Castaways on a Sullen Sea
By weasleywheezes

DISCLAIMER: Hasn't changed since chapter 1, if you'd be so kind as to read it there.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know that there's some fairly predictable plot points, but, honestly, isn't that the best part of a Severus/Hermione pairing? Anyway, thanks for all of the reviews. It helps stimulate me. Still slow-going, but hopefully, I'll get the ball rolling. Enjoy chapter 11.

Chapter 11 – Refugee

Dumbledore looked as dour and exhausted as Hermione had ever seen him. These long years of the war between he and Voldemort had finally taken its toll. He took Hermione's hand and sat with her in the Weasleys' parlour, while Molly and Arthur sat close by.

"Miss Granger, I must say that I knew I'd see you again, but I hoped it would be under happier circumstances."

Hermione sniffed back a tear. "There is nothing we could have done, Professor Dumbledore. My mother was gravely ill."

"So you believe that she did commit suicide?"

"I really don't know. She was suffering from schizophrenia and she was seriously depressed. I was half expecting it. But when I went into that room and saw her face…"

Molly blew her nose loudly into a tissue. Dumbledore patted Hermione's hand again. "What did you see?"

"It was frightening. Her face was so tortured."

Arthur exploded with anger. "She was tortured! I knew it."

"Now, now, Arthur, we don't know for sure. I haven't seen any evidence to prove that she was murdered." Dumbledore glanced down at Hermione, who was visibly shaken.

Molly stifled a wail. "Hermione, dear, I am so sorry you had to see that."

"It's okay. I saw my dad die right in front of my eyes. It's a relief that Mum died where she did." Hermione said listlessly.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Obviously, we don't know if Maris' death is an accident, or deliberate, one way or another. I suggest that Miss Granger go into hiding for a while, at least until we can find out whether or not she is in harm's way."

"Where should she go?" Arthur asked.

"Where do you think she should go?" Dumbledore countered.

Molly rose to her feet slowly. "No. No, she can't go there. She'd be miserable, much less treated terribly…"

"What?" Hermione looked around at the Weasleys. "Who would treat me terribly?"

"It makes perfect sense, Mols. Who else besides Dumbledore could provide her with that much protection?"

"Who?"

"He contacted me first, and I've asked him to shelter her. He has agreed in principle."

Molly's fist shook with rage. "How dare you not talk to us about it!"

Arthur grabbed his wife's hand. "We aren't her parents. We're not her guardians. No matter how much we love her, we have to make sure she's safe."

Molly sat in her chair and began to violently stab her knitting needles into a large ball of wool yarn. "You are delivering her to a den of wolves."

Dumbledore shook his head. "It's the only way." He turned to Hermione and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Miss Granger, I can't tell you what to do, but I would hope that you have faith in me. Do you trust me?"

Hermione waggled her head. "May I sleep here just for tonight?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I don't know if that's the wise thing to do." He ignored the rumblings coming from Molly's side of the room. "I have brought a Portkey. Could you collect your things? I'll take you to the safe house from here."

Hermione turned and looked towards Arthur. The fear in her eyes was noticeable. Arthur smiled grimly. "I promise on my honour, Hermione, that Molly and I will come and visit you as soon as we can."

The girl let a small sliver of a grin escape. "Thanks," she said, and ran up the stairs.

"Den of wolves," Molly repeated.

---

"Gromnett, you must help me ready the guest room. It has to be as comfortable as possible."

The house-elf curtsied. "As you wish, sir. Would Mr. Snape like the coverlet cleaned, also?"

"Yes. Please make sure it's as clean as possible. Our guest is a special person. She deserves only the best."

Gromnett bowed low. "As you wish."

Severus was not sure when the Headmaster would appear with Hermione, and he knew that everything had to be perfect. He had requested that Dumbledore not disclose where the safe house would be, knowing that Hermione might not want to stay with him for weeks at a time, especially after all that happened.

