Harry Potter 1. Arrival at the Port

**To Skies No Eyes Have Seen**

Chapter 1 – Arrival at the Port

It was rare to find Hermione Granger out and about without a book at hand, but it was even more rare to find her on her way to the market, a good half hour's walk from home. It was usually her mother who would go shop and gossip with the other women, but for some odd reason her mother did not feel like going today.

Somehow, her mother had convinced her – no, it was more that she _cajoled_ her – into running errands. Of course, Hermione would have done it if her mother had only _asked_ instead of going the roundabout way, but that was beside the point. Her mother wanted her out of the house, and Hermione was not convinced that it was so that she could "have some bit of fresh air," as her mother put it.

It being a sunny day, Hermione had wanted to bring one of her books with her so that she could sit somewhere on the grassy plain and enjoy the sunshine, but her mother would not have it. Instead, she shoved a basket, a list, and a pouch full of coins onto the curly-haired girl and shooed her away.

So Hermione decided to take her time. She didn't disagree that she needed the air, and she also felt that it was good to take in the scenery once in a while. Good weather was somewhat of a rarity in these parts and even in this season. They would usually have rain and a few storms, so it was a blessing to have even one spot of sunlight.

With the basket in hand and the list and pouch of coins in her pocket, she walked along the dirt road that led straight to the marketplace. The wind blew her brown curls lightly, and the sunlight was warm on her skin. Her brown eyes scanned the scenery before her: grassy fields on her right and the cliffs on the left. She could hear the pounding of the ocean waves from below and enjoyed the sound. It was very calming, and the smell of the ocean was rejuvenating.

Hermione spotted something in the corner of her eye and turned to look at it. At the same time, the wind picked up, blowing her curly brown hair into her face. When she parted her hair and held it to the side, she squinted at the object floating over the water.

It was almost hard to see, but Hermione could tell from the way it flew and the general shape that it was a small airship. From the looks of it, it was quite old. The balloon was different in color in some places, which probably meant that it had taken damage and was patched up with different kinds of material. There was a long dark gondola underneath it and many propellers all around. Hermione tried to make out the logo on the balloon, but it had so many repairs that the logo was covered by the patches. Then the airship flew behind the cliffs, disappearing from her view.

She wondered what such a thing was doing out over the water by itself. Small airships tended to band together and were usually used to dispatch people from a bigger airship. From where Hermione was, there weren't any big ones in sight. In addition, the only ones that were supposed to be active were the ones used by the government. It didn't seem like that lone ship was one of them. Government airships wouldn't have such a poorly patched up balloon.

The only probable reason Hermione could think of was that it was a pirate airship, but she refused to acknowledge that. Pirates weren't known to gather around here, and they certainly had no reason to. The winds were particularly strong, and the weather was known to be quite hazardous, turning ugly in the blink of an eye.

It had been ten years since the Great War. The memories were still fresh in people's minds. It all began with a disagreement with a neighboring country over resources and land. Soon it spiraled out of control, and before they knew it, a war had broken out. After several long years of fighting, Hermione's country had won. However, there was extensive damage on the opposing side, and most areas were deemed uninhabitable. With damaged homes and nothing to go back to, many of the soldiers had gone into hiding in her country. Most of them, however, banded together and became pirates, scrounging around for whatever they could find.

An ominous-looking black cloud in the distance snapped Hermione out of her thoughts. She realized she'd better finish her errands before the weather became worse. With one last glance at the ocean, Hermione turned to continue her trek to the marketplace. She shook her head, getting rid of all thoughts and possibilities of the airship being a pirate one. It just wasn't possible. However, _if_ she happened to be wrong and the airship was a pirate ship, she hoped that they wouldn't make an appearance in town.

Hermione had just arrived at the marketplace when the sky was beginning to grey. Some of the travelling shops were also beginning to pack up and close for the day.. She saw some new faces here and there, and she could tell that they were concerned about the bad weather. The others that were more accustomed to this place's weather remained open. Some of them greeted Hermione while others beckoned her to their booth. She waved at them in greeting but walked further into the marketplace.

She took out the paper from her pocket and scanned down the list as she walked. There was a particular booth where she knew she could buy most of the items for cheap, and she also knew the shopkeeper. He was a strange fellow of sorts and had an interest in odd and exotic animals, but Hermione knew him to be an honest, good natured man. She had known him ever since she was a little girl.

" 'Ello thur!" she heard a voice call out.

Hermione looked up to see Rubeus Hagrid's huge figure leaning over the counter of his booth to wave at her. She smiled and waved at him until she saw two figures standing near the counter, which made her stop in her tracks. Her eyes widened as she saw two men in grey uniform turn to greet her, one with hair the color of fire and the other with messy raven-colored hair.

"Harry! Ron!" she gasped as she ran to give them both a hug. They laughed as she practically flung herself onto them. How could she not? They were her best friends; they had grown up together. The last time she saw them was a few months ago when they left town to go to their training at a military base located right outside the Capital.

"Blimey, Hermione. No need to get teary eyed. We haven't been gone _that_ long," teased Ron.

She wrinkled her nose at him and playfully punched him on the arm.

"You guys! You could have at least told me that you were coming back to visit!" she said. "Your last letter said that you were still going to be training at the Capital and couldn't come home for at least a few more weeks."

Harry pushed his glasses up. They had slipped down the bridge of his nose when Hermione hugged them. His green eyes sparkled as he laughed. "We also thought that we would still be training at the Capital, but we were suddenly transferred to a nearby base. We're only here to gather up supplies though."

Hermione grew sad. So they were only here on business.

Ron quickly spoke up. "But we're free tonight, right, Harry? We just arrived today, and we're still settling down." He elbowed the bespectacled boy.

"Oh, yeah. That's right," Harry recovered while massaging the spot Ron hit. "We can catch up and all."

"Over supper," Hagrid added. All three of them turned to him, and he winked at Hermione, who giggled in return.

"Yes! Over supper," Ron grinned. "How about it, Hermione?"

She smiled sadly at them. "I would love that, but I actually have to go to work after I buy the groceries." She put her basked down on the counter and handed the list over to Hagrid. He nodded as he scanned through it while turning around to gather the items. When he faced them with the all the items in one arm, he carefully arranged them in her basket.

Ron looked a little disheartened and kicked the dirt in front of him. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"But…we can catch up tomorrow if you guys are free," she suggested meekly.

Ron instantly brightened up, and Harry smiled.

"Yeah, we'll be free then," Ron said.

Hermione smiled brightly at them.

A drop of rain fell onto Harry's glasses, and he took them off to wipe it off. He looked up at the sky and frowned as they all felt the raindrops start to fall.

"You blokes better get going before the weather worsens," Hagrid said as he handed the basket full of items to Hermione. She took it from him and was almost dragged down by the weight of it. It was heavier than usual. When she looked under the blanket and scanned through the items, she saw that Hagrid added a few of his homemade rock cakes. She looked back up at him, and he winked at her.

"Well, it was good to see you guys, but I'd better get this finished quickly so that - "

Before she could say anything more, Ron took the heavy basket from Hermione's arms, lifting it easily. Harry, meanwhile, took the list back from Hagrid and now began to look it over. Hermione began to protest, but Harry held up his hand.

"We haven't seen you in months, so let us take care of this. It'll be faster if all three of us gather supplies so we can get back in one piece," Harry said.

"Yeah. We also brought the automobile with us, so we'll give you a ride home," Ron grinned.

Hermione smiled gratefully at them.

All three of them set out to gather the supplies both for Hermione and for the base. Of course, the boys had to get a lot more than Hermione. It was more than what they could fit in their car, but they told her that they would have it delivered to the base.

As the rain started to pick up, they all clambered into the car after they put some of the items in the back. Hermione had her basket in her lap since the back and the seats next to her were too full. The weight of the basket felt like it was cutting off circulation to her legs, but she didn't say anything to them.

As the car made its way speedily to her house, they started to joke around and reminisce about their childhood, and they laughed so much that they their stomachs started to hurt. They stopped since Ron was driving and their jokes distracted him.

In the corner of her mind, Hermione wondered if her mother had known about the boys' arrival and had planned this. She suspected that the woman would have gotten her information from the other wives of the town. Then again, it was most likely one of her mother's matchmaking plans once again. She had once tried getting Hermione and Harry together, but soon relented once Hermione had conveyed to her that she and Harry were more like siblings than lovers. When the woman had suggested Ron, Hermione flat out refused. Although…thinking back on it, she probably refused a little too strongly, because after that her mother had tried to set them both up.

Hermione shook her head. That woman wouldn't give up until she had grandchildren.

It was not like she didn't like Ron. She found him charming. He was funny, thoughtful, and loyal, and he never hesitated when sticking up for his friends and beliefs. He was also very lazy and sometimes unmotivated, but he tried his best when the time called for it. She wouldn't have minded going out with him, but the thought of…well, _marriage_ with the redhead was…it felt awkward. Hermione felt like their relationship lacked something. It lacked a _spark_. She also yearned for some kind of sign that would tell her that "yes, he's the one."

Then again, that was only her wishful thinking. Those things only happened in her books. It was not like the guy she was hoping for was going to walk in unannounced, and she would know right then and there that he was the one.

It also didn't matter if her mother had planned this or not. Hermione was just glad to see her two best friends again. This day had made her happier than the days when she was alone with only her books and her mother to keep her company.

