Out of the Silent Planet
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Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
39
Views:
72,379
Reviews:
314
Recommended:
4
Currently Reading:
2
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Draco/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
39
Views:
72,379
Reviews:
314
Recommended:
4
Currently Reading:
2
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter Four – Of diaries, codes and apparitions
Title: Out of the Silent Planet (4/?)
Author:
Rating: MA/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Porn WITH a plot, Darkfic, Romance, Drama, Angst
Warnings: M/F, Bondage, slight non-con, Dark!Draco, and HBP spoilers
Summary: Post-Hogwarts - Hermione Granger fulfills Severus Snape's final wish, to journey to Japan to ‘retrieve' something of importance. Set eleven years after HBP.
Author's Notes: This is my first DM/HG ficlet, so please be kind to the newbie! The title of this fic is taken from C.S. Lewis' book, first in the Perelandra Chronicles. SeductionsClaim and rock betaville!
Out of the Silent Planet
Chapter Four – Of diaries, codes and apparitions.
While Hermione soaked in the mineral rich waters of the onsen, she talked with Hanako who seemed to sit floating just above the ledge to the spring, her back to the washing area. Steam rose thickly into the winter air, and at times Hermione had difficulty seeing the ghost as warm sunshine made the steam more opaque. Hermione moved through the water, not quite treading or swimming, from one end of the large pool to the other. The pool was fashioned with a rock bottom and a shelf along the edges for bathers to sit upon. A pipe of hot water gushed into the pool at the far end, but a small pipe of cooler water poured down a manmade waterfall closer to the bathing area. Hanako informed Hermione that the waterfall was to sit under, as to massage a bather’s shoulders and neck. As Hanako explained the history of the ryokan, when it was built, how it utilized the local springs and how innovative it was at the time of its founding, Hermione began to feel quite drowsy.
“Mistress, perhaps you should finish, your face is a bit flushed. People have been known to faint from the heat, and since this is your first time your baths should be short, until you are acquainted with bathing,” Hanako suggested, her shimmering form floating over the water close to where Hermione sat.
Hermione nodded and made her way out of the spring. She was clean, having washed earlier. Finding that the soap was quite gentle and invigorating to the skin, she vowed to ask Hanako about the ingredients later. Hermione walked over to her towel, finding that the stiffness in her leg was almost gone. Indeed the spring had healing properties, for Hermione moved with much more ease than she had in a long time. Dabbing at her pink skin, Hermione reached for her yukata and cinched the sash about her slender waist.
Hanako escorted Hermione back to her room, where Hermione found a tray of tea and rice crackers sitting on the table in the sitting room. Helping herself, Hermione continued to talk with Hanako, asking about what the peak season was like at the ryokan, how many guests were lodged on average, and other miscellaneous details. Hanako answered cheerfully and Hermione felt very much at ease around the spirit. When Hermione had her fill of crackers and tea she sat quietly, gazing out through the bedroom window to the mountains beyond. She did not feel cold any longer, just comfortable and contented.
“Perhaps tonight after dinner, you would like to use the other hot spring. The one you have just bathed in is wonderful for relaxation and invigoration, but the other spring is better for healing of aches and pains. I would not like to pry about your leg, Mistress, but I had noticed that it seemed to pain you earlier,” Hanako spoke meekly, watching Hermione through her silvery eyelashes.
“My leg feels ten times better than it did before, but if the other bath is better, I will definitely follow your advice. And no, you have told me much about yourself, it is only fair that I explain myself in turn,” Hermione answered, placing her empty tea cup back on the tray and turning to her companion.
“Forgive my curiosity, Mistress,” Hanako began, bowing as she had before in apology.
“Not at all... Have you heard of the war in Britain eleven years ago?”
The ghost nodded, “Only that there was a war, news comes by way of traveler to this inn, I’m afraid, so I only happened to learn that there was a great upheaval, but nothing since.”
Hermione nodded, “It was called the Two Years’ War, mainly because that was the height of the War. This War had been brewing for decades and during its height I was part of a faction that fought against an enemy of dark wizards. At the decisive last battle, called the Battle of Little Hangleton, I was severely injured when I was hit with a rather nasty hex. A Bone-Splintering hex struck my left leg and I fell in battle. For many weeks after the victory for my allies and myself, I was in the hospital. There was little the healers could do for me but to mend my bones; the nature of the hex was so dark and so wrought by evil that I could not have my bones re-grown. I received the best care there was to be had at the time, but I was not to walk like a normal person again. My leg is prone to ache at times especially where the healers literally had to bolt the bones back together. Fortunately I have not developed gout or severe arthritis yet, but I know as I grow older the pain will only increase. My leg is slightly deformed, and I must walk with a cane. But compared to many of my friends I came out well enough after the War. I lost many people close to me not only to death, but to their own guilt and despair as a result of the War...”
Hermione fell silent, her thoughts racing back through time to the day she knew that her friendship with Ron and Harry was over...they could never be the children they once were, and the kinship they held was stifled by what was happening in the wizarding world. Harry and Ginny had fled so that they could try and find a sense of normalcy. Ron had grown distant, no longer having a best mate to confide in, and finding Hermione’s company too much to bare...it reminded him of things Ron much wanted to put behind him. Hermione felt similarly about her two best friends, so much had changed and no matter how wonderful the memories were or how bittersweet, they had grown into different people.
“There was so much tragedy around us...” Hermione mumbled absently.
Hermione sighed and tried to smile, turning her amber eyes to Hanako. The ghost seemed quite downtrodden, her head bowed and her lip trembling.
“But time has passed, I have my life, my health, and my mind. I busy myself with trying to make my country and perhaps the world a better place, and I have good friend on whom I can rely upon,” Hermione said cheerfully.
Hanako glanced at Hermione and tried to smile, but the ghost seemed quite affected by what little Hermione had said. Hermione blinked in puzzlement and tried to smile wider.
“And I have come here, not aggrieved by my task, but glad to come at my friend’s request and in honor of his memory.”
At this Hanako did smile and raised her head.
“Master Severus would be thankful, Mistress, for such a good friend.”
Hermione sighed, her smile still upon her lips. “I hope so. Severus was a great friend, and he is well deserving of this simple visit. He had so little honor and respect in his life, and he deserved so much...”
At this Hanako sniffled and Hermione felt her eyes well up with tears. Hermione missed Severus more than she could possibly explain. Granted Hermione was a very logical thinker, but it had come down to Severus’ opinion or his anecdotal speeches for Hermione to feel confident with many things. Oh, if only Severus had been more specific about what she should do at this distant and unfamiliar place... Hermione felt a chuckle pass her lips, wondering how Severus would have reacted if Hermione had pressed him for information on his deathbed... Hermione imagined that Severus would have been very put out with her.
