff, where Moody was just coming down stairs from checking on their newest tenant, "Ronald".

"Bastards still out cold, looks to be that way for several more hours." Moody reported, and Hermione just growled. She had the sudden urge to bludgen his head for his actions the night before, but quelled them. He'd done it for good reason. Reason has nothing to do with justice. She fired off mentally, before her own mind retorted, and where's the justice in you lying dead in a ditch, or worse?

She sighed, disgusted with the whole situation, and pushing it to the side, " Can I get the provisions? I figured I'd walk it out to those sick cods."

Moody nodded, then stepped into the back room for several moments, gathering things together before bringing out two sackfuls. "This should last them through the day. Oh and before I forget." He said, setting the sacks before her then rushing behind the counter. After a minute or two, he came back around, Hermione's Tome in hand. He smiled, then handed it to her, " For the trip, and for all your hard work Hermione."

She glanced at him quizzically, but he simply smiled then turned back to the bar itself. Yet she hadn't missed the knowing look in his eye. Something was up, he just wasn't saying what. Slipping the book into her own bag, she took the sacks and headed out to the edge of the eastern forest, where it had quickly become known that the soldiers had set up camp.

Once there, she became increasingly aware of just how large the camp was, a terrifying realization striking her in that less then a forth of the men present had shown up the night before. Still, their size didn't matter, she was here for one thing. As she neared what she assumed were the gates, (given the soldiers that stood guard there) a call went out. Soon, the quartermaster greeted her, thanking her for the food before quickly, (and rather rudely) sending her on her way.

Irritated at the treatment, she stormed back to the town and had almost made it back to her house when she caught sight of two soldiers, milling through the streets. Something about them set off every bit of common sense Hermione had, and she found herself ducking into an alley to avoid them. They passed her by none the wiser, laughing and talking back and forth as they stopped at random intervals.

"So you hear about the Knight Commander?" One of the two said, to which he was answered with a guffaw and a shaking of his head by the second one, " Of course."

"Can you believe just how furious he was?" The first said, again answered by a chuckle.

"I would be too, dishonored like that." Said the second, " And hell, by a peasant no less."

"If it were me, I'd have them both executed." The first mused, but then was countered, " But didn't you hear? The Knight commanders planning to execute that knight guy, Harry I think his name was. And get this he was a Griff!"

"What?! No way!"

"Oh, aye. Right bastards really gonna get it now. Their lookin for the girl too though, ya know? Guess that means we better move fast, I hear she was a right pretty one."

"Hmm... You thinkin' what I am?" The first said with a knowing tone, and they both smiled to each other. Turning, they both started off down the road, leaving Hermione standing stunned where she was. Harry. His name was Harry. Though a part of her wanted to follow the soldiers to see what else she could learn, she knew she had to warn Harry's friend Ronald, and maybe see what could be done to save him. Turning, she darted down the street in the opposite direction.

If only she'd stayed with the soldiers a minute or two longer, she would have saved the entire village from the coming trials.