The room was musty. Severus opened all the windows and began the arduous task of making the room comfortable. He conjured a spray of white jasmine, placed it in a faded porcelain vase, and situated it next to the bed in the guest room. Although the manor had deteriorated over the years, the largest guest room always stayed opulent. It was the part of the house that Etienne entertained her many male friends. Towards the end of Etienne's life, she began to cannibalise everything, including the guest room. Now it was furnished in a hodgepodge of styles: a Napoleonic style bed with brocade canopy, Queen Anne cherry armoire, French Provencal bed tables (with a dreadful marble top), Art Nouveau wall sconces, a secretary with the appearance of a Stickley. Severus was embarrassed. It had been years since anyone other than Lucius Malfoy or one of his Hogwarts coworkers had come to his home. Nothing could be done about it.

Gromnett returned with the discoloured bedding and linens and spread them over the mattress. After a quick fluff of the pillows and a few tucks, the bed was ready. Severus fastened the windows and conjured a few more large bouquets of jasmine, placing them around the room. The devoted house-elf closed the door and began to work on mulling cider for the guests that would arrive at any moment.

Severus retreated to the library and looked for a few books that Hermione would take pleasure in. He leaned against the shelves. The cool leather bound volumes felt good next to his skin. He found Hogwarts, A History and knew that his houseguest would enjoy it. His houseguest…he never thought he would say those words about Hermione Granger, but here he was, fretting about the cleanliness of his home, having Gromnett prepare the guest room, experiencing the faint sensation of butterflies in his stomach for his houseguest.

"I hate this!" he yelled. The words bounced off the panelled walls and assaulted him. "I feel like a bloody daft teenager!" Severus threw Hogwarts, A History toward a lamp, but it fell short. Gromnett came scurrying into the library.

"Mr. Snape, do you require my services?" he squeaked.

Severus brushed the hair away from his face. "No, Gromnett, I just lost my temper for a moment."

The servant picked up the book and handed back to Severus. "Mr. Snape needs to be more careful, if I may say so, sir."

Severus smiled and patted his servant on the head. "Wise old house-elf. Thank you, Gromnett. You may take your leave now."

Gromnett curtsied low. He returned to the kitchen to stir the mulled cider for the coming guests. Severus returned to the sitting room, book in hand, waiting for Dumbledore and Hermione to arrive.

---

Hermione gathered her parcel close to her bosom. Ginny had given her a light shawl, "in case you get cold wherever you're going." Molly and Arthur hugged through tears, and Hermione promised an owl every week.

Professor Dumbledore took hold of her hand. "Are you ready, Miss Granger?"

Hermione stared at Dumbledore with dull eyes. "I suppose now's the time."

Dumbledore squeezed her hand tightly and took hold of the Portkey, a miniature snuffbox. Hermione felt time and space began to swirl around her. Her stomach lurched and she felt as though she was being turned inside out.

Just as suddenly as it began, the two travellers dropped in the middle of a large room. Hermione leapt to her feet and smoothed her clothing. She pulled her hair back and began to take an inventory of the space around her. Gorgeous Roman deities, carved from marble, flanked the doorway. A gilded mirror, large but missing most of its glass, graced the wall. The chairs were meticulously carved rosewood covered with sumptuous black leather; but they seemed somewhat tattered, as if they had seen a lot of wear. A few large tapestries and a small Dutch Master still life graced the walls, along with a large bookcase filled with dusty Victorian era Muggle literature. Hermione could see that there were no family photos, as if the person didn't want to acknowledge their ancestors.

The room was pleasing, but Hermione could tell that it was magnificent in the past. She wondered what might have happened to cause a once grand manor to fall into disrepair. Despite the wear on the furniture and the lack of decoration, Hermione knew that the owner of the home must have a kind of refinement.

"Whoever lives here has incredible taste!" the young woman marvelled.

