Weep No More

The rain had soaked Hermione to the bone as Draco and Percy discussed the safeties of heading into the witch-hunting village. They had gone through every option. Percy had signalled for the Knight Bus, but it did not come. He tried to Apparate, but he could not. Whoever was in charge of Southbire had set up some extremely powerful wards. And it frightened them all.

Pansy did not look amused in the very least. She was clutching desperately to herself, almost trying to stop the wind from blowing against her.

Hermione held a hand to her head in an attempt to stop the pain flowing in her. Something was wrong, and she could feel it. Pansy shot her a curious look, but then turned her eyes to Draco. Hermione bit her lip painfully, and tried to remember what had happened before complete oblivion had taken her.

She remembered being in the library while all the other Gryffindors were at the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff Quidditch match. She was writing two parchments on the facts of vampires. She had been using Ron's quill to write everything. He had been upset she had declined to support Harry's game.

Then.... Then a boy had appeared, a small first-year he was. Simon Rickman of Gryffindor, his sister was the Head Girl before Percy. Hermione had helped Simon get to Herbology once.

"Hullo," he said, his voice strained with a nervous tone.

"Hello, Simon," she said, welcoming the short break. "May I help you with something?"

Simon set a goblet of something orange on the table. "Ronald Weasley sent you this," he said. "The match has finished, and Gryffindor won! There's a feast going on in the common room, and Weasley wanted you to know." The boy spoke so quickly, Hermione found it amazing she had understood every word. She should have found his act suspicious, but she did not.

Instead, she felt flattered that Ron had sent her a drink, despite Madam Pince's no food or drinks rule. "Tell Ron I'll be there as soon as I finish," she told Simon.

The young boy nodded fiercely and rushed off. When Hermione could see him no longer, he was gave a scared nod to Draco Malfoy. Although she should have, she did not consider that something in the goblet was not right.

Hermione shook her head, drops of water splattering onto her face. The drink had not been from Ron, it had been from Malfoy, and it had been the Marleese Potion. How could she have been so stupid?

"We're going in." Percy was suddenly by her side, catching her as she slipped on the wet grass. "I'm the only one with a wand, so there's no chance we'll survive out here," he added. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling -" Her words were cut off as images suddenly blinded her. She no longer saw Percy, Parkinson or Malfoy. The cold air and wet rain had been cut off, just to show hot flames and poisonous smoke.

And, in a voice that did not sound like hers, but a child's, she said, "Fire so hot, it burns against my skin. It burns those who dance with the stars and bewitch the moon. I see a girl so full of ambition. She burns with her ancestors."

Then the images faded and she found herself staring into Percy's eyes again. Little wizard boy, a voice whispered in her head.

Pansy looked frightened; she kept murmuring something to herself.

"Hermione, what happened?" Percy demanded, supporting her for she was about to fall.

"I saw..." What had she seen? Pictures, images, the future? She did not know, and she was afraid. "I saw something," she said firmly, trying to incorporate her body back to the old Hermione.

"We must have not fully cleaned the potion from your system," Draco said, looking angry.

Father, a voice urged in Hermione's head. She tried to beat it away. Malfoy was not a father in any sense of the word.

"I'm going to go talk to the guard and see if he'll let us in," Percy said. "The three of you stay here. Malfoy, I need you to hold Hermione up."

Malfoy opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it. A private battle raged in his head. When he moved to hold Hermione, it was clear he had lost.

"I have a terrible feeling about this place," said Pansy. "How can there still be witch-hunters?"

"There are very, very few tribes left," Hermione explained, her voice weak and barely heard above the storm. "Mostly they keep to themselves, and only hunt witch outcasts. The Ministry hasn't been able to keep the tabs on the tribes, because they're Unplottable."

"But... then they're using magic," Draco said. "How bloody ironic."

Hermione nodded. "For wards and things like that, yes. But they kill wizards and witches the old fashion way: burning us by the stake."

"Well, no need to tell them what we really are," Draco drawled. Pansy nodded.

Hermione wondered how Percy could have possibly left her with these two.

