A/N Thanks for all the love on the last chapter! It wouldn't really be an Artful Lumione without at least ONE scene of Hermione accidentally stumbling into Lucius's arms, now would it?

Thank you so very much for your reviews and your well-wishes, it means more to me than I can possibly tell you. I would also like to send my thoughts and love to those of you who might be struggling with depression, anxiety, ill-health, life curve-balls, personal tragedy or even just general worry about the state of the world these days. Hang on in there.

xox artful

P.S. if you're looking to indulge some more Historical-Romance goodness, 16pennies has just uploaded an absolutely gorgeous Lumione one-short called "The Loch Ard"! Check it out, drop her some love, and let's see if we can encourage her to create some more lovely Lumione gems!

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Despite Mrs Marsh's recommendation for a restful Sunday, I awoke at sunrise with a feeling of excitement tingling through me, which would not let me keep a-bed. Clarastella was to stay the whole day with her aunt, and I was at leisure to spend it however I saw fit. The weather promising to be sunny, I decided to take the morning air.

I bathed and dressed quickly, and was ready just as my breakfast arrived. Thinking to make a morning picnic for myself somewhere along the way, I bundled up the food in a napkin, shrank it with a Diminuendo, then stored it in my reticule, along with a teacup and a folded paper of tea-leaves. I also brought along one of my new books ("Jinxes For The Jinxed"), in case I should find a pleasant spot to read.

During my daily walks with Miss Malfoy, I had visited the immediate grounds surrounding the house, but, unconstrained by a five-year-old's toddling pace, I relished the thought of exploring more extensively.

As soon as I set foot outside, I was instantly seduced by the sight and sound of the sea. I decided to make my way down towards the shore, although I knew not how far I might get, for I had forgotten to ask where the magical boundary lay on the seaward-side of the grounds.

I crossed the strip of lawn lining the foot of the Manor's west wing. The grass was edged with a row of Cornish Heath, then dropped away, revealing a rocky slope overspread with hardy gorse and purple heather. A narrow track wended down this incline, and as I followed it I recalled the man I had seen from Clarastella's bedroom window, with his long cape and old-fashioned tri-corn hat. At that moment, in the dim dusk, with my ears full of the little girl's eerie claim of ghostly voices, the shadow-wrapped figure had seemed rather sinister, even spectral... But now, in the morning light of a fair day, I thought such fancies quite silly. In all probability, he was merely a servant dressed incognito, sneaking out for a moonlit tryst with his sweetheart.

The wind-thrawn shrubs became sparser and at last I came to the edge of the cliff. Far below me, I beheld a series of small, sheltered coves, each inlet separated and enclosed by rocky promontories. Here the path divided: one track carrying northward along the bluff, the other zig-zagging steeply down the cliff-face into the nearest cove. Halfway down, this path joined up with a set of steps hewn into the rock, with a wooden hand-railing fixed to the open side.

I thought it looked an excellent place to take my breakfast, and carefully made the descent.

It was a picturesque little spot, ideal for a picnic, or indeed a romantic rendezvous beneath the stars—so long as the night-ramblers had a care for the incoming tide and the steep stairs, which proved rather slippery.

There were no boats in the bay, nor could I see any sign of a mooring. The tide was out, but the sand damp: at high tide, I realised the beach would be completely covered by seawater.

My heart skipped with excitement as my boots touched down upon the spongy sand. My Aunt had often talked of making an excursion to one of the coastal watering-places, to take the invigorating air and waters, but somehow we were always short of the time, or the means, to do so. ...Never could I have anticipated my first experience of a seaside to be within the grounds of the famous Malfoy Manor, and quite unaccompanied!

I made my way across the beach, stepping around the flotsam washed up with the tide: sea-shells and sun-bleached driftwood, long strands of seaweed and piles of brown kelp. Coming to the edge of the breaking surf, I gazed out over the tranquil bay to the great, heaving Atlantic Ocean, trying to imagine the fascinating lands that lay beyond its distant shores. It thrilled me to think that a single body of water divided me from the Provinces of Canada, the Americas, and all the vast wildernesses of the New World... places I should never see with my own eyes...

I knelt and combed my fingers through the sparkling water. So unforgivingly cold! I recalled Porter Weasley's words, "...Many a wizard has pitted his powers against the mighty Atlantic, and been lost to her deeps..." Shivering, I retreated further up the beach.

The rocks near the cliff had formed little pools, in which I could see slowly drifting starfish and little gobies darting amongst clusters of golden coral.

Sitting down upon a flat rock, I took out my parcel of breakfast, expanding it with a Crescere. The walk had whetted my appetite and I ate a hearty portion, offering the remains to a flock of seagulls that appeared as soon as I unwrapped my food. Afterwards, I filled my teacup with an Augamenti, heated it with the Hot-Water Charm, then tipped in the tea-leaves from their paper envelope.

As the tea brewed, I sat still, enjoying the sound of the waves and the light breeze rustling around the hems of my skirts.

For the first time since my arrival, I felt myself relaxing.

