Hello, darlings, the first chapter was on the short side, so here you go, another little chapter. For those of you excited for Marcus, he'll show up in the next chapter. After this chapter, I will be posting at least once a week, possibly more at times. Those of you in America, have a nice Thanksgiving, the rest of you have a lovely Thursday. Enjoy!
Legalese: I own nothing!
Chapter 2: Hermione Gets Moving
Once she posted her letter Hermione apparated a few towns over. She had brought along muggle money. But Ron's distrust, and Harry's refusal to upset him, had prevented them from utilizing her money for supplies. She found a small inn and booked a room for the night. The lovely owner allowed her to check in immediately. The first thing she did was take a shower and wash off seven months of grime. Then she lingered in a hot bath. Once she felt clean, she climbed into the bed and slept herself out. When she woke shadows stretched across the room and filled the empty spaces. The clock told her it was three in the afternoon. She wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but she knew if she did she would have trouble sleeping that night.
Dressing, she emptied her beaded bag into three piles: hers, the possible, and the boys'. She intended to bin their things. She did not need for them nor did she desire to return them. Some old clothes and miscellaneous nothings, not anything they had any attachment to. She took stock of the shape of her things. Most of her clothes were barely better than rags. The food stores were completely gone. Her next priority seemed to be a shop. She needed camping equipment, clothes, and food.
She headed into the shopping district, provisions and clothes were the easiest to procure. The grocer happily directed her to the sporting goods outlet her son-in-law managed. There she bought a tent, better sleeping bag, an air mattress, camp stove, hatchet, and cigarette lighters. She returned to the inn and repacked her bag. She stored the air mattress and sleeping bag on her knapsack to lend the veracity to her story of a backpacking gap year that her little beaded bag lacked.
At dinner she looked over several maps, plotting her moves. She needed, wanted, isolated forests with few hikers or campers. She selected two. She planned to take a short vacation, a brief goodbye to her old life, then split the remaining time between the two forests. She didn't want to stay in any one spot too long, afraid someone would notice her. She had no idea if Voldemort even agreed to play. Other diners offered suggestions of sights she needed to see. She dutifully recorded everything, compiling a list, like a real backpacker might. After dinner, she arranged for an early checkout, though the owner insisted she wait until the kitchen opened so she could have a proper breakfast before starting out. Her eyes focusing on Hermione's thin frame, her lack of a healthy weight. She nodded but remained silent.
Setting the alarm that night Hermione lay in bed enjoying the hum of the radiator heating the room. She snuggled into the pillows and tried to shut off her brain. Every interaction with Ron and Harry played through her head with new filters. Glances and touches took on new meanings, or at least, different ones. How often had they slipped away for alone time while she had been in the library working on something for Harry? The two questions she kept circling back to were: why, and had they ever been her friend? Eventually, she dropped into a restless sleep.
The loud electric buzzing of the digital alarm clock startled Hermione out of her slumber instantly. Fighting the urge to shut it off and go back to sleep, she got up and showered. She tucked her wand into the pocket she added to her coat sleeve. In the dining room, the plump silver haired cooked shooed her away from the complimentary continental breakfast. "You are skin and bones, lass. You don't have to eat a full English, but you need more than a handful of cold cereal and a piece of fruit." She handed her a menu. "Look it over and let me know what you want."
"Oh, I'm fine with..." Hermione attempted to decline.
"You're setting off for wherever your feet carry you, lords only know when your next full meal will be." The older woman put her hands on her hips.
"I suppose you're right. May I have an English without bacon, beans, or black pudding?"
"Of course you may, my duck." She bustled away returning in ten minutes with a heaping plate of food. When Hermione tried to pay the woman refused and handed her a small paper sack of sandwiches and crisps. "I've eaten railway food. Now off you pop, my duck. You've many miles to go today before you rest."
Hermione decided to give herself a small vacation before going into hiding. A moment to bid farewell to her childhood and everything she had been. Win or lose, the impetuous game she suggested would change her life. The last family vacation the Grangers had gone on before Hermione discovered she was a witch had been to Papay, or Papa Westray, in the Orkney Islands. She wanted to feel a connection with her absent parents before saying goodbye. She apparated to Kirkwall, Scotland, and arranged to fly from there to Westray and onto Papay.