"What did you see?" Pansy asked. Ignoring the storm, she held herself high, like a queen or a supreme ruler.

Hermione closed her eyes. The images were still clear in her head. A girl, a child really, so innocent and pure. Hair like Pansy's, features like hers. Hermione's eyes opened wide as she looked Pansy over once again.

"I saw..." Hermione hesitated; she knew that Pansy did as well.

"Here comes Weasley," interrupted Draco. "He looks happy."

Percy jogged towards them, a small grin on his face. "We've been let in," he said. "The guard was quite friendly, really. He said that strangers usually found themselves in this part of Ireland. Though most of them tend to come in cars."

"Ireland?" echoed Hermione. "We're in Ireland?"

"That's not so far away from Hogwarts!" exclaimed Draco.

Another scream echoed in the distance as the metal fence started moving, allowing them inside Southbire.

"Now remember," Percy said. "No talk about magic!"

Draco and Pansy scowled at him. Hermione sniffled and wiped her nose. She was dying to get back to Hogwarts.

The guard appeared, motioning for them to hurry inside. "Go on!" he yelled over the storm. "Roget will be waiting to speak to you!"

The four hurried inside. Percy had a hand around Hermione's waist, and Draco had grabbed hold of Pansy's hand.

The inside of Southbire was a spectacular town. Due to the rain, no one was outside, but every house had been lit to fight off the darkness and rain. The houses were more cottages than anything else. They reminded Hermione of her aunt's house in Cambridge.

Suddenly a small boy approached them. He had a small yellow umbrella and handed it to Pansy, who looked at it curiously. Hermione took it from her and opened it, providing shelter for just the two of them.

Somewhere in the distance a bell rang three times. There seemed to be a faint smell of smoke in the air.

"Roget will see you in The Daily Token," the boy said, his accent strongly Irish. He hurried off, signalling for them to follow.

The Daily Token was, in fact, a large pub. There was a strong fire in the chimney, and the place was filled with men and women. They wore clothes of various colours, but Hermione noticed not one wore black.

"Mr. Roget!" yelled the boy. "The visitors are here!"

A short, rather chubby man got up and walked towards them. Percy's grip around Hermione's waist tightened. The pub became immensely quiet as everyone turned to look at them.

Hermione saw Pansy miserably try to arrange her hair. Draco was glaring at everyone in the room.

"Good evening," said Roget, with a small bow.

"Good evening," Percy and Hermione said. The other two remained quiet.

"Caught in the rain?" asked Roget, handing Hermione a handkerchief to dry herself.

"Quite," said Percy. "We've been walking for quite some time now. Our, er, car broke down miles off. Didn't think we were so far away from civilization."

"You're not Irish, are you?" Roget said, with a curious look to Draco's fancy boots.

"We're English," Hermione said, handing back the handkerchief. Roget waved it away.

"We were visiting some mates of ours," explained Percy, his expression like stone.

"Those two don't talk much, do they?" Roget asked, inclining his head to where Draco and Pansy were. Draco's arms were crossed stiffly against his chest. Pansy was inspecting the pub quietly. Both looked extremely disgusted.

"They're not too fond the storm," said Hermione quickly. "You'll have to excuse them."

"Yes, the storm can be quite a death bringer," said Roget. "Unfortunately, we cannot help you until it clears."

"That's quite all right," said Percy. "We just need shelter, and perhaps something to eat. Unfortunately, we don't seem to have any money with us at the moment..."

Roget nodded sympathetically. "Fiona," he said, motioning for one of the waitress to approach them. "This," he said, turning to the four, "is Fiona. She'll show you to your rooms. You can then come back down for something to eat."

"Our sausages are the best for a day like this," chirped Fiona, admiring Percy.

"Thank you so much for your hospitality," Percy said, reaching out to shake Roget's hand.

"Not a problem at all," he said. "I just need you to answer me something." He looked at Hermione. "What is your friend doing wearing the clothing of a demon child?"

Percy and Hermione paled. The cloak, Hermione realised. They had been given away by Percy's cloak.