* * *
Hermione had decided to rest a bit before dinner, so Hanako left her room, promising to alert her before dinner was to be brought to her. Hermione sat by the window, a soft throw blanket over her lap, covering her leg, which was beginning to ache again. The short reprieve from the pain had been welcomed, but Hermione was feeling poorly overall. She wondered if she had spent too long in the bath and let the heat addle her, or if all her traveling was beginning to catch up with her now that she was finally at rest.
The sun began to set, and Hermione figured that it was nearly six o’clock. Gazing back through the room, the orange cast of sunset bathing everything in warm light, Hermione waited only a short moment before Hanako stuck her shimmering head through the door, peeking inside.
“Come in, Hanako,” Hermione called softly, moving to rise to her feet, pulling cane up in her hand and using it to shift her slight weight as she stood on her bare feet.
Hanako floated into the room and near to Hermione. “Lady Kaori is coming with your dinner, Mistress, and something else to give you...” Hanako whispered, furtive glancing back toward the door.
Hermione began to thank Hanako, but she heard footsteps close to the door.
“I’ll come back later, Mistress, excuse me...” Hanako hastily whispered, suddenly dematerializing before Hermione’s eyes as the door slid open. Hermione had little time to ponder the ghost’s odd behavior for Lady Kaori knelt by the door, excusing herself, setting a tray inside the door. Hermione did not move, noticing that several floating candles followed Lady Kaori as she moved into the room.
“Good evening, Mistress, please come and eat,” Lady Kaori said pleasantly, setting a large tray upon the table in the sitting room. Hermione did not hesitate for she could feel her stomach gnawing upon itself, and the wonderful aroma of the steaming food on the tray only made her hunger pains worse. Hermione slowly limped over to the table where Lady Kaori knelt, placing small dishes on the table. As she slowly forced her leg to comply with her intended movements, Hermione began to notice that the meal was light. There was rice in a small steamer, plum pickles, sashimi, raw vegetables, cold buckwheat noodles, and tempura shrimp, all of which looked as good as it smelled. Hermione waited for Lady Kaori to place chopsticks on the table and move away before the British woman began to eat.
Hermione kept glancing at Lady Kaori, whose face was passive. Just to the landlady’s left lay a silk wrapped bundle on the matted floor. Finally when Lady Kaori moved away from the tableside, Hermione slowly took up her chopsticks in her hand and thanked Lady Kaori for the food. It was customary to say the phrase: ‘Itadakimasu,’ and Hermione noted the landlady’s small smile as Hermione said the word quietly before beginning to eat.
It was an uncomfortable feeling for Hermione to have the landlady watch her eat, and Hermione began to wonder if Lady Kaori was going to stay during the entire meal. After finishing over half of her meal, Hermione paused. Perhaps she was doing something incorrectly and Hermione waited for Lady Kaori to mention it. Setting down her chopsticks, Hermione turned to Lady Kaori, noticing that the woman’s eyes were fixed on the silver head of Hermione’s cane laying just at Hermione’s side.
“Is something the matter, Lady?” Hermione ventured softly.
At Hermione’s soft-spoken words, Lady Kaori suddenly met Hermione’s eyes.
“Not at all, I was going to mention that I had found something that might be of interest to you,” the lady said softly, moving her delicate hands to the silk wrapped bundle at her knees. Sliding the silk across the bamboo matting, Lady Kaori placed the bundle beside Hermione’s cane. “These are several diaries Master Severus left here. The family has kept them at his request. We never could have imagined that his request would perhaps entail handing them over to a benefactor. Unfortunately we cannot decipher the contents of the diaries, and we only know that they are diaries at Master Severus’ word. I hand them over to you, Mistress, I am sure they are of importance.”
Hermione blinked; so that was what Hanako meant...but something was strange. Hermione was beginning to feel that something was being kept from her that was of importance. Granted, Hermione did not want to pry into affairs that were not only foreign to her, but of none of her concern, but still she felt a strange niggling in the back of her head which made her think that there was something quite amiss... Almost as if...but Hermione could only grasp at air, thinking of something that was as elusive as a secret.
“Thank you, Lady. I will look over them after my dinner. And if there is something written that should be useful to you and your household, I will kindly pass it along,” Hermione said as graciously as she could, bowing in respect. As she raised her upper body, she smiled. Hermione felt somewhat self-satisfied-if she projected the fact that Hermione herself had nothing to hide, perhaps it would make it easier to obtain more information, whatever it may be...
“Yes, of course. I will leave you for tonight. Do not worry about the dishes, they will be cared for. And if you would like to take a bath before you retire, please summon Hanako to escort you lest you lose your way in the dark or should need assistance. Enjoy your meal, Mistress and I shall bid you a good night,” Lady Kaori said quickly and informatively.
Hermione bowed again to her hostess and resumed her meal, watching Lady Kaori bow low in Hermione’s periphery. And soon Hermione was alone again. Taking only a few more bites of her scrumptious dinner, Hermione could wait no longer... Crawling slightly, she moved her body to sit cross legged before the bundle and with anxious hands she pushed open the knotted silk to find three books, the first leather bound and heavy the rest simply bound in brown paper waiting for her perusal. It seemed that the later books were of Japanese fashion for the pages were made of rice paper and strange to Hermione’s touch as she touched the edges of the books. She was used to stiff parchment and the supple rice paper reminded Hermione of her place in the foreign inn.
The candles that had followed Lady Kaori into the room floated about the edges of the chamber, now seemingly brighter since the sun had set. Hermione took the top most book into her hands and flipped the cover open.
Eyes scanning the first page, Hermione felt a sob catch in her chest as she ran her fingers over the scrawled words that proclaimed the book property of Severus Snape. The words were untidier than Hermione remembered, and she wondered perhaps if the errant blots of ink were caused by some stress at the time Severus had written it. Turning to the next page, Hermione was taken aback. Lady Kaori had mentioned not being able to ‘decipher’ the diaries and Hermione felt a satisfied smirk as she let her eyes scan over the page.
The diary was written in code, and Hermione grinned widely. It had taken much time and practice, being an apprentice to Severus Snape, to be able to understand his shorthand of alchemical symbols, Greek letters, Phoenician letters, and snippets of an alphabet all of Severus’ own creation. The combination of such characters were enigmatic and purposely combined to keep his notes secreted, but being his apprentice, Hermione was privy to Severus’ work and had adopted his style of shorthand for herself while she worked in the laboratories at Longbottom Apothecaries Ltd. A vow of secrecy was almost a requirement to become a master of potions, so many instances of formulas and theories being stolen had been recorded in the magical histories and every master had his or her own system of shorthand. A warm feeling spread through Hermione at the knowledge that she was up for another challenge.