Much as I admired the stately splendour of the Manor, and was intrigued by its inhabitants, I was haunted by an ever-present feeling of disquietude. Even in the privacy of my boudoir, I was not completely at my ease. Of course, it was natural to feel somewhat a 'fish out of water'; I, so newly arrived, so lowly born, so eager to prove my capabilities—one would rather wonder if I did not feel so. ...Yet, it was something more than that. Perhaps it was absurd, but I could not quite shake off a strange feeling, as if... as if I were being watched, as if the very walls of the Manor were watching me...

I shook my head at my own foolishness, thinking if the irascible Mr Snape knew my thoughts, he would no doubt be delighted to administer me with one of his corrective potions for 'Female Distempers & Defects'.

A huff of irritation escaped my lips as I recalled the man's caustic incivility to me. I expected such treatment from the haughty nobility, but what right had he, a butler, to be so disrespectful? ...Unless, perhaps, someone had let him into the secret of my parentage. Could it be that he, of gentle-descent himself, resented my position above him, knowing and despising my tainted lineage? ...I very much hoped not. I would rather his surliness arose from a general dislike of all my sex, than a personal contempt for my blood-status.

Not wishing to disturb my tranquility by dwelling any longer on this subject, I finished off my tea, and amused myself a while longer in attempting to divine the dregs.

I had never developed the knack for Tessomancy (a hobby my Aunt had been very fond of) and beheld only a very conflicting jumble of possible symbols in the bottom of my cup. My destiny seemed to be as equally fraught with danger and distress, as replete with happiness and prosperity.

What nonsense! I thought, throwing out the soggy leaves and packing the teacup away.

Standing up and shaking out my skirts, I began to stroll along the shore, looking for some pretty shells to take back to Clarastella. I had soon collected a small hoard of delicate periwinkles and brightly-coloured mussel shells, and a large conical-shaped one with a pleasing pattern.

As I gathered them into my reticule, I was startled by a shout from somewhere above me.

"Dydh da!* Be that you, Miss Granger?!"

Looking up, I saw two figures standing near the top of the stairs. A smile overspread my lips as I recognised Porter Weasley waving down at me, and shyly I returned his salute. The other person I had not seen before: a wizard of similar age, with sandy-coloured hair. Both young men held fishing poles and buckets, and it was quite clear how they intended to spend their morning.

They made a quick descent to the shore, removing their caps and politely bowing upon approach. "Myttin da,* Miss Granger," the porter greeted me with a wide grin. "I thought it were you!"

"How do you do, Mr Weasley?" I asked.

"Da yu genef dha weles," he replied, then, seeing my look of uncertainty, translated: "Pleased to see thee, maid."

I was a little abashed, but could not help returning his infectious smile.

"And this is my good friend, Mr Longbottom," he said, gesturing to his companion, who bowed a second time.

"At your service, Miss Granger," said the young man. Like Porter Weasley, he had friendly eyes and an honest aspect that I immediately warmed to. "I've seen you out and about with the little'un this week past."

I glanced up at him in surprise. "I—I don't recall—er—" I stammered, at a loss, trying to remember if I had seen him among the staff, and ashamed at my failure to recognise him.

"Not to worry, Miss, you won't have noticed me. I'm usually confined to the Herbarium, or working the garden beds."

"Mr Longbottom was recently made Chief Herbologist of the Manor," Porter Weasley explained, clapping him on the back. "He knows more about magical plants than any wizard in the county, and what he's forgotten was not worth knowing to begin with."

"Is that so?" I asked eagerly, for I had passed the row of glasshouses several times with Miss Malfoy, and had a great curiosity to look inside. "I've often wished to see a real Herbarium!" Then I bit my tongue, thinking I must seem a forward creature.

The wizard nodded good-naturedly, replying, "I'd be honoured to show you about, when you've a spare moment without the little'un. No children allowed inside, you see. There's too many dangerous plants and the like."

"Oh, yes, of course," I said, wondering upon the propriety of visiting, unaccompanied, a young man in his place of work. "That is very kind of you to offer."

"Not at all, Miss."

"'Tis a fine morning to be out and about, is it not, Miss Granger?" said Porter Weasley cheerfully. "We're here for a spot of angling."

"That much I guessed," I replied, gesturing to their buckets and poles. "Is this beach a regular fishing spot, then?"

"Not quite; the best fishing is in the next-by cove, but we must clamber those rocks to reach it." He pointed to the long promontory on the left.

"Is that not dangerous? They must be inundated at high tide."

"Aye, we're mindful of such, Miss," said Mr Longbottom. "We've fished these parts since we were young fleghes*."

"Yes, of course; I should have thought of that."

"Tredraconis has the finest fishing in Cornwall. There's a great variety in these waters. Gurnard, pollock, wrasse and ray..."

"—Plaice, mackerel and garfish," added his friend.

"That is quite a diversity! I always thought pilchards were the specialty of our county's coasts."

