"Conceal me what I am; and be my aid for such a disguise as, haply, shall become the form of my intent." –Viola

She could hear the faint sound of waves crashing in the distance, as if they were trying to beat down the door to her couscous mind. It was working to, because slowly she was coming out of her sleep. As usual, her sense of touch was the first to awaken completely, as she felt the scratch off the, sweat soaked, sheets beneath her cheek. She could also feel those that were enveloped around her and sticking to her like saran wrap.

'What an awful dream,' she thought to herself as she squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to wake up. She knew very well that 'awful' was probably not the best way to describe it; neither was 'dream'. The muggle yacht, Morning Glory, that she and her brother, Autolycus, had been working on as entertainers had sunk. Drowning almost everyone, including Autolycus in the vortex created by the sinking ship. She herself had clung to a trunk full of their clothes that she had charmed to float. Her brother did as well, but suddenly lost his grip and he sunk below the water. Like her, he wasn't wearing a life vest because conveniently there were none to be found.

Yet, now as she was trying to stay asleep, she wondered why the dream stayed so freshly in her mind. Usually she would have forgotten a dream by now.

Once again she heard the crash of waves and thought it to be odd, since they were not close enough to the beach to hear the waves crash on the shore. But there the sound was again, this time followed up by the unmistakable feeling of cold water swirling around her legs. Fully awake, Hermione bolted upright, and quickly regretted it as every muscle in her body protested the movement.

She felt her heart constrict painfully at the sight before her. Sand. She was on a beach. She suddenly felt sick when she realized that she wasn't dreaming. Autolycus and the Morning Glory were gone. Hot tears pricked at her eyes and ran in small streams gown her cheeks. She could only imagine what Autolycus went through in his last moments of life. 'It must have been painful,' she thought. 'Having only salt and water to breath.'

What made it worse was that she had no true proof that he was dead. Her heart kept telling her that he was only missing.

As children, they were never close as they always went to separate schools. They were always fiercely competitive in their early years, causing their parents much heartbreak over the constant fighting. But, after she graduated from Hogwarts, and he from Beauxbatons they had seemed to come to an agreement that neither of them was better than the other. Both had graduated with top marks much to the chagrin of the pureblood wizards and witches that went to their schools.

Yet a year after the graduation, it was decreed that all witches that were muggle born, must be married to a wizard in order to practice magic legally. In Hermione's mind, it was sickening. That decree went out before the war truly started, and she was sure that it was Voldemort's allies inside the ministry that came up with such a plan. She was forced into hiding and lived as a muggle, with only her brother as a support. He was still allowed to do magic, but for her sake he only used it sporadically.

With a heavy heart, she had to fake her death and leave her magical family behind. The Weasleys, Harry, Lavender and Neville. What pained her the most was that she was unable to fight for herself, and people like her.

Sobbing out loud, she placed her face in between her knees. She didn't want to have to look out towards the ocean anymore. All it held was pain. She no longer saw the deep blue of the ocean. Instead the dark-blue green swirls of color mixed with the crystalized white of the breaking waves, she now sensed the water turn a deep purple as if mixed with blood. Of course it wasn't really like that, but she now understood it's power.

A weight encompassed her shoulder, and she looked up to see a man squatting behind her. She recognized him as the first mate of the Morning Glory. Letting out a cry of relief, she turned to throw her arms around him.

"What happened!" She sobbed into his shoulder. As she felt his hand stroking her back, she started to calm.

The first mate shrugged underneath the weight of her head. "It was just a freak accident. Something exploded, and it caused a hole to big to fix. I'm no wizard you know."

Hermione pulled back in shock. "You believe in wizards?" She asked.

The man nodded. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but this area is full of magic folk. Wizards and witches aren't all that walk these parts."

"Where are we?" She asked as a lump of bile rose in her throat. 'And how am I going to get out of this?' She thought.

"We are about a day's walk from Hogsmede." He said softly.

Hermione gnawed on her lower lip. "What am I going to do?" She asked. "My brother is in Elysium." She said softly. Then she glanced into the eyes of her companion. "Maybe he didn't drown." She stated hopefully.

A look of sadness crossed over his eyes. "It was a miracle that you were spared."

Fresh tears sprung up as she realized that there was probably no chance that she would ever see Autolycus again. And she condemned herself for ever getting her hopes up. But the ever present pain of not knowing was still there, and so was a small sliver of hope that had not been subjugated by logic. So she squared her shoulders again. "Maybe so," she said. "But if I was lucky, there is a chance that he may have been also."

"So," She started, feeling that there needed to be a change of subject. "You know this area?"

The man helped her up and nodded. "I was born in Hogsmede. My whole family is full of Wizards and Witches." He said as he started to walk away.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You're a squib?"

The man she was with stopped dead in his tracks. "How did you know that?"

She came to a stop next to him. "Well, I'm sort of a witch."

"Sort of?"

She shrugged. "I faked my death when the decree on muggle born witches came out. My brother was my only ally. He was the only one who knew that I was alive."

The man looked at her confused. "Why are you telling me this then?"

"I need your help. I need to figure out a way to disguise myself so that those in Hogsmede won't recognize me." She pleaded.

"Why would the recognize you?"

Hermione let out a long breath. "I used to be Harry Potter's best friend."

Comprehension filled the man's features. "Well," he started. "I guess employing you under Miss Weasley is out of the question. I do however know of someone else that might hire you, but it would be as a domestic."

"Who?" She asked.

"A man named Draco Malfoy, have you heard of him?" He inquiered. A distinct grinding noise came from between Hermione's teeth, and the man raised an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a yes, then?"

At her glare, the man motioned for her to follow him. "I think I found a trunk about a hundred feet from here. Perhaps there are some clothes in there that you can disguise yourself with."

"Well, if it is our trunk, I can dress in my brother's robes and tie my hair back with one of his ribbons. All I'll have to do then is disguise my voice and use magic to change my eye color." She said.

The man frowned. "Won't his garments be a bit big for you?"

Hermione smiled. "No, he was only an inch taller than me. If he weren't male, we'd be identical. And ever since the frizz in my hair tamed down, we've been able to fool people by making them think that we were identical."

The man nodded in understanding. "That would be one of the acts that you would do on the Morning Glory. I remember your face now. You're Deanna Kanester, one of the entertainers Antony hired."

"Yes, well." She said as a blush colored her cheeks. "My real name is Hermione Granger."

The man's eyes filled with awe. "Miss Granger, I was always one of Harry's supporters. I will help you in any way I can." He said as he stuck out his hand.

Hermione took it and grasped it in her own. "Thank you, Mister..."

"Snape," He supplied. "Salerio Snape. You can call me Sal though."

It was Hermione's turn to look on him in awe. But now she could see the resemblance. Same raven black hair, same eyes. "Your related to Professor Snape?" She said making it sound as if it were a statement instead of a question.

Sal nodded. "Yes, he's my cousin."

"Well," She said. "Thank you again, Sal."