Chapter 2

Hermione Granger slowly walked along the deserted beach of the island with her faithful Crookshanks. It had been a cold cloudy day, threatening rain even since after lunch. Bending here and there, casting heating charms once in a while, collecting shells, a gust of wind blew her hat away, farther and farther. Sighing, annoyed, she ran for it; she would have to hurry back anyway, the sun would set in an hour. She sprinted towards it, or after the hat, which seemed to have acquired life of its own. A wandless summoning spell didn't work either. And as soon as she got closer, it would lift off again and again and again.

"Finally!", she cried, her hand at last grasping the possessed hat, which she slapped twice for good measure, the sand falling off it, and placed it upon her brown hair, discreetly applying a mild sticking charm. Looking ahead, it appeared as if something had come up to the shore; she started walking towards it, then as quick as she could move, reaching it, at last, breathless. It was a man!

Never minding the strange way of dress, early eighteen-hundreds? A jacket with coat tails? Really? (Then again, you've seen stranger things in the wizarding world…), she turned him into his back and noted he was breathing, his heart beating. She sighed in relief and gently shook him.

"Wake up." His face contorted gently with a frown, but to no avail. "Wake up." His eyes slowly opened, like beacons lit in a wild green forest, as if seeing all of her. He whispered something about angels that she couldn't understand and then passed out, clearly exhausted.

"Well, that's it for you, young man. I'll take you to a hospital, hmm?" Crookshanks purred beside the fallen man and meowed loudly, clearly unhappy. "Crookshanks!", her familiar settled on top of him, and "are you glaring at me, Crooks?"

Hermione Granger frowned at the man and at a black spot partially hidden in the sand, reaching for it.

"Heavy…", gently scooping it up in her hands she frowned harder. "A canon ball?!" looking around, she wandlessly cast a notice-me-not charm on all three of them and apparated home.

I'm not called the brightest witch of my age for nothing. Mr. Handsome had quite the intriguing set of clothes on. I couldn't let him catch a cold, now could I? Nobody dresses like that nowadays unless you go to a costume party or reenactment, or makes that sort of clothing the way it's made on those materials. Too realistic; I know I'd hate that underwear, who would, in his right mind, go to such lengths? Internet and books, hehe. And the watch, the inscription on it, the coin in his pocket, looking at its date and the look of it, brand new… made me nervous, my hands trembling. Let's not even talk about the heavy canon ball.

The wards alert me; my guest has awakened. I look at the kitchen and enter the living room; all looks quite normal. For a Muggle, at least, all the protective and disguising spells in place. I caress my wand on its invisible holster and quickly go upstairs, into the guest room which is right beside mine. His cheeks are wet, his eyes anguished, and I feel… strange, my heart going out to him.

"Why are you crying?" he turns his light brown haired head to gape at me, like he had seen some otherworldly apparition and I look behind me to see nothing. "Is something the matter?" he keeps on gaping. Okay… I smile at him… "Humm… tea?"

What manner of place was this?

He remembered glimpsing all around him before he spoke his last words to kind Will, his only friend in the HMS Surprise. He took his own life then. Oh, the shame he felt, what must Will think of him... he couldn't bear the thought. And now, like the weakling he was, he cried.

What was this place? Why was he naked under the sheets? Soft sheets, and a real comfortable bed, with several colorful… books?... on the bedside table, his clothes and the canon shot nowhere in sight. He wasn't dead, but mustn't be a prisoner and this couldn't be Hell, but…

Then, there she was. The first and strangest looking Angel I ever saw in my whole life. Long soft looking brown hair in waves, and hazel eyes. Wearing, Dear Lord, trousers.

"Tea, yes, please." I croak, my throat dry as paper. I had been gaping the entire time, enough that she had begun to stare at me, sizing me up. Stupid Hollom. "Might I have my clothes back?" she raises an eyebrow at me and takes a strangely colorful set of tea from behind the door into the room, removes some books and sets it on the table beside the bed.