Their arrival also came as a surprise to Hermione's mother, who welcomed them with open arms and plates of food for the boys. Hermione watched her mother as she scrambled around to hastily clean the house. She genuinely seemed surprised, which meant that she didn't know of the boys' coming. It also meant that she wanted Hermione out of the house for an entirely different reason. When her mother had passed by her, something underneath the sleeves caught her eye. So when her mother disappeared into the kitchen, Hermione followed.

"Hermione! Get the roast out of the fridge, will you? This is a happy day, a happy day indeed. We must celebrate!" her mother said happily as she prepared the kettle and turned the stove on.

"They're not staying for supper, mother," Hermione replied as she leaned against the door with her arms crossed. "They just arrived today, and I'm sure they would like to unpack and settle down. They also have their supplies to deliver back to the base."

Her mother waved it off with a hand. "Nonsense. They can unpack later. Surely, they can have a bite to eat before leaving." The sleeve of her dress was pulled back a bit, and Hermione could now clearly see the discoloration on her wrists.

She crossed the room quickly and gently reached out to grab her mother's arm. Her mother didn't protest and stared at her quietly as Hermione peeled back the sleeves to reveal black and blue bruises which traveled up the woman's arm. Hermione sucked in a breath as her brown eyes travelled to each bruise.

"When did they come?" Hermione asked quietly. Her mother faced away from her. She tried to take back her arm, but Hermione did not let go. "When?" She repeated.

"This afternoon."

Hermione winced. That was when she was out at the marketplace.

"Why didn't you tell me they were coming?"

"I didn't want to worry you…" her mother trailed off. Her eyes started to glass over.

"It worries me even more if they hurt you," Hermione hugged her mother, who started to cry almost immediately.

Things were hard for them. The war was hard on them. Many places had been damaged during the war, Hermione's town included, and the people were still struggling to rebuild and recover. Many had been so desperate that they became pirates, joining the very people they were fighting against. Hermione refused to be reduced to that level, and she tried her best every day to make sure they had enough money.

After Hermione's father died in the war and her mother fell ill, it became increasingly difficult for them to afford things, and they were forced to take out loans. Sometimes, men would come to demand the money, and Hermione was almost always the one to persuade them to give them time. She was already working multiple jobs. On some days, she would teach at a local school, and on some nights like tonight, she would work at a local bar. On weekends, she would do a number of odd jobs, each of them mentally and physically draining. She didn't earn that much, but it was all she could do to keep them from living out on the streets.

"I miss him so much, Hermione," her mother cried. Hermione stroked her hair.

"I know, mother."

There was a creak of the floorboards. Hermione turned her head to see that both her friends stood at the entrance of the kitchen. They looked guilty to have heard their conversation. Hermione mouthed an apology to them, but they smiled reassuringly at her.

Her mother noticed their presence and broke away from her embrace, quickly wiping away her tears. "Goodness, I'm sorry for the show. You boys must be hungry, right?"

Harry shook his head. "That's all right, Mrs. Granger. We'd better get going anyway. Ron would like to go and greet his family first before we head back to the base."

"Yeah. If it's okay with you, we'd also like to drop off Hermione at her work, seeing the rain's going to only get worse and it's not right for her to be walking there in it," Ron piped up. Harry looked pointedly at him as if to say that his suggestion was inappropriate and untimely, but Ron sheepishly smiled at him.

Mrs. Granger sniffed as she looked at her daughter. "That's right. You still have work, dear. Well, it's all right by me. You three had better get going," she shooed them away. Ron and Harry went ahead, but Hermione stayed back.

"Will you be all right?" she asked.

Her mother grinned. "Your mother still has some fight left in her. I'll hold down the fort. You just worry about your work, dear."

Hermione smiled at the gesture and hugged her mother goodbye. "Stay safe," she whispered. Then she let go and followed the boys out, grabbing her shoulder bag on the way out.

"Hermione, we - "

"It's all right," she interrupted. "We're slowly paying everything back, so it should be fine. We haven't had as many come to the house these days. Don't worry about it so much." The looks on their faces told her that they weren't convinced.

"If there's anything we can do to help you and your mum - " Ron began to say.

"Don't," she said sternly. "Listen, guys. It's all right. If I keep working, it'll be all right." She bit her tongue when she almost added the word "eventually."

Although she appreciated their concern and their offerings of help, Hermione knew that she would never ask them for any money. She couldn't. Harry was an orphan, so he didn't have much to begin with. Ron had a big family who needed every bit they could get. She couldn't impose on her friends. It wasn't right.

The ride to the local pub was different than the ride to her house. It was quiet, awkward. Hermione tried to lighten the mood several times, but the conversation would always die. Then they would sit in silence again.

When they arrived at the pub, it was already pouring. Hermione didn't want to let them linger any longer, so she thanked them for the ride and smiled reassuringly. They both agreed to see her the next morning for breakfast before they were called on duty. They tried to offer their help once again, but she dismissed them and told them it was going to be all right like she always said.

After that, Hermione jumped out of the car and ran as fast as she could to the entrance of the pub. The old wooden door creaked on its hinges as Hermione quickly entered and shut it. Almost immediately, the smells of alcohol and various foods welcomed her. She sighed as she put on the best professional smile she could as she made her way over to the counter.

On her way, she was greeted by various men. She recognized some faces, but the others she didn't know. Many of these men catcalled and winked at her. A few were so bold as to reach out and make a grab at her, but Hermione elusively danced out of their grasp. She was used to this sort of thing and had learned how to handle such men.

When she got to the counter, she was greeted by Rosmerta, the owner of the pub. She was a kind lady who looked very young and was very pretty but was actually middle-aged. Still, many of the men who frequented the bar often made passes at her.

Hermione nodded to her. "How are things here?"

Rosmerta smiled. "Oh, same old, same old. Just the same old drunks. Nothing out of the ordinary."

A customer waved at her, and she went to go attend to them. Hermione, meanwhile, grabbed an apron and a handkerchief, which she used to tie back her curly hair. Then she went to go attend to the other customers, taking their orders and putting on her best professional smile. After tolerating all the flirtatious men and their suggestive words, Hermione was finally able to take their orders and escape the customers to hide behind the counter, where she prepared various drinks and food. She may have been used to her work, but she was still very cautious around them.

After a few minutes, Lavender Brown, one of the other waitresses who was known to be quite flirty and clingy, approached the bar. She placed her elbows on the counter and leaned over.

"So I hear that Harry and Ron are back in town, am I right?" she began, cutting to the chase. Her tone suggested that she already knew they were here and didn't need Hermione's confirmation. She had only wanted to start a conversation, which meant that she needed something from Hermione.

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes, they are."

Lavender's eyes wandered around aimlessly. "That's good. They haven't been back in months. Did you see them?"

"I saw them a little while ago, actually," Hermione said as she turned around to reach for one of the clean glasses on the shelf. "They dropped me off before heading back to the base."

"Oh, I wish I could have seen them in their uniform. Men always look good in uniform," Lavender sighed, most likely daydreaming about Ron in his uniform.

Hermione knew that the girl fancied the redhead. It was obvious from before that her eyes would watch his every move and would giggle whenever he'd look her way. It seemed like Ron didn't notice her glances or her flirtatious smirks, and if he had, he probably wasn't interested.

"They looked all right in them, I guess," she shrugged. She didn't really take a good look at them since she was still trying to get over the fact that they were there.

"I thought they would be. But I wish they hadn't used that dreary shade of grey," Lavender made a face. Hermione wanted to say that the color didn't matter and almost commented on the girl's questionable fashion sense, but she held herself back.

All of a sudden, the door burst open to reveal a caped man. Some of the men in the pub stopped what they were doing, but others carried on as if nothing happened. The pub had its share of shady and mysterious guests, so a few cloaked men were no strangers here. The caped man stepped inside. His heavy boots clanked with each step as he headed for the open table, which happened to be in the middle of the room. Not once did he take off his hood.

As Hermione continued to prepare the orders, she glanced around the room. The other waitresses were busy attending to other customers or were…entertaining them. Rosmerta looked over in her direction and gestured to the caped man, silently telling her to take his order. Hermione was still busy preparing her customers' order, so she glanced down at the only other waitress available only to see that she was staring pleadingly at her.

Hermione looked pointedly at her.

"Don't make me go over there," Lavender whispered, staring at the man wearily. "Something doesn't feel right about him."

Hermione rolled her eyes and could have snorted. They got suspicious looking men all the time. This one was no different. If anything, he was less shady than the usual people they dealt with. Lavender had even attended to a few suspicious-looking people before. But when Hermione looked down at the food she was preparing and then over to the table she was in charge of, she saw that the men at the table were sending flirtatious looks to Lavender and that she was responding back to them. Then the girl had the audacity to turn back to Hermione and give her a look that said, "Why are you still here? Go attend to your customer."

After seeing how adamant Lavender was, Hermione sighed frustratingly and handed the girl the order to take to the customers. She wiped her hands on her apron and then grabbed a notepad and a pen. She walked around the counter, passing Lavender who shot her a grateful smile.

As she approached his table, she noticed that the man was positioned in a way that no one had a chance to glance underneath his cloak. He sat lazily in his chair with his legs stretched out under the table, but his cloak continued to cover most of his body. He didn't even turn to acknowledge her.

"Welcome," Hermione said, "Would you like anything to drink?"

"The strongest you have," he replied in a low deep voice. A shiver ran down Hermione's spine, but she pushed it away.

She nodded. "And to eat?"

"That's all," he said dismissively.

