Dangerous Waters

Chapter One--Maiden Voyage

A/N: At this point in time, it is about 1975. Molly is between pregnancies. Bill and Charlie are born; Percy and the rest are not. It is Molly's first Unspeakable mission. Voldemort has been slowly and surely rising.

Thanks to Kaesa Aurelia, Ruhgozler, Illusionna, hpcoldfire, Princess Kattera, RistGordon, Sulime, Wonderbreadgirl, Fawkes101, Karie, lucysnowe, Risti, aurnien, Malecrit, Isiscolo, Blythe and elbell for your kind reviews.

Molly Weasley, née Gallagher, had been Sorted into Gryffindor when she was at Hogwarts. Molly was no shrinking violet and had a personality as brassy as her unfortunately bright hair. One would associate her with life, with brazenness, with color. Certainly not with cringing terror.

As it happened, however, that was just what Molly was feeling as she circled the perimeter of the Nott house . Pure, unadulterated, craven fear.

Strange, that I should be so scared to go to the house of an old classmate. Molly laughed bitterly to herself, peering around a bush. That was exactly how things were these days: nothing but suspicion and uncertainty. Nothing but looking at a familiar face and thinking, whose side is he really on?

Nerina Nott, daughter of a once-rich pureblood family as old as the Weasleys, had been in Molly's year at Hogwarts. Sorted into Hufflepuff. Prefect and Head Girl.

Suspected of casting Imperius on three top Ministry employees and forcing them to turn over lists of all British wizarding families with Muggle members. Lists that would eventually make their way into the hands of Lord Voldemort--Molly inwardly shuddered; she could hardly bear to think the name, let alone say it.

She crept up to the large bay window, and muttered: "Acclaro!"

The room, which had seemed empty at first glance, suddenly held a slim young woman sliding papers into a dull-looking tome.

"Drat," said Molly under her breath. Nerina was at home--and if those papers weren't the lists she was supposed to steal, she would swallow her wand.

Think, Molly, think. You're an Unspeakable, remember? The Unsinkable Molly Weasley, like Arthur calls you. She grinned at the thought of Arthur and his endearing haplessness. You can do this, insisted Molly's inner cheerleader.

Try as it might, however, the inner cheerleader couldn't quite drown out the voice of doom, which nastily reminded Molly that this was her first field mission as an Unspeakable.

She took a deep breath and slunk to the back door. She knew where the back door was. Because you've been here. Because you were friends with Nerina. Molly winced, and brutally shoved that thought aside.

"Alohomora!" It had no effect. Molly tried one Unlocking Charm after another on the door, until she finally gave up and walked up to the front door.

When all else fails, try something simple. It was the first rule she'd learned during her training period. Complex plans were quite likely to fail: fallible humanity invariably got in the way of all brilliantly masterminded schemes. Simplicity was key, in spying as in everything else.

Molly rang the doorbell.

Nerina came to the door, saw Molly standing there and let her in. It's really that easy, Molly marveled. But then, Nerina had no cause to be suspicious. The former Head Girl was an ebullient charmer, liked by everyone. No one would ever suspect someone so bright and cheery of anything remotely related to Dark Magic.

"Molly!" Nerina's face broke into a wide smile of pure pleasure, and Molly's conscience pricked her. Don't get sentimental, now. This woman could be on Voldemort's side, classmate or not.

"Nerina!" Molly squealed in return, entered the house and threw her arms around her old friend. "Haven't seen you in ages, and I was passing by here on the way to London, so I thought I'd say hello! What's new with you?"

"Nothing much--just dull Ministry work day in and day out, you know," laughed Nerina. How could someone like this be involved in something like...don't think about it, Molly. Just don't. Molly spied the large dusty book with the papers in it, in an inconspicuous corner of the bookshelf. The lists might not be in there. She might be innocent.

Hope was always hard to get rid of, no matter how hollow it was.

"What's new with you?" Nerina asked archly. "How's Arthur?" She said Arthur's name in a teasingly singsong voice, and despite her two children Molly was still enough of a newlywed to blush.

"He's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine--as much as it can be, nowadays." There was a silence--the appropriate, conventional silence that was always maintained for a second or two after anyone made any reference, however oblique, to it. To him.

"I'll get you some tea," said Nerina, disappearing into the kitchen.

Molly seized her chance and dashed over to the bookcase. Grabbing the thick book, she flipped through its pages until she found the place where Nerina had stuck the papers. She unfolded them, and as her stomach lurched, she read the names listed there: Edmund Brown, pureblood wizard, married to Patricia, Muggle. Darrin Bulstrode, mudblood, married to Kendra Avery, pureblood witch.

"Is that your idea of light reading, Molly?" At the sound of the uncharacteristically sharp voice, Molly whipped around to see Nerina standing about a meter away with her wand drawn and aimed. "I should have known," drawled Nerina. Molly had never heard Nerina drawl before. Nerina chirped and squealed and giggled, but she had never drawled.

Nerina opened her mouth to say something, but Molly dodged out of the range of the pointed wand, and pulled out her own.

"Expelliarmus!" yelled Nerina, but missed as Molly ducked behind the couch.

"Nerina..." Molly said plaintively, wanting to reason with her. But Nerina leaped over the couch and cried,

"Crucio!" The spell hit Molly full force. Pain didn't even begin to describe the sheer agony that made her body twitch and jerk about like a grotesque marionette.

The curse faded, and Nerina stood over Molly to sneer. "You always were overconfident, weren't you? Coming up to my door like that--"

Molly took advantage of Nerina's talk: she rapidly raised her wand hand and shouted,

"Stupefy!" Nerina's body went rigid, and she fell to the floor.

Molly stared at the corpse-like figure, and felt absolutely ill.

I'm sorry, Nerina. I'm so, so sorry.

For what? asked the more reasonable part of her brain. She tortured you. She was guilty.

That thought did nothing to ease the ache in Molly's throat. Doesn't make this situation any better, does it? Justice is cold comfort.

Molly backed out of the door, swallowing hard. She wanted to go to Arthur, to run into his arms and cry there to her heart's content. But she couldn't; she had to go to her London flat, rented under the name of Marilyn Grady, banker. She had to go there and report to Alastor Moody, and tell him that Nerina Nott was indeed a Death Eater.

Nerina...Arthur, dammit, I need Arthur right now! She craved the warm comfort of red hair and freckles and sweet impracticality.

Instead, she Apparated to her flat.