Scanning the first page, Hermione bit her lip, her mind dissimilating the figures and characters and interpreting it in her multi-faceted brain, storing the information for later consideration.
‘Date Unknown,
Traveled out of my homeland by Muggle means, glad to have left enough pounds hidden away. My ward is currently unconscious, we are on the run. Had to sedate my ward for he has been in hysterics since leaving H--. Must contact Snr. Fabriccio, Trento, when I arrive. Must find unmonitored way out of Europe. SS.’
Hermione frowned and turned to the next page, which was written, in a much shakier hand than the short and cryptic entry before it.
‘Will not trouble with date...currently in Trento, Northern Italy. My ward has finally regained some composure, but we are both pained. Signore Fabriccio has kind enough to put us up for a few days until we can take a train north to Munich. It is good to have clean clothes again, and a bed to sleep in. Trento is as beautiful as I remembered it, and the weather has been perfect. I am still not used to the cuckoo singing just outside the attic window and it seems to frighten my ward, he is quite unnerved, but will eat and take care of his body well enough. I have taken his wand and destroyed it, I doubt he has realized it yet. He clutches his arm fiercely, but I have not felt the infernal mark burn for several days now... I worry for his mental health, but the weather here seems to have put some color back in his face. Signore Fabriccio brought ‘peasante minestrone’ for my ward to eat, the meddling old man is concerned for my ward as well, he is awfully thin and haggard from insomnia. We share the same condition...I do not want to sleep lest I dream...’
Hermione sighed as the inkblots seem to glare at her from the parchment. She went to the next entry, which were only a few sentences.
‘In Budapest...we have been followed. Afraid to draw my wand, might draw attention to myself and my ward. The boy is growing wild and unpredictable, he refuses to speak, but I can tell that he is frightened. Heading into the Orient tomorrow...’
Hermione started to turn to the next page when she felt eyes watching her, ethereal eyes...
“Excuse me, Mistress, but should you like to bathe...”
Hermione had not the heart to reprimand the kind ghost for interrupting, but sighed heavily and shut the book with a thud of the cover against the parchment. The promises of a good soak to ease the ache that had turned into sharp pain in her leg held much more interest at the moment. She could ponder what she had read in the hot spring water.
“Let me retrieve my things, Hanako and I will be ready for a nice long soak before bed,” Hermione grunted rising to her feet with a bit of difficulty. Hermione knew how ridiculous she might look, not even thirty and moving like a woman of ninety. Stooping down to gather up the diaries into the silk bundle once more, Hermione tucked them under her arm and moved to the wardrobe, opening the doors with several fingers while still gripping her cane. Placing the diaries on a cedar shelf Hermione gathered her bathing supplies and was soon following Hanako down a dim corridor lit only by the ghost’s unnatural glow.
Hanako chatted quietly with Hermione, asking if Hermione was pleased with her accommodations and if the meal had been suitable, to which Hermione responded favorably. Finally Hanako showed Hermione the door to the onsen, which had another name on a board over the doorpost. Hermione could only read one word, again her translator failing with certain names. But the sign read very plainly: bodily healing.
Pushing open the door and stepping through, Hermione could see that this spring was perhaps twice as large as the one she had bathed in earlier. The water was murky and mineral rich, and had a rich, earthy pleasant odor. Hanako floated outside to the spring and looked about, as if checking to see if anyone else was in the spring. Hermione slid the door shut, feeling the heat from the spring upon her knees, but the cold winter air on her face. Moving about the many spigots and wash stools, Hermione set out her soap and shampoo from her basin before she disrobed, hanging the dark green yukata on a peg above her spigot. Ambling about, Hermione finally began washing, scrubbing her skin with the washcloth in her basin and working the lavender scented shampoo through her hair. Hanako seemed to float about aimlessly, and Hermione began chatting again with the ghost. Placing her wand out of the reach of the spigot water, Hermione poured a basin full of warm water over herself several times.
“You have such nice skin, Mistress, if you will permit me to say,” Hanako said timidly, holding the sleeve of her kimono over her smiling mouth.
“Thank you, Hanako. It was always my hair that I worried about growing up,” Hermione said absently, pouring a third basin over her head.
“Really? It seems to fine and straight, has your hair always been so dark?”
At this Hermione chuckled. If only Hanako knew what some the of the students at Hogwarts called her so many years ago...
“It used to be curly, a mess really. But yes it has always been somewhat dark. In the sunlight you can see a bit of auburn, but I am more concerned about it staying straight and manageable... It used to be a bird’s nest, wild and unruly. I guess it changed as I grew up... I can still curl it if I want, but I rather like having straight hair.”
Hanako agreed that she could not imagine how difficult it must have been to keep curly and unruly hair clean or pretty, but Hanako joked that she had not had to worry about fixing her hair for centuries.
The conversation seemed to dry up after their collective laughter, and Hermione noticed again that Hanako seemed to be looking about as if sensing something Hermione could not. And as Hermione entered the bath, her hair up in a towel, Hanako excused herself, claiming to be needed in another part of the inn. Hermione shrugged as she slipped into the near scalding water, letting it rise up past her hips. The water, in Hermione’s mind, was definitely plentiful with minerals, for Hermione felt as if she could nearly float as she stood on the flat rock bottom of the spring.
The steam seemed to lay low over the pool and rise in tendrils to a moonlit sky. Besides the small candles above the spigots, moonlight was the only thing lighting the bath. Hermione was enchanted by the way the steam rose to the starry sky and sighed contentedly as she set back on the rock shelf, the water rising up to her shoulders. The spring was larger than the perfects bath at Hogwarts, which was the size of a moderate size swimming pool. This spring was many times larger and Hermione could not see to the far end for the steam and the reflection of the moonlight.
Closing her eyes, Hermione laid back slightly, enjoying the warmth of the water and the slight tingling of the minerals against her skin. It had been a puzzling day overall, and as she began thinking of the events, Hermione felt a sudden resolution that many of her answers would come from Severus’ diaries and perhaps from the ghostly companion assigned to her. It was also the content of the first diary that had Hermione wondering. The entries had not been dated, but it seemed by the haste and the mention of a ward that it was written after the death of Albus Dumbledore. If that were so, the ward must be Draco Malfoy...
Hermione frowned. Severus never provided the Ministry any information about the whereabouts of the Malfoy heir. It was a fact that Harry and Hagrid had seen Severus and Malfoy disapparate beyond the protective wards of Hogwarts...together. But the whereabouts of either wizard after that night were sketchy. Severus had never said where he had been, and that had cost him much. Draco Malfoy was rarely mentioned after that night or even after the War. It was known of the task given to the Malfoy heir by Tom Riddle, but Malfoy had failed. But it was unknown whether Malfoy had taken the Dark Mark...there were so many questions that even eleven years later remained unanswered.
