The Forsaken Child

Chapter 3

(A/N: So sorry for the long wait between updates. I kind of lost my muse on this story. I couldn't figure out how to proceed, but I've got this idea that I hope you'll like.)

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Hermione stared at the bed she had been given. It was old with a dark wooden headboard and footboard. An old patchwork quilt covered the bed sheets, giving the bed a kind of charm. Still, Hermione had heard horror stories of hotel beds from Mrs. Sterling. Would the sheets be clean? She certainly hoped so. Tentatively, Hermione sat down on the bed. She sank. Her eyes widened.

"It's like sitting on a cloud!" She exclaimed happily as she fell back onto the bed. A conditioned reaction caused her to tense. She waited for Jolene-one of the many girls that she shared a room with at the orphanage-to come shove her off and claim the bed as her own. She thought of her bed at the orphanage. The mattress was frightfully old and had springs close to exposure. She wondered if the girls noticed she was missing yet or were they simply going about their night rituals oblivious of her absence? Hermione sighed and sat back up.

Her eyes locked on the trunk Tom-the inn keeper-had levitated up the stairs. Wonderment still filled her at the amazing feat. 'I'm going to love being magical,' she could already tell, 'I want to know everything!' And everything she could learn was in that trunk. She hopped up from the bed and walked toward the trunk. She opened the lid and picked up the first book for touched. She looked down at the title: Hogwarts: A History. She returned to the cloud like bed with it and settled down against the pillows. Ready to fall into distraction…

Five hours passed as she read until she heard a rather timid knock on her bedroom door. She closed the book, set it on the nightstand, and stood up. She stretched wide, popping her tensed joints, before moving to the door. The housekeeper stood outside. The older woman smiled at her.

"I thought you would be downstairs eating dinner…" She muttered, her elderly tone was slightly worried and curious; Hermione blinked and looked down at her watch. Her hazel eyes widened.

"Holy crap…" It was ten at night. "I was reading," She tacked on as an explanation, "I must have lost track of the time." The elderly lady laughed and stepped out of the way.

"I'll say." The elderly woman's hands fell to her shoulders and she gently pushed her down the hallway. "Go on, I'm sure Tom kept a plate for you." She blinked and nodded. She wanted to question the woman's claims, but as a housekeeper here, Hermione assumed she knew Tom better. After all, not all people were like the children at the orphanage; and so far, she hadn't seen a single child here. 'Because they have parents,' a dark place in her heart whispered, 'why would they need to stay in an inn?' She shook her head as if that could shake the voice away. She descended the stairs two at a time, as fast as her little feet could. No matter if there were no children here, she had been conditioned to get out of the way as fast as she could.

XXX

The days before the start of the school year progressed the same way. She read her school books and went down to eat with Tom; rinse and repeat. She didn't dare venture outside of the tavern. She could feel something horrible was happening in the Wizarding World. The bartender seemed on edge every the door to the tavern opened.

She got her first taste of the dangers in the Wizarding World on the evening before she was to head to Hogwarts. It was about a week after she had first arrived in the Leaky Cauldron.

Tom and she were at the bar, eating dinner, when the door opened again. A tall blonde man came swaggering in. Hermione instantly tensed along with Tom. There was something about the man's grey eyes that made her nervous; there was something about the set of his mouth that told her she was there to cause trouble. She knew, realistically, that she should be scared. And for a few minutes she was, but then…he opened his mouth.

"Hello, Tom," he drawled. "I would have thought you would have closed the Leaky Cauldron by now." It didn't sound like typical starting conversation. Years at the orphanage had taught Hermione the difference between casual conversations to threats. This man, whoever he was, was threatening the old barkeep. Her eyes narrowed as righteous anger flared up within her. Tom and his staff had been so nice to her; they had helped her come out of her shell, drawn her out and helped her flourish just a little. She considered them her friends.

Even though the man wouldn't look at her, she stared him down. She hoped he could feel her eyes on him; she hoped he could read her vicious thoughts screaming at him to get out before she threw her spaghetti at him.

"Not quite, Lucius," Tom stated; Hermione could hear the false friendliness in his tone. "What can I get for you today?"

"I wouldn't dream of drinking in this…" He looked around and screwed his nose up slightly in complete disgust, "filthy establishment." Hermione's pursed her lips. Her ability to hold her tongue when angry fled her. Some of it, she supposed, had to do with being out of the orphanage. There was a type of freedom here that she didn't have there; it was another reason she was so grateful for Tom (even if Hogwarts was paying to have her stay here).