She swiftly booked a ticket on the Loganair flight, the Islander, the world's shortest flight, also her only way onto the island in February without a car, or using magic. The passenger ferry only ran in the summer. Magic was something she wanted to avoid as much as possible since travel magic was so easy to track. The desk clerk gave her a certificate for booking 'the world's shortest flight.' It lasted a minute or less unless you encountered turbulence. She boarded the plane and stored her backpack in the provided bin. She was the lone passenger until Westray. A middle-aged couple boarded. Delightfully friendly, Alistair and Leliana Cousland chatted with her about their plans to meet Leliana's sister and brother-in-law to visit the preserve and see the seal lions. "I know people rave about the birds, but you don't want to miss the seals and lions this time of year."
John and Miranda Shepard were waiting for the Couslands. When the quartet realized Hermione was alone, they demanded she join them for the week. Once she realized they were all staying at the Beltane Guest House she gave up and agreed. The couples arranged for her cottage to be between theirs. They quickly folded her plans into theirs. John insisted on hiring bicycles for the group. They biked to all the attractions: North Hill reserve, St. Tredwell's. The old pier to row out to see the Holm. By the end of the week, Hermione resolved to get into better shape. The time might come when she needed to run fast. Their last night on the island, the Shepards invited her to ride back to Liverpool with them. She agreed since it put her in a better place to travel down to Dartmoor and Wistman's Woods. At the gift shop, she bought a calendar as she needed something to keep track of the passing days.
-oOoOo-
Voldemort surveyed the assembled Death Eaters, most were his Inner Circle, mostly the ones he trusted most to keep matters from getting out of hand. Granger's postscript changed everything, and he could not risk some hot-headed fool going too far and irreparably harming her. He was hesitant to include Bellatrix, yet if she discovered she had been left out... she would be moody and difficult. "My loyal followers, I have gathered you for a special task. It has come to my attention that the mudblood, Hermione Granger, has broken ties with Potter and his lot. She is somewhere out there, hiding. She promised if one of you can find her, and bring her to me, she will join us, telling us anything we want to know. She also agreed whichever one of you to find her may do as your wish her. I add that until I am satisfied she must be alive and sane." He looked directly at Bellatrix. "Other than that there are no rules. If by 2nd May 1998 we have not located her, she wins and you are forbidden from harming her directly, or indirectly."
"We just have to find her?" questioned Corbin Yaxley.
"And bring her to me. She did not promise to come willingly. Be prepared for her to resist."
"Will you be announcing this to the ranks this evening?" Rodolphus inquired.
"No, this is restricted to my experienced ranks. You have proven yourselves to me and my cause." Several sat up straighter. Bellatrix preened. "So, I add to your burden of service hunting for the mudblood."
Thoros Nott leered darkly, "With such a prize, this is hardly a burden, my lord."
"As you say," Voldemort nodded, "I wish you happy hunting then." He dismissed them with a wave. His followers filed out.
Severus Snape sat watching the others rush out, eager to begin the hunt. Slowly, he stood and exited the salon. He nodded to Lucius and Rabastan, "Gentlemen."
"Not hurrying off to win yourself a prize, Snape," asked Rabastan.
"I have unavoidable duties, and Hogwarts is all the reward I need or desire. And the quarry was once my student, I find the idea of things others will suggest repulses me," he replied dryly. "Not hurrying yourselves?"
Lucius shook his head, "I find myself sharing your belief this is a fool's errand. We have been unable to locate Potter and Weasley even without Granger helping them. I have no desire to waste my time beating bushes to find one girl. Not to mention Narcissa would never tolerate a rival, no matter how low born."
"And you Lestrange?"
"I'll consider a few theories, but Rod and I agree we're going to stay close to Bella. Merlin knows when she'll go flying off. The Dark Lord wants her alive and well. And when she can't be easily found, someone will need to keep her in check." The other two men nodded in agreement sparing a sympathetic thought for the Lestrange brothers and their task.
-oOoOo-
The Shepards insisted Hermione stay with them overnight before leaving Liverpool. They took her to Abbey Road, snapping her photo crossing the road while taking her about the city. They dropped her off at the train station the next morning, sticking around until the train left. Hermione changed trains seven times that day.