"I'll be back in a moment then," Hermione said in her most professional voice as she turned to walk back to the counter. She intended to have a word with Lavender and her laziness only to see that the waitress had disappeared from where Hermione last saw her. Looking around, she saw that she was perched on a customer's lap, laughing at some joke he told.

She shook her head as she went to prepare the man's drink and tried to keep her temper down as much as she could. When the drink was ready, she brought it to him, setting it on the table quietly.

"Let me know if there's anything else you would like to order," she said as she turned to leave. Her eyes set on Lavender, intending to give that girl a stern lecture. If she was lucky, she would even get the chance to smack her.

Suddenly, his gloved hand shot out from underneath his cloak and encircled her wrist. His grip was firm enough to keep her from leaving. Hermione turned around slowly to look at him with narrowed eyes.

"Was there something else?" she asked cautiously. His grip loosened enough for her to slip through. She held her wrist to her chest, massaging it. His touch was like fire to her, but he did not once look up at her. Instead, he drew out a crumpled photo and slid it towards her. She took it and held it before her, making sure to keep an eye on the newcomer.

The photo was frayed and discolored in some places, but the picture was still clear. It was an old black and white photo with a crowd of men and women posing formally in front of an airship. The logo on the ship was scratched out as if deliberate. One thing that Hermione had noticed was that the face of each man and women were crossed out with a tiny X. Only one was left untouched.

It was a man that stood in the middle of the crowd, and from the way he was positioned and the way he dressed, Hermione instantly figured out that he was the leader. His long face was serious, and his light colored hair was long. She guessed that it was long enough to reach his back, but she couldn't really tell from the photo. He was dressed warmly with a light colored scarf that was tucked into his jacket. He looked like a pilot.

"I need information on this man," the newcomer asked quietly.

Something in Hermione's head clicked, and she realized that she was most likely speaking to an assassin of some kind. It would explain all the red X's on these peoples' faces. She decided to be truthful to him.

She shook her head. "I have never seen this man. We get a lot of folks here who conceal their identities, like yourself, so it is possible that he might have come here without revealing himself." She handed him back the picture, which he took and stowed it away in his pocket.

She was about to turn around and walk away when he pulled another item from his pocket. This time, it was a piece of paper.

"And this symbol? Have you seen it?"

She took the piece of paper from his hand and stared at it. It was a picture of a black skull with a snake emerging from its mouth and an intricately drawn circle around the whole picture. Hermione sucked in a breath when she realized what the symbol indicated, having seen it in the news and in books. It was the symbol used by the opposing side – the losing side – during the Great War. The Dark Mark.

She let go as if it had burned her. He swiped it from where it landed and stuffed it into his pocket.

"I take it that you have."

She stared at him for a few minutes before gathering her wits. He, on the other hand, went about lazily tracing the rim of the glass.

"Not around here, and not in ten years. But I know that any ship with that symbol is shot down before it reaches this port, and any person with that symbol is turned over to the military. I assure you, sir, that I have not seen anyone or anything that bears that mark," she replied.

He gave a low chuckle, which sent chills down her spine. She crossed her arms protectively and took a tiny step back from the man.

"If you say so, I will take your word for it." With that, he took a big swig of his drink, finishing it off in one setting. He set the glass down and started to stand, but he staggered, the punch of the drink hitting him. Obviously, he was not expecting how strong of a drink it was.

Instinctively, Hermione reached out and grabbed his arm to steady him. In return, his gloved hand grabbed her elbow as he tried to steady himself. He almost crashed into another table and onto another customer, one that was known to be hotheaded and always ready for a fight. It wouldn't do this newcomer any good if he had started a fight with that drunkard.

At the same time that she grabbed his arm, she accidentally pushed up the sleeve of his cotton shirt and saw the edge of a tattoo located in the middle of his arm. Her eyes lingered on it before she nervously brought her eyes to his.

Steel grey eyes stared back at her from underneath the hood, studying her carefully. They narrowed slightly as he pulled down his sleeve to cover the tattoo. He pried his arm from her grasp and withdrew it underneath his cloak. When he pushed his cloak aside, Hermione got a good look at the dagger on his right side and gulped. His right hand lingered on the handle of the weapon as if contemplating on whether or not to unsheathe it. He thought better of it because he reached into his pocket and put his money on the table, keeping his gaze on her. At the same time, Hermione found that she couldn't look away, shocked at what she had just discovered.

No one had noticed this little interaction between them.

She thought he was going to do something as he stepped towards her, and she unconsciously took a step back. Instead, he slowly walked around her and swiftly made his way around the tables and drunkards. He took one last look at her before opening the door and exiting.

Hermione's hands started to shake slightly as she took the money, got out a rag, and cleaned the table, preparing it for the next customer. She tried to remain composed as she took the empty glass and strode over to the bar, her thoughts still on the tattoo.

Rosmerta studied the curly-haired girl as she handed her a glass of water. "Are you all right, dear? You look awfully pale."

Hermione forced a smile to reassure her as she put the money into the cash register. "I'm fine. I've just been feeling a little tired. I think I'm going to take a break in the backroom for a bit." The pub owner nodded, not questioning it.

Hermione untied the apron around her waist and hung it up on the closest hanger. She also grabbed one of her books out of her bag. She knew that she would get no reading done during that time, but she took it instinctively as she made her way to the back of the pub. It took all she could to keep from running. The backroom was a rather small room with a square table and some benches, but it served as a good break room away from all the drunks and the noise. Once she was there, she saw that the room was empty. She plopped down on the bench and propped her elbows on the table, burying her face in her hands. She let out a long breath.

As Hermione sat there with thoughts on what could have been or what should have done, her heart began to race, and her fear started to sink in.

She had seen something she wasn't supposed to see.

She had seen the Dark Mark on that man's arm, and he definitely knew that she saw it.

Out of all people, she had to be the one to serve that man. If she had known what was going to happen, she would have been more persistent on Lavender serving him. Or maybe she would have let the man fall onto the drunkard, causing a fight.

There was no doubt in her mind that he was going to return even if that meant coming back to make sure she kept silent. Permanently. People who bore the Dark Mark were known to be ruthless and violent, especially to their enemies. He was most likely no different. He knew where she worked and would most likely find out where she lived. He could even be waiting outside the pub at this very moment! Hermione shook her head in her hands, not believing what had just happened.

Things got a whole lot worse for her now.

**To Be Continued…**

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><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>

Hello, everyone! Thanks for reading until the end! This is my first time writing a Harry Potter fanfic, and I hope I can finish it to the end. I just want to mention that this story is AU, so there's no magic. I'm curious as to how far I can take this, and I hope you all will enjoy it! Please tell me what you think!

Big thanks to my beta, Divya Omnoms!


	2. Fear Strikes at the Soul

**To Skies No Eyes Have Seen**

Chapter 2 – Fear Strikes at the Soul

Hermione blinked back her sleepiness as soon as she realized that she was nodding off. She rubbed her eyes and yawned before looking out the window in search of her friends. She was waiting at a local restaurant for Harry and Ron, and she hoped that they would arrive soon. The more she waited, the more her paranoia began to sink in.

She had not gotten a good night's sleep. Last night, she practically ran home as soon as her shift ended, glancing behind her every step of the way. Every shadow seemed to look threatening to her, taking the shape of the caped man. She couldn't even fall asleep once she was in the safety of her home. Every creaky floorboard and gust of wind was torturous. Once, she thought that she heard footsteps downstairs and grabbed a weapon before she went to investigate only to find nothing. She somehow managed to fall asleep but only for an hour or two.

She was just as skittish when she left the house and walked along the road towards the restaurant. She tried not to look out of place or overly cautious as she greeted her neighbors and people she passed along the way, but there must have been something off about her expression because they always asked her if everything was all right.

She had enough reason to be nervous and fearful. Even though pirates were notorious for being cruel and deceptive, the former soldiers of the Great War were infamous for being crueler than most. During the war, all the soldiers were branded with the Dark Mark out of pride for their country. But after the war, that mark of pride turned into a mark of shame. Without a country or a home to return to, the soldiers found themselves unable to establish a place for themselves. It was also hard for them to find a job. Those that did were quickly thrown out or ratted out when their employers discovered the mark, regardless of who the person was, and for that reason, most soldiers turned to piracy. The others were captured by the government, put to trial, and eventually put to death. It was also decreed that anyone found with the Mark must be captured at any cost and turned in to the government. There was a hefty sum for anyone who followed that order.

That was why it was well-known throughout the country that the soldiers-turned pirates killed anyone who discovered their tattoo.

Hermione jerked awake when the door opened and the bell rang to announce the entrance of the customers. She shook her head, blinked a few times, and took a sip of her water. Her stomach grumbled, but she ignored it.

"Morning, 'Mione," greeted a voice as the chairs in front of her screeched. She smiled tiredly up at Ron and Harry as they took their seats. Hermione handed them the menus.

Harry stared at her. "You all right? You look really tired."

Ron glanced at her before he opened the menu, his stomach growling as soon as he stared at the pictures.

"Long night at work?" he asked.

Hermione stifled a yawn and then nodded. She drew her shawl around her. She opened her mouth to say something, but Ron spoke before she had the chance.

"Harry and I have been thinking about a lot last night," he began to say. Hermione narrowed her eyes. She had a feeling she knew where this was headed. "And we think you should find a different job than the one at the pub. It's really dangerous for you to be working there with all the drunks and stuff, and frankly it looks like it's going to fall apart," the redhead said.

