AN: Thanks for the reviews…I must admit I hadn't even thought of Molly Weasley or Augusta Longbottom; I wasn't planning for many of the Weasley's to make an appearance…I did think of having Ginny play the part of poor Rosamund Oliver, the love struck girl with feelings for Jane's dour cousin, but then I had the idea of having Fred and George appear as the ones to save our heroine out on the moors and perhaps take her to Hogwarts for recuperation, that way we could get to see some more of the canon characters…feedback is always welcome.

Hermione woke early the next morning, despite her late evening her body clock was used to rising early and so she took a quick bath and then set out to explore the grounds and get a little fresh air. She was on her way back into the manor when she met Mrs McGonagall at the kitchen.

'Ah, another early riser!' the housekeeper said with a smile, 'Thornfield seems to attract those that can't keep abed for more than a few hours…little Fleur being the exception! Did you sleep well, my dear?'

'I did,' Hermione confirmed with a nod, accepting a cup of tea offered by the housekeeper. 'I don't mean to bombard you with questions before we've had breakfast…' Mrs McGonagall liberally doctored her tea with a heaped spoon of sugar and settled back in her chair with a smile.

'It must have been a little confusing, arriving in the dead of night and then having all of those names thrown at you. Let me see if I can explain things a little clearer…I'm Minerva McGonagall and I'm the housekeeper of Thornfield, which is owned by Master Severus Snape. Master Snape is a renowned Potions Master and his research takes him all over the world, which means that we hardly ever see him at Thornfield.'

'And Miss Delacour?'

'Master Severus' ward, he brought her over from Paris when her mother passed away; he asked me to seek a governess for her as he wishes for her to be educated in England rather than at Beaubaxton's in France.' Things were a little clearer for Hermione now, and she sipped her tea feeling more at ease with the whole situation.

'Have you always been housekeeper at Thornfield, Mrs McGonagall?' Hermione asked, accepting a bowl of porridge offered by Leah and drizzling it with a little honey; she noted that the housekeeper preferred the traditional method of sprinkling a little salt over her portion.

'Not always no, I was once a professor at a wizarding school in Scotland but found it difficult to continue after the last war…I taught Master Severus for a brief spell and when he learnt that I intended to leave Hogwarts he offered me a position here.'

'Hogwarts? The headmaster of my last school came from there,' Hermione smiled over her porridge and saw the housekeeper's brief smile in return.

'Albus Dumbledore? You couldn't wish for a finer headmaster.' Both ladies attended to their breakfast and had nearly finished when a slender young girl entered the room, and dipped her head in welcome.

'Bonjour Madame…C'est la ma gouvernante!' the girl addressed the female elf that had followed her into the room, as her slender finger pointed in Hermione's direction.

'Mais oui, certainement.' The elf looked across the room, her large eyes taking in every aspect of Hermione's fairly drab appearance and she nodded in agreement. Hermione rose from the table and smoothed out the skirt of her robes, she addressed Fleur in French, greeting her warmly and then enquiring how she was. Fleur was grinning widely as she replied in rapid French and by the end of the conversation the pair were conversing quite freely as Fleur consumed her breakfast.

'Bless you child,' Mrs McGonagall whispered in Hermione's ear as she was departing the room. 'I've been able to decipher a few words here and there, but my French was never quite up to conversational standards. I've asked Sophie to show you to where you'll be teaching Fleur's lessons.' Mrs McGonagall gestured over to Fleur's house elf and Hermione nodded as her attention was drawn back to Fleur's rapid questioning.

'You're robes are very ugly, did you not bring anything prettier with you?' Fleur asked in fluid French, Hermione replied that she had not and urged the young girl to finish her porridge. 'My mother had grand wardrobes filled with hundreds of dresses and robes, ones in every colour of the rainbow.'

'Did you live with your mother before coming to England, Fleur?' Hermione asked gently, not wanting to bring up any bad memories, but the housekeeper did not know of Fleur's circumstances and so could not warn her of any dangers.

'I lived with my mother in a pretty town near Paris, but Mama has gone to live with the angels and I am all alone.' Fleur replied, sparkling teardrops clinging to the ends of her lashes. 'Monsieur Snape came to rescue me but it's been so long that I've seen him, that I fear he has forgotten all about me.'

'Nonsense Fleur, now let's finish your breakfast and then you can show me around the manor this morning and we'll start our lessons this afternoon.' Hermione kept her tone even but firm as she encourage her new charge to finish her meal, hoping that a full morning without lessons would make Fleur more willing to concentrate in the afternoon. Fleur happily agreed to Hermione's terms and the three of them (Sophie included) spent the morning out in the gardens, gathering fallen leaves and assorted twigs that Hermione planned to use in the practical elements of their afternoon lessons. Just before lunch, Fleur insisted on dragging Hermione over the first and second floors of the manor as she showed her governess all of the perfect places to play hide and seek. When they came to a sturdy door at the end of the corridor that lead to the third storey, Sophie started babbling about 'fantôme' and started backing away, her whole body trembling with fear. Fleur explained that Sophie believed the manor was haunted by the spirit of an evil witch, whose cackling laugher could be heard drifting through the corridors late at night. Hermione chuckled a little, as the only spirits she had encountered had been friends that had passed over, and there certainly wasn't anything evil about Luna!

