Looking up from her book Hermione watched him as he slept. It had been almost two days since Severus rescued Fionn and Tommy. The father and son, none the worse for wear save a few cuts and bruises, told the story over and over again. Fishing five miles out, they tried to outrun the storm. Tommy calculated they may have been pushed farther out to sea by the time 'Doc' showed up to rescue the hapless fishermen.
The Coast Guard had called the storm a 'bomb cyclone', an intensely strong weather system that turns violent quickly. They concluded the rescue was nothing short of remarkable. Caught out in open water during such an event often ended with a much more tragic outcome. Hermione had heard that the deflated and tattered lifeboat had washed up on the beach last night, its motor presumed resting on the bottom of the sea.
Whatever happened out there the effort had taken its toll on Severus. His magical reserve was perilously low. Hermione could only guess at the amount of magical energy it took to reach the boat and pluck the men from the middle of a dangerous maelstrom to safety.
The villagers had brought food and well-wishes throughout the day yesterday. She would tell him so when he wakes. For now, he needed rest to replenish his core magic.
Severus had scarcely moved from his current position. Several pillows propped behind his back, his head resting against them. Her eyes glanced down his body. White linens and a Wedgewood blue quilt lay across his waist. Severus was slender but very fit.
The ragged scar at the right side of his throat was still pink even after 7 years. His prominent collarbones sat like iron rods over the toned fleshy pillows of his chest. His arms were lean with thick veins traversing bone and muscle, years of lifting heavy cauldrons obvious.
A few small linear scars marred the landscape of his anterior torso. She remembered hearing the village men remark about an apparent hard life he must have led before coming here. The Dark Mark on his left forearm had faded into nothing more than a benign gray tattoo. Hermione rubbed her arm, her own scar reminding her of its presence.
She recalled his file. His life had been made difficult from day one. The Medical record was one of the thickest sections in his dossier. St Mungo's had first registered him as a patient at age 3:
'Young malnourished patient presents with a subluxation of the right shoulder. There are circular bruises on the upper arm. There are abrasions and contusions about the face and upper body. Findings consistent with physical abuse.'
The Magical version of Social Services had yet to be mandated then. St Mungo's had no recourse but to deliver the small child back into the hands of his abuser. Her stomach soured and her heart broke for him. A tear spilled onto her cheek. Hermione had to look away, closing her eyes she inhaled a composing breath.
As a distraction she pondered his sparsely furnished 'quarters'. Her thoughts had been so focused with worry over him she hadn't noticed her surroundings.
This was an enormous open space thrice the size of hers, approximately 14 meters by 4 meters. Probably three rooms made into one, judging from the configuration on the other side of the hall.
As in her room, the walls were of wooden plank, his painted gray, set across three walls save the far wall of stone that was the outer construction.
The oversized bed stood in the center of the long paneled wall. It faced three large windows encased in the stone wall opposite.
Through the white-framed panes billowy clouds moved across a blue sky as seabirds soared in the distance. All glistening in the bright Summer sun. A single rocking chair sat silently near the windows monitoring the noonday activity.
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
The Edge of Nowhere
फैनफिक्शनAfter disapparating from the Shrieking Shack Severus wakes up at the bottom of a cliff, battered by an angry sea. Detective Inspector Hermione Granger is determined to find him, if he's still alive.