If Severus had smuggled Draco Malfoy out of Europe, could it be possible that Malfoy was or had been ensconced in Japan? Hermione smirked, it would be hard to hide a Malfoy...especially Draco. Hermione had never really liked the boy, and perhaps hated him at one point. But in the end, after much soul searching, Hermione realized that Draco Malfoy was a victim, just like Harry, just like Hermione Granger... Draco Malfoy was the unfortunate victim of circumstance and misguided ambitions. At seventeen, Draco had the makings of being a powerful wizard, and perhaps had he consciously chosen a different path Hermione would have grown to like Draco very much. But eleven years had passed and it was questionable whether Draco was even alive. He was the last of the Malfoys and one of the last of the ‘Noble House of Black,’ Tonks being the only living heir of that line.
But it was troubling, and Hermione was eager to go back to her room to read more...if Draco had been the boy Severus had written about, and after thinking on the matter, Hermione was sure Severus was writing about Draco, then perhaps Severus had meant for Hermione to retrieve a certain blond haired wizard...
Hermione opened her eyes to see that the moon had risen overhead, not quite full, but large in the clear sky. She sighed as she moved from her spot on the rock shelf, but faltered as her eyes fell upon the wash area. The candles had been snuffed out and only the dark shadow under the moonlight greeted her. She had not noticed a breeze and doubted that even a breeze could blow the candles out when they had been so protected from any wind. Suddenly Hermione wished she had not left her wand in the pocket of her robe...but a simple Accio would summon it...
A sudden splash of water and Hermione gasped, letting her body curl up and sink her to her upper lip into the water. Eyes glancing widely about, Hermione tried to identify the source of the splash and the sudden feeling that someone else was in the spring... Slowly she rose from the water just so her naked body was obscured. Narrowing her eyes, Hermione tried her best to see through the steam that was beginning to rise thicker than it had earlier.
And then she saw it...or who it had been who had made the splash. On the far end of the spring near a grouping of rocks was a figure standing in a shallower part of the bath. Even though the moonlight was bright, Hermione could not see this person clearly, but she could discern that the figure was male.
Fighting a blush, Hermione studied the figure while silently slipping through the water toward the washing area. The man was nude and his back was slightly turned toward her vantage point. Hermione could see that the man was very pale, his skin glowing in the moonlight and that long dark hair fell down his wide shoulders in shaggy strands. Hermione stifled another gasp as the man turned, revealing that his left arm had been amputated at the elbow and terminated at a knob of skin and sharp bone. When her back hit the step out of the bath, Hermione froze, sitting her bottom on the step as the man stooped down and gathered a hand full of water in his right hand, lifting it to his lips to drink. Hermione’s brow knitted as the man repeated this action twice. Could the healing waters be ingested as well?
Slowly Hermione rose from the water as the man lowered himself stiffly into the water, the splash covering the noises Hermione were making as she stepped out of the pool. Tiptoeing over the damp stones to her yukata, Hermione glanced back once just to see the man’s face turned in profile. The face was angular, but the eyes hidden by shaggy bangs. The lips seemed, in the shadows from where Hermione stood, to be curled upward in a sly smile. Hermione shuddered, quickly gathering her things and walking out of the bath, nearly running down the corridor to her room.
The candles relit at her entrance, and Hermione tried to catch her breath...she had never expected to see another person in the onsen, let alone a man. Sliding the door shut, Hermione moved with ease across her room, replacing her bathing supplies and slipping out of her damp yukata. Slipping into a light, green cotton gown, Hermione glanced at the diaries setting on one of the cedar shelves. Grasping her wand and the diary, Hermione shut the wardrobe. She walked without the aid of a cane to the table, now cleared of dinner, and easily sat down. And as she did it suddenly dawned on her that her cane was still resting on the floor by the door. Rubbing her leg through her gown, Hermione smiled as she felt no pain or stiffness...the spring was indeed a healing pool.
But Hermione turned her thoughts to the man she had seen. Hanako had mentioned that their had been other servants, but never mentioned men of strong build and stature. And it occurred to Hermione that the man had seemed young, although crippled. Hermione stored these thoughts for morning when she could ask Hanako without having a ghostly presence in her room before she slept.
Turning to the diary lying on the tabletop, Hermione opened the cover and flipped pages until she came to the first entry she had not read. Her eyes narrowed as she read the next entry, noting the specific date and the manner in which Severus seemed to recount the time between entries.
‘December 1997,
I finally have a moment or two to write more clearly than I have in previous entries. For the time being I am safe and take pleasure in the fact that I have idle time to record my days.
We have arrived in Katmandu, and have been staying at a small inn for the past week. After traveling through parts of Kazakhstan, China, and Tibet, we find ourselves at the foot of the Himalayas. I had traveled Tibet many years ago, and little has changed...a Communist regime still exists and the true Dahlia Lama is still in exile. Luckily for wizards, we need not pay much mind to the Muggle government systems...
The travel across steppe, desert, plain and mountain pass has been difficult. The weather has made travel slow and boorish, there were many times I nearly wished I had turned myself in...
But the worst of it all, I am sane while my ward totters on the razor thin edge of madness. While in Kazakhstan he escaped me for three days...hiding in a mountain hollow, dying from blood loss. The fool cut his arm to stop the burning. Granted my mark had been cold since Budapest, but I could tell, from several weeks before, my ward’s mark seemed to burn perpetually. I did what I could for the boy with what little supplies I had left in my bag. But I had to finally take the boy to a village with a doctor... I do not want to think of that day any longer...
After he recovered, my ward never left my side, unburdened by the curse mark. He has not spoken since and when we crossed into China I cast a glamour upon his face and hair. The boy is striking even though he is maimed, nearly starved and mad. I cannot leave his sight for he will whimper like a dog and grasp my wrist like a vice. It pains me to see him so dependant upon my vile self.
But I should be relieved we have not been followed and have avoided anything magical... My plan is travel through Korea and from there do a bit of difficult maneuvering to get us to Yezo. We will leave Nepal soon, for as much as I love the mountains, the city is utterly revolting and filthy.
SS.’
Hermione stopped, her eyes becoming heavy with sleep. But in her mind several things seemed to be made clear. Like a zombie, Hermione placed the diary back in the wardrobe and moved into the bedroom, happy to see that her futon was laid out and ready for her. Slipping under the soft comforter, Hermione uttered a Nox and all soon went dark. Sleep stole Hermione’s mind despite the many puzzles swirling in the ether of her thoughts. Conclusions would have to wait until morning.