She waved it away, dismissively. "I've been working there since you boys left for training. I'm already used to all that stuff, Ron, and I can take care of myself. Drunks are nothing compared to all our adventures as kids. Besides, I'm lucky to have found a job at all."

His brow furrowed as he continued to look at the menu, and she knew it wasn't looking at the food that made him react that way.

Harry took that moment to speak up. "It's all right, 'Mione. We know what you're capable of. We're only concerned about the dangerous people you meet. You never know who will walk through that door."

Hermione almost laughed. _I already met a pirate with the Dark Mark_, she thought, _and he's going to kill me_.

Ron put down his menu, grinning about something. "I know, Hermione! How about we ask around and see if there are other places that will hire you? That way, you can quit your job and can make more money! Then you can pay off all those debts and buy all the things you wanted! You were practically the smartest girl in our class. You have to put that brain to good use."

She scoffed at the idea. It wasn't as though Ron had meant any harm by the suggestion. It was just that she felt insulted that he thought that she was incapable of finding a better job with better conditions and better pay. It wasn't as if she didn't try. She tried every place only to be turned down on the grounds that she was a woman. Clearly, those employers underestimated an educated woman.

Harry piped up, covering for Ron's mishap. "Not that you can't find a better job, Hermione. We just thought that you would like some help. You never ask for it and have clearly shown that you're stubborn about it, but we know you're in need of money. In this case, it's better to rely on us, right?"

Hermione opened her mouth to say something and then shut it. She found that she couldn't fight Harry on this one. If it was Ron who said that, she would have shot him down immediately. But this was Harry, and it was his opinion that she held above most people. He was more sensible, and hearing him say that made her really consider the circumstances. She really did need the money, but she never admitted that to anyone, not even her mother. Everything that she was saving ended up going to the debt collectors, and it was only a matter of time when they would come to demand more than what she could earn.

She nodded.

Ron grinned. "Then it's settled. We'll ask around for you and make sure you get a good one. Waitress!" he waved his hand and called the server over, "We're ready to order now!"

Once they ordered, Hermione changed the subject. She wasn't about to go tell them about what happened last night because that would only prove their theory. She also didn't know how to bring it up...

So she asked them about how things were at the base. At this, Harry started laughing, and Ron's ears began to turn red. Apparently, their bunkmates snuck in alcohol to welcome the newcomers, and Ron had a little too much to drink. He ended up stripping to his underwear and singing a ballad at the top of his lungs. Harry and the others tried many things to shush him since it was after hours, but most of them failed. They weren't caught, but Ron ended up spilling some of his most embarrassing secrets, which his bunkmates started to tease him about the morning after.

"I'll never drink again," Ron murmured under his breath as Harry continued to laugh. Hermione chuckled because she knew that he would never keep that promise. She zoned out for a bit after that, nodding at whatever the boys were saying to show them that she was listening.

At that point, the waitress arrived with their orders, gracefully balancing two plates in one hand and one plate in the other. As soon as it was placed in front of him, Ron quickly dug into his pancakes, eggs, and bacon. Harry, on the other hand, thanked the waitress and began to cut his omelet.

Hermione took a small bite of a strawberry and a larger bite of her waffles. Then she realized that she really wasn't that hungry and began to pick at her food. Her stomach was oddly quiet, and Hermione glowered. She wished it would make up its mind.

Harry paused with a piece of his omelet halfway to his mouth. Ron, meanwhile, was busy drowning his pancakes in maple syrup.

"Everything all right, 'Mione?" the bespectacled boy asked.

"I'm okay," Hermione looked up and smiled tiredly at him. Her eyes traveled toward the window as something caught her eye. "I guess I wasn't hungry as I thought I would - "

Her words seemed to die midsentence as she stared past Harry.

Many people passed by, some glancing in and contemplating on whether or not to stop in. This wouldn't have normally bothered Hermione, but there was one particular person that caught her attention.

There was a figure that was walking very slowly past the window, and it was his cloak that made him stand out. It was the same cloaked person from last night. He stopped right in front of the window, and his head was turned towards her. His hood was still drawn, but Hermione could clearly see the warning glare in his silvery grey eyes.

Hermione's breathing increased, and she paled. _Not now_, she thought, _not here_.

Harry stared at her, slightly tilting his head when he noticed her reaction. Her silence had even caught Ron's attention, and he immediately stopped eating. After watching her expression, Harry started to turn around.

"Don't," Hermione quickly said, not breaking eye contact with the cloaked man. He could break the window at any moment and kill them all. "Don't turn around."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "What's gotten into you? You look like you've just seen the Grim Reaper."

Harry looked concerned as he put his fork down. "Hermione, what's going on? Is it one of the debt collectors? Ron and I can handle it for you if it is…" he trailed off, seeing that this was not the case.

Hermione shook her head without taking her eyes off of the man. He seemed as if he was frozen in place, only staring at her. A cold shiver ran down Hermione's spine as she saw him lift his cape for a brief second to show her the same dagger he kept at his side while he rummaged through his pockets. It was not a threat but a warning.

"It's not them," she whispered as if the man could hear her, "It's the man that came into the pub last night."

Both boys immediately understood and exchanged glances. She could see that their eyes flashed dangerously. Both of them quickly stood, their chairs screeching.

And just like that, the cloaked man broke his gaze. He turned his head and pulled his hood down, covering his face and his eyes. He disappeared through the crowd before Harry and Ron turned around. When they looked out the window, they didn't see anyone.

Hermione wished she could have sighed in relief, but she couldn't. Instead, she buried her face in her shaking hands. She tried her best to calm herself down, but her heart still beat wildly against her chest.

She jumped when she felt both the boys' hands on her shoulders. She looked up to see the concern on their faces.

"Tell us what happened, Hermione," Harry said.

She looked away and shook her head vigorously. If they knew…if _he_ knew that she told them, it will be worse. He might go after them next. She couldn't do that to them. She couldn't bring her friends into this. She didn't even tell her mother anything even though she suspected something.

She felt their grip tighten and hesitantly looked up again. Their eyes held anger for whoever was the cause of her fright, but they also showed utmost concern for her wellbeing. They asked her to rely on them, to trust them, and even if she was involved in something dangerous, they would want to know and to help. After shouldering many things, many burdens and not complaining about her financial circumstances even once in all of these twelve years, she wanted to at least give herself this, to rely on someone else for a change. Tears started to well up, and she felt like she was almost at the point of a breakdown.

After seeing how shaken she was, the boys grabbed both her arms and lifted her from her seat. They paid the confused waitress the money without waiting for the change and left the restaurant with Hermione in tow and their breakfast unfinished. Afterwards, they headed to a nearby park where other families were having picnics and enjoying the good weather. The boys made Hermione sit down at the closest benches to calm her down. Harry stayed with Hermione while Ron went to go get some vender foods for them to snack on and a cold drink for her even though they just had breakfast.

Hermione sat with her head tilted back against the bench and a hand over her eyes. She managed to control her breathing, and her shaking just stopped a few minutes ago. She clenched and unclenched her fist and found comfort in the action until she felt Harry's hand cover hers to stop it.

"Feel a little better now?" he asked. Hermione merely nodded. She still felt uncomfortable being in an exposed place like this. She raised her head and looked around, trying to spot that familiar cloak.

"He can't do anything if there are this many people around," Harry reassured her.

"That's true, I suppose," she replied, staring at nothing in particular.

They sat in silence so that Hermione could calm down a little more since she was still feeling a little skittish. Ron came back a few minutes later, holding up three salted pretzels and a cup of ice cold lemonade. Hermione took the pretzel gratefully and was surprised to find that she wolfed it down. Her stomach was in a weird mood of sorts today.

"So…mind telling us what's going on?" Ron asked. Harry smacked the back of his head and told him to be patient, but Ron shot him a look that said, "Well, you weren't going to ask anytime soon."

Hermione closed her eyes and massaged her temple.

"You know, if that guy keeps following you, we'll beat him up, right?" Ron said. Harry shot him another look, and Ron held his hands before him in defense. The corners of Hermione's lips lifted a little. It was so like Ron to try to ease the tension.

"I'm more worried about what might happen tonight or any of the times where I'll be walking by myself," Hermione said quietly.

"Is he really that dangerous?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. I mean, it's not like he's going to kill you…" Ron trailed off once Harry shot him another warning look, "…is…he…?"

She nodded gravely.

"He's going to kill you?" Harry's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "But why?"

Hermione nervously thumbed the rim of the empty cup that used to hold the lemonade.

"Because…he's a pirate," she said quietly, her eyes darted left and then right as if there was a chance she was overheard. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but both boys clearly heard her.

Once again they exchanged worried looks. Harry took off his glasses and massaged his temples. Ron stood up and walked a few paces from them, his hands on his hips.

"I think you'd better start from the beginning," he said, his expression and tone unreadable. But Hermione could tell that he was trying to contain his anger.

So she told them what she could. She told them everything she noticed, everything that happened. Even about her discovering the Dark Mark on the stranger's arm.

"I don't know his name or what he even looks like besides the color of his eyes," Hermione confessed. "He must have been following me without me noticing, waiting for a chance to kill me. But I don't know what's taking him so long to do it, and what's making him hesitate. There were definitely plenty of chances for him."

"That _is_ strange, even for a pirate. But you know what? It must be because you were around other people, and he couldn't act without drawing attention to himself," Ron commented. Attention was the last thing this pirate needed, especially since this town is very close to a military base.

"But still, that doesn't explain the other times when you're by yourself," Harry added with his hand under his chin. "If he didn't want to be found out, he would have already…" He let the sentence die, not wanting to verbally acknowledge such circumstances.