Having laid numerous false leads, just in case the Death Eaters were hunting her and found her trail, she finally made her way to Dartmoor in Devon. One of her other fondest childhood trips had been with her grandparents to the fairy tale forest, Wistman's Woods. One of only three high altitude oak forests, it resembled the forests in every story her parents read to her as a child. Dwarf oak tree trucks curved with sun seeking growth, moss carpeted boulders and foggy darkness added to the sinister feeling. Hermione loved it as much as she had years ago.
She hiked deep into the center of the woods, then turned off the beaten path. A small clearing proved the perfect campsite. She pitched her tent and arranged her camp stove on a cleared rock. She contemplated a cooking pit for baking but dismissed the idea. She studied wilderness survival and camping and cooking skills while preparing for the horcrux hunt, not that had helped much. Used to his mother's cooking, Ron had whined constantly comparing the two, even though one was over an open flame, and the other prepared in a fully stocked kitchen. Not that his opinions kept him from consuming large quantities of food at each meal. Without his expectation of five-course meals, and Harry's inability to refuse him, and didn't that explain so much, she hoped to have enough provisions for the next month and a half.
She shook her head, trying to forget those memories. Because right now she had nothing to distract her. She could care less where the rest of the horcruxes were. But the thoughts refused to go away. Even when she exercised she found herself reviewing her interactions with, well, everyone. Were Harry and Ron ever really her friends? Maybe Harry, at least until he decided he loved Ron that way. She didn't understand why Ron had taken up with her when he loved Harry.
She knew most of her schoolmates tolerated her. Her knowledge earned house points and her brains helped finish homework. No one sought her out for fun or to hang out. The memories of how easily everyone turned on her third year over that stupid broom and Crookshanks chasing Scabbers surfaced. Never any apologies, no admittance of being wrong, just back to talking to her and wanting homework help. Not even after the rat turned out to be a dangerous murderer. And then in 6th year, Hermione got upset over the idea Harry cheated in a way that would have resulted in a lifetime ban for both of them. Anyone else would have, too. And the second the busty blonde looked his way, Ron was all over her. Bitterly, she wondered if he had been with Harry at that point, or if she was the only one special enough to cheat on. No matter how much she thought about it she could not understand his reasoning.
During the first two weeks, Hermione obsessed over these thoughts, especially in the quiet moments at night. Finally, she decided Neville and Luna were the only ones she had any truly friendly interactions with, and if they could be saved, she'd like to try. Well, if she was in any position to request such a thing, or do anything. Perhaps an anonymous invitation once she left England. She also acknowledged she was in love with the facade Ron presented when he started wooing her. She didn't know how much of that had ever been real.
To begin distract herself from those looping thoughts she worked on perfecting a glamour spell anchored to a wearable object. Since the effect was. projected, finite spells didn't cancel it. All in all, she was pleased with the results. She had been inspired by the Weasley twins' protective hats and cloaks. By the halfway point of their little game, perhaps just her little game, she had perfected three.
Wearing one that gave her stick straight blonde hair and enough freckles to label her a Weasley, she apparated to Tavistock. She rented an inn room, took a bath, and resupplied for the next thirty-seven days. She then mapped her route of buses and trains to make her way up to Scotland. From Inverness she would travel west to Fisherfield Forest, the perfect hidey-hole having no permanent settlements, just acres of trees and wilderness.
-oOoOo-
Upon hearing Greyback and Bellatrix located Granger's childhood address, Rodolphus asked Rabastan to help him rein the two in. The werewolf and witch ignored the exterior of the house, focused on getting inside. But the brothers paused to admire the large mansion and expansive well-kept lawn. The white gravel drive spoke of serious wealth. An earsplitting noise alerted them to trouble. They ran to the side door Greyback destroyed in time to see Bella smash a small beige box with a cutting hex.
"What the fuck was that?" she snarled.
"Based on what little I can read on the box, muggle security I assume. We need to look around quickly in case that summons the authorities like a security ward does." Rabastan said.
"Afraid of some muggles, Lestrange?" laughed Greyback.
"No, but attacking them will alert the aurors, and I don't want to be the one embarrassing our lord by outing his interest in the mudblood." The other three paled at the thought of his displeasure.
"Get on with it."
Greyback sniffed the air, frowning, "There are only two scents here, old ones. They've been gone for a long time."