---------------
Some more answers next chapter! You guys rock! Keep the reviews coming!
Author:
Rating: MA/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Porn WITH a plot, Darkfic, Romance, Drama, Angst
Warnings: M/F, Bondage, slight non-con, Dark!Draco, and HBP spoilers
Summary: Post-Hogwarts - Hermione Granger fulfills Severus Snape's final wish, to journey to Japan to ‘retrieve' something of importance. Set eleven years after HBP.
Author's Notes: This is my first DM/HG ficlet, so please be kind to the newbie! The title of this fic is taken from C.S. Lewis' book, first in the Perelandra Chronicles. SeductionsClaim and
Out of the Silent Planet
Chapter Four – Of diaries, codes and apparitions.
While Hermione soaked in the mineral rich waters of the onsen, she talked with Hanako who seemed to sit floating just above the ledge to the spring, her back to the washing area. Steam rose thickly into the winter air, and at times Hermione had difficulty seeing the ghost as warm sunshine made the steam more opaque. Hermione moved through the water, not quite treading or swimming, from one end of the large pool to the other. The pool was fashioned with a rock bottom and a shelf along the edges for bathers to sit upon. A pipe of hot water gushed into the pool at the far end, but a small pipe of cooler water poured down a manmade waterfall closer to the bathing area. Hanako informed Hermione that the waterfall was to sit under, as to massage a bather’s shoulders and neck. As Hanako explained the history of the ryokan, when it was built, how it utilized the local springs and how innovative it was at the time of its founding, Hermione began to feel quite drowsy.
“Mistress, perhaps you should finish, your face is a bit flushed. People have been known to faint from the heat, and since this is your first time your baths should be short, until you are acquainted with bathing,” Hanako suggested, her shimmering form floating over the water close to where Hermione sat.
Hermione nodded and made her way out of the spring. She was clean, having washed earlier. Finding that the soap was quite gentle and invigorating to the skin, she vowed to ask Hanako about the ingredients later. Hermione walked over to her towel, finding that the stiffness in her leg was almost gone. Indeed the spring had healing properties, for Hermione moved with much more ease than she had in a long time. Dabbing at her pink skin, Hermione reached for her yukata and cinched the sash about her slender waist.
Hanako escorted Hermione back to her room, where Hermione found a tray of tea and rice crackers sitting on the table in the sitting room. Helping herself, Hermione continued to talk with Hanako, asking about what the peak season was like at the ryokan, how many guests were lodged on average, and other miscellaneous details. Hanako answered cheerfully and Hermione felt very much at ease around the spirit. When Hermione had her fill of crackers and tea she sat quietly, gazing out through the bedroom window to the mountains beyond. She did not feel cold any longer, just comfortable and contented.
“Perhaps tonight after dinner, you would like to use the other hot spring. The one you have just bathed in is wonderful for relaxation and invigoration, but the other spring is better for healing of aches and pains. I would not like to pry about your leg, Mistress, but I had noticed that it seemed to pain you earlier,” Hanako spoke meekly, watching Hermione through her silvery eyelashes.
“My leg feels ten times better than it did before, but if the other bath is better, I will definitely follow your advice. And no, you have told me much about yourself, it is only fair that I explain myself in turn,” Hermione answered, placing her empty tea cup back on the tray and turning to her companion.
“Forgive my curiosity, Mistress,” Hanako began, bowing as she had before in apology.
“Not at all... Have you heard of the war in Britain eleven years ago?”
The ghost nodded, “Only that there was a war, news comes by way of traveler to this inn, I’m afraid, so I only happened to learn that there was a great upheaval, but nothing since.”
Hermione nodded, “It was called the Two Years’ War, mainly because that was the height of the War. This War had been brewing for decades and during its height I was part of a faction that fought against an enemy of dark wizards. At the decisive last battle, called the Battle of Little Hangleton, I was severely injured when I was hit with a rather nasty hex. A Bone-Splintering hex struck my left leg and I fell in battle. For many weeks after the victory for my allies and myself, I was in the hospital. There was little the healers could do for me but to mend my bones; the nature of the hex was so dark and so wrought by evil that I could not have my bones re-grown. I received the best care there was to be had at the time, but I was not to walk like a normal person again. My leg is prone to ache at times especially where the healers literally had to bolt the bones back together. Fortunately I have not developed gout or severe arthritis yet, but I know as I grow older the pain will only increase. My leg is slightly deformed, and I must walk with a cane. But compared to many of my friends I came out well enough after the War. I lost many people close to me not only to death, but to their own guilt and despair as a result of the War...”
Hermione fell silent, her thoughts racing back through time to the day she knew that her friendship with Ron and Harry was over...they could never be the children they once were, and the kinship they held was stifled by what was happening in the wizarding world. Harry and Ginny had fled so that they could try and find a sense of normalcy. Ron had grown distant, no longer having a best mate to confide in, and finding Hermione’s company too much to bare...it reminded him of things Ron much wanted to put behind him. Hermione felt similarly about her two best friends, so much had changed and no matter how wonderful the memories were or how bittersweet, they had grown into different people.
“There was so much tragedy around us...” Hermione mumbled absently.
Hermione sighed and tried to smile, turning her amber eyes to Hanako. The ghost seemed quite downtrodden, her head bowed and her lip trembling.
“But time has passed, I have my life, my health, and my mind. I busy myself with trying to make my country and perhaps the world a better place, and I have good friend on whom I can rely upon,” Hermione said cheerfully.
Hanako glanced at Hermione and tried to smile, but the ghost seemed quite affected by what little Hermione had said. Hermione blinked in puzzlement and tried to smile wider.
“And I have come here, not aggrieved by my task, but glad to come at my friend’s request and in honor of his memory.”
At this Hanako did smile and raised her head.
“Master Severus would be thankful, Mistress, for such a good friend.”
Hermione sighed, her smile still upon her lips. “I hope so. Severus was a great friend, and he is well deserving of this simple visit. He had so little honor and respect in his life, and he deserved so much...”
At this Hanako sniffled and Hermione felt her eyes well up with tears. Hermione missed Severus more than she could possibly explain. Granted Hermione was a very logical thinker, but it had come down to Severus’ opinion or his anecdotal speeches for Hermione to feel confident with many things. Oh, if only Severus had been more specific about what she should do at this distant and unfamiliar place... Hermione felt a chuckle pass her lips, wondering how Severus would have reacted if Hermione had pressed him for information on his deathbed... Hermione imagined that Severus would have been very put out with her.
