Just to clarify people who are related in the Harry Potter books or movies are NOT related in this story. None of the Weasleys are related (except for Fred and George). The story is set in medieval times with limited magic. That's all enjoy.
The calm after the storm, what a fitting phrase. There could have been an assault of rain and wind with waves dancing upwards until they dwarfed boats and lightning ripping into the sky. Yet later, in the morning, the sun would shine softly, almost timid like it was asking for forgiveness and the looming clouds would yield to the cheerful blue sky. Most would continue on their way giving into the promise of the calm like the storm never happened. Others would be left with reminders, scars would allow the storm to seep into the bloodstream and rain on their heart. But these people couldn't run to their houses to hide take shelter when the sun was shining and people were moving going on their merry way like any other day. To hide from this storm would be akin to drowning in the ocean.
Hermione understood this. With saltwater in her lungs and her brother in the saltwater behind her, she understood this. She got up shaking, trying not to cry onto her cheeks that had been scraped raw from the sand. However much her limbs ached or the cuts scattered across her body stung, her physical pain was but a small stream in comparison to the ocean of pain she felt over the death of her brother.
"Harry—" her voice was raw.
She staggered and fell back into the sand, coughing. When she tried to swallow she couldn't, her mouth was dry and tasted of salt, so much salt that it burned. Salt would have been the last thing her brother had tasted, burning salt. She laid back down in the sand, just for a bit. It would only hurt her to try and move when she couldn't. Closing her eyes she let her weary mind drift off with the exhaustion.
When she next awoke the captain was shaking her. "Lady Hermione, Lady Hermione. Yer not dead, are ye? Ye gotta get up, show that yer not dead. Please don' be dead..."
For a second she felt a spark of hope, if the captain had survived then maybe her brother had too. But that flame of hope was snuffed by a large stack of papers, her knowledge. The captain was quite large fellow, with a scruffy beard. Hermione hadn't personally talked to him as she was pure blooded nobility, and he was of the lower class and probably a half giant. Giants were tougher than wizards or normal humans, to live with the hope that her brother lived when he was clearly dead would be like eating only sweets; it would be nice and taste good until it started to rot out her teeth and weaken her body to the point where she would be deathly sick. No, it was best to kill the hope lest it destroy her.
"Lady Hermione."
She made herself get up and stay up.
"I'm fine. Friend, what country is this?"
"It's-all-my-ruddy-fault, if I'd have steered better, or been better at magic..." The Captain was sobbing into his large hands.
"No it's not. You did everything you could, even a great mage like Voldemort wouldn't have been able to tame a storm like that one." Hermione put her hands on the captain's shoulders when she said this. Her own crying went unnoticed.
"All 'ose people, their dead. I'm the captain, I'm responsible an' I'm 'ere livin' an' their not." The Captain sobbed into his hands some more.
"You did all you could, that has—has to be enough, enough—to move forward, otherwise no one ever could. So I ask you again, what country is this?" Hermione was full out sobbing now.
"A—" The Captain had to collect himself "Aeaea, Lady."
She was well read, very well read with a book almost constantly in her hands. But London didn't have many books that covered places other than England, and the ones that did only covered major countries.
"Do you know any-anything of it?" Hermione asked.
They sat there crying for a minute before The Captain found it in himself to respond.
"It's—it's the only all wizardin' place it is. Lord Malfoy runs it—" The Captain trailed off.
"I think I've heard, I've heard of him. Related to the Blacks and a—a bachelor, at least my Uncle said so." Hermione was starting to get cried out.
"Still is, at least was a couple o' months ago. Some said he's goin' after that Fleur lady."
"Who's she?" Hermione asked.
"A fine lady, daughter of a count that died 'bout twelve months ago, left her in the care of her brother but he died too an' she's been mournin' her brother won' see nobody."
"How I would like to work for that lady." Hermione said.
"But yer a right Lady, ye shouldn' have ter."
"I have to get by somehow, move on somehow. I don't mind work." Hermione smiled feebly.
"If I hadn't crashed you wouldn' have ter. Anyways she wouldn' see you she won' see nobody, not the Lord, not you."
"Then I'll go work for this Lord Malfoy, I'll disguise myself as a boy. I ask, if you would be so generous, to conceal me and present me to this duke as a potions brewer. As I am quite accomplished it won't be a waste, and when the time comes I will pay you a small fortune for the help."
"O' course I'll help, Lady ...I should do more, but I don' deserve or ask for or get any pay."
Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoyed the work, thanks for reading. Also thank you so much to RabidFangirl14 for Betaing this chapter. If you want to cheek out her profile she is on and has good short stories in the Supernatural fandom.