Hermione raised the subject with Minerva over luncheon, the housekeeper granting permission for Hermione to address her informally. Minerva clucked her tongue at the theatrics of the house elf and said that the only things that were on the third floor were the masters private laboratory and the sewing room that some of the servants used, Grace Rosmerta being one in particular that didn't care to leave the manor's mending to the house elves. Grace also served as the master's brewing assistant whenever he was at home, although that was getting to be a very rare occurrence. Hermione accepted Minerva's explanation and decided that a few lessons in deportment and behaviour were sorely needed by the young French girl, if only to relieve her of her overactive imagination.

The summer months passed into autumn and soon Christmas was upon the Hall, all passed without setting eyes on the master of the house. Hermione released Fleur from her lessons during the run up to the festivities, and the girl would huddle over her desk working on the gifts that she had been making for everyone. Minerva had been giving her knitting lessons by hand, thinking that the girl was too young to rely on everything to be done via magical means, and the housekeeper had also been roped in to helping Fleur with Transfiguring certain elements of her Christmas presents for Hermione, Sophie, Leah and John. All too soon, the winter snows melted into drizzle and January started with dismal mist that hung around long after the sun had risen.

Hermione decided to take a walk into the small wizarding village a few miles past Millcote; it was a tiny village that boasted an Owl post office that shared its space with a bookshop-cum-stationers, a tavern and a tiny sweet shop. She'd received a few letters from Septima via the postal service and wanted to post her reply; Minerva had given her a list of books that she asked Hermione to order at the bookshop and with Fleur safely ensconced in receiving a cookery lesson from Leah, Hermione set off for the village.

It was a clear but chilly day and Hermione breathed in lungful's of crisp air, and resolved to have Fleur spend more time outdoors rather than cooped up in an overheated classroom. Hermione reached the village and took care of her chores, and after browsing the small bookstore for an hour or two made her way back home. She was about a mile away from Thornfield when the air suddenly turned damp and Hermione felt the mists rising up to twine around her ankles. She hurried her pace, suddenly frightened that she might lose her way if the mist grew thicker and then caught her breath as the sound of hoofs beating on damp soil echoed through the twilight.

'Who's there?' she called, bringing her wand forward and casting a bright illumination spell hoping to pierce through the mist. There was a high pitched whinny and then the sound of a low curse, as out of the mists rose a huge, black beast whose eyes glowed red in the darkness; the beast reared up as Hermione's wand wavered in her hand and she whimpered softly as the hooves came within a hairs breath of trampling her. There was a low thud and then a string of curses, and Hermione realised that the beast wasn't alone…

'Blasted chit! Lower that bloody wand and help me to my feet…' the low voice demanded rather than asked politely, and Hermione's hackles rose at his tone.

'If you hadn't have appeared out of nowhere, I wouldn't have had to raise my wand…Now, I suggest you rephrase your demand and it wouldn't hurt to tack on a 'please' in there somewhere either!'

'Very well,' the man's voice deepened a little and Hermione shivered at his now smooth as silk tones. 'I would be very grateful if you would please dim your wand and then help me to my feet…please.' The please was tacked on as an afterthought, but Hermione dimmed the light at the end of her wand and then stepped across the muddy puddles to crouch at the fallen man's side offering her assistance to help him rise. The man growled something low under his breath, and Hermione felt a warm puff of breath at the back of her neck, followed by the swipe of a wet tongue. She let out a muffled shriek and whirled around to see the largest boarhound she had ever seen drooling over the back of her cloak.

'Down Fang!' the man ordered, and the dog immediately plonked himself down…squarely in Hermione's lap, sending her sprawling backwards into the mud. 'For sweet Circe's sake!' the man muttered as he managed to roll over and use a large boulder as a prop so that he could get up. He hobbled over to where Hermione was trapped underneath the boarhound, and her breath was wheezing as the air was forced out of her lungs. The man grabbed hold of the hound's collar and yanked hard, pulling the beast away from Hermione and she pressed a hand to her chest as she fought to regain her breath. 'Are you injured at all?' the man questioned, noting the way her breath hitched slightly whenever she breathed in.

'My ribs are a little sore, but I'm sure they are merely bruised…' Hermione closed her eyes briefly as she made an internal diagnostic, noting that her ribs were a trifle painful but there wasn't a sharp pang so there was no indication of any breaks. The man reached out his arm, encased in dark material and his slender hand seemed to almost glow in the rising moon.

'Allow me…' Hermione accepted his assistance, and sucked in a painful breath as her ribs protested the movement.

'And yourself sir?' she asked, once she was able to speak through the pain. He waved a hand toward his boot and shrugged.

'I'm sure it is just a sprain, I'll have my servant check it as soon as I reach home.' The man whistled softly between his teeth and his dark horse appeared out of the mist, reins trailing on the ground.