* * *
Hermione had decided to rest a bit before dinner, so Hanako left her room, promising to alert her before dinner was to be brought to her. Hermione sat by the window, a soft throw blanket over her lap, covering her leg, which was beginning to ache again. The short reprieve from the pain had been welcomed, but Hermione was feeling poorly overall. She wondered if she had spent too long in the bath and let the heat addle her, or if all her traveling was beginning to catch up with her now that she was finally at rest.
The sun began to set, and Hermione figured that it was nearly six o’clock. Gazing back through the room, the orange cast of sunset bathing everything in warm light, Hermione waited only a short moment before Hanako stuck her shimmering head through the door, peeking inside.
“Come in, Hanako,” Hermione called softly, moving to rise to her feet, pulling cane up in her hand and using it to shift her slight weight as she stood on her bare feet.
Hanako floated into the room and near to Hermione. “Lady Kaori is coming with your dinner, Mistress, and something else to give you...” Hanako whispered, furtive glancing back toward the door.
Hermione began to thank Hanako, but she heard footsteps close to the door.
“I’ll come back later, Mistress, excuse me...” Hanako hastily whispered, suddenly dematerializing before Hermione’s eyes as the door slid open. Hermione had little time to ponder the ghost’s odd behavior for Lady Kaori knelt by the door, excusing herself, setting a tray inside the door. Hermione did not move, noticing that several floating candles followed Lady Kaori as she moved into the room.
“Good evening, Mistress, please come and eat,” Lady Kaori said pleasantly, setting a large tray upon the table in the sitting room. Hermione did not hesitate for she could feel her stomach gnawing upon itself, and the wonderful aroma of the steaming food on the tray only made her hunger pains worse. Hermione slowly limped over to the table where Lady Kaori knelt, placing small dishes on the table. As she slowly forced her leg to comply with her intended movements, Hermione began to notice that the meal was light. There was rice in a small steamer, plum pickles, sashimi, raw vegetables, cold buckwheat noodles, and tempura shrimp, all of which looked as good as it smelled. Hermione waited for Lady Kaori to place chopsticks on the table and move away before the British woman began to eat.
Hermione kept glancing at Lady Kaori, whose face was passive. Just to the landlady’s left lay a silk wrapped bundle on the matted floor. Finally when Lady Kaori moved away from the tableside, Hermione slowly took up her chopsticks in her hand and thanked Lady Kaori for the food. It was customary to say the phrase: ‘Itadakimasu,’ and Hermione noted the landlady’s small smile as Hermione said the word quietly before beginning to eat.
It was an uncomfortable feeling for Hermione to have the landlady watch her eat, and Hermione began to wonder if Lady Kaori was going to stay during the entire meal. After finishing over half of her meal, Hermione paused. Perhaps she was doing something incorrectly and Hermione waited for Lady Kaori to mention it. Setting down her chopsticks, Hermione turned to Lady Kaori, noticing that the woman’s eyes were fixed on the silver head of Hermione’s cane laying just at Hermione’s side.
“Is something the matter, Lady?” Hermione ventured softly.
At Hermione’s soft-spoken words, Lady Kaori suddenly met Hermione’s eyes.
“Not at all, I was going to mention that I had found something that might be of interest to you,” the lady said softly, moving her delicate hands to the silk wrapped bundle at her knees. Sliding the silk across the bamboo matting, Lady Kaori placed the bundle beside Hermione’s cane. “These are several diaries Master Severus left here. The family has kept them at his request. We never could have imagined that his request would perhaps entail handing them over to a benefactor. Unfortunately we cannot decipher the contents of the diaries, and we only know that they are diaries at Master Severus’ word. I hand them over to you, Mistress, I am sure they are of importance.”
Hermione blinked; so that was what Hanako meant...but something was strange. Hermione was beginning to feel that something was being kept from her that was of importance. Granted, Hermione did not want to pry into affairs that were not only foreign to her, but of none of her concern, but still she felt a strange niggling in the back of her head which made her think that there was something quite amiss... Almost as if...but Hermione could only grasp at air, thinking of something that was as elusive as a secret.
“Thank you, Lady. I will look over them after my dinner. And if there is something written that should be useful to you and your household, I will kindly pass it along,” Hermione said as graciously as she could, bowing in respect. As she raised her upper body, she smiled. Hermione felt somewhat self-satisfied-if she projected the fact that Hermione herself had nothing to hide, perhaps it would make it easier to obtain more information, whatever it may be...
“Yes, of course. I will leave you for tonight. Do not worry about the dishes, they will be cared for. And if you would like to take a bath before you retire, please summon Hanako to escort you lest you lose your way in the dark or should need assistance. Enjoy your meal, Mistress and I shall bid you a good night,” Lady Kaori said quickly and informatively.
Hermione bowed again to her hostess and resumed her meal, watching Lady Kaori bow low in Hermione’s periphery. And soon Hermione was alone again. Taking only a few more bites of her scrumptious dinner, Hermione could wait no longer... Crawling slightly, she moved her body to sit cross legged before the bundle and with anxious hands she pushed open the knotted silk to find three books, the first leather bound and heavy the rest simply bound in brown paper waiting for her perusal. It seemed that the later books were of Japanese fashion for the pages were made of rice paper and strange to Hermione’s touch as she touched the edges of the books. She was used to stiff parchment and the supple rice paper reminded Hermione of her place in the foreign inn.
The candles that had followed Lady Kaori into the room floated about the edges of the chamber, now seemingly brighter since the sun had set. Hermione took the top most book into her hands and flipped the cover open.
Eyes scanning the first page, Hermione felt a sob catch in her chest as she ran her fingers over the scrawled words that proclaimed the book property of Severus Snape. The words were untidier than Hermione remembered, and she wondered perhaps if the errant blots of ink were caused by some stress at the time Severus had written it. Turning to the next page, Hermione was taken aback. Lady Kaori had mentioned not being able to ‘decipher’ the diaries and Hermione felt a satisfied smirk as she let her eyes scan over the page.
The diary was written in code, and Hermione grinned widely. It had taken much time and practice, being an apprentice to Severus Snape, to be able to understand his shorthand of alchemical symbols, Greek letters, Phoenician letters, and snippets of an alphabet all of Severus’ own creation. The combination of such characters were enigmatic and purposely combined to keep his notes secreted, but being his apprentice, Hermione was privy to Severus’ work and had adopted his style of shorthand for herself while she worked in the laboratories at Longbottom Apothecaries Ltd. A vow of secrecy was almost a requirement to become a master of potions, so many instances of formulas and theories being stolen had been recorded in the magical histories and every master had his or her own system of shorthand. A warm feeling spread through Hermione at the knowledge that she was up for another challenge.