"Don't worry, Hermione, we'll protect you," Ron spoke up, putting a hand on her shoulder. She smiled uneasily at him. His words offered comfort, but it still did not make her feel better about the overall situation.

"Would it make you feel better if either Ron or I stayed at your house tonight? We could always say that it was a family emergency. Or maybe get one of Ron's brothers to keep an eye on you or escort you to and from work," Harry suggested.

Hermione's first instinct was the refuse this suggestion and say that she's okay, but she knew that if she said that she would be lying. She also wouldn't be able to fool Harry with that. He was always able to see past that. She was also worried about her mother's safety.

"Will you?" she asked quietly.

Harry smiled, "Absolutely."

Ron had also offered to stand guard, but Harry told him that he shouldn't do it, because he was the deepest sleeper out of all three of them. Harry was the better choice because he was a lighter sleeper and had better reflexes. He also pointed out that Ron needed to return to the base to carry out his punishment. Apparently, even though Ron managed to not get caught drinking and getting drunk, he still managed to mess up inspection, which earned him punishment for the afternoon.

Hermione laughed. It was very typical of Ron. Even though he managed to escape from something, he still got in trouble for something else.

Suddenly, nearby sirens caught their attention. They turned their heads and saw the fire brigade in a hurry to wherever the emergency was, and when they looked up, they saw a pillar of smoke rising to the sky. It was a big one, and by the look of it, it seemed the fire was quite big.

Harry and Ron didn't think anything of it and continued to discuss and quarrel over the plan, but Hermione stared at the smoke, wondering what this deep, sickening feeling at the bottom of her stomach was. She wondered if it was the pretzel she ate this morning, but then a thought passed her mind that made her freeze. With widened eyes, she stood up and came to a horrible realization, which made her heart sink to the floor.

The smoke was in the direction of her house.

Horrified and deeply hoping that she was wrong, she swiftly ran in that direction, ignoring the calls of her friends. Her ears were ringing, and her heart was pumping with adrenaline. She couldn't hear anything else but the rapid beating of her heart. Her skirts were beginning to tangle and ensnare her legs, and eventually she was running too fast that they began to hitch. She either didn't care or didn't notice. She couldn't feel anything other than the sense of dread that was welling up inside her.

_Please, please, please, please, please let me be wrong_, she desperately wished.

As she drew closer and closer to the smoke, her hope was gradually drifting away. And when she rounded the last corner, her face became illuminated with red, yellow, and orange. All color drained from her face as her eyes cast upon the sight before her.

Her house was on fire.

Her home was _burning_.

Desperately, she ran towards the crowd that gathered and pushed her way through. She didn't care who she elbowed or who was in her way. Her eyes were focused on the crumbling building and felt despair for her home and the things that it carried. Items that her father had passed onto her. All of her fond memories of the house.

There was also a possibility that her mother was still inside.

Once she broke free of the crowd, she stumbled but quickly recovered. She ran towards her house.

"Mom!" she screamed, tears freely flowing down her cheeks.

"Hermione!" she heard Ron and Harry shout behind her as they arrived at the scene.

She didn't hear them. She was more concerned about her mother and the thought that she could be in there, burning to death. She almost reached the house when someone grabbed her around the waist. She tried to fight the figure off, but he held a tight grip around her waist. With some difficulty, he dragged her away from the house. She clawed at his hands and screamed at him to let her go. Then she threw out her hand, reaching towards the house.

"MOM!" she screamed once again in agony.

Each step backwards was heart wrenching for her. She kept her eyes on the fire, forever burning the image in her memory. Her vision clouded even more due to her tears, which fell freely to the ground.

The crowd parted, letting them pass. Hermione didn't see the looks of pity on their faces, but many of them were shaking their heads.

All of a sudden, her vision was blocked by another figure who took her into his arms. The figure who pulled her away from the fire still held onto her just in case she made another attempt, but his grip wasn't as tight. She didn't realize she was shaking until a soothing voice tried to calm her down.

"You can't go in there, Hermione. I know it's really bad, but it's really dangerous for you," said a voice. She recognized it as Ron, but she wasn't sure. It could have also been Harry. She gripped his shirt as tears started to flow.

A crashing sound made her want to look back at the burning building, but the figure who blocked her view wouldn't let her. She tugged and pulled on his arm.

"Let me see!" she yelled.

"You can't, Hermione," said Ron.

"Let me see it, Ronald!"

She tugged on his arm once again, and it came loose. She wiped her eyes vigorously to see that the entrance completely collapsed. The base of her house was already charred black and looked like it was about to also give way. If her mother was in there, she wouldn't have any chance of being rescued now.

She was far away from the building, but she could still see the fire.

Ron came into her field of vision, and she looked at him. His expression was somber, and he moved as if to block her vision again.

He began to talk. "I don't think you should be - "

"Don't," she said. And he didn't.

So she watched as the building continued to be engulfed by flames. Her heart felt like it was burning with it. She watched as the fire brigade scrambled around to try to control the fire, but no matter what they did, Hermione knew that the building was unsalvageable. By the time they managed to hose the whole building down and put out the flames, the building was burned down to its core. The only thing that stood was the skeleton.

Her tears stopped flowing once the fire brigade hosed what was once her home. Her two best friends also stood quietly by her side, never leaving.

Hermione did not move one inch and did not take her eyes off of the house for once second. She mourned for her home, but she burned the scene into her retinas to make sure she would never forget this. Her fast and intelligent brain put two and two together. She had a hunch, a _suspicion_ that this was not an accident. It was too big of a fire, and she had smelled a hint of gasoline before she was pulled away.

Anger and a thirst for revenge swelled in the gaping hole of her heart. If someone had deliberately done this, she would make sure that this person suffered ten times the amount that they had incurred.

With the excitement all gone, the crowd of people began to disperse, leaving only the members of the fire brigade, Hermione, Harry, and Ron.

Since the fire was put out, they left after making sure the scene was safe. One of the members approached Hermione and began to speak to her before they realized that she was unresponsive. Then he turned to Ron and asked him if he could speak to him privately. Ron looked hesitant to leave Hermione's side, but then he sighed and left with the brigade member. He came back, sighing.

"Look, I think I'm going to have to call mum about this," Ron said, speaking more to Harry than to Hermione. "I don't think she'll mind the extra company, but it's just best to let her know so she can prepare."

Harry nodded, and then Ron left to go make a call.

As he did that, Hermione watched a pair of fire brigade members as they made a last sweep around the destroyed building. She overheard them saying that the fire was completely put out, and they began packing. For the first time in a few hours, Hermione stepped forward towards the scene.

She was held back by Harry.

"It's a little dangerous right now," he said.

"Let me go," she said quietly as she looked back at him.

He let her go but made a motion that told her that he was going to escort her.

She held up a hand. "I want to do this by myself."

They both stared at each other, sending one another silent messages. After a few minutes, they came to a mutual understanding, and Harry stepped back. He crossed his arms and gave her a silent look that told her that he wasn't going to follow but he wasn't going to take his eyes off of her.

She nodded and walked around the house. Everything was burned, and nothing survived. It was all she expected it to be, but for some reason, this came as a striking blow to her. She supposed that she held onto a small hope that at least one thing would have survived, but there wasn't anything. It was all ash now.

She walked back slowly to Harry, who looked at her apologetically. She kept her eyes to the ground.

Harry swept his eyes over the scene once more, trying to look for Ron, but the redhead wasn't anywhere in sight. He looked back at Hermione and put a hand on her sighed

"Hermione," he began, "We should get going."

He tried to steer her away, but she didn't budge. She didn't turn around to look at him..

"Look," Harry sighedaid, "I don't want to leave you here by yourself."

"It's all right, Harry," Hermione whispered, her voice low. Her voice cracked. "I just want to be here a little longer."

Harry looked really hesitant to leave her, but he eventually gave in.

"All right. Then , but I'll'm going andto go get the automobile. It will probably take half an hour, but Ron should be back soon. Will you be all right here?"

Hermione nodded slowly.

After giving her a hug, Harry left although he was still unsure if he should leave her by herself. Once he was out of sight, Hermione turned back around to stare at the house one last time, making sure she remembered everything about it. Every inch. Every corner.

Then suddenly, someone grabbed her around the waist, covering her mouth with one hand to prevent her from screaming. She tried to kick or elbow him, but to no avail. He forcefully made her walk backwards until they were in what seemed like a secluded place, a clearing.

Once they were there, the mysterious figure dropped her. She landed roughly on the ground. She glared up at the dark figure, the person who dragged her away from the scene.

The figure brushed the dirt off of his neatly fitted suit before he knelt down to her level with one hand adjusting his fedora. He grinned widely at her, and Hermione saw a gold tooth glint back at her.

It was one of the debt collectors.

"Now, now," he said. "There's no need to get fussy ovah a little fire."

Something registered in her mind, and her brain began to put two and two together. She glared at him, putting every ounce of hate into it.

"You did this, didn't you?"

His grin did not change as she said this, but somehow it held more of a sinister look.

"Well, it certainly wasn't _me_ if that's what you were askin'."

Her glare deepened.

He shrugged. "Hey, it's not my fault that you can't pay up faster."

"I _told_ you. My _mother_ told you. We would get you the money as fast as we can, and we've been working our asses off just to-"

He shushed her as he put a gloved finger on her lips to silence her.

"No excuses. We don't appreciate those," he said. He took his finger off of her lips, but his eyes lingered on them for a little longer. Disgusted, she turned her head and spat.