"No.", she smirks at me. "Until you explain to me who you are and what happened to you, you're not getting any clothes… sorry." She doesn't seem to be the least sorry, though. She must have seen something in my face, then. "I really am sorry, but you shouldn't get up anyway. You must be exhausted. You slept an entire day. I won't feed you just anything you want, so you won't get an upset stomach, but would you like some broth for starters? Then some toast with homemade jam perhaps, if you're craving for something sweet?" she smiles at me, almost tenderly, only to smirk again. "Besides, you're the first handsome man to visit this house. I think I'd like to keep you for a while." She winks at me and leaves me drinking the tea.

Now THAT was not ladylike!, snickers an amused inner voice. So? It does not mean she is not a lady. Well, lady or not, she appears to at least have a sense of humor. And she is beautiful, I muse, sipping some more tea. Once finished with it, I set the flower decorated ceramic mug on top of the books and I push the blankets and sheets off me to rise, naked. I approach the window and sight a cloudy sky, threatening rain any minute now. An enchanting little beach… it reminds me of home. Where am I? Where is the Surprise, the boat commanded by Captain Jack Aubrey?

"What is this place?" I wonder aloud.

"My home." I gasp and turn. The woman was already sitting in a chair, sipping tea and reading a book, and if she hadn't spoken one would think, the way she held herself and focused on her book, there was no one else in the room, yet I couldn't help but cover myself with my hands and quickly go into the bed and settle under its coverings. She then closes her book and serves me the broth, which I consume with gusto. "I inherited it from my parents. They died in an accident years ago." I paused, spoon hovering.

"You inherited it?" I had never heard such a thing. A woman?

"Yes. I was an only child." Ah. Still. No cousins, then? "Like it?" she nods at the bowl.

"It's delicious, thank the cook for me." She laughs and notes she cooked it herself. "Well, but don't you have servants?"

"No, it's only us here for miles and miles around. Wonderful isn't it, the peace and quiet? Sometimes, it's as if that alone heals you." She smiles to herself and looks at the ceiling. "My name is Hermione Granger."

"Miss Granger…" "Don't call me Miss." "Mrs…" "I'm not married. For now, just Granger will suffice."

"I am Bradley Hollom, Midshipman at the HMS Surprise." I am feeling odd, like I haven't a care in the world and I feel myself smile like an idiot. "At your service."

"Well… care to tell me how you ended up on my beach?"

Little did I know then she had laced the broth with something.

-..-..-..-..-

I know I shouldn't have, but I had to know. The war against Voldemort still goes on. Who would have thought Lucius Malfoy would end up possessed by a Horcrux? Poor Draco… some father!

The Veritaserum worked quite nicely on Hollom. Poor man. I go into the kitchen, feeling a twinge of guilt for having interrogated him and hearing all the dirty details.

Well, well. A time traveler. How on earth am I supposed to break the news to him? To send him back? Does he even want to be sent back? I shudder, I know I wouldn't, Gryffindor courage be damned. Especially considering the man is clearly depressed. How could he have become better if the crew and that stupid Joe Placey kept whispering rather clearly behind his back. And why didn't Lucky Jack Aubrey do something? Stupid superstitions. I sigh, aggravated.

Curious thing then, most sailors didn't know how to swim. Well, understandable. Without the technology what were the survival odds of swimming in the middle of the sea if you fell into it, especially on the middle of a storm? And being considered a Jonah, well... No rain and no wind for weeks. I chose the lesser of two weevils, he said. And he believed it! I checked him too, he didn't and doesn't have any curse on him.

Should I tell him who I am? How can I help him heal? If he is to return, how am I to help him harden himself? More than harden, he needs to heal himself, to see himself, once again, as someone with value. He felt intimidated, quite often, not only for being too old a middie, but also for not being able to make up his mind for fear of screwing up, and being such a klutz.

I pause and blink. He strongly reminds me of a formerly clumsy Gryffindor friend of mine. Oh yes. I smile and head into the living room, throwing some powder intothe fireplace.

"Sensei!" I wait. "Sensei!"

An old man's face slowly forms in the fire and smiles at me; the half-blood wizard who taught me martial arts and often outdid me in duel, though not lately. I often wondered if he wasn't more powerful than Dumbledore.

"Hermione." We talk for a bit yet and then I ask him,

"Sensei, I know we haven't spoken lately, but I was wondering if you could accept another Neville Longbottom?"

-…-…-…-

Cliffie!