"Aye, pilchards are fished by magical and muggle folk alike, but you need a boat and nets for such. 'Tis heavy work, and a dangerous game, right enough. I am glad to have a steady land-lubbing job, and angle from the rocks only of a Sunday, for leisure."

"Do the fishermen ever come past this way?"

"Now and then you may see a muggle boat in the open waters: a shoal of pilchards brings them by from time to time."

Warily, I murmured, "And the Fetchers too, I suppose?"

"Not generally, Miss; the likes of them stay out in the deep waters, where the rarest creatures abide, such as bring the best coin."

I nodded, very glad to hear it. "Do the muggles ever come to shore, by accident or purpose?"

"Never, Miss; the Manor's boundaries extend a furlong out to sea, and appear to non-magic-folk as a sharp reef, which keeps 'em chary for their keels. And if they were ever to risk venturing past, Milord's wards would prevent them reaching the strand."

"Indeed, I had wondered where the seaward boundary lay," I admitted.

"Aye, never fear, maid: the Malfoy estate is well-protected from all sides. None may enter without Milord's permission."

"That is good to know." I thought again of the shadowy figure in the tri-corn hat, and concluded that he must, in fact, belong in some way to the household.

A pause in the conversation now ensued, broken at length by Porter Weasley. "So, you survived your first week with us, maid," he said cheerily. "When last I saw you, you were white and trembling as a byghan konin*. I didn't unhitch the horses at first, for I thought you'd not stay above an hour."

Little he knew how close he came to the truth! But I only smiled and replied, "As you see, I found my courage in the end."

"Aye, Miss, and look none the worse for it, if I may say so."

At this implied flattery, I turned away, trying to disguise my embarrassment by pretending to fasten a button on my cuff. I had not missed the meaningful sparkle in his blue eyes, nor Mr Longbottom's side-eyed smile at his friend's gallantry. I was flustered and even a little piqued, for I was no idle flirt, and knew not how to react.

Perhaps sensing my chagrin, the herbologist again spoke up. "And how are you finding your post, Miss Granger? I hope you are being well-treated by the family."

Immediately I recalled Milord's silken voice, murmuring, '...You are disposed to favour us, perhaps against your better judgement?...' I felt my cheeks redden, but endeavoured to reply with easy unconcern. "Yes, indeed, I have nothing to complain of. Miss Malfoy is a sweet girl; I like her very much."

"Aye, but she's a queer little maid, is she not?" said the porter. "My sister used to call her 'the changeling', on account of her odd, grown-uppish manner, and of nobody knowing her true history...but between us, Miss Granger," (he winked wittingly) "her as being left behind by the fairies is a kindlier supposal than most gossipers would allow."

I found myself bristling at this. "I have no interest in gossip," I said indignantly, "and I especially despise the kind that asperses a defenceless girl."

Porter Weasley looked instantly contrite. "Pardon me, Miss," he said, "I did not mean to offend ye. I see you've already taken to the lass. In point of fact, Ginevra—my sister, I mean—always said she was a good sort of child, despite her oddness."

"I assure you, her 'oddness' is owing solely to a lack of like-aged companions. Nothing more, nor less."

"Aye, it must be as you say, Miss." He seemed so crestfallen that I began to feel sorry for my severity. "I—I—I'll take care to correct them as says otherwise, in future."

I was greatly mollified by this humble avowal. "Thank you, Mr Weasley," I replied in a much-softened tone. "I should take it very kindly if you do."

There was another pause in the conversation, and I was rather afraid I had exposed my own 'oddness' in so rigorously defending Clarastella's. I murmured, "Well... I shan't keep you from your leisure any longer. I wish you a very pleasant day's fishing. Good day, Porter Weasley. Good day, Mr Longbottom: I'm glad to have met you."

"Good day, Miss Granger," they replied in unison, doffing their caps once more.

I had taken only a few steps, when the porter's voice stalled my departure. "By the bye, Miss!"

I turned back to him. "Yes, Mr Weasley?"

"I ought to make mention that 'twould not be wise to venture into the farther-off coves, as yet. The rains have loose'd the rocks below the path, and 'tis too dangerous to wander that way."

"Oh! Thank you; I shall avoid doing so," I replied. "Goodbye!"

Thus we parted ways: I, turning to cross the strand, the young wizards continuing to the promontory.

I climbed the steps and followed the track back up through its fragrant maze of heather and gorse. The ascent was quite exhausting. I was not used to such a steep climb, and my steps were hindered by so many petticoats, for the Featherlight charm on my dress could only alleviate the weight and not the constricting volume. I found myself envying the young men their sensible trousers and unencumbered strides.

When at last I gained the cliff-crest where the the paths diverged, I stopped to catch my breath. From this vantage, I could see down into the coves on each side, and observed the wizards had already settled in to their morning's activity. The top path stretched invitingly into the distance, but, heeding the porter's warning not to venture along it, I instead made my way back up to the Manor.

...

Text Notes:
*Dydh da!—Hello!
*Myttin da—Good morning
*byghan konin—small rabbit
*fleghes—children