"Yes," Dumbledore whistled low under his breath. "He does have a eye for the finer things."

Hermione could hear the echo of footsteps down the hall along with the snap of billowing fabric. She walked towards the carved Roman gods. Something about them seemed vaguely familiar…the proud look, the strong jaw line, that aquiline nose…

"These are magnificent statues," Hermione said.

"Yes, they are," muttered Dumbledore, who seemed preoccupied.

"I've never seen better mythological sculptures."

The headmaster laughed heartily. "Oh no, those aren't gods!"

Suddenly, the room seemed strangely silent, and Hermione heard a detached, elegant voice.

"Those, Miss Granger, are but a few in a long line of Snapes."

Severus took pleasure in the look of shock on Hermione's face. "You honestly had no idea, did you, Miss Granger?"

She stumbled around for words. He answered his own question. "Miss Granger, I'm sure you'd rather be somewhere else during your summer, perhaps in Romania?" Hermione's eyes grew wide. "No, I'm not using Occlumency. I remember when I was your age. Spending the summer with my teacher would have been the last thing I would have wanted to do."

"May I ask why I'm here, then?" Hermione queried.

"Simple. In fact, you know the reason. Don't be foolish, Granger."

"I really don't understand…"

"Has being friends with Weasley altered you that completely?" scoffed Severus. "Have you taken leave of your senses? Think, Granger. What just happened to you?"

"My mother has died."

"Yes. Your mother has died and no one knows exactly why. You might be in danger. You need someone who has faced Voldemort before, and Dumbledore can't shelter you. That leaves me. I can protect you, Miss Granger. You know I can. You know I've done it before." Hermione flushed. Severus continued, "Is there any reason that you don't want to be under my protection? Are you afraid of me?"

Dumbledore wisely interrupted the interrogation. "She's exhausted, Severus. Let her sleep here, at least for tonight, and we can see if this is the right thing to do in the morning."

Hermione yawned. Sleep sounded very good to her. Snape called for someone named Gromnett. A knobby-kneed house-elf dressed in a long flannel nightgown appeared and clasped her hand. "Oh! You must be our visitor! Mr. Snape has told me to take the greatest of care with you. Come now, I will show you to your room, miss."

Hermione yawned again and followed the house-elf towards the east wing of the villa.

Dumbledore took a swig of his mug of mulled cider. "You must tell Gromnett to give me the recipe for this cider. It's delicious."

Severus said nothing. He ran his hands through his hair and stared down the hallway towards Hermione's room. Dumbledore watched him with curiosity.

"The greatest of care, aye? Is there something I should know?"

Severus sipped his cider. "Have you spoken to Minerva?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I don't like to hear idle gossip, even if it's from someone I trust as much as Minerva McGonagall. I would much rather hear it from you that you are in love with Hermione Granger."

"It's not love, per se," Severus muttered. "It's some other sort of insignificant emotion."

"If you insist," Dumbledore said glibly. He swallowed the last dregs of his beverage. "Do I have your word that she will be safe here?"

"Upon my life," Severus replied.

"Then that's all I need," Dumbledore said. He Apparated, leaving Severus alone in the room.

---

Hermione rose at dawn, the light beaming through her window her wake-up-call. She opened the curtains and took stock of her surroundings. Once upon a time, this was a fine room. She noticed that every table in the room had a bunch of fresh flowers on them. They smelled wonderful.

She wanted to introduce herself properly to the house-elf, whose name she could not recall. She rummaged through her bag, found her robe, and put it on. She gave herself a quick glance in the mirror. Her hair was sticking up. She yawned. "I look splendid," she muttered.

As soon as she opened the heavy door, she found the tiny house-elf standing there. He wore the best uniform of any house-elf she had ever seen – a small pair of black tweed trousers (obviously well worn, for Hermione counted at least five patches on them), a white shirt, and a silvery-green silk vest. He looked like he could be the mascot for Slytherin House. The elf stooped low and then stood to attention.