Scanning the first page, Hermione bit her lip, her mind dissimilating the figures and characters and interpreting it in her multi-faceted brain, storing the information for later consideration.
‘Date Unknown,
Traveled out of my homeland by Muggle means, glad to have left enough pounds hidden away. My ward is currently unconscious, we are on the run. Had to sedate my ward for he has been in hysterics since leaving H--. Must contact Snr. Fabriccio, Trento, when I arrive. Must find unmonitored way out of Europe. SS.’
Hermione frowned and turned to the next page, which was written, in a much shakier hand than the short and cryptic entry before it.
‘Will not trouble with date...currently in Trento, Northern Italy. My ward has finally regained some composure, but we are both pained. Signore Fabriccio has kind enough to put us up for a few days until we can take a train north to Munich. It is good to have clean clothes again, and a bed to sleep in. Trento is as beautiful as I remembered it, and the weather has been perfect. I am still not used to the cuckoo singing just outside the attic window and it seems to frighten my ward, he is quite unnerved, but will eat and take care of his body well enough. I have taken his wand and destroyed it, I doubt he has realized it yet. He clutches his arm fiercely, but I have not felt the infernal mark burn for several days now... I worry for his mental health, but the weather here seems to have put some color back in his face. Signore Fabriccio brought ‘peasante minestrone’ for my ward to eat, the meddling old man is concerned for my ward as well, he is awfully thin and haggard from insomnia. We share the same condition...I do not want to sleep lest I dream...’
Hermione sighed as the inkblots seem to glare at her from the parchment. She went to the next entry, which were only a few sentences.
‘In Budapest...we have been followed. Afraid to draw my wand, might draw attention to myself and my ward. The boy is growing wild and unpredictable, he refuses to speak, but I can tell that he is frightened. Heading into the Orient tomorrow...’
Hermione started to turn to the next page when she felt eyes watching her, ethereal eyes...
“Excuse me, Mistress, but should you like to bathe...”
Hermione had not the heart to reprimand the kind ghost for interrupting, but sighed heavily and shut the book with a thud of the cover against the parchment. The promises of a good soak to ease the ache that had turned into sharp pain in her leg held much more interest at the moment. She could ponder what she had read in the hot spring water.
“Let me retrieve my things, Hanako and I will be ready for a nice long soak before bed,” Hermione grunted rising to her feet with a bit of difficulty. Hermione knew how ridiculous she might look, not even thirty and moving like a woman of ninety. Stooping down to gather up the diaries into the silk bundle once more, Hermione tucked them under her arm and moved to the wardrobe, opening the doors with several fingers while still gripping her cane. Placing the diaries on a cedar shelf Hermione gathered her bathing supplies and was soon following Hanako down a dim corridor lit only by the ghost’s unnatural glow.
Hanako chatted quietly with Hermione, asking if Hermione was pleased with her accommodations and if the meal had been suitable, to which Hermione responded favorably. Finally Hanako showed Hermione the door to the onsen, which had another name on a board over the doorpost. Hermione could only read one word, again her translator failing with certain names. But the sign read very plainly: bodily healing.
Pushing open the door and stepping through, Hermione could see that this spring was perhaps twice as large as the one she had bathed in earlier. The water was murky and mineral rich, and had a rich, earthy pleasant odor. Hanako floated outside to the spring and looked about, as if checking to see if anyone else was in the spring. Hermione slid the door shut, feeling the heat from the spring upon her knees, but the cold winter air on her face. Moving about the many spigots and wash stools, Hermione set out her soap and shampoo from her basin before she disrobed, hanging the dark green yukata on a peg above her spigot. Ambling about, Hermione finally began washing, scrubbing her skin with the washcloth in her basin and working the lavender scented shampoo through her hair. Hanako seemed to float about aimlessly, and Hermione began chatting again with the ghost. Placing her wand out of the reach of the spigot water, Hermione poured a basin full of warm water over herself several times.
“You have such nice skin, Mistress, if you will permit me to say,” Hanako said timidly, holding the sleeve of her kimono over her smiling mouth.
“Thank you, Hanako. It was always my hair that I worried about growing up,” Hermione said absently, pouring a third basin over her head.
“Really? It seems to fine and straight, has your hair always been so dark?”
At this Hermione chuckled. If only Hanako knew what some the of the students at Hogwarts called her so many years ago...
“It used to be curly, a mess really. But yes it has always been somewhat dark. In the sunlight you can see a bit of auburn, but I am more concerned about it staying straight and manageable... It used to be a bird’s nest, wild and unruly. I guess it changed as I grew up... I can still curl it if I want, but I rather like having straight hair.”
Hanako agreed that she could not imagine how difficult it must have been to keep curly and unruly hair clean or pretty, but Hanako joked that she had not had to worry about fixing her hair for centuries.
The conversation seemed to dry up after their collective laughter, and Hermione noticed again that Hanako seemed to be looking about as if sensing something Hermione could not. And as Hermione entered the bath, her hair up in a towel, Hanako excused herself, claiming to be needed in another part of the inn. Hermione shrugged as she slipped into the near scalding water, letting it rise up past her hips. The water, in Hermione’s mind, was definitely plentiful with minerals, for Hermione felt as if she could nearly float as she stood on the flat rock bottom of the spring.
The steam seemed to lay low over the pool and rise in tendrils to a moonlit sky. Besides the small candles above the spigots, moonlight was the only thing lighting the bath. Hermione was enchanted by the way the steam rose to the starry sky and sighed contentedly as she set back on the rock shelf, the water rising up to her shoulders. The spring was larger than the perfects bath at Hogwarts, which was the size of a moderate size swimming pool. This spring was many times larger and Hermione could not see to the far end for the steam and the reflection of the moonlight.
Closing her eyes, Hermione laid back slightly, enjoying the warmth of the water and the slight tingling of the minerals against her skin. It had been a puzzling day overall, and as she began thinking of the events, Hermione felt a sudden resolution that many of her answers would come from Severus’ diaries and perhaps from the ghostly companion assigned to her. It was also the content of the first diary that had Hermione wondering. The entries had not been dated, but it seemed by the haste and the mention of a ward that it was written after the death of Albus Dumbledore. If that were so, the ward must be Draco Malfoy...
Hermione frowned. Severus never provided the Ministry any information about the whereabouts of the Malfoy heir. It was a fact that Harry and Hagrid had seen Severus and Malfoy disapparate beyond the protective wards of Hogwarts...together. But the whereabouts of either wizard after that night were sketchy. Severus had never said where he had been, and that had cost him much. Draco Malfoy was rarely mentioned after that night or even after the War. It was known of the task given to the Malfoy heir by Tom Riddle, but Malfoy had failed. But it was unknown whether Malfoy had taken the Dark Mark...there were so many questions that even eleven years later remained unanswered.