"In any case, we only set the house on fire. So wipe your tears," he dug into his breast pocket and fished out a finely pressed and embroidered handkerchief. He offered it to her, but she didn't move an inch.

"That means that no one got hurt, got it?" he said. "Your mother is still alive."

_Her mother is still alive. _That thought alone echoed through her mind, and a wave of relief crashed onto her. It was short lived, however, since that meant that her mother was being held hostage. For what reason, Hermione couldn't fathom.

The debt collector, in the meantime, gestured for her to take the handkerchief, but she spat in it instead. He shrugged and threw it over his shoulder.

"Why?" Hermione asked. "What's the purpose of all this?" It was too fishy to do all this only to keep her mother alive. It was as if they started the fire to get her attention or perhaps something else…

The debt collector's grin returned.

"Well, you see," he said, once again fishing out another item from his breast pocket. He drew out a folded piece of paper that looked to be very old. He opened it up delicately until Hermione saw the full content. Her eyes widened as she recognized both the handwriting and the item.

It was her father's map.

"I'd like you to do something for me, and it involves the things that your father left unaccomplished," he grinned widely.

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Hi, guys. Sorry for the delay. I meant to update this earlier, but I had to take care of some things. Thanks for reading! Special thanks to my reviewers: **You're Just a Muggle**, **Mada Lover**, and **Gaara's Plaything**. An extra special thanks to my beta: **Divya Omnoms**.

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! See you at the next update!


	3. A Threat and a Proposal

**To Skies No Eyes Have Seen**

Chapter 3 – A Threat and a Proposal

"I'd like you to do something for me, and it involves the things that your father left unaccomplished," the debt collector grinned widely. He held the parchment in front of him.

When he was young, Hermione's father had ventured to the great unknown with a small team of explorers. He served as their navigator, since he had studied dangerous or peculiar (sometimes dangerous _and_ peculiar) weather and phenomena, and his knowledge and experience were of great value to the team. They traveled the world and to the far north, but they were forced to return due to a dead end. Hermione remembered her father telling her fascinating stories, from narrow escapes from cannibals to animals who served as guides along treacherous paths.

Her father even had a small collection from his adventures, most of which Hermione and her mother were forced to sell. They kept a few, but the one that Hermione valued most was the map of her father's journey up north. It was his last journey before leaving to fight in the war, and it was the one that lead to a dead end.

It was her most precious memory of her father, and it was a secret – their secret – only she and her father knew.

And here was this man, handling the precious item without a care about its value to Hermione.

She made a swipe at it but his reflexes were quick. He backed away enough for her to stumble and fall onto her stomach. She cried out as his polished show landed on her outstretched hand and glared up at him.

He grinned like a cat back down at her, fixing his fedora with one hand while holding the map with the other. Oh, how she wanted to knock that hat off of his head.

"Now, now," he said, "No need to get rough. You'll have this back soon after I tell you what the big boss wants you to do." He bent over so that she could see the glint of his gold tooth again. "Although," he said in low tones, "if you refuse this offer, I'm sure the big boss wouldn't mind letting you off if you could pay him back _another way_."

"Over my rotting corpse," Hermione spat.

She cried out when his shoe dug even more into her hand. He put enough pressure on her hand to make her groan in pain before lifting his foot. Hermione quickly retracted her hand and nursed it, rubbing the sore spot in circles.

"Well, what do you want?" she asked crudely.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval but continued on anyway.

"The big boss wants you to follow this map, see. There's this big treasure lying at the end, and the big boss wants it," he finally explained.

"You're wasting your time," she replied. "There's nothing at the end of the trail. It's a dead end. You should already know that."

He wagged his finger at her. "Not quite, missy. Contrary to the official news about the failed expedition, the big boss has many reliable sources that told him that the 'dead end' excuse was a lie. Your father and his group found that treasure and hid it away someplace, and it's only known location is on this map."

"And you think I know that location?"

"Well, you'll know soon enough."

"Then why don't _you_ look for it? Why make someone like me go search for it?"

He frowned and rubbed his chin. "Well, I _would_ go if I _could_, but the fact of the matter is…" he opened the map and showed it to her. "I can't read it."

Hermione stared at the familiar scrawls, and her eyes seemed to travel to each mark like they always did. Memories of her father teaching her the meaning behind those symbols flashed through her mind. She struggled to take her eyes away but managed to look at the debt collector's face with as straight of a face she could muster.

"And what makes you think _I _can?"

He grabbed her by the hair, yanking it really hard so that it forced her to look at him. She cried out.

"Don't joke with me, girl. I saw it in your eyes. I know for a fact you can read this," he threatened. His face looked serious now, all jokes aside. "I also know that your father told you specific markers and places that are safe to pass through. No one has ever reached as far north as your father and his team did, and the knowledge of his route remains in you. So you better listen, and you better listen well: if you do not get that treasure to the big boss within the year, your mother will suffer an excruciating death." He released her hair and threw her to the ground.

Her hands shook in fear for her mother, but they also shook in anger. She did not let her fear show on her face as she got on her hands and knees. She saw the man crouch down in front of her.

"Oh, and before I forget…"

Before she knew it, there was a clinking sound as he closed the clasp of some kind of bracelet around her right wrist. It was gold in color with intricate carvings and had a dark green jewel embedded in the middle. Panicked, Hermione was going to yank it off when the man grabbed her wrist.

"Nah ah," the man stopped her. "Wouldn't do that if I were you…unless you wanna die."

"What is _this_?" she demanded, holding her wrist before her as if it contained some disease.

"To make sure you do what you're told."

"And how is this trinket supposed to do that?"

"My guess is that something bad will happen to you if you decide to run. Don't have to know all the details about everythin'," he replied quite casually.

"Is it not enough that you took my mother hostage?" she gritted her teeth.

He tilted his head, his eyes glinting mischievously. "Oh, it's much more than that. You'll see eventually. Anyway, the only way to take it off is a key that the big boss has. You're either stuck with that for life or you die. You have no choice but to obey."

"Wait. How am I supposed to get up north?" she said, taking her eyes off of the jewelry.

The man shrugged. "I was only told to relay the message. The rest is up to you."

"You mean that I'm responsible for _everything_?" she asked incredulously. "Are you mad? Do you know how long it will take to gather a crew and how much money will be spent on travel expenses?"

Once again, he shrugged, "Not my problem." With that, he turned around and began to walk away.

"Wait a minute! I'm not done talking to you!" she called after him. She quickly got onto her feet, but he was already too far for her to catch up.

He raised his hand in the air in acknowledgement. "Don't you worry! We'll be in touch soon," she heard him say before he turned the corner and disappeared.

She continued to stare at the space where he turned the corner, hardly believing what had just occurred. She was relieved to know that her mother was safe, but it was hardly comforting since Hermione would have to risk her life in order to rescue her. Still, there was nothing else she could do but to either wait for some form of contact from this "boss" or to pursue this…this grueling quest.

The problem was that she didn't know where to start.

"Hermione?" someone called her.

"Hermione!"

She blinked as she came out from her daze and checked her surroundings. She must have been thinking too deeply to notice that she was riding in the back of the automobile and had already arrived at Ron's house. She couldn't even remember when Harry and Ron had returned or even when she had gotten into the vehicle.

"Hermione, we're here," said Harry quietly as he opened the door on her side.

She looked at him and saw his solemn expression. He tried to smile, but it faltered.

She let him help her to her feet and escort her to the front door where Ron and Mrs. Weasley were waiting. A plump and homey sort of woman, Molly Weasley extended her arms to the curly-haired girl and embraced her.

"I'm so sorry to hear about what happened, Hermione," she said, her voice wavering. "I've set up an extra bed in Ginny's room, and there are fresh clothes set aside for you. It's not much, but you're welcome to stay as long as you like. You're practically family, after all." She wiped a tear from her eye.

Hermione nodded in appreciation. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

The woman waved the formality away as she whisked the girl inside and to the kitchen, where she was fed all sorts of food prepared to cheer her up. Even though Hermione didn't feel like eating, she ended up consuming a full meal through Mrs. Weasley's persistence.

Meals at the Weasley house were more of a festivity, but tonight it felt quite forced and more tame than the usual. She knew that any conversation with her was tense and awkward, and she suspected that they wanted to temporarily take her mind off of the tragedy. While she appreciated the gesture, she couldn't exactly tell them the truth when she hardly believed it herself. She just wanted a quiet place to think and sort out her thoughts, but because the Weasleys and Harry thought her silence was due to her grieving, they wouldn't allow her a moment's peace until Mrs. Weasley declared that the poor girl needed rest and pushed her up the stairs into her daughter's bedroom.

Just when Hermione thought that she finally had some time to herself, Ginny entered the room after a few minutes and tried to start a casual conversation with her. Normally, Hermione would answer and add to the conversation, which would turn into hours and hours of girl talk, but she wasn't up to it and remained mostly silent, adding one-worded answers from time to time.

After about an hour of attempted conversation, Ginny excused herself to go and see if her mother needed help with the dishes and to ask the boys if they were staying the night. Hermione gave her a grateful smile as the redhead closed the door. She was aware that Ginny already knew that her mother never needed help in the kitchen and that the boys stayed the night whenever they were in town, but it was an excuse to give Hermione some room and some time alone.

But as her friend's footsteps faded away, Hermione felt her heart grow heavier and heavier, dreading the future and frightened about the consequences. The more the silence continued, the more she felt unease and anxious.