'Is that an Abraxan?' Hermione asked softly, her keen eyes picking out the faint outline of the wings folded tight against the horse's body. The man nodded as he limped over to clasp the reins loosely in his hand as he led the Abraxan over to the rock he'd used earlier.

'It is, Merlin comes from a pure bloodline all the way back to the very first,' the man said, his voice soft and gentle as he soothed the nervous beast. 'The hour grows late, you should be off before it gets completely dark…May I offer you a ride home?'

'No need, I'm not too far from home and I think the walk will ease the pain a little,' Hermione refused the ride; the man was a complete stranger for one, and she'd never been too good with heights for another. 'I'll not leave until I see you're able to mount your horse.'

The man grumbled a little as he attempted to shift his weight onto his injured ankle and hissed back a curse as it refused to bear his weight. His horse seemed to instinctively know that his master was in need, so he lowered his body closer to the ground to allow the man to mount. 'There, I've mounted…are you sure I cannot offer you a ride, or perhaps offer some medical assistance?'

'As I said, home is not far and I am more than capable of binding my ribs; I'd rather let them heal naturally than resort to a quick fix spell.' Hermione drew her cloak closer to her body, and let her wand fall as she folded her arm across her waist. The man scanned the distant horizon, seeking out something in the ever growing darkness.

'I know of only two houses within walking distance, one I am sure that you do not belong but perhaps the other? Tell me, do you know who owns the Manor house with the tall battlements?'

'I do, a Master Snape,' Hermione confirmed, and the man was glad that the darkness hid his smirk.

'And have you ever met this Master Snape?'

'No sir, never.'

'He is not at home then?'

'Not at present, no.'

'Can you tell me where he is?'

'I do not.' Hermione grew weary of his line of questioning and wondered whether he was a salesman trying to pitch his wares to the Potion Master. She shifted slightly on her feet and the man smirked again, having used his skills as a Legilimencer to scan her thoughts.

'You are not a servant at the hall, I know that they are all elves apart from the housekeeper…you are?'

'Not that it's any of your business, but I am the governess…Now, if you have finished prying into my personal affairs and that of Master Snape, I'll bid you farewell.' Hermione gathered her cloak tighter around her body and checked that her belongings were still tucked inside the pockets of her robes. She inclined her head and then stepped aside so that the man, his horse and slobbering hound could pass. As soon as they had disappeared into the mists, she made her slow walk back to the Hall - ribs protesting with every step.

Passing through the gates of Thornfield, Hermione felt the house wards accepting her in but they felt stronger than they had since she had first arrived. Letting herself in through the side door, Hermione had expected to see the odd lamp lit in the hallway, but it was brightly lit by the main chandelier and through the open doorway of the dining room she could see the fire blazing high in the hearth. Making her way down the hallway and into Minerva's sitting room, Hermione called out for the housekeeper but instead of being greeted with a cheerful hello she was met by the low woof of a boarhound that bounded over to greet her with a chorus of low barks.

'Oh no you don't…' Hermione warned, taking a careful step backwards and holding an arm protectively across her sore ribs. 'You've caused enough trouble for me today.'

'Oh my dear…you've returned at last!' Minerva bustled into the sitting room, her robes a little more flamboyant than her usual mode of dress. 'I see you've met Fang.'

'We've met before,' Hermione held up her hand and sternly forbade the hound to move closer. 'Stay!'

'My…I've never known him to obey anyone but the master before,' Minerva let out a sigh of disbelief and turned to face her young friend. 'You look a little pale, dear…I told you that the winter months could get chilly and now you've gone and caught a cold.'

'I am perfectly well, Minerva,' Hermione insisted and let a sharp pang from her side made her wince. 'Perhaps 'well' wasn't quite the proper word.' Hermione growled a little under her breath as Fang crept closer and let out a low whine. 'And you needn't think you can get around me with your puppy dog eyes!' Despite her harsh tone, Minerva could see that Hermione gave the hound a brief scratch behind his ears, which made Fang cross his eyes with pleasure.

'You're obviously in pain somewhere, dear…won't you let me help?' Minerva pushed Fang's head away from Hermione's lap and the hound trotted out of the sitting room in search of his master. Hermione's fingers reached up to unclasp her cloak, but she found that she was unable to lift her arm high enough to perform the task without the sharp pain of her ribs stealing her breath.

'Fang and I had a little altercation in the lane…his Master ordered him to sit, and he did so – the only trouble was he chose to sit directly on top of my chest,' Hermione smiled wryly at the housekeeper and nodded toward the dining room. 'If you would be so kind as to send Master Snape's healer in to see me once he has finished tending to his ankle, I would be most grateful.'

'He said that Merlin slipped on some ice in the lane!' Minerva exclaimed and Hermione shook her head.

'I'm afraid that I am the cause of Master Snape's injury, I heard something coming out of the darkness and lit my wand. Merlin reared at the sudden brightness and Master Snape was flipped out of the saddle; you might say that it was Karma that led to my injury, I caused one and was the victim of another.' Minerva clucked her tongue loudly and helped Hermione off with her cloak as she went to fetch Healer Clearwater that Master Severus had summoned all the way from St Mungo's.