"Then why are you here?" She exploded. The blonde's eyes snapped to her; his mouth hung open slightly. She heard Tom stutter behind her. "Just to insult a man's livelihood? Seems like a waste of time, don't you think, Mr. Lucius?" He closed his mouth and glared at her. She didn't flinch. His eyes didn't scare her. She had met worse men coming into the orphanage. Before he could reply, maniacal laughter floated across the room.

"Isn't she such a doll?" A woman with curly hair stepped into view from behind him. Her dark, mud brown eyes held a slightly insane look in them. Her head tilted to the side as her eyes locked on Hermione. She smiled unnervingly. Hermione blinked, but lifted her chin in defiance. She refused to be frightened. The woman laughed. "Oh! And she's such a spirited one! Do you think Rodolphus would mind terribly if I kept her?" At the mention of the man's name, Hermione temporary forgot that these people were dangerous. She had misheard the woman, whether or not intentionally remained to be seen.

"Rudolph?" Hermione said in incredulousness. "Like the reindeer?" The woman's eyes narrowed; her mouth screwed up in offense.

"YOU DARE?!" She jumped at the loud volume, but raised her eyebrows. The little girl couldn't help but wonder just what she did to offend the woman. Insult her husband? Maybe? Surely, she wasn't the only one to ever ask. Rudolph was after all a very famous story. Then it clicked. The woman hadn't said Rudolph, but something else. Hermione just knew she wouldn't be able to pronounce it and didn't see the point in trying.

"Was it because I implied he had a big red nose?" She asked. Roaring laughter caused them all to look toward the door.

"Which does that make you, Malfoy?" A man with glasses and extremely messy black hair asked. "Prancer?" The mental image the man's statement evoked threatened to make Hermione giggle. All she could see was Lucius prancing through a field of flowers like an excited deer. She rolled her lips together and held them pressed together to keep from laughing aloud.

"How about Dasher?" A curly headed man injected.

"He's certainly cowardly enough," speculated Glasses.

"Well, he certainly wouldn't be Vixen," Curls mused back. An annoyed growl escaped the woman and Hermione realized what they were doing. They were drawing her ire away from her. She reserved herself to remaining quiet; although some delayed sense of mischief made her want to join in.

Hermione pulled discrete pranks on the girls and boys of the orphanage at least twice a month. Since none of the girls had real proof that it was her, she never got into trouble. Since she typically did their chores, it was easy to mess with them. All she had to do was slip something underneath their pillows when she made their bed. (For instance, she had slipped a fake spider underneath Jolene's mattress. And just for kicks, she had entertained the idea of having it crawl out from underneath the pillow and onto her nose. Imagine her delight when it did just that. She could have done without the ear-splitting scream and the pain in her chest from suppressing her laughter.)

She could tell though, joining in their mischief would be dangerous. She could see the woman's hand dangerously close to her wand. She could see Lucius' grip on his cane tightening. She felt a small tap on her shoulder and looked over. Tom was motioning for her to climb over the bar. She furrowed her brows, but did as he asked. She climbed quietly onto the top of the bar and slipped over the edge.

"Get down," he whispered. Hermione crouched down and blinked at Tom joined her.

"What's going on?" She whispered.

"Two of the men you saw—the one with glasses and the curly headed man—are Aurors." She tilted her head. "Magical police."

"Then what are the man and woman?"

"Death Eaters," he said quietly but severely. Hermione pursed her lips. The name certainly didn't sound good. Hermione would have asked more, but the woman shouted:

"Curcio!" Curiously, Hermione peeked over the bar. She could feel Tom pulling at her arm, trying to get her to duck back down. Hermione knew that was an Unforgiveable Curse. She had read about them. Curcio, or the Cruciatus Curse, was a torture spell. It could only kill you if used for long enough, but typically you would go insane before that point. Hermione shivered. If the name hadn't told her that they were bad, their casual use of the spell would have.

"Oh! Starting with the heavy ones already, are we, dear cousin?" Curls teased as he shot a spell of his own. The blonde side-stepped the zigzagging red light. The spell came toward the bar. Hermione dropped down to avoid it. It shattered a few bottles above them. Strange smelling liquid rained down on them. She heard Tom tsk.

"Stupefy!" She peeked just a little over the bar. She heard Tom hiss her name and felt him pull at her again. She scooted over. She wanted to see what each spell looked like. Stupefy was red and zigzagging. That must have been the one Curls had sent toward Lucius.

"Diffindo!" Was orange. A clear indention appeared as she managed to block it, but the force of the spell still sent her back a few steps. Level, Hermione noticed, with where they were hiding. Hermione ducked back down to avoid being seen by her.