Bellatrix stomped out of the mudroom and into the rest of the house, the others following. White cloth covered most of the furniture, a thick layer of dust covered any uncovered surface. Rodolphus looked at one of few photographs on the wall of the staircase. Something about it bothered him beyond the lack of movement. He pulled it off the wall and examined it as he followed his wife and brother in search of bedrooms.
None of the rooms appeared to belong to anyone except the master suite. Greyback grunted in frustration, clearly becoming more agitated. Bellatrix screamed in anger and whipped out her wand. Rodolphus grabbed her wrist, "No, Bella."
"Release me," she seethed at him.
"You are not going on a rampage and destroying everything you see."
"They are muggle and a mudblood," she spat.
"A mudblood the Dark Lord has developed an interest in. You missed the meeting discussing this contest because you wanted to be a bitch. What happens in the future if she wins and wants to come back here for some beloved trinket, only that trinket doesn't exist because some psycho bitch destroyed it while she was throwing a wobbly." Her eyes narrowed angrily, "No, Bella, I let you do that once and we spent fourteen years in Azkaban for it. Fourteen years we could have been preparing for his return like Lucius and Thoros. This time when you fuck up, you fuck up alone."
Screaming sirens alerted them to the approach of muggle authorities. "Right, we're leaving." Rabastan nodded and grabbed the werewolf and apparated them away. His growling wife tried to wrench herself away again. "I don't think so." He pulled her to him and popped them back to Malfoy Manor.
They landed roughly in the corner of the dining room. Bella smacked him on the head and shoulder to get him to release her. "I hate you!" She pulled against him.
"The feeling is quite mutual at this point. Fulfill your marital obligations and you can be free." He released her suddenly, she stumbled backward. She huffed at him and stomped away.
Narcissa chuckled lowly at her sister's antics, "Was that truly wise, Roddy?"
"I don't care anymore. She wants to be stupid, fine. But she isn't dragging me down with her this time. Nor, will I allow her spoiled behavior to jeopardize our lord's plans. She knows what she needs to do to be able to go her own way." He sat down at the table.
"Thank you for your service, Rodolphus," Voldemort said coolly, petting his large snake, seated at the head of the table.
Rodolphus bowed his head, "My lord."
"What have you and darling Bella bickered about?"
"The Grangers do not appear to have been in residence for quite some time. We could find no trace of a teenage girl ever living there, or any child at all. My lovely wife wanted to vent her frustrations on their belongings. But there was neither the time nor a good enough reason to. The Order has no idea their precious golden girl left the duo. Attacking muggle aurors at her muggle home could tip them off we're looking for her. Not to mention should she win, she might be less than pleased to discover we destroyed her former home. And such pointless destruction does not paint us in the best light."
"We are hardly the good guys," someone further up the table said.
"Yes, but manners dictate I do not wander through this manor smashing things as I go."
"This was wise of you, Rodolphus, again, I thank you." Voldemort nodded to him, ending the conversation.
Yaxley looked at the frame in Rodolphus's hands, "What's that?"
"Photograph I was holding when Bella decided to go off. Something about it bothers me." He studied it again.
"The fact that it has muggles in it?" someone joked.
"They aren't moving?" Yaxley mentioned.
"That isn't it though. It is almost as if something is missing. I just don't know what." He handed the picture to Yaxley, who examined it closely.
"You're right, it does look odd. I wouldn't have posed that way."
"Unless there was another person there," Rodolphus said slowly, an idea occurring to him. "You don't suppose?"
"A seventeen-year-old mudblood? No."
"And yet?"
"And yet, what, Lestrange?" snapped Crabbe, Sr.
"There are advanced memory modifications that completely remove the target from the victim's memories. All physical evidence vanishes like the target never existed. Some hypothesize the victim wouldn't be able to see the target standing in front of them." Yaxley explained. Voldemort looked pensive. "If you wish, and Lestrange allows, I can look into it, my lord."
"Do that. And Lucius? Obtain me a collection of the younger guard to question about our quarry. I know what your children report, I wish to hear from those not closely associated with her."
"Certainly, my lord." Lucius nodded.
Yaxley looked at Lestrange, who nodded. "I'll look into it at once." He stood and left the room taking the photograph with him.