If Severus had smuggled Draco Malfoy out of Europe, could it be possible that Malfoy was or had been ensconced in Japan? Hermione smirked, it would be hard to hide a Malfoy...especially Draco. Hermione had never really liked the boy, and perhaps hated him at one point. But in the end, after much soul searching, Hermione realized that Draco Malfoy was a victim, just like Harry, just like Hermione Granger... Draco Malfoy was the unfortunate victim of circumstance and misguided ambitions. At seventeen, Draco had the makings of being a powerful wizard, and perhaps had he consciously chosen a different path Hermione would have grown to like Draco very much. But eleven years had passed and it was questionable whether Draco was even alive. He was the last of the Malfoys and one of the last of the ‘Noble House of Black,’ Tonks being the only living heir of that line.
But it was troubling, and Hermione was eager to go back to her room to read more...if Draco had been the boy Severus had written about, and after thinking on the matter, Hermione was sure Severus was writing about Draco, then perhaps Severus had meant for Hermione to retrieve a certain blond haired wizard...
Hermione opened her eyes to see that the moon had risen overhead, not quite full, but large in the clear sky. She sighed as she moved from her spot on the rock shelf, but faltered as her eyes fell upon the wash area. The candles had been snuffed out and only the dark shadow under the moonlight greeted her. She had not noticed a breeze and doubted that even a breeze could blow the candles out when they had been so protected from any wind. Suddenly Hermione wished she had not left her wand in the pocket of her robe...but a simple Accio would summon it...
A sudden splash of water and Hermione gasped, letting her body curl up and sink her to her upper lip into the water. Eyes glancing widely about, Hermione tried to identify the source of the splash and the sudden feeling that someone else was in the spring... Slowly she rose from the water just so her naked body was obscured. Narrowing her eyes, Hermione tried her best to see through the steam that was beginning to rise thicker than it had earlier.
And then she saw it...or who it had been who had made the splash. On the far end of the spring near a grouping of rocks was a figure standing in a shallower part of the bath. Even though the moonlight was bright, Hermione could not see this person clearly, but she could discern that the figure was male.
Fighting a blush, Hermione studied the figure while silently slipping through the water toward the washing area. The man was nude and his back was slightly turned toward her vantage point. Hermione could see that the man was very pale, his skin glowing in the moonlight and that long dark hair fell down his wide shoulders in shaggy strands. Hermione stifled another gasp as the man turned, revealing that his left arm had been amputated at the elbow and terminated at a knob of skin and sharp bone. When her back hit the step out of the bath, Hermione froze, sitting her bottom on the step as the man stooped down and gathered a hand full of water in his right hand, lifting it to his lips to drink. Hermione’s brow knitted as the man repeated this action twice. Could the healing waters be ingested as well?
Slowly Hermione rose from the water as the man lowered himself stiffly into the water, the splash covering the noises Hermione were making as she stepped out of the pool. Tiptoeing over the damp stones to her yukata, Hermione glanced back once just to see the man’s face turned in profile. The face was angular, but the eyes hidden by shaggy bangs. The lips seemed, in the shadows from where Hermione stood, to be curled upward in a sly smile. Hermione shuddered, quickly gathering her things and walking out of the bath, nearly running down the corridor to her room.
The candles relit at her entrance, and Hermione tried to catch her breath...she had never expected to see another person in the onsen, let alone a man. Sliding the door shut, Hermione moved with ease across her room, replacing her bathing supplies and slipping out of her damp yukata. Slipping into a light, green cotton gown, Hermione glanced at the diaries setting on one of the cedar shelves. Grasping her wand and the diary, Hermione shut the wardrobe. She walked without the aid of a cane to the table, now cleared of dinner, and easily sat down. And as she did it suddenly dawned on her that her cane was still resting on the floor by the door. Rubbing her leg through her gown, Hermione smiled as she felt no pain or stiffness...the spring was indeed a healing pool.
But Hermione turned her thoughts to the man she had seen. Hanako had mentioned that their had been other servants, but never mentioned men of strong build and stature. And it occurred to Hermione that the man had seemed young, although crippled. Hermione stored these thoughts for morning when she could ask Hanako without having a ghostly presence in her room before she slept.
Turning to the diary lying on the tabletop, Hermione opened the cover and flipped pages until she came to the first entry she had not read. Her eyes narrowed as she read the next entry, noting the specific date and the manner in which Severus seemed to recount the time between entries.
‘December 1997,
I finally have a moment or two to write more clearly than I have in previous entries. For the time being I am safe and take pleasure in the fact that I have idle time to record my days.
We have arrived in Katmandu, and have been staying at a small inn for the past week. After traveling through parts of Kazakhstan, China, and Tibet, we find ourselves at the foot of the Himalayas. I had traveled Tibet many years ago, and little has changed...a Communist regime still exists and the true Dahlia Lama is still in exile. Luckily for wizards, we need not pay much mind to the Muggle government systems...
The travel across steppe, desert, plain and mountain pass has been difficult. The weather has made travel slow and boorish, there were many times I nearly wished I had turned myself in...
But the worst of it all, I am sane while my ward totters on the razor thin edge of madness. While in Kazakhstan he escaped me for three days...hiding in a mountain hollow, dying from blood loss. The fool cut his arm to stop the burning. Granted my mark had been cold since Budapest, but I could tell, from several weeks before, my ward’s mark seemed to burn perpetually. I did what I could for the boy with what little supplies I had left in my bag. But I had to finally take the boy to a village with a doctor... I do not want to think of that day any longer...
After he recovered, my ward never left my side, unburdened by the curse mark. He has not spoken since and when we crossed into China I cast a glamour upon his face and hair. The boy is striking even though he is maimed, nearly starved and mad. I cannot leave his sight for he will whimper like a dog and grasp my wrist like a vice. It pains me to see him so dependant upon my vile self.
But I should be relieved we have not been followed and have avoided anything magical... My plan is travel through Korea and from there do a bit of difficult maneuvering to get us to Yezo. We will leave Nepal soon, for as much as I love the mountains, the city is utterly revolting and filthy.
SS.’
Hermione stopped, her eyes becoming heavy with sleep. But in her mind several things seemed to be made clear. Like a zombie, Hermione placed the diary back in the wardrobe and moved into the bedroom, happy to see that her futon was laid out and ready for her. Slipping under the soft comforter, Hermione uttered a Nox and all soon went dark. Sleep stole Hermione’s mind despite the many puzzles swirling in the ether of her thoughts. Conclusions would have to wait until morning.
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Some more answers next chapter! You guys rock! Keep the reviews coming!