After changing her clothes, she lay down on the extra mattress next to Ginny's bed. As she stared at the ceiling, her head filled with so many thoughts, so many questions, and so many possibilities, and it was quite a load to sort through. She knew that she was going difficulty sleeping that night.

That is, if she could manage to sleep at all.

By the time the morning light filtered through the curtains, Hermione felt more tired than when she first put her head on the pillow. She turned her head and saw that Ginny was softly snoring under the covers. Hermione sighed deeply as she sat up from the bed, rubbing her eyes.

She saw a suitcase near the door with a note on top and quietly made her way over to it. The note was written by Mrs. Weasley, saying that the suitcase contained spare clothing from both her and Ginny and that Hermione was welcome to keep any (the note said "all of it," but Hermione wasn't exactly comfortable with that). After opening it and looking through the contents, Hermione gathered a set of clothes and carried it with her to the bathroom.

Once she took a good look in the mirror, she did a double take. Her bush of a hair was puffier and messier than usual, and her face was a downright mess with numerous spots of dirt and tear streaks. She had bags under her eyes from stress and lack of sleep, and she looked years older than she actually was. No wonder the Weasleys were worried.

She immediately splashed some water on her face and tried to clean up as best as she could. After making herself look somewhat presentable and not at all like the haggard-looking girl she saw in the mirror, Hermione changed into her "new" clothes, finding it to be a bit loose in some parts. Must've belonged to Mrs. Weasley.

She made some adjustments to the dress and exited the bathroom. She was about to head down when her ears picked up voices coming from downstairs.

"You didn't find anything else while you were searching this morning, did you?" said a voice Hermione recognized as Arthur Weasley's, Ron and Ginny's father.

"Not a thing, not even a body. Everything was burned to the ground," answered Ron.

"The poor dear," she heard Molly Weasley say, "Such a terrible thing to happen to such a lovely girl."

"What do you suppose could've happened?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Does it matter?" Ron sighed exhaustedly, "'Mione doesn't have anything anymore, not a home, not even a family."

Hermione heard a smack echo through the room.

"Well, she still has _us_, don't she?" his mother scolded.

"Mr. Weasley's right though. There was something off about that fire." Leave it to Harry to notice it.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Hermione's mother knows her way around the house and wouldn't leave a fire going without supervision. She's not that type of person," Harry explained.

"So it was set on purpose," she heard Mr. Weasley say. "But why?"

"My first guess is that it's about money," Harry said, "But it feels like there's more to it."

"Well, the Grangers _were_ in a pinch…" Mrs. Weasley trailed off.

"But it's not like we all thought those collectors were going to do _that_," Mr. Weasley picked up, "It's a bit flashy on their part, isn't it?"

"Well, it's done its job, hasn't it? Destroying everything that 'Mione's worked for!" Ron's voice broke. He was clearly upset by the whole incident, more so than Hermione herself. She silently walked down the stairs and saw Ron on his feet. His face was as red as his hair.

"Ron!"

"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley barked.

"No! You hadn't seen how hard she worked for her family and how much she suffered through these tough times. She's had to give up most of her possessions, and now that's all gone to nothin'!"

"And you don't think we've been suffering, too?" Mrs. Weasley's voice boomed throughout the room. It rendered Ron silent. "What with you gone most of the year and come back all happy, you don't think we had the heart to tell you that your poor father's thrown his back out and can't work? Fred and George are out doing odd jobs, making little money; Bill and Charlie are out doing research, making none and sending us all they can get; Percy has left the house and hasn't written since; and your sister is trying to make crafts to sell at the market. You don't think that we're also suffering during these _tough times_?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Ronald, I understand your frustration about all this, but you must understand that we are also trying our best to survive. The money you send us is enough to last the week, but what with all the expenses and repairs to the house…It's difficult to put food on the table when the pay is not all that great and you have many mouths to feed, but we don't complain about that, now do we?"

Harry got Ron to sit back down. The redhead looked guilty for lashing out and equally shocked at finding out some secrets his family had kept from him.

"Then what of Hermione? Will you be all right with her here?"

"We'll make due somehow. We owe that girl a lot, keeping you boys in line and making sure that everything's well," Mrs. Weasley crossed her arms.

"If it helps any, I will also help out. I also owe you and your family for taking me in when I had nothing." Harry began taking out his wallet.

"Harry Potter, don't you dare!" the plump woman said.

"That's right, boy. We can't be takin' in money left and right. We already owe enough people," Mr. Weasley replied, putting a gentle hand on Harry's to stop him.

"Now, you all listen here. I don't want one word coming out of any of your mouths about money business, all right? Not a word in this house and especially in front of Hermione. She's had enough to deal with, and the poor dear will worry herself even more if she heard about this," Mrs. Weasley lectured.

Harry was the first one to notice that Hermione was staring at them from the stairs, and the gesture brought everyone's attention towards the curly-haired girl. There were mixed expressions of guilt, regret, and shock on their faces when they realized that she heard the entire conversation. All the while, Hermione remained silent and stone-faced.

"I think…I'll go for a walk," Hermione declared as she descended the stairs.

Everyone was quiet as Hermione walked down the hallway towards the front door. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron and Harry begin to stand and follow, intending on accompanying her, but Mrs. Weasley held up a hand to stop them. She shook her head.

The girl looked back appreciatively at the woman, who nodded in return. Then Hermione left, closing the front door softly and proceeding down the path.

It was not as if she was insulted by their conversation, but she felt as if she was perhaps a burden to them. She knew that as welcoming as the Weasleys were, there will be a point in time where she will overstay her welcome, and she refused to become such a person. She was not raised in such a manner, to take advantage of kind people.

It also made her think about the days to come. She had her mission, and she obviously couldn't stay at the Weasleys' home for so long. At some point, she had to explain her situation, and she didn't exactly know how to bring it up. It wasn't as if she could go back into the house and say, "Oh yeah. Actually, my mother is not dead but being held hostage, and I'm supposed to go on a treasure hunt to save her."

At that point, her stomach grumbled, and she realized that she left the Weasleys' before breakfast. She wasn't sure if she had any money with her, but after going through the pockets of her dress, she soon found some coins that must have been left in the wash. It wasn't much, but she would be able to buy at least a small loaf of bread from the bakery down the street. That should settle her stomach for the rest of the morning.

After she bought the bread and was nibbling on it as she walked down the street, she was wondering what she should do with her morning. She didn't really want to return anytime soon, and there weren't a lot of places she would go to. Then there was a glint of something metallic that caught her eyes. She looked down and stared at the bracelet hidden underneath her sleeves. Then she knew what she would do to pass the time.

She spun on her heel and headed straight for the library.

Ignoring all the stares, pitying looks, and solemn greetings from passing people, Hermione kept her eyes forward, intent on doing some research. Once she crossed the street and hopped up the white marble steps, she entered through the double oak doors of the library. She gave a brief greeting to the librarian, Irma Pince, who - as strict and distrusting of people as she may be - returned her greeting with a curt nod. The librarian held a love for books to such a degree that she collected all sorts from the most common to the extremely rare. The only difference between her and Hermione was that Ms. Pince could be a tad…possessive and obsessive.

Navigating her way around, Hermione soon found herself in the history section of the library. She tried to look through books that contained jewelry and others that contained ancient relics, but

She groaned in frustration as she closed another book – this time, one on rare and unusual artifacts - and until one book caught her eye. She stood and turned her head to read the title.

"_Ancient Torture Devices: Histories and Mysteries"_

She glanced briefly at her "shackle" and shrugged. Might as well be a form of torture, maybe a device of some sort.

She reached the top of the bookshelf to pull down the old book. Apparently, it hadn't been read in a while since a cloud of dust came down upon her, making her cough and wave her hand to clear the air. Once the dust settled, she turned over the book in her hand and stared at the title. She opened it and briefly searched through the chapters until she saw a familiar picture, a picture of the same relic that she wore on her wrist. Then her eyes turned towards the information written.

"_The Mark of the Servant" is an ancient tool used by powerful figures to ensure loyalty and servitude. Although most torture devices cause physical damage to the victim, this tool is used to inflict mental and psychological torture to the wearer. Its origins and creator are still unknown; however, there are many theories that point its origins to the south. People who bore this item were often slaves and concubines, but there have been many accounts of people who owe a debt of some kind. These people were often abused mentally and physically and were classified as the lowest rank among servants and slaves. It was not until…_

Hermione read further until her eyes caught a paragraph.

_There are many distinct features about this artifact that makes it unique among all other torture devices. The most striking feature is the large green gem at the center. It is not a gem at all; it is in fact a vesicle used to store a strong poison. It is attached to a narrow tube with a needle at the end. This contraption is triggered by an external control, which also holds the release button. Once triggered, the needle briefly pricks the skin of the person who bears the bracelet and injects a small dose of poison, enough to kill the wearer. There is a separate feature that will also trigger the needle if the gem is removed. This feature was installed in order to prevent escape or a break in contract…._

She twisted her wrist to get a good look at it and compared it to the illustration in the book. It was a little different and was no doubt altered. Where the illustration only showed one big jewel – the green one in the middle that contains poison – the one she wore had two smaller additional gems that were embedded on either side of the big one. One was red, and the other one was blue and slightly more transparent. The bracelet also sported a few dents here and there and definitely showed its age. She turned her attention back to the book and flipped through its pages to see if there was any more information on the gems, but she didn't find anything.

