Castaways on a Sullen Sea
By weasleywheezes
DISCLAIMER: Please see Chapter One.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you for all the reviews. I appreciate everyone taking this story to heart. Hopefully, I won't let anyone down. Forgive the delay in posting new chapters, but this is still very much a Work In Progress, slow going at best. Thank you for your patience, and enjoy chapter ten!
Chapter 10 – Fled
Like Potter's scar on his forehead, anyone who possessed the Dark Mark could feel when the Dark Lord was angry or joyful. Severus' magical tattoo had burned for days, and in the middle of the night, it exploded with pain. Since that moment, Severus had sat in his parlour, trying to figure out what could cause Voldemort's sudden rush of emotion.
Gromnett presented his master with a bowl of lemon custard and berries for breakfast. Severus smiled weakly. He swallowed a mouthful of crème and blueberries when a flash of light and a puff of smoke left a rolled up parchment at his feet. Severus picked up the letter, which was bound with dark red wax, and discovered a phoenix feather lying on the floor. It was the mark of Dumbledore, who must have sent Fawkes, his trusted phoenix, to deliver the message. He found a newspaper snippet taped to a piece of parchment, with a note scrawled beneath it that read, "It has begun again."
The newspaper clipping was interesting in that it was a Muggle paper. Severus frowned. He knew exactly what it meant as soon as he saw the headline. He started to read it when he noticed the name of the deceased as being Maris Granger. He sat up straighter and paid better attention to the picture that ran with the story. The hair was longer, the face not as tired looking, but it was certainly Hermione's mother. The Muggle press has written that she had hung herself with her linens. It gave time of death as the early morning hours – exactly when Severus' mark began to burn. He knew, then, that Voldemort or one of his followers had killed defenseless Maris Granger. He also knew that the same Death Eaters would be after her daughter. He jumped to his feet, causing the bowl of berries and custard to crash to the ground. Gromnett flinched at the noise. Snape ran to the house-elf and softly patted his head. "I will be going on a short trip, Gromnett. Please watch after the house while I am away."
Snape ran to his bedroom, where he threw on a cloak and tossed a handful of Floo Powder into his fireplace. He cleared his throat, and jumped into the flame. "18 Dorsett Lane," he said calmly.
---
Severus had poured over the Granger home, looking for any sign of Hermione. He sat alone in the darkness for an hour, rummaging through a few drawers and closets until he realized that Hermione must have left. He hoped that she left of her own accord, and that his former colleagues, the Death Eaters, had not found her.
He was about to leave the house when he heard rattling at the door. Alarmed, he hid behind a curtain in the front hallway, as the rattling at the door grew louder. Suddenly, the knob blew off and a short figure walked into the foyer. Severus peeked out of the side of the curtain. He saw that it was Tonks, the Auror. Her hair was short, spiky and coal black. She wore a black turtleneck and a pair of ripped-up Levi's. "Who's there?" she growled, clutching her wand tightly.
"Tonks, it is I, Severus Snape," he said slowly. He saw the apprehension on her face melt away.
"Wotcher, Snape!" she said brightly. "Seen Hermione, have you?"
He shook his head. "No. She's not here."
"Hmm. That's a problem. I'm supposed to find her and take her to the Ministry of Magic headquarters."
"She won't be safe there," Severus said. "She's got to be somewhere that the Dark Lord won't dare show up. Of course, she might be on the run somewhere, and she's not safe that way, either."
Tonks stared at herself in a mirror, squinted her eyes and her hair suddenly turned carrot orange. "Huh! I look like a Weasley, mate. Don't you think?" She stopped and turned towards Severus. "Weasleys…you don't think she would be on her way to the Weasleys, do you?"
"I certainly don't think she'd be going to Potter's house!" he exclaimed as he ran up the stairs to Hermione's bedroom, Tonks following close behind. On the desk, Severus found a letter from Ron Weasley and read it aloud. Tonks stifled a giggle when he reached the line about Vlad the Impaler. He ignored the auror and pocketed the parchment in his pocket.
"Tonks, are you able to get in touch with Arthur?" Tonks nodded. "Good. Do it quickly, then," Severus said. "I'll contact Professor Dumbledore."
---
"Molly, I've heard through the rumour mill that Hermione's mother is dead," Arthur said. The Weasley patriarch had returned home from his job at the Ministry of Magic, briefcase in hand. Arthur worked closely with Muggle relations, and usually heard interesting tidbits about various Muggles. He sat down on the soft, comfortable chair in the family room, where Molly sat quietly knitting a scarf. She dropped her needles into her lap.
"Arthur! That's not true, is it?"
He hung his head low. "I'm afraid it is, Mols. They're saying she hung herself in the Muggle press, but Shacklebolt thinks otherwise."
"Shacklebolt? What – d-d-do you mean maybe?" Molly's face turned pale.
"Dementors, maybe. Or perhaps even…well….You-Know-Who."
"Bless my socks!" Molly exclaimed. "The poor girl must be scared to death. We've got to help her, Arthur."
Arthur sighed. "I've already tried. We sent Tonks out to Dorsett Lane, but I haven't heard anything from her yet. My gut feeling is that Hermione's fled."
Molly burst into a torrent of sobs. "I can't stand it! She's all alone out there, Arthur. Where is she going? She must be frightened out of her mind."
Arthur crossed the room and gently embraced his wife, who continued to wail uncontrollably. He tenderly kissed her on her forehead. "Shhh. She'll be okay, Molly. She's a clever one, she is. I wouldn't be surprised if she's found a place to hide out."