"Stay down," Tom hissed as he curled his hand tightly over her arm. "If they spot you, they will kill you." Hermione pursed her lips.

"What about the men?" She asked, worrying more for them than for herself. After all, the men were out in the open. She wasn't.

"They fight these guys for a living, Hermione. They'll be fine," Tom defended. Hermione shook her head and definitely peeked back over the bar. "Foolish girl!" He hissed; he moved to reach for her again, but she scooted down the bar. She was level with her plate now. She looked between the dueling four and noticed something. Even though the crazy looking woman was fighting Glasses, she kept glancing toward the distracted Curls. Hermione narrowed her eyes; she could see a plan forming in the woman's mind. Hermione could see her lips forming the spell; she could read the words. Avada Kedavra. The Killing Curse.

Hermione darted over the bar only enough to grab her plate. She flung the spaghetti onto the floor behind the crazy woman. When she stepped back to perform the spell, almost comically, she slipped; instead of firing the spell at Curls or Glasses, she fired it at the ceiling. It met the wooden ceiling and sent down splinters. Hermione ducked back behind the bar.

"Definitely a Gryffindor," Tom grumbled as he glared at her. Hermione smiled sheepishly and shrugged. She knew what a Gryffindor was. It was a House at Hogwarts that was known for bravery. Tom rolled his eyes and shook his head disapprovingly.

When it became clear that Curls and Glasses were winning, Crazy and Lucius disappeared with a sharp pop. Hermione peeked back over the bar and then hopped over it when she was certain they were gone.

"You alright, little miss?" Glasses asked the moment she settled onto the stool. Hermione nodded.

"I'm fine. Are you guys?" She asked.

"Yup."

"Thank you for answering my call, Potter, Black," Tom said as he too stood. The two men nodded sternly.

"As if we would let one of our favorite inns be destroyed by a bunch of wankers," Curls reassured the innkeeper. Hermione blinked when she looked back to find Glasses' eyes on her.

"I saw what you did," he teased her. Hermione flushed.

"What?" Curls asked, looking toward his friend.

"Little miss over here may have very well saved your life, Padfoot," Glasses told his friend. Hermione's cheeks flushed. "Bellatrix was going to try and shoot a Killing Curse at you, but she slipped on a conveniently placed spill of spaghetti that I swear wasn't there before." Hermione blinked as Curls looked at her and then extravagantly bowed to her.

"Then I am forever in your debt, madam!" He vowed as he took her hand and kissed it. Hermione blushed and rolled her eyes.

"No, you're not. Trust me; it's okay." Hermione dismissed his words bemusedly as she pulled her hand out of his. Glasses chuckled and swatted his friend in the back of the head. Hermione chewed her bottom lip and looked toward Tom as she thought of something: "They were who you've been waiting on, right?" Tom blinked.

"What?" He asked, clearly confused. Curls and Glasses looked over at her.

"You tense each time the door opens." She explained to Tom. "And get this shifty look in your eyes and place your hand underneath the bar where I'm guessing is a type of panic button." Hermione furrowed her brows. She had heard about them; the orphanage had one in the kitchen just in case someone broke in.

"Observant one, aren't you?" Tom asked rhetorically. Hermione shrugged.

"Kind of had to be," she said enigmatically. Jolene and the other children would have succeeded in some of their meaner moments if she hadn't been. For instance, there was this time that Jolene had tried to put gum in her hair. She had started acting all friendly one day—talking to her, offering her a chance to play with them; but Hermione knew she was up to something. It was in the way she shifted, the way the others giggled as they paid attention to her. Hermione had simply declined and stayed near Mrs. Sterling. Jolene wouldn't be able to bully her with the orphanage head watching them closely. That night, when Jolene was asleep, Hermione had stolen her gum and placed it outside on the picnic table. The next morning, ants had covered her gum; and Jolene had thought that she had left it outside by mistake.

"What's your name?" Curls/Padfoot asked as he slipped onto the barstool next to her.

"I'm Hermione. And you are?" She fished.

"I'm James Potter," Glasses took over, "and this idiot over here is Sirius Black."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Potter and Mr. Black." Hermione smiled. Her smile flattered as she thought of something, "Do you think they'll be back?" She asked. Her question made James chew his bottom lip and Sirius run a hand threw his hair.

"They honestly might," they warned honestly.

"The Death Eaters have never been good with rejection," Sirius mused. "Or defiance." Hermione chewed her bottom lip and looked toward Tom.