"Miss! Good morning, miss! Would you like breakfast today?"

Hermione frowned. "I'm afraid I never made your acquaintance. I'm Hermione Granger," she stuck her hand out, "and you are?"

"Oh, miss, I am Gromnett, loyal servant of the Snape family. Would you like breakfast?"

"I don't eat food prepared by slave labour if I can help it."

"Oh no! No, miss, I am not a slave. Mr. Snape set Gromnett free many years ago, but I choose to serve. A kinder sir one cannot find, miss." Gromnett wiped his ever-reddening nose with a small handkerchief.

"Snape? Kind?" Hermione was still so tired that she didn't quite understand the house-elf.

"Certainly, miss. Gromnett remembers Mr. Snape – Mr. Snape's father. Merciless man. Very cruel. Mr. Snape's father used to whip me with a switch from a green willow tree when I erred. Mistress Snape was even worse." Gromnett lifted the left leg of his pants, where Hermione found, to her horror, a hole in his leg.

"Gromnett! Who did that to you?"

"Mistress Snape, many years ago. I tried to stop her from…" The house-elf looked around and then slapped his own hand. "Bad Gromnett."

"No, Gromnett, please tell me what happened? Did Snape do this to you?"

"No! Not sir. His parents. Please, please, miss, allow me to make you breakfast. I don't want to tell you any more."

Hermione wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Gromnett, are you happy here?"

"I could never betray Mr. Snape. He needs me."

"Are you happy?"

Gromnett sighed. "I would be happier if sir was happier. That is truly all I can say. Now, please excuse me, I have breakfast to make."

Hermione watched as the old elf walked toward the kitchens. She marvelled at human cruelty. She wondered why, after all that the Snape family had put Gromnett through, why he would continue to serve them, and who the Mistress Snape was who put the hole in the elf's leg?

Hermione walked towards the kitchen, where she found Gromnett stirring breakfast in a large copper bowl. "Gromnett, may I ask a question?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." He stirred the kettle clockwise.

"I've met a few house elves in my time, but none are dressed as well as you, and none speak as well as you do."

Gromnett smiled. His large, squashy nose glowed. "Oh, miss, I am so proud that you consider me a learned house-elf! Mr. Snape told me that if I wanted to go anywhere in life, I must learn to speak properly. He's given me books to read."

"Who gave you the uniform?"

"Oh, miss, you ask so many questions! Mr. Snape gave me these. These are his old play togs, when he was a child. I altered them to fit me. Mr. Snape has paid so many kindnesses upon me."

"What are you cooking?"

The house-elf laughed. "What a little miss! Would you like some? It is sir's favourite dish."

"Porridge?"

"No, miss, lemon custard."

It was Hermione's turn to laugh. "I never thought of Snape as liking lemon custard."

"You'd be surprised at what I enjoy, Granger."

The sudden appearance startled Hermione. "Professor Snape, erm…good morning."

"What's the matter? Don't you like lemon custard? Would you rather have a poached egg? Gromnett is excellent with his egg dishes." Severus took a large earthenware bowl and filled it with strawberries.

"I think I will try some custard. You wouldn't have any wheat germ, would you?"

Gromnett scratched his head. "Wheat germs? No, no, miss, I clean the kitchen thoroughly every time I use it. I have no wheat germs."

Hermione chuckled, "No, it's a type of food, Gromnett. Wheat germ. It's like granola."

Severus poured a ladleful of the custard on top of the berries. "I have some cracked bulgur, but nothing else like that. Is that acceptable?"

The pair ate breakfast in silence. Gromnett returned to tidy up, and smiled at the amiable guest. "Miss," he said warmly, "if you would like, we can take a tour of the grounds today, if it's all right with Mr. Snape."

"Excellent idea. In fact, I will take her myself, and you can show her the herb gardens." Severus ate his last spoonful of berries, licking his lips in satisfaction.