Ginny Weasley ran down the stairs, interrupting the warm moment between man and wife. "Mum! Dad! There's someone coming up the walk!"
Molly stopped crying and grabbed her wand, Arthur following after. "Stay here, Ginny," Molly whispered, as she and her husband slowly began to walk outside.
Arthur looked out in the distance. He saw a figure carrying a large piece of luggage and a minuscule owl in an enormous cage. "Mols, set your wand down. I don't think it's a person who'd hurt us."
"How do we know for sure?" She squinted her eyes and fixed her gaze on the mysterious visitor. "D'ya think it's Mundungus?"
"No, we'd've smelled him by now."
The figure glanced up toward the house, and suddenly began to run toward the Weasleys. The tiny owl hooted raucously.
"Mr. Weasley! Mrs. Weasley!"
"Hermione! Oh, love, you gave us quite a fright!" Arthur called. He scooped the girl up and hugged her tight, followed immediately by Molly.
"I hope I haven't come at a bad time. I have no place else to go."
Molly wrapped her arm about Hermione's shoulders. "Hermione, you know you are always welcome here. It's a little quiet without my boys. Come on, let's have some dinner."
Hermione placed her parcel in Ginny's room and put Pig back into Ron's room. When she came back downstairs, the table was set and garlanded with fresh flowers. Arthur was busy making an apricot fool for dessert, while Molly was standing guard at the stove.
"I haven't gone shopping in a while, with the boys gone and everything. Ginny doesn't eat nearly as much as Ron or the twins. I hope you like shepherd's pie, dearie. I kind of scrounged up a lot of leftover bits and made the topping from yesterday's mashed potatoes." She took out a tattered copy of Witch Weekly. "Looks like the only thing I need now is some bread. Arthur, could you slice some for us?"
Mr. Weasley smiled and flicked his wand gently toward the cupboard door. "Partitionus baguette!" A small loaf of French bread fluttered out of the cupboard and neatly tore itself into four pieces, landing on the bread plates on the table. The rest of the bread flew back into its rightful place in the kitchen.
"Wow! Mr. Weasley, that's really great," Hermione marvelled at the ingenuity of a self-slicing loaf of bread. "Did you learn that from Witch Weekly?"
Arthur grinned broadly. He helped Molly place the shepherd's pie on the table and poured a few glasses of milk. "No. It's an old Weasley technique. It's been passed down to us by our fathers. It especially comes in handy when there's seven children running around." He winked at her and took his place at the head of the table.
Ginny took a generous portion of pie and began picking the small pearl onions out. She threaded them on a toothpick. Hermione asked what she was doing, to which Ginny replied that the owls loved pearl onions, so she gave them hers. Molly and Arthur stole glances at one another over the flowers. Hermione noticed that Mr. Weasley had a drop of milk on the end of his nose that refused to come off. Molly fretted over the quality of the humble dinner. Hermione smiled. This was the thing in her life that she missed most – a family.
After the second helping of apricot fool, Molly went to bathe, Ginny went upstairs to write a letter to Harry and Ron, and Mr. Weasley and Hermione sat in the family room. Mr. Weasley had a copy of The Daily Prophet by his side. He opened the paper, then just as suddenly laid it on his lap.
"Hermione, love, I know. It's okay. You can tell me exactly what happened, if you want."
Hermione gasped. "But, Mr. Weasley, how did you…"
"You forget I work with Muggle Artifacts on a daily basis. I do have to keep in touch with the outside world, especially with You-Know-Who running amuck out there. One of the blokes down in Muggle Relations sent for me after he read about your mother in the newspaper. He thought it was peculiar."
Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded. "But…why? I mean, my mother was sick. Why would it be peculiar?"
Arthur rubbed his temples. "Hermione, you remember how You-Know-Who did what he did, right? All those terrible curses and such, dementors, things of that nature. I'm sure you don't know about this, but the fellows in Muggle Relations have been keeping me abreast of the situation out there. There's been a rash of suicides in the last few months, especially of those Muggles who have wizarding ties of some sort. It's been pretty hush-hush. The Daily Prophet wants nothing to do with it. The Quibbler stopped running the stories, too. No one wants to hear about some poor Muggle who blew his own brains out when there are wizards out there who might be in cahoots with You-Know-Who."
"But why would they be killing themselves, Mr. Weasley? I don't understand."
"They aren't killing themselves, love. They are being systematically murdered."
Hermione leapt to her feet. "Murdered? Murdered! You mean to tell me that my mother was…she was killed by one of those Death Eaters! Why?"
"I don't know," Mr. Weasley said simply.
"What did my mother ever do to Voldemort?" Hermione raged. She could hear Molly shriek upstairs at the sound of the Dark Lord's name.
Arthur embraced Hermione as she wept bitterly. He smoothed her hair away from her face. "It's all right, love. I don't know what kind of game he's playing, but we'll stop him. Have you contacted anyone, any family?"
She shook her head. "I don't have any family, Mr. Weasley. They are all dead. You and Mrs. Weasley, and Harry, you're all I have left."
Molly entered the room, her skin still damp from the shower she was taking. She held Hermione close and gave her a small kiss on her forehead. "You are welcome here as long as you wish to stay. I just want to talk to Dumbledore, see if we don't need to get you to some sort of safe house."
Hermione looked up at Molly. Her eyes were swollen from tears. "Safe house?" she whispered.
Arthur handed Hermione a handkerchief. "Molly's right. If it really is the Death Eaters who killed your mother, you might not be safe here. I'll contact Albus tonight."