"It might be a good idea for you and your staff, along with any guests, to stay somewhere else tonight," James suggested, looking toward Tom.

"But…where would we go?" Hermione asked. Her stomach flipped in discomfort at the idea of leaving. 'Where would I go?' She wondered. 'The orphanage is out. The other children probably wouldn't let me leave since they probably know by now...' Once when Hermione had tried to go into town with Mr. Sterling, some of the other children had locked in the closet. If Mr. Sterling hadn't found her, they probably would have left her there.

She swallowed; she looked away from James and toward Tom. The kind innkeeper knew a little of her story. She found his sad grey eyes on her. A type of fire filled his eyes as he looked away from him.

"I'm not going to abandon my inn, boys. It's been in my family for generations. I'll give the staff the night off…give 'em the option to stay somewhere else for the night. Hermione here is my only guest and she don't really have anywhere to go."

"Why couldn't she go home?" James asked, looking toward the little girl with worry filled hazel eyes. His mind veered toward abuse or neglect. Maybe her family didn't even know she was here.

"I…don't really have one," she muttered, "I live at an orphanage." Because no one else wanted me.

"Oh…" James said awkwardly, remorsefully. He knew how badly it hurt to lose your parents, but to lose them at such a tender age? He probably wouldn't have been able to cope. If it weren't for Peter telling them of his plans, Harry would have been just like this girl. His heart ached for her. He cleared his throat and knelt down so that he could be at her level. "It's going to be dangerous for you here," he told her gently as he tried not to scare her but still warn of the situation's severity.

"It's okay," Hermione reassured him quietly. "I'm good at hiding." James shifted off of his toes and frowned. He wasn't comfortable with that and one look at Tom said that he wasn't comfortable with her staying here either. He and his staff could deal with whatever came, but he didn't want to have to be frightened for her if they did come back. She had already proven not to be good at listening.

"Hermione," Tom said warmly, "I understand you wanting to stay here, but James is right. It is very dangerous and I may not be able to protect you." Hermione's hazel eyes flicked up to him.

"Where else do I have to go, Tom?" She demanded. "I can't go back to the orphanage." Her infamous temper-known only to a select few at the orphanage-flared powerfully. "The children would lock me in the closet and make sure I missed the train. Or they would destroy all of my books, all of the things Professor Dumbledore has been kind of to pay for." While the little girl ranted, Tom glanced toward James and Sirius. Both men were staring at Hermione in both surprise and sadness.

Tom had seen her temper only a few times since she joined them; it was usually when something would happen in her books that would offend her. She had tromped down the stairs and ranted against Salazar Syltherin for hours the day she finished his chapter in Hogwarts: A History. Her hair always seemed to crackle whenever she was angry. But right now, her anger wasn't something they needed to be paying attention too. They needed to find out a way to get her away from the Cauldron just in case they came back with larger numbers.

Tom had no misconceptions. He knew that when the Death Eaters came back, it would be with more than two. Maybe they would be able to save the tavern, but it would still be damaged in the assault. He didn't want Hermione or any of his staff in the way of that. He sighed. His staff were capable adults; Hermione was simply a child. He knew many of his staff would choose to stay, but Hermione had to leave at least until the threat had passed.

Tom threw a peanut at James to get his attention. He jerked as it bounced off his forehead. He glared over at the innkeeper. Tom jerked his head slightly toward Hermione; his eyes plead for one of them to take her in for the night. James suppressed his sigh.

"I suppose I could talk to Lily," James told the innkeeper as he ran a hand through his hair, "and see if she would be okay with us taking Hermione in for the night."

"What?" Confusion overpowered Hermione's irritation at them having seemingly ignore her.

"Mr. Potter and his family are good people, Hermione. No harm will come to you while you're there," Tom vouched for him. Hermione's lips still thinned into a frown.

"It wouldn't be right to leave you here by yourself…" Hermione muttered. He grinned.

"I've been doing fine on my own, little cricket," Tom reassured her.

"Besides, we'll be keeping an eye on this place," Sirius joined in. She wanted to argue his logic. It's too dangerous for her to stay, but it's somehow safe enough for Tom—an elder innkeeper that has problems subduing an eleven year old girl—to stay. But-on the other hand-if something did go down, she would only be in the way. Hermione looked between the two men and sighed. She nodded her consent and hopped back up onto the stool to wait for James to finish his call. She didn't miss the pleased smile Tom and Sirius shared. She rolled her eyes and balanced her chin onto her hand.

James came back minutes later with a reassuring smile on his lips, "Lily said it would be alright."