She looked at her bracelet again. It wasn't…so bad. It wasn't an ugly or gaudy piece of jewelry, but it wasn't something that Hermione herself would wear. But now that she knew what it was and what it could do…she was afraid. Not of the bracelet, but more so about how calm she felt. Shouldn't she be more afraid? She was last night…This "big boss" could press the button at any moment, and the needle would pierce her skin and inject the poison. Death was upon her with the touch of a button, and yet…she wasn't afraid.

Maybe exhaustion was preventing her from doing so.

She shook her head as she put the book back in its place, careful not to disturb the dust again. Then she walked around the library more for lighter reading and to take her mind off of the information about the bracelet. She also ignored the grumbling of her stomach as the hour for lunch came and went. She opened some books and realized that she wasn't really reading them. She tried to get her mind to focus, but she just couldn't. She looked at the sky and saw that the sun was beginning to set. She sighed as she realized that she spent the whole day wandering around. Hermione looked at the big clock near the entrance and decided it was time to head back.

Without borrowing anything – which was a rare sight, since she always borrowed at least one or two books – she exited through the doors and began her trek back "home."

Before Hermione could turn the next corner, someone grabbed her around the waist and covered her mouth to stifle her scream. She shook her head and struggled as she was pulled back into a dark alley. She swung her arms and legs, but two extra set of hands took hold of her wrists and ankles, keeping them still enough for her kidnappers to bind them with ropes. She still struggled and tried to turn her head to get a look at them, but it was too dark to make out their faces.

Finally, her captors grew tired of her struggles. She heard a weapon being unsheathed and felt a blade being pressed against her neck. She stopped struggling at once, and the only sounds heard were the men fumbling around for something and Hermione's heavy breathing. Not once did her captors utter a word.

After they made sure that she couldn't move her limbs, the man holding her took his hand away from her mouth. Before she could scream, he pulled a bag over her head, and Hermione immediately noticed a foul smell that made her feel too weak to speak or to even move. She tried to shake her head, but the man began to tie the ends of the bag to prevent it from slipping over her head. After a few minutes, Hermione blacked out.

The foul smelling bag was finally pulled away from her head. She felt a rough hand lightly pat her cheek to get her to wake up. She gasped, coughed, and sputtered, frantically looking around. Her hands were bound behind her back, and her ankles were tied to the legs of the chair. She shivered as a slight chill went through her as she looked up into the eyes of her captor.

Her blood ran cold when her eyes met contemplative steel grey eyes.

Hermione first imagined that the owner of such bone chilling eyes would be a middle aged man with a full-fledged beard (perhaps braided in some parts) brandishing a sword or two and perhaps a pistol – a classic view of a pirate – but her expectations were completely different as she stared at the man before her. He looked young, perhaps a few years older than her, with short tussled platinum blonde hair and uneven bangs that were swept to the either side of his face. A few spots on his face and his hair were covered in dirt and perhaps oil. He still wore the same cloak from the time she first met him, and it didn't seem that he was carrying any swords or pistols. He sat with his elbows propped up on the table, half his face hidden behind his folded hands. His eyes were trained on her, merely observing.

They assessed each other for a good while. Neither of them moved or dared to speak. It was until someone coughed behind her that she realized that it wasn't only the two of them in the room. She turned her head slightly to get a good look, but her current position prevented her from doing so.

"Hermione Granger," said a deep voice.

Hermione whipped her head around to look at the blonde man and glared.

"That _is_ your name, am I right?" His tone gave no indication that he believed he was wrong.

"What do you want?" she spat.

"We need to talk about some business."

"What business?"

He raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at her.

"Is this about that time in the pub?" she asked. "I already know what you are. I've seen the Mark on your arm."

There was no reaction from the man.

"It's half from our little conversation at the pub, half a different matter," he merely said.

She laughed quite bitterly. "So is this it, then? You're going to kill me to make sure I don't tell anyone that you're a Death Eater? Serve as an example not to cross you? I would rather you get the deed over with." Tears fought to the surface, but she held them back. She refused to cry in front of this man.

Life could not get any worse for her at the moment. She's forced to go on an impossible task, her mother is held captive, and if she doesn't obey this "big boss," then she'll die anyway. The odds were against her, and it was as if fate was telling her that she was meant to die without trying.

"Our business with you is quite different from what you have in mind," the man replied. He shifted his position so that his folded hands lay on the table. He sported a bit of stubble, but now that the rest of his face was revealed, Hermione could see that he was quite handsome.

It took her a few minutes to register what he just told her.

"So…you're…_not_ going to kill me?" she said very slowly.

"No, we're not. Not yet, at least."

"Then, what am I here for? Why bring me here like this?"

"That was in the case you were unwilling to talk. Given our…short meeting at the restaurant the other day, it seemed as if you wouldn't consider my offer."

"And that would be…?"

The man's eyes grew serious. "I'd like to offer you a proposition in exchange for your life."

"My life?"

"In short: do as we say or we'll kill you," he explained quite bluntly.

Hermione laughed so loud that it echoed through the room, surprising both men. The man in front of her blinked as if he had missed something.

After her laughter died down, she said to them, "Someone already offered me a _proposition_ although another life is at stake as well as my own. See this bracelet?" she gestured over to her right side. "If I don't do what they say, then I will die and so will my mother."

This took the man by surprise, but he didn't voice it.

"And what is it that they are having you do?" he asked, clearly interested.

She stared at him, trying to decide whether or not to disclose such information. Then she sighed. It was an impossible task any way. There would be nothing gained or lost by telling him.

"A dangerous and quite impossible mission. They want me to continue a treasure hunt that my father and his team supposedly failed."

"And where does this treasure hunt lead to?"

She sighed resignedly. "Far, far north."

The man before her drew in a breath, but his expression did not reveal anything. He looked to his companion who stood behind Hermione, just barely out of her peripheral vision, and he nodded to him. There was a creak in the floorboards as the man stepped towards Hermione and unbound her wrists, but he left the ropes that bound her ankles.

Hermione quickly withdrew her wrists and rubbed them, eyeing him suspiciously. The ropes weren't tied too tight, but they were tight enough to prevent her from moving. Nothing less expected from pirates, but she did wonder why she was untied. It was not until she saw the outstretched hand of the blonde man before her that she realized that he wanted to see the bracelet.

She reached her right hand out to show him, but he took his hand back.

"The map," he said.

She stared at him blankly, her hands protecting the piece of paper that sat in her pocket.

"If you're going to go on a treasure hunt, there has to be a map."

She stared at him for about a minute.

He sighed impatiently. "I didn't have to let him untie you, you know. I can very well search for that map on my own."

With that said, Hermione hesitantly drew out the carefully folded map from her pocket and handed it to him. Fortunately, the tumble that she had when she was kidnapped had not damaged the parchment.

He took it with great care and opened it to glance at it. His eyes read the foreign symbols briefly before handing it back to her. It was obvious that he couldn't read it. She cradled the map to her chest, still watching him.

"It seems quite a long, arduous, and _expensive_ journey for a girl without a home or even money."

She glared at him. So he did hear about the fire. "That's why I said it was impossible. I have no means to get there let alone the money to afford such an expedition."

The man leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.

"We might have to make a few adjustments to our proposition then," he smirked.

"And what do you mean by that?" she narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"We can provide you with transportation."

Her mouth hung open, and she stared at him in shock. Did she just hear him right? Will she actually be able to go on this adventure? Will she actually have a chance to save her mother?

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. It was not good to be hopeful, especially around pirates. _Especially_ around _marked_ pirates.

"And in exchange?" she asked.

"You will act as our navigator to and from the north," he replied.

"Why do you need to go to the north?"

He shrugged. "My business."

"And if I refuse?"

He raised an eyebrow and stared at her as if she was dense. "Would you _really_ decline this opportunity? I'm quite sure you won't get a better offer." His voice carried a tone that made Hermione feel that he did not really care as to whether or not she consented. He could easily find another navigator to guide him and his crew safely to the north, but she could not find another means of transportation. And he's right. She wouldn't find a better offer because the other ships either refuse to go north or would charge a large amount of money.

"Why should I trust you? You bear the mark of a country that had been at war with mine for years. Your people even killed my father. There's not even a guarantee that you'll let me live and keep your secret once I fulfill my role as your…navigator."

"Who says you have to trust pirates in order to make a business deal? As long as you keep up your end of the bargain, we will also keep ours. If you like, I can order the crew not to touch a single hair on your head as long as you are on board the ship. As for the Mark, once we return you to your hometown and depart quietly, you can go on and report us. We only kill people who seen our Mark and hinder us from doing our business. From what we've seen, you haven't told anyone other than those two soldiers, and according to our knowledge, they have also yet to report us."

She was silent. She still didn't know if she could trust these pirates, but what he said was right…again. And if she actually agreed to join them, then that would mean she would become a pirate herself through association, which is something that she never dreamed of doing. In all the books and articles she read, there has never been an incident where one was _invited_ to join a pirate crew. Many were recruited and have become pirates out of desperation…which Hermione guessed that her situation was dire enough to warrant this. As she went over other contradictions and her personal doubts, she just couldn't see a chance of success for this journey without assistance from these outlaws. She really didn't want to…but she had no other choice.

She hung her head and sighed dejectedly, her decision already apparent.

"I'll do it."

The corner of his mouth raised into a smirk.

"Excellent."

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Hello, hello! Sorry for the delay. Hope I haven't kept anyone waiting. Special thanks to **Gaara's Plaything** for reviewing, and many many thanks to my beta **Divya Omnoms**